As of last Wednesday it has been 3 months. All of the experienced widows I know say that 3 months and 6 months are the hardest. I survived 3 months, so that gives me hope. I hate this. I really wish Tuesdays could just be Tuesdays and that the 20th could just be the 20th.
On Tuesday I went and picked out the cemetary marker. It’s exactly what I was hoping for. The stone is a beautiful green color, almost the exact same color as his eyes. He used to hate it when I’d always encourage him to wear green. Now he’ll be stuck with green forever, I did make sure that the writing on the stone was black and the vases on the marker are black, I figured I’d compromise. I’m such a nice girl…
I have been working hard to push myself from this rut. Okay, I’ve just been napping alot. No really, I have been looking all over for positives, I have found a few. I’m trying really hard to get excited about the move, mostly tho, because I need the kids to be excited. Excited, happy kids are way easier to deal with then grumpy miserable kids. I figure too, the longer I fake happy, the more I’ll be forced to feel happy.
And I’ll leave you with this little tid bit of cool information:
There are no words that rhyme with orange, purple, silver and month. This is what I do instead of sleeping at night. I thought to myself “hmm.. I’ve been trying to rhyme these colors for a month. Month.. Month… Hey there is nothing that rhymes with month either.” That’s when I got up out of bed and got myself a glass of wine.