Ya know…

I wish there was a book with all the answers to all the questions I have.  A book the simply spells it out and tells me what I am supose to do.  An instruction manual of sorts.

I wish there was a magic potion that would make me feel “normal”, not that I was ever normal to begin with, but I want to be the person I was.  I miss the innocense, the confidence, the silliness of who I was.  I miss the love, the stability, the togetherness, I miss my team mate.  My partner-in-crime.  I miss my Jeffy.

The life I am living now seems “second best”.  I am just being, instead of living.  Everything is fine from the outside, but on the inside, I hurt.  Not all the time, but a lot of the time.  I am emotionally exhausted, not only to I have my grief to deal with, but the grief of five innocent kids.  Kids who don’t fully understand why their daddy was taken from them.  I can’t be mommy and daddy to five kids, I have been trying and failing.  I need to find a happy medium.  Instead of trying to be mommy and daddy I need to be “maddy” or “dommy” (not dummy).  I have to balance, but I soo lack coordination. 

Life now doesn’t suck all the time.  There are bright spots. 

School starts soon

I have a part-time job I like

I have widowed friends I see once a month

I have decided church is a good thing

I have let the kids have more independance

I have learn how to drive in the Cities

I took the kids to the beach and no one drowned

Okay, enough…

See, things are okay enough.

5 responses to “Ya know…

  1. The life I am living now seems “second best”. I am just being, instead of living.

    Sweetheart, it’s been less than 9 months since your world was shattered: Your life IS second best. It’s not at all what it was supposed to be; everything is WRONG. Actually, calling it second best is being generous, don’t you think?

    Right now, getting through one day is a huge accomplishment. It may not feel like “living,” but each day is a small victory; and one day, you will realize that you are “alive” — not just “living.”

    I know how hard it is with the kids, needing to care for them and attend to their grief. I know.

    Stop trying to be mommy and daddy; stop trying to be maddy or dommy (‘cuz you WILL wind up as dummy, you know). Focus on being mommy, the best mommy you can be for them, the mommy they need. And sometimes, the best thing a mommy can do is simply BE.

    You will make it through this; I promise. You will make it because you ARE making it, even though you don’t know how.

    I wish you a measure of peace today.

  2. It will take a while, your faith in the justice of the universe is gone and you will never be the same person again. But you will heal eventually and find happiness again. You are incredibly brave and amazing, to be dealing with everything that you have. I hope you still have a good enough support system, I know that people get to the point where they’re like “get over it and get back to normal” so I’m really glad to hear that you have people to talk to (even if only once a month) that will really understand.

    You are still grieving and no one knows how long it will take you to heal. It will take as long as it takes. And even when you are “healed” you will not be the same carefree person you were before, that’s just the facts, but you can still be happy.

    I don’t often comment, but I check in often, and send you sympathy & good wishes. Hang in there.

  3. I happened upon your blog the other night, followed a link from another blog that I read regularly. It was the eve of my 47th birthday and I was waxing philosophic. When I started reading it was 9:30pm central time, I finished at about 3:30am the next morning.

    I am awed! Your posts are so raw, so real. I felt like I was eavesdropping and had to keep getting up and walking away from the computer to compose myself. When I was finally finished my eyes were raw and my head felt dizzy. And I was so touched by your pain and your courage.

    I don’t have any great words for you, no quips to give you an “aha” moment. I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your life with us. I hope you feel the love from everyone out here in the blogoshpere. I’m pulling for you.

  4. Okay enough sounds a heck of a lot better than it used to sound…you keep turning pages my dear.

  5. I guess I am “waxing philosophic” also, on the eve of my 44th. Laura, I hate to say that I have enjoyed your posts for the past 6 months or so, as they are sometimes painful, sometimes funny… , but I have learned so much from you. You remind me every day to be thankful, and to enjoy the small moments. I hope you remember, also, to just live in those moments of your children smiling, a little joke in your day – twisted or not -, and the little pleasures that life throws your way. They are there, even in the midst of pain. Life is such a mixture of it all, and we have no choice but to make the most of the journey. Some days stink, but some days it’s a great ride.

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