A repost of today’s post on Widow’s Voice.
When Michele asked me to write here, there is only one thing I clearly remember her saying in the brief – write as honestly as I can from where I am NOW.
So that’s what I try to do each week…. write my now.
As honestly as I can.
My soul stripped bare.
Some weeks, I am OK. Good even. But other weeks, I am not so good.
This is one of those weeks.
I am sick. My chest rattles as I suck air in and out. My head pounds. My eyes leak. My energy has evaporated and I am light headed whenever I try to do anything.
I am tired.
I am sick of the petty squabbles over who farted on who’s pillow.
I am tired of cooking and cleaning when I am not working or preparing for work.
I am sick of being in charge of everything. All the big things and all the small things.
I feel like I’m sinking under the weight of a life that was meant to have two parents involved in bringing up the children.
I am angry at a God I no longer believe in (I said I was being honest – I didn’t say my thoughts had to make sense to you).
If anyone had told me I’d still be feeling this aching pain 26 months later, I think I would have given up right then and there when I first heard the news that he was dead.
I feel like I am going backwards into my grief when I have been trying so long to move forwards through it.
This is not like me at all.
I am a do-er.
A great believer in the almighty I CAN do it.
And I always achieve what I set my mind to.
Except when I don’t.
Early this morning, I sat on our my bed and the tears just ran in rivers down my face. I wanted to be held by his arms. I wanted someone to look at me like I was the most beautiful and precious jewel they’d ever seen. I wanted someone to tell me they loved me above all else.
….and then my kids came in with their hilarious home-made Mother’s Day gifts.
The small things they had painstaking made out of bits and bobs they had collected.
….and they hugged me, and told me I was the best mother in the world (they are easily pleased).
…and I realised….
I am loved.
Life still sucks beyond the telling of it, but I am loved.
These two little souls are here, in front of me, looking at me like I am the most precious jewel they have ever seen.
Holding me in their arms.
Telling me that they love me so much.
….and I say a silent prayer of thanks to the God I no longer believe in.
The God of small things….