The Beginning of the End

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." ~ Kahlil Gibran

Ten months is such a long time when you miss someone. And it's such a blink of an eye when you look at a life. I waiver between shock that we've hit the  year mark of Kerry's final hospitalization and relief that we're going to pass the year mark of all the hard things. I just wish there was some amount of distraction that could pull me through these next couple of months.

There was a bit of time where I didn't cry every day - or even get teary. And all the things I've written up to this point are true. I do know I can be happy, move forward, love, laugh, etc. But I think there was a false sense of security in that too. I thought I could skip the part where I drag myself through the muddy parts of the river. That I wouldn't have to stumble in the muck and mire or feel insecure and sad.

I was wrong.

Many hours have been spent talking to my children and walking them through their bad days. Even

more hours included talking to myself. We're all working out the details of our own stories. Many friends have heard me say that once I realized my story has to go on - and that Kerry's active role in that story is now finished - I knew I had to help the kids realize that too. Inserting him into our futures when we sit still and think just makes the hurt worse. We look for him in those moments, realize he isn't there, and the disappointment sets in again. Knowing this has been helpful when I've been floating in the calm spots. It's comforting to define it and face it - even though it also hurts so much.

I miss him.

The low points are really low. And allowing myself to actively miss him ends with a lot of tears and a headache.  But tomorrow looms, the beginning of the end, and I know that I'd never want him back for that misery again. I have to just miss him and know that it's better than having him suffer. Better for us to claw our way to the clear water than sink in that terrible quicksand. Because, while I didn't write about it or talk about it to many, the quicksand was cruel. It was deep and treacherous. Those of us who were in it fought like hell. If anyone could have been loved well again, it was Kerry. I didn't have energy for anything except loving him as hard as I could while I looked for any tiny rope to pull us all out of that danger. No one escaped unscathed, and we lost the one we wanted to save.

I am exhausted.

A year of doing all the heavy lifting has really taken its toll. I am SO thankful for the friends and family that have worked so hard to help me - and even done some of the lifting for me. But, at the end of every day, I am still exhausted. I still have to crawl into bed alone, make plans for the next day, and wake the next morning to do it all again. I still have to answer the questions, put on a smile, and move forward alone. Alone isn't really my thing, and I've never pretended to want it. But here I am! And coming to terms with it has definitely exhausted me. I'm ready to float again. I need the cleansing, easy water back. I need to spend more time with my tribe and less time in my head. It's time to get out the floating cooler, the happy playlist, and the inner tubes. But I just have to get through these next few muddy spots and hope I can find fun again.

I am ready for happy.

 Trying to figure out what I really want out of life at this point is so scary. Not being one for change, I am terrified to make any more changes! But I know that happiness is on the other side if I'm willing to make the effort. It's time to take chances and get ready for it. If you see me struggling along the way, just know I've crawled, waded, paddled, swam, and drifted for almost a year. I've been weak, strong, brave, content, sad, angry , frustrated, exhilarated, and even sometimes happy. You'll see insecurity, fear, confidence, and maybe even foolishness - all within minutes of each other sometimes. Or, if you don't see any of that, just know it's all in there. I'm hoping alllllll the things don't paralyze me as I begin to paddle. I hope that I am strong enough to find open water and recover that peaceful feeling I had a while back. Because I really am ready for happy.