It has been quite a while since I blogged. Blogging was extremely cathartic for me. Therapeutic is an understatement. But with three kids, an ailing parent, and all of the other excuses that I can think of, it became non-existent in my life.
It has been years, and oh so much has happened.
And tragically, it all has ended.
My husband died on December 22, 2015. Five days after my mother died. I jokingly told my brothers and sisters in Christ -- "Be careful what you pray for..." I have prayed to God to remove the burdens of my life. Fifteen years married to an addict, over three years of an ailing and dying mother. In five days, two of my "so called" priorities in life. Gone.
Grief sucks, it's guilt, it's anger, it's memories, it's stupid little things like "Frosty the Snowman" that make you cry when the line is sang "Don't you cry, I'll be back again some day." It's a daughter saying, "Mama who will walk me down the aisle?" It's a daily I DON'T WANT TO!!! It's panic attacks, it's I want every one to just go away and leave me alone. I just don't want to do anything.
This sounds like a giving up letter, it is not. It is a get your life back together letter. I HAVE TO get out of this funk. I HAVE TO go to work. I HAVE TO pay attention to three kids that are currently floundering on their own, because Mom has just lost it. I HAVE to clean the house -- it is GROSS. I just HAVE TO.
I miss him. I miss my mom. I miss me.
The Estranged Enabler is no longer, she is now a widow. Widowed by his disease.
I have heard that in order for a seed to grow, the seed dies. The new plant will then grow. With death comes new life.
I HAVE TO ... live again.