Learning how to live (again!)
Now, however, I feel like the proverbial groundhog. I have poked my head through the hole of grief and found that the sun still shines. Sometimes. Now the stillness, the absence of the Shalebug, ROARS. So in order not to loose my mind, and not focus on my loss, I putter. I am the queen of puttering. I make jam, I make homemade salsa. (Certain friends tend to appreciate this type of puttering.) I crochet baby blankets for the ever-expanding, almost due, pregnant sister. I read, I blog. I even go for the occasional walk.
What I don't do is focus on the searing pain that threatens to throw me to the ground and stomp me into pieces of dust. I don't go out in public if I know I am going to be the topic of entertainment for the local busybodies. (Yes, I am that self-absorbed that I think people have nothing better to do than discuss my state of dishevelment and my family tragedy.) I don't think about how four long months have passed and I still cannot grasp the reality of my son dying. It seems like yesterday that I walked out of the hospital empty-handed. I don't think about what I could have done any differently, because the WHAT IF's can literally kill your spirit. And I certainly don't think about all the people who have moved on with their lives, friends and family alike, and have forgotten my husband's, my children's, and my own pain.
What I am going to try to do is this: I am going to try to process my pain. I am going to try to find a new direction for my life. I am going to try to clean my house on a much more regular, and frequent, basis. I am going to try to be the best mommy to Fric and Frac, because they are the best kids in the world. Even if they refuse to pick up their laundry and make their beds. And I am going to try to fulfill my wifely duties. (Snicker.)
I am going to try to live. I have kind of forgotten how to do that.