Dodging bullets

I've gotten good at pretending. 
Acting as if I'm not still broken inside. 
Walking around leaving tiny shards of myself, pieces of my heart. 

I hate feeling this way. I hate being okay and then completely shattered. I feel incomplete. As if a thief has come in the middle of the night and has taken everything, my safety, my heart, my life. 

Confliction.
Gnawing. 

There HAS to be something. Some reason. I can't accept that this it. That I'm only left with this inferno because Hell is real.

That means Heaven must be too. It has to be. 

I need to be loved. I need to feel it. I have all this love for Christopher, it's drowning me. 
No love will be the same. 

Brutal.
Reality.

Every day I wake up and am reminded of what is and what is not. I get out of bed and put on the mask, all while dodging the reminders and thoughts that fire off constantly in my head. 

Smiles and blank stares. It's much prettier than what's underneath. 

But still here....

All I want for Christmas

There's an elephant in the room and he looks a lot like Christopher. 

I get it.

Trust me. 

I get it. 

I wouldn't know how to act around someone going through what I'm going through either. It's difficult. It's messy. I'm all over the place. I may want to talk to you, I may not. I may smile, I may hide. It's awkward. You're uncomfortable. I'm uncomfortable (this elephant is heavy) and you don't know how to behave around all this uncertainty. 

I get it. 

Just stop ignoring me. Stop pretending my husband didn't die. He did. He's dead. Not your husband, mine. You get to go home, to your life. This one's mine, and I've accepted that. You need to accept it as well. 

Talk to me. Ask me more than "how are you?" and then just stare at me blankly, waiting to see if I'm going to break down. Tell me a joke. I can still laugh and rather enjoy it. Talk to me about my husband. 

Not his death.

Not the pain. 

Not the circumstances of our unfortunate events. 

Not all the bullshit you've told yourself I must be feeling because guess what? You have no idea how I'm feeling. This not being said as some "everyone grieves differently" mantra but because you don't. If you would take some time and reach out, then maybe? But everyone assumes and then... well, you know the joke. 

Be present. Quit pretending like you care if you don't. 

Sincerity, that's all I want. I want to be treated like I'm more than just my husband's death. It's not too much to ask for and you may be surprised at what you'd learn. 

I'm not as broken as you think. 

I'm more capable than you could ever imagine. 

I laugh, I dance, I sing, I cry, I cherish every moment. 

I'm creating a life that once put back together you'll wish you were a part of and I want you to be there. 

I'm human and I still need other human connections. 

It's why we're all here, right?