I have to

I make people uncomfortable. 

As honest and open as I am here, I'm the same in person and that makes people cringe. Not everyone but I have a pretty good knack at reading people, observing their behavior and mannerisms, noting when they are queasy after they've digested a bit of my reality. 
This habit (gift) especially picked up after Christopher died. The majority of people I have encountered in the past 8 months have been strangers, acquaintances, people I haven't seen or spoken to in years beyond the realms of social media. In these meetings, it goes one of two ways, we are an instant connection or we aren't. 

To the ones that I have made uncomfortable or uneasy, I'm sorry. 
I know I'm intense. 

My life is intense.

I say things without regret, and I try to live my life this way now. I'm sorry my pain and hurt is worn with ease. I've grown accustom to this hurt and instead of wearing it as a hooded cloak, I wear it as a cape. 
You see, I want my two children to know that their pain, their agony is not to be determined by your comfort level. I want you to know that one day you're going to experience this level of pain and that you can still live a beautiful life. Side by side. Pain and joy. They can exist together. 
That one day you may be just as intense as I am. It can happen in an instant. I don't say these things out of malice or ill will. 
I was abruptly reminded of how quickly life can turn a corner and want to share my journey so if you ever go down this path, you'll meet a kind, friendly face. 
Actually, you'll meet multiple friendly faces. 

This is what I do know to be true. 

Our paths won't be the same, similar but never identical. The hurt, the pain, the longing, the intense, overwhelming sadness that you thought you were immune to. That will be the same. 
It comes, it goes but it will always be there. The quotes, the mantras, the books, the glimpses of grief that have been shared, it is all true. 

Wear it proudly. 

No shame or regret, after all "where there is deep grief, there was deep love" and as uncomfortable as that makes some, I will never stop speaking or sharing my deep love. It is vast and wide and we've only skimmed the surface. 

My human experience

The house is quiet. 
One noise maker is at school and the other is still asleep, dreaming. 
In these quiet moments my mind races from one thought to another. 

Daily tasks. 
Did you text/call this person back? 
Is the laundry ready for baseball? 
I need to call someone about life insurance. 
How the hell am I going to keep this up? 
I'm a failure. 
No, you're strong. 
It hurts so much. 
I know. 

What did I think about in these moments before this life began? I can't remember. It is as if that life, that person, never existed at all. Just memories, what I would give to go back to just one of those memories. I search for answers, for any resolution for the gaping hole inside me. Someone has to have an answer. 
God? Buddha? Aristotle? Merriam-Webster? 

The Roman philosopher Seneca said 

"Therefore it is better to conquer our grief than to deceive it."

I read these words, ask myself how and the answer just comes. 

By living. 

I am only in control of my thoughts, actions, behavior. Trying to control or understand the rest is just futile and can drive one mad. 


"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience."

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Life is painful. Life is beautiful. 
A gamble we take daily. 
Yes or no, right or left, blue or red. 

I don't know if your answer will satisfy my question. Maybe, I'm not asking the right question. Or maybe I'm just meant to live the rest of my life with a piece of me missing. That's what Christopher was. He is a part of me and I him. I feel selfish for wanting him back because I know that some people will never love like that.
Be embraced, cherished, connected with someone that was made for them. Call it cliche, call it what you want but unless you've truly loved someone, it won't make sense. 
Everyone has heard "home is where the heart is" and I guess I feel so lost because I'm homeless now. My heart resides in Christopher, it won't be whole till we're together again. 

I will keep living though. Choosing to be a light and not succumbing to the darkness. I want to be blinding, not a shadow. 

You'll heal over time.

"Time is relative; it's only worth depends 

upon what we do as it is passing."

Alber Einstein

250 days later

I spend a lot of the day thinking about time. After death, the world keeps spinning. Appointments have to be kept, stores open and close, hour upon hour, seconds clicking along and thrusting into minute after minute. I'm frozen. The world I used to exist and function in now looks like an alien kaleidoscope. Don't get me wrong, I'm managing. I just no longer understand the purpose, or can pretend to. 

I'm lost in what I call the in between 

I'm still here, physically present and accounted for but my mind, I'm trying to figure out where it's gone. I haven't lost it (thank you very much) but a doorway has been opened. As I sit and type these words, it seems crazy, crazy that I'm even entertaining thoughts like these. 

But here we are. 

Here I am. 

Where is Christopher?

The doorway that has opened hasn't given me any answers, yet. There is a synchronicity that has been occurring over the past months though. Numbers, words, animals, but mostly numbers. When it starts it is slow but then it's all I see. 

11:11

2:22 

4:44

5:55

10:10 

Blaring silently, notice me. Something is happening and you need to pay attention!!!

I'm paying attention. 

We tend to fear things we don't understand. I'm no longer afraid of many things, so I'm focusing on having an open mind and heart. Allowing myself to be open to the possibilities of what I can't explain, going along with it, unorthodox and proud. 

And so it is

I am continuing to evolve. Every day is a new thought, a new process. My life isn't as dismal, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. There are lights all over.

The journey. 

That is what I'm focusing on. When you start to focus on the now instead of the past, the here instead of what could be. Who do I want to be today? What can I do to make that happen? Is it kind? Will it make my future, my tiny people, will it make their futures better? 

It is time. It is time to explain some things that have been held inside me, so tightly wound, I think I may explode. Christopher made a choice in his death. Call it what you want. The army isn't calling it what society does. 
The choice he made that day, the decision, the hurt, altered everything. Changed everything. One choice after a lifetime of pain. I was mad, some days, I'm still angry. I have read and deciphered every message, email, every word that would lead me to some answer as to why? Why would he, how could he? Why us? Depression, trauma, a  pain so deep that he only saw one way out. He only had one answer. His choice was that life for us would be easier this way. 
Without him. 

He was wrong. I swallow this truth every day. 
My life is now a testament to his. A testament to our children, because one day, they aren't going to understand. 
I hope that I can guide them, show them that even through tragedy, even though people make bad choices, it doesn't sum up our existence. That their father was more than his last decision. He fell down the rabbit hole and it was too much. My wish is that by my words and my actions, I can teach them a level of empathy that I'm only beginning to understand myself. 
This is what life is, a string of lessons, ultimately leading us to our own truth. My husband's life on this planet may be over but his impact on those who loved him, on those who encountered him, he can live forever. 

Love is all that matters. 

I'll continue on.