More Tears

I think I may need to find a support group with other women who have been through what I have been through.

This has been exceptionally tough on me, especially over the past month. I think it’s because the one-year mark is approaching. I can’t believe that in just two weeks, Chris will have been dead for a year. How can that be? I keep hearing myself ask that question over and over again and tonight I realized that for the past year I have been fighting the truth, telling myself that it can’t be, that this can not have happened. With the one-year anniversary, the truth is hitting me with enormous force almost too powerful for me to handle. Almost. I must be crazy. Nobody cries this much. I have been erupting into fits of tears for over a year and a half. I’m so tired.

Maybe it’s time to talk with others like me. I’ll find somebody. Bonnie suggested a professionally-run grief support group. It’s important that the mediator be someone who can prescribe extremely heavy medication for me. Just kidding. It is important that he/she knows what to do with my grief, anger, sadness and self-pity when they rear their ugly heads.

I have been fighting being initiated into what I have come to call “the widows club”. I don’t want to be one of them. We have nothing in common. They cry all the time and feel sorry for themselves and can’t get off the couch and out of the house, and they’re not married. Except that sounds a lot like me. Not all of it. I do cry all of the time and and I’m no longer married, a fact that is k i l l i n g me, but I do go out and I have returned to school. Marriage was important to me, but it’s gone now. I was such a good wife and I’m so loyal. Why did my husband have to die?

I already know the answer. This isn’t, nor was it ever about me. That’s the answer and it doesn’t make me feel one bit better. I know this wasn’t done to me. It just happened. But I still feel like God could have stopped it, changed it, fixed it.

I don’t know what my purpose is supposed to be in any of this. I just know that I feel like I don’t have a purpose anymore. Chris was my purpose. Every time I cry, I feel like he’s watching, feeling sad for me and wanting to comfort me. It’s a crock. He’s dead. D E A D. Gone.

At least that’s how I feel tonight.