Cry Me A River

Yes. Today is yet another crying day. I've had these scattered throughout these weeks. I never quite know what brings them on. They just seem to happen.

Perhaps it was a memory I shared with a friend earlier today. Perhaps it was the video I watched earlier where I could see him and hear him but couldn't touch him. Perhaps it was my telling the customer rep at Direct TV that I have to cancel the service because I lost my husband's income due to his death so I can no longer afford their services. Perhaps it was the way I ate dinner. Alone and quiet. Perhaps it was the street I turned on to come home or the sight of a couple walking down the sidewalk hand in hand. Whatever it was, the dam broke and the tears flowed.

Anger crept in with this latest spell. Mad at John for not doing what he should have all of those years ago. "Just take the freakin pills already! What's so difficult about that?" Those are the words I used to say to him when I would find out he wasn't taking his medicine. Mad because if he had just taken the medicine perhaps the last 6 years would have been different, better. There's no way to tell. There's no guarantees but at least he would have given himself a fighting chance. Doing something is better than doing nothing.

I don't know if him taking his meds would have played in our favor or not. I don't know if it would have allowed him to extend the time he had here. I'll never know those things.

My heart is broken. I miss him so much it hurts inside. My soul is lonesome. My soul mate is gone. And I'm left here to pick up the pieces and try to carry on. I hate it. I hate that he's not here. I hate this whole thing without him in it. I hate being without him. I hate crying and still remaining in the same circumstance when I'm done.

Unfortunately for me, I know what this is all too well. It's called grieving. It's not for the weak nor the weak at heart. It's not for someone with little fortitude. It will eat you up and spit you out and not care how broken you are when it's done with you. I know there will be an end to these raw, sore feelings. But the journey to get there is wracked with a soul-searching, excruciating self examination. The little baby steps make the progress slow. And a slow progression is better than a no progression. As painful as it is, I know I must trudge on. I will prevail. My God says so.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy will come in the morning.

I miss him. Pass the tissues, it's going to be a long night.