A Million Jagged Pieces

I will never be able to explain the difference between a day I am able to breath and I feel as though I am moving on gracefully, and a day I am completely stricken with grief and can only be described as hot mess.

I can't explain why sometimes I am able to make good decisions for myself and those around me, and the next I make terrible ones that just aren't like me. 

I can't tell you how many times I've put on a smile when I wanted to cry to make everyone around me feel comfortable. Because I know that if they knew how I really felt, they probably wouldn't want to be around me, and the truth is, I need them. So... I smile. 

I'll never be able to put into words how I feel when I see a picture of him. Even if it's a picture I've seen a million times. It's like my heart, my stomach, my lungs, my liver, everything inside of me shatters into a million jagged pieces, exploding from the inside out. Surely at any moment I might fall over dead. But instead, like a ritual, I take a deep breath, hold back the tears, and find something, anything, to distract me. 

My heart breaks over and over at random. One word. One moment. One face. A wheelchair. A cane. A certain pair of shoes. Someones laughter. It strikes hard. Each time hurting just as much as the last. Part of me wants so badly for it to stop and the other holds onto that heartbreak to feel close to him. Sometimes I'm scared that if that pain ever goes away, so will he. I still feel like he's here with me. I want him to stay.

So I'll hurt. 

Most of the time I have no idea what the hell I'm doing in this life and as hard as I try, I disappoint myself often.

It's frustrating.

The most frustrating part is that after burying the person that meant more to me than anyone else in the world, I realized how insignificant most things are and how truly significant the important things are. I finally truly realized it. And yet, I still take it all for granted. The small things still bother me, and I forget to appreciate the big ones. I continue to make mistakes. I continue to be imperfect. What kind of person does that make me? How can I live with myself?

How?

Sometimes I feel like I've shut off feeling too deeply. I have a wall between me and the world that protects me. If it weren't there I might realize I just can't do this anymore. All of my flaws, all of my memories, will come rushing at me. I'm afraid I wouldn't survive. So I remain in denial. In denial about it all.

I've said it before, but denial is comfortable. Too comfortable.

Still, I wish I knew what it was that triggered my grieving. Hopefully one day I'll have more control over it. I hope that one day I'll have the sense to make only good decisions. I hope that one day I'll have the courage to burst into tears when my body tells me I need to, regardless of who is around me. I hope one day I'll be able to pick up a picture of my husband and not feel pain and sadness, but love and laughter. I hope one day I'll trust myself enough to take the wall down and just be - no more denial. Live without fear. Live without regret. Live without guilt.

I suppose for now, I'm just glad I have hope. When that is gone, we have nothing. And I really do have a lot of it, thankfully. Today is just another one of those days, but tomorrow is a new one. That is significant. So, I'll keep on trucking and trying and growing. The best I know how.

The world was brighter with your laughter.I miss you always. I love you.