I am just not good at this keeping a blog. It was meant to help me keep journal and keep myself in check and I just can’t seem to keep it up.
Maybe because in March I thought I was doing good in my recovery. My grief seemed to be at bay most of the time. I thought of him daily, but not with a heavy heart. It was with a full heart; remembering all the good times we had together. The laughter, the jokes, the serious times. But they were all good. Rarely did we ever argue and if we did, it never lasted more than an hour or two. I must have gotten a false sense of security that I was going to be okay.
As July rolled around, I started to slip backwards. The anticipation of the one year really did start to weigh very heavily on my mind and my heart. It consumed me. I could hardly make myself get out of bed, or go to work. I didn’t really want to socialize at all. I just wanted to be left alone so I could be miserable by myself. Then the dates just started looming. Fourth of July weekend. Went home to Mom and Dad’s house, but with my mind on the fact that last year, Corey had been complaining that he was having a hard time breathing. And then getting upset with myself for not really pushing him to go to the Dr. But then was I being overly protective? It was hot and the heat was so oppressive that even I was having a hard time with it.
Then it was time. Time for the Girls weekend trip to Galveston. That same trip that I took last year at his urging. I had flipped flopped back and forth about going, but deep down knew that I really needed to go. I took that Friday off and planned to keep busy with my friend “M” before heading down to Galveston. But still, it was at the back of my mind, just nagging at me. As I started down, I tried my best to keep my thoughts focused on the fact that I needed to keep myself focused on having a good time. I really played my music loud as I sat in traffic; sang out loud and badly. But still, not really helping. There were times while heading down that way, that I shed tears in knowing that at this time last year, would be the last time I would see him alive.
The weekend at the beach was fun. I got up early on Saturday morning and braved my way to the beach through a wall of mosquitos, to take a long and reflective walk. It helped a bit. As I walked along the beach I looked for two perfect seashells. I really wanted to take them to his grave on Monday. I did a little crying on the way and really had a good time to reflect on last years events.
As the weekend progressed, I had some “moments” where I just needed to go and be by myself. I would disappear to my room and at one time had a really hard, long cry that wretched my guts. A cry that really did put me into a napping state. I have to thank “A”, “R”, “K”, and “J” for understanding that I needed to disappear a few times. I know that they totally understand how hard that weekend was going to be for me.
I postponed leaving the beach for as long as I could. But I headed out and went on my way to Pearland to visit my friend “P” and her newborn “L”. Holding babies always seems to help brighten my spirits. “P” is such a wonderful friend and has been there for me through the whole event; as well as many, many others. She welcomed me into her home, and I met her in laws and husband as well as the precious Spike and baby “L”. I thank them dearly for allowing me to spend some time with them. Again, another avoidance tactic, but it was a good one.
I left in enough time to drive straight to church for the 5pm Mass. And I am glad that I did. I needed to be at Church to receive the word of God and for it to help me understand my pain. Father Sean’s homily touched me deeply and brought me to tears. Later , after mass, I went to dinner with the ladies and that really helped me out even more. I finally returned home after 8 pm, to a rather empty, still house. And I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, the one year mark. I arose with great trepidation. I cried through my shower, and how I put on my face, I will never know. I drove to the cemetary to sit with him and to talk to him. And to lay roses, red, at his marker. When I arrived, I found a beautiful, yellow silk flower arrangement at his marker. Sent by my Nestie friends, this only made me cry harder and harder. I missed him so much. So much it hurt. I laid the roses down and the two perfect shells. I told him how much I missed him and how much I wanted him back, but knew that God had him now. And that he was in good hands. And I took leave and headed to work in which I pretty much did nothing but just stare into space. I did accomplish some work, but it was those things that did not require me to really make any hard decisions.
As the week passed, I started to feel much better. I have accomplished so many things and that I knew he was proud of me. And I knew that it was time for me to move forward and start seeing others. Making new friends and doing new things. Because I know that is what he would want for me. To be happy. And I tried…..