Don’t


I don’t

have anything

to say

I don’t know what to do today

I have shut the curtains

against the sun

hearing the call

to come out and play

smother it with

blankets over my head

all day

all day

come out and play

come out and play

I don’t know what to say

blankets over my head

smother another day



That’s depressing. But that is what came out when I started typing. So, I am going to leave it there. And if I am being honest, that is what I am doing. Just smothering my days with distractions from what is going on inside of me. I figure I would be getting better with every year since his passing. But I see now, how I process things. Very slowly. I put a mask on right away, with a painted smile and googly eyes. I have to be the opposite of what everyone thinks I should be feeling. Why is that?

I think it is about control.

At Christmas when I got new clothes, I made a point to not wear them for at least two weeks. I knew all the kids would be wearing their clothes to school as soon as possible. And I remember thinking, not me! You can’t get me to conform! I will wear them when I want to. Like anyone cared at all, what I was wearing. But by God, I was not going to conform.

So, I think my control has plum run out. I don’t go outside unless I have to. And my house is quiet. My oldest has moved out, and my youngest is on a shared schedule. So, if it wasn’t for my youngest daughter, I would be a recluse. She is very outgoing and loves sports. Just finished up with wrestling. Yes, I know, wrestling. So, the week she is here I am running all over the place. Mask at the ready.

I survived my first year with his loss. But now that I am done surviving. Now what? I put so much energy into getting through the year, there just does not seem to be any left for the next following years. He is still gone. The emptiness just seems to be growing not shrinking. And I talk to him. But I feel the silence more strongly now than I did before.

The sympathy cards have long since stopped coming. You don’t hear “how are you?” with that soft concern that can only be expressed by family. No more hugs, or loving hand that could pull you from the dark. No more lit candles in the dark to guide you along the way. It just stops. And you are left with silence, and your own thoughts, and your own will to keep moving forward.

I even feel strange writing this. Like I am not supposed to be writing this stuff anymore. Sympathy does not last as long as grief. You cannot keep dipping into a well and expect it to never run dry. At some point, you have to stand, and walk, even run if you are able. So that they can clap their hands and cheer you on. “Look at her go, isn’t she amazing!” And where does this all lead me? To guilt.

Stupid Guilt.

It makes me feel small. Helpless. A victim. My will depleted. I just lay there, I feel hidden. I don’t want to be seen. I am tired.

Tired. That’s a word that can describe where I am at. Tired. Exhausted. Drained. My energy to look like I can do this, is gone. Hope. Hope is still there, it’s a fluttering feeling. Small. But there.

It will come to me like in a dream once. Pegasus. With its hooves pounding at the door that confines me in my dark room. Magnificent wings beating the walls of my cage. “Come out and play” it will beg. And a time will come, when I cannot ignore that call. I will unravel from the blankets that have cocooned me in my grief.

Perhaps I am resting. That sounds better, I am resting in my grief. No guilt in that. I have run a long race, and now I am resting. Hang in there Pegasus, there is still hope for me yet.

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