I am broken. He is gone, I will never get over it. He wouldn't want me to be this way, so I have to find a way to dig out and be whole again. I came back here to write, because writing is like therapy for me, getting things out that I cannot say with my voice, letting my thoughts get out without actually having to say what is too hard to speak.
A week of absolute grief. Funeral planning is hard. I keep turning around to call him for comfort because I am so shattered and then in the split second I remember he is not there to call anymore. I stare at his name on my phone and I can't delete it.
The funeral will be at the same chapel as the last funeral I went to... with him, alive, that time. That funeral was a huge wake up call for me, or so I thought at the time. It felt like it. I wrote about it here, about how sitting there at that funeral was a giant slap of reality that made me see how short and precious life is and made me take a good hard look at my own. I wrote about it more a few days later. And now I went back to look at those posts, because I am going to another funeral there, where I had that huge emotional sense that life is so precious. And now I look at it, and I feel like I wasted those 4 years, I didn't accomplish what I wanted to. I started to, I made progress, I changed what I was doing with my life, things were getting better, but now... a month into my injury, still almost as fat as I was back then, still sort of flailing...
I don't know what to do. I am so emotionally crushed. I want to LIVE because he didn't get to. He would want me to embrace life. I don't even know what I am saying now, but I hurt.
I logged in and saw that there are 57 comments waiting to be published on my last post. That surprised me. I haven't read them, I'm sorry. The first comment immediately after I made that post which I did read, was from an Anonymous person saying something hateful and I can't deal with it right now if there are some hateful words so I did not read any other comments. I am going to leave them unread for now and imagine that they are all words of kindness and support to lift me up, people praying for me, because I need it. Maybe after the funeral, when some time's gone by, I will go back and read and publish them. I'm sorry, the pain is just too, too raw for me to read a single hurtful thing.
Thanks for listening.