Feeling good hurts. I’ve had a couple of glimpses now in distracted moments. The relief is so unfamiliar it tickles my awareness and I boomerang back. You could watch it happen if you knew what to look for. My breath rushes out and my eyebrows start to pull together and if you caught my eyes in that moment, the grief would be raw and exposed.
It’s not that I’m constantly struggling. The hardest moments are usually brief. Most of the time it’s more like there’s a sad tune playing in the background.
I’ve started using pictures as an emotional bandaid but they are a double edged sword. I look at them when I feel too sad or when the boy feels too distant. They help me remember the happy times but remind me there will never be more.
Evenings are the hardest time of day. That’s when we were always together. Eating dinner, watching TV, and going to bed are things I almost never did alone. I can’t do any of them yet without being aware that he is missing.
A good friend just called and made a date to come over tomorrow night. I could really use the break. I managed not to cry by rushing her off the phone.
Think I’ll take another magic pill tonight and try to catch up a bit. The last two nights haven’t gone so well.