I spent some time merging the posts from my other coping blog into this one. Not to eliminate anything, I'd rather keep this, I like the idea of being able to share my thoughts a little more deeply here than on the other, where I provided links to family. And it's not so much that I don't want to share it with anyone else, it's more that I don't need to continuously generate pats on the back and sad smiles. And also, maybe that blog will become more of a self help general etc and this will be more of a journal. I don't know. Talking to myself.
And meanwhile, I keep printing off little photos and putting them everywhere, and I keep reaching up to touch my little thumbprint charm. and people saying "Oh I hope that is comforting, that's so lovely, what a nice memory." And it is sort of comforting, I guess. I reach up, I feel connected, just as I do with his wedding ring, which I haven't taken off since that night.
But really? I'm nowhere near the stage where memories are comforting. For a couple of days I was sort of evened out, I wasn't having any major breakdowns, then all of a sudden it hit me hard, as if it had just happened and I fell apart and screamed and cried like a banshee. Really, that bad. That seems to have hit every evening this week, usually with no warning. I've read a number of grief blogs and forums and I realize that I'm not alone in how I feel, I see the same emotions expressed by many other people. That doesn't make it easier, but I guess there is some comfort in knowing that it is part of the long process.
The sense that it can't be real carries on forever, I think. Some days it just seems more overwhelmingly powerful than others.
Day 40. Wow. I don't know how.
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