I’m fine.
At least that’s what most people think. The truth is I’m not fine. Witnessing cancer and death does a number on you. So much so, that every single widowed person I’ve spoken with agrees with this — we would never wish this on our worst enemy.
Watching the slow etching away of a brilliant mind, the physical frailty overtake masculine strength, and living from scan to scan, unable to look further than 12 weeks ahead, the scars run deep.
I’m no medical professional but Dr. Internet tells me that the weakest part is scar tissue. My heart is filled with the scars of cancer and death, and it’s weak.
And today it hurts.
We learn to live with death. Oddly enough, we begin to live fully after death. After all, how should we even begin to appreciate what we have until we have done without?
Most days I appreciate life. Live and live some more.
But today I’m not fine. I’m not ok. I know that will change. Maybe in a few hours, maybe a day or two. In the meantime, it’s ok to not be ok. It’s ok to let the tears fall. To hunker down at home with my babies who remind me of their daddy. To look at old pictures of a life lost.
Tomorrow will come. But for today, it’s ok to not be ok.
#laughterafterdeath #lookingintherearviewmirror #wanderingwidow #itsme #lifebeginsnow