Bear with me…this is a combined post of many days…
May 1st…..OH hell this is the never-ending blog…
And 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th,
7th, etc t to the 21at.…2016
If you follow me on FB, then you know the last weeks have
been hell. A shock jock tried to
insinuate that I was involved in seeking money from one of the other families
in the tragic death of my husband….his own cousin….a man I, along with my
daughter, adored. My daughter doesn’t
even know that he is gone, yet, and I am not sure I how I am going to explain
that he can’t drive daddy’s boat because he is in heaven, too. UMMMM, bullshit. Then the shock jock decides to reveal a
description of the accident that I never wanted to know or hear….. thanks
asshole. Did I say ASSHOLE?
But…The week ended with a great visit with his family…I say
great because that is how I felt throughout the entire weekend. I felt great. I felt blessed for my girl…to spend time with
his family…blessed to know them better.
The overwhelming is becoming: OVERwhelming.
I keep hearing: you ARE doing
this…but I feel like I am doing it …horribly.
Maris and I fight, we yell, we stomp our feet.
We hug.
We pat backs.
We apologize.
We smooch.
We stomp our feet.
Life is hard. It is
hard. Yet, I still cannot wrap my head
around the notion that how I grieve is how **I** grieve, and no one gets-
OR is allowed to
expect or dictate how I choose to do this.
NO ONE.
~~~~~except where
my daughter is concerned.
However…
…today, I came home from Cincy.
Something rose up inside me.
I went down into the basement.
And…I began.
I drug 200 pounds of weights out of the right side
Moved them to the left.
I used a huge blade to cut out all of the carpet (without
cutting off my thumb)
Carried up the stereo.
Cleaned all of the surfaces where the TV was.
Organized and labeled all of my DVD’s:
21 Day Fix, Mortal
Combat, P90x3, P90 Sculpt, Sweat, and Abs
Hammer and Chisel,
T25 (where is my Gamma!!)
I carried all of the carpet to the garage. **muscle power**
I “sucked” every crevice with the vacuum and that canister
thing??
Moved all of the arm stretchy bands to the safety bar.
Cleaned the big mirror that watches me struggle,
Found spots for the push up stands, the gloves, the yoga
mats.
And with the help of my amazing friend, placed the floor
mats, moved the weights!!!!!, put up some inspirational messages, and …
I did what a friend said:
make
it your space
Make this your space.
I need to make the
space where we live
Our
#familyoftwo
a space for Maris and
I
To breathe together
To support each other
To move forward one
step at a time
So, Tuesday, I begin…putting my body back together.
Tuesday, I begin to connect my mind with my body.
Tuesday, I get to say “fuck you” to the shock jock.
And hopefully…Tuesday, we will stomp less and hug more.
**Side note…that gel polish is the best…all that work, not a
single chip!!**
Fast forward
I worked out 4/5 days this week. I am still purging like crazy. I am beginning to open up to friends more,
and I am beginning to tell people what I need…how I feel, and I am also being
honest with my perspectives, and I am listening to others’ perspectives. This is definitely a positive move from a
girl who has been “fine” for so long.
We all know that “fine” shit is just that…BULLSHIT.
In the past few days, I have heard more and more about
daddy. It has been my own challenge to
talk about him more.
“this is daddy’s song”
“daddy loves chocolate ice cream”
“who taught you to swing”
“I know daddy loved steak, too”….
My parents came for dinner on Mother’s Day… I set 4 adult
settings.
He’s not here.
I reach my foot over in the bed.
He’s not here.
I wear his t-shirts…even ACDC
He’s not here (he’d
be surprised).
I drank bourbon “neat.”
He’s not here.
After my parents left after having dinner for Mother’s Day,
she looked at me, she said, “I miss daddy.”
He’s not here.
Watching her swing, knowing he taught her how to pull the
chains, to pump her legs. Seeing her
jump off the steps, jump on the couch, walk the patio wall and jump off, walk
the fat tight rope at the park, cross the web at the park, roll sideways down
the grass, kick the soccer ball (Tim, she is actually playing and not just
going down the slide), listening to her talk about left and right, knowing how
to get places (she’s better than Siri—no, really)….he is there.
But…I
will admit to pushing people away again…
So…I made a conscious decision to NOT go back to BW in any
capacity…
I believe I will find a new place. I will…
But here is the thing…as this week becomes hell….
This will be the beginning of many blogs….
Dear Tim,
I love you. I miss
you. I have been seeking you….You are
not here. There are so many things I
miss…
Maris misses you. I
feel like she holds back…bc she knows I will cry…how crazy is that??
She still jumps off the stairs.
She jumps on the couch,
She still waits for the perfect bite of food….
She misses you so much.
YOU ARE going to miss it all!!!!! I cooked all night alone…
I just wish you were here.
The banana bread is just like you like it.
Love,
Honeykins
