.
.
.
.
Three years since I saw my husband alive.
.
.
.
So much time has passed, yet, it could have been yesterday. When will I stop wincing to hear the word "dead"; or be able to remember Joe without feeling pain? When will my mind stop revolving around what "was" instead of what "is". I cannot imagine a day when my life is new, free from feelings of what happened. When will the cycle of feelings of love/hate/anger and guilt stop and just leave me with peace. When will my life be mine again and when will I stop being a widow?
.
I cringed once at a grief counselor saying that it takes at least two years to begin to move on. I did not think I could endure the pain for two years. It's been three years and I am still struggling. In some ways things are better and in some ways they are more complicated and just as painful as ever. I still have nights when I go to bed with ice on my eyes in an effort to look normal and hide hours of crying from my kids. And in the morning when they ask me why I look funny I tell them I am tired. I don't want to do it anymore. I want peace.
.
Each birthday for one of my children reminds me of how deeply I am still mourning a life that will never be.
.
I still have flashbacks of that day and the days that followed, especially this time of year. Horrible, terrible, awful feelings and memories that evoke feelings in me that I cannot explain. I still drive up that hill as I did on that day when I saw the police office directing traffic and I think "this is where my life ended". My life ended that day. In an split second I was changed and a new life began. One that I cannot understand.
.
.
.