Just some thoughts from me on this cold morning.
In this place that we spent our last days together.
Spring will bring his birthday and the sadiversary with Winter.
The grief monster hit like a ton of bricks, but I persevered.
Pleasant surprises in the midst of stuff that I didn't know that he had kept appeared,
and I yelled more than once about the stupid things that he did keep
that were trash or what I perceived as trash and the kind.
"One man's trash is another man's treasure" kept coming to mind.
As I sat in the house, on the floor, on this cold morning,
I realized that we had moved into our first home hoping and dreaming.
Now I was cleaning that same home, with a glimmer of hope for the future.
It waxes and wanes, but there is hope, just a sliver, but hope will linger.
The hope that my children will grow up to honor their dad, amen.
The hope that someday I might feel brave enough to try to love again.
There is also a sadness that won't ever be erased from my heart.
Sad that I don't get one more kiss, one more hug, one more day with my love.
As I face this cold morning in the home where he died,
I can not comprehend he is no longer by my side.
I realize that the grief monster has bitten and then hidden,
so that I cannot conquer him head-on, once and for all.
Grief is a silent conquerer, who sneaks up on you in the night
and shakes your soul, then tries to consume you before the light.
I realize that I am slowly fighting back at this monster and winning.
I hope someone finds encouragement in my ramblings this cold morning.