Story of my life these days...

This is surely how I feel treated these days.  Not by everyone- some people still get it.  But by most of the world- friends who aren't close friends, co-workers, people you sort of causally know who know your story- this is how things usually are these days. I guess I do a great job of putting on my brave face or keeping myself together, and so people think you are always doing well.  But that is not true.  I am not OK sometimes (maybe more than sometimes...) and I am most definitely suffering.  The holidays are already hard and we haven't even gotten to them yet.  Meanwhile the anniversary of his death is looming over me in January.  The date just sits in my mind, like a mountain...overshadowing so much, daring me to think about it too hard so that the tears start falling in hot rivets down my face.  And so, too often, I pretend like thing are OK.  I refuse to let myself go to certain places in my heads during certain times of the day.  I avoid things that I think will be too emotionally painful. Then when I'm sad...I'm very quiet.  And so people think I'm OK.

Looks can be deceiving, people.

(Almost) a year ago...

Isnt that the truth?

Tomorrow marks one year since the surgery John had on his arm for his misdiagnosed "pinched ulnar nerve" (which turned out to be a malignant peripheral nerve sheath tumor...), andon 11/3 it will be one year since his diagnosis.

I'm acutely aware of the reality and severity of my situation, but this tiny little part of my brain still has trouble coming to terms with the fact that the "movie reel" of those four months that continuously plays in my head is, in fact, REAL.  

John was misdiagnosed, not treated for cancer for a year until it because so bad it could not be treated, and then in less than four months, he was gone.

No one could've ever convinced me this where where I would be a year later.  And yet here I am.

It has been 8 months and a few days since John has passed.  Time has not made things easier.  People tell you that it will, but people lie.  I wouldnt call this situation "better"- I'd call it "different".  You become more used to what happened, you accept it more, you carry on with your life as best you can....but no, it doesnt become "easier" to lose your husband and the father of your children.  Its a situation I can never fix and it bothers me to no end that no matter what, I never, ever will be able to change the outcome of what happened to John.

I miss you tons, John.  More than anyone would ever know.  Not a day goes by that I dont think of you, miss you, or wish you were here.  In fact, sometimes its multiple times a day.  Sometimes it feels like its all day.

I wish you were here for me and more importantly, I wish you were here for our kids.  

like an earthquake to the heart...

I talk a lot about my own grief and how much I miss John. At the same time, I never forget how much my kids are hurting too (in fact their pain contributes greatly to my own, because as a mother you want to fix things for your kids, and this is one thing I cannot fix- no matter what)- so when I see things like this from them, it really crushes my heart.

 

My youngest wrote this during his therapy session on Saturday.

Odd, consuming feelings

Sometimes I find myself feeling "What's real and what's not...and who even knows anymore??

Memories that leave you feeling broken

I was driving to work this morning, and my mind wandered to the place it usually does- thinking about John in some capacity.  Sometimes I think about things he did or said, or our life together, or how much I miss him, or I think about when he was sick....just kind of wherever my mind wanders.

Today I was thinking about how its been over a year since he first started complaining about his arm hurting and went to see the neurologist.  The whole year or so played out in my head, all the way to the point at which he died.  And while I know all of this is VERY real, a small voice in my head said in disbelief "There's no way that actually happened."  It all still feels like some very weird dream.  But nearly immediately after that passed through my mind, a bigger voice in my head immediately reminded me that OH YES, it had indeed happened and yes, my husband suffered for so long with a misdiagnosis and yes, once he was diagnosed it was too late (although we didn't know that at first...) and he did die and he isn't ever coming back.  Cue the waterworks and the feeling of my heart sinking in my chest.

I remember almost everything all too well...

If there is no struggle, there is no progress

Last week at work, we had a client come into our office.

The last time I had seen him was during the time John was still in the hospital and we had spoken briefly about John's illness and he was very nice and said he had been thinking of us.  I was in @ work so little while John was sick that I had not seen him since.

So when he came in, naturally he asked me "How is your husband doing?"