When I originally wrote this, I was only 8 weeks into grieving my 18 year old son's passing. At 6 and a half years in now, it's really no different-
A piece of a book I found that says it so perfectly:
"Everyone is tired of my sadness. I don't blame them. It's like living with an invalid. You feel sorry, but suffering's tiresome. Sympathy has limits, then the heart starts to harden. Sorrow has no such bounds. I can cry myself into a stupor and feel as miserable when I recover as when I started."
That's from a book called Later Courtney by Susan Evans.
All I can say to the people who can't deal with the changes that they have seen in me- Move On. I have always been exactly who I am. I have never tried to hide who I am. I am now a new me. I am a mother of two- but one is dead. Does this make me a mother of one? I'm still learning about my new me. I'm still grieving. I'm still crying and mourning and what iffing. No, not all the time- but most days. I have to learn to live this way before I can start trying to worry about what other people are thinking about me. So if you just can't bear it, or if it is too depressing for you, or if I'm not the Leslie you want me to be, stop looking. I don't need judgment. I don't need guilt trips. I don't need stupidity. I just need my real friends and family. It doesn't end. It has been 8 weeks. To some that may seem like time enough to be past crying and whining and carrying on. "God, every time I talk to her it's Aaron this or Aaron that." So what? Deal. This is me. If that's not good enough for you anymore... well, it never was.