Words for the Journey

I only held you for a whileBut my heart holds you foreverTreasured memories bring me comfortOf the times we spent togetherI still smell your baby smellAnd sense your tiny form

In death nobody wins only pain and sadness is left in the living. only regret and remorse for the things left undone or never touched upon.  I am broken so full of sadness that not even on a good day full of laughter am I complete.

Jeff was a good friend. He sat in front of me in seventh grade English. He was quiet, respectful, and smart. He was easy to be with.

Every time I hear someone say, it is time to move on, I want to scream. I actually am screaming inside, they just can’t hear. I do not want to MOVE ON!!! To me moving on implies that I am leaving my daughter behind. I am moving forward to a place she has never been and never will be.

It is strange now how the brain views everything. It is as though new pathways were forged in my mind the moment of my loss. This Sunday, October 5, 2014, Tim will be gone nine months. Nine months to bring him into this world, nine months that he has been gone. I fall apart. I tried to not think about Sunday, for it was a Sunday that he left.

I made a vow to myself tonightHoping it will last throughout my lifeThat in me I have the strength to fightWipe away the pain, sorrow and negativityIt's lingering does more bad than goodThe Lord, I trust knows what will become of meTrust in HimAbove all elseHe knows the wayHe knows my heartHe's the light

I ask for the strength of your love To help mend my broken heartTo reinvent myselfAnd live a new life from you apartI ask for the strength of your loveTo help me as I struggle throughTo carry me as I stumbleAnd live a new life in honor of you

Every night I lay awakePraying for sleep,But sleep won't come.

When I started writing after my mums sudden death I was writing as a survival technique. I wrote because I was in shock, I was in pain, I didn't know what to do. The more I wrote, the more it helped me embrace all that I was feeling. It helped.

I finally got to the place, in my second year of widowhood, that I felt ready to date. I had broken the attachment I had with my late husband. I found someone that I was interested in and felt some happy moments. We first met at a party and from there, our friendship grew from our phone calls. When he asked me out for our first date, I took some time to think about it.

“How are you?” is such a common question we ask it automatically. After four loved ones died – my daughter (mother of our twin grandkids) father-in-law, brother, and the twin’s father -- I was asked this question many times. The twins parents died in separate car crashes and the court appointed my husband and me as their guardians.

I don't listen to music anymore. Even the happy songs can make my heart sad. When I write though, it is because a song started running though my head and would not stop until I wrote what it evoked in my mind. I feel that for some reason, it is something that needs writing. I find that it is not only the newly bereaved that ask this question, the long suffering do too.