I’m somewhat back into the swing of life. Sorta by force. My sister and I have chatted about how it’s really hard to grieve when you have kids. All their needs are the same, regardless of our state of mind.
Yet, even if motherhood stood still, the demands of life would still call. I still need to eat, shower, and stay healthy. Work needs to be done; responsibilities can only be held off for so long.
So I’ve jumped back into the rhythm of life. In some ways it feels really good to work again, to do the things I love and give me energy. Moments, even hours go by now when I don’t think of James.
Then it hits me. All over again.
Reality attempts to sink in, but it still seems like a really bad dream; like I’m going to wake up in the morning and it will all be just a darkness that melts away with the rise of the sun. Yet the sun comes day after day and the darkness does not go away, and sometimes that painful darkness overcomes and I have to just let it come.
Sometimes it comes in the kitchen as I prep my water bottle for the day. Oftentimes, it’s at night as I settle into bed, or triggered by a picture found, a memory recalled, or a message from a friend of his with their own sweet memory of James to share.
And when the darkness does come, I weep. I mourn the loss of James, as well as everything that is to come that I will miss out on now that he is gone.
My heart aches when I allow myself to grab a hold of reality. I envision the last time I saw him and wish I had hugged him just a little bit tighter, and it’s not that I want to forget him, but sometimes the pain in remembering is just too much.
So, I still weep. I have a feeling I always will.