That’s how I feel, like I’m crawling out of my skin. Like I’m a snake trying to shed off this dry layer of skin and scales.
A year without him? How is that possible? How did we live? How did I remember to keep breathing in and out. Thinking about this loss in terms of a year- 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes, 31,536,000 seconds- is dizzying. It simply makes my head spin.
I’m not ready to face August 21, 2015. I’m just not ready. I’m not ready at all.
Did I say I’m not ready?
I’m not ready to look back on what it really felt like to live a year without him, and ahead to a year where he will not be here at all.
It’s not like I’ve been in shock or denial all year. Oh no, I’ve felt all the feelings. Every single one. The feelings are as real as my skin.
And here’s the kicker, it doesn’t stop here. One year is not a magic moment when suddenly everything is all better.
But I did it.I lived a year. I woke up, breathed in, and loved my family even in my utter weakness. I promised him I would and I did it. I kept living.
And somehow, I will do it again for another year.
Oh God, help me be brave.
*there will be several very raw posts this week, I am sure. Thank you for caring and reading.