Location: Somewhere in a near magical forest in northern Alabama.

Two months…

It’s coming up two months since Jackie died.  In that two months, I’ve managed to survive the anniversary of his wreck, his funeral, the anniversary of his grandmother’s death (all in the same week) Thanksgiving, returning to work when I want to stay in bed all day, Christmas, and New Years. Two months. It sounds strange to my mind. It feels like two days and a thousand days and two seconds all at once. I keep thinking okay its time to wake up, just a bad dream. But I can’t and it’s not.

I don’t want to be okay, or pretend that everything’s fine when it’s not,  but I have no choice.  I have children. I have to be the mom. And that means I have to be invincible, strong, so that they can break if they need to.  And I can not lay down my metaphorical sword. I have to fight. Fight myself, the pain, the worry. No I can’t stop fighting. I want a damn time machine. I want to go back to the day, the week, anytime before and stop it.  It’s not fair and it sucks and there isn’t one thing I can do about it.

Two months ago today he was fine, well as okay as he could be since the wreck. He wanted to put corn out in his greenfield for the deer so he could go hunting. He sent me to Wal-Mart to get a new knife sharpener. I stayed in bed sick all weekend after that and he kept threatening to take me to the hospital because he thought I had pneumonia.  We stayed piled up under the covers and watched football and old movies we’d seen a bazillion times. Two days later my best friend, my love was gone. Gone. No power on earth could bring him back. Only God could do that…apparently he said no. I’m not happy with him right now. Not at all.

I just realized this post is probably counterproductive PR wise, something I’m supposed to always have in the back of my mind with every public word. I should delete it, but I’ve come to a realization over these two months about all that “do this do that” advice.  And that realization is I AM HUMAN and it’s okay to be that way, to not be a cardboard publicity sheet. To have bad days and good days, problems and worries.

My day to day isn’t glamorous. I wake up with Jace and Styxx (fondly known as the cat brats) laying on my feet and Asheron meowing at his door (they don’t get along.) Feed all the cats and see to Jackie’s dog. I make myself get up every day, get Kayla to school on time,  and go to work. Every single day since he died, sometimes in the morning, sometimes long after dark, I go to the cemetery, make sure Jackie’s flowers are where they are supposed to be and I stand on my future grave. Sometimes I talk to him. Other days I just stand there for a few minutes in the country quiet.   Is it weird? Maybe, but so what. Right? Weird is allowed here.