Ed says I don’t have to write a lot today. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. I think I’m all cried out, and then I cry more.
I want to go home.
I want life to go back to normal.
I want to be able to sleep in my own bed and I want to wake up from this bad dream.
Life goes on, but I don’t want to hear that it gets easier. Please don’t tell me it gets easier.
I don’t want my grief to get easier.
I want my mother to be alive.
But yet, I can’t cry forever; I can’t feel this grief much longer. I’m so tired.
I can still talk to Mom, even if it sounds like I’m talking to myself.
I can tell my children stories about the grandma who died too young. Wonderful stories; stories that will help them remember how much fun Grandma was before she got so sick.
I can wrap the quilts Mom made around myself, and know each stitch was made with love.
I can have faith that we will meet again in heaven someday.
One day at a time, I tell myself.
One day at a time, Ginny. Take care of your family, take care of yourself, and just take it one day at a time.