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.