89 days…
and I’m exhausted. I’m sick of this shit. I hate it.
I’m sorry for whatever I did that pissed God off so much that he had to take you away. God definitely sent me more grief than I can cope with. That or he’s got Fuck All idea of what “coping” looks like and has confused it with “crazy”. Its only through sheer willpower that I haven’t driven us all off to the funny farm today. Well, willpower and the fact that I don’t quite know where the funny farm is anyway.
I need a day of to myself with some peace and quiet, with no kids fighting or whining, no sister-in-laws phoning me for a “chat” at 7am or 10pm (WTF is with that???), with a clean house, laundry done and put away, no more forms or new people I have to send certified copies of the death certificate to …. and with lots of rainbows and the odd unicorn shooting glitter out of its arse.
A hotline to Heaven wouldn’t go astray either as would a day where I don’t cry so much my eyes and face ache with the pain of tears.
I miss you so bad I have a permanent ache in my chest.
I can see how it is possible to die from a broken heart…
XA
