Not our picnic, but one nearby.
Last Saturday, we had a picnic for Greg’s Should Have Been 50th birthday.
In a miracle of the Climate Gods, the weather was perfect even though it had rained solidly for the weeks beforehand and every day since (and up to 150mm / 6 inches last night alone).
This week, bang in the middle of death-march month, has seen me BEG Greg to come back more than once.
Many times in fact.
Seriously, I have coped with this shizzle for almost 3 years.
I have worked, I have kept the kids on an even keel, I have hit rock bottom on more than one occasion and I have stood up again.
Can I have my medal now?
I am tired of grief.
I am tired of being alone in THIS month …. the month that contains the 20th anniversary of that birthday party where we first met.
That first date.
Valentines Day (and the single time Greg bought me flowers without laughing that you’d swung by the 7-11 on the way home.
….and finally, his death day.
I just want to be done with this and go back to how life was Before.
…..but I can’t go back.
I must go forward, even though I hate every year that passes without Greg in it.
I have to ensure I experience joy each day so that yawning black hole of grief is held at bay.
I will move forward in a ways I have never dreamed of.
Grief will not define me.
I will rise again.