okay,
so yes, I have been posting more, and yes, it is mostly about the loss
of my husband. It may seem redundant, maybe over kill, or it may be
something you have no possible interest in. I apologize but I will
probably be doing this for a while. If I don't get it out I'll explode
or implode or something. Writing is my therapy, my release, my valve to
allow some of the pent up emotions to escape in a controlled release.
Its cheaper than a doctor and has fewer side effects than all those
prescribed medicines.
I
spend a good bit of time on social media sites. Every post I see from
the people my husband once worked with, reminds me of him, but it also
allows me to feel closer to what he loved and those he loved doing it
with. I enjoy seeing the photos that are shared, seeing the places that
he must have seen. While I had an idea that this is a beautiful land,
seeing the photos taken of actual places, mountains topped with snow,
lakes, rivers, elk and buffalo, all make me yearn to actually travel and
see them for myself. Makes me want to get in the car and take off,
driving across this land, wondering if he drove on that same roadway.
There are times in which it almost feels as if I am riding the roads he
once traveled, eaves dropping on conversations that he himself probably
had many times over as I read the things that people share. The
conversations that they have with each other. All of the times they make
sure everyone knows of detours, places that are closed, best places to
eat, the list goes on and on. I'll read and I'll smile and I'll sigh a
deep sigh as I wish, that just once, I had gone with him on a run.
This morning a trucking company's commercial was running on a local
radio station, letting everyone know that they are hiring. If I'm not
mistaken my husband tried to get hired on once by that company. I'm glad
that it didn't work out. The one that he was working with when he
passed is a really good, family oriented company. He may could have
found one making more money, but I doubt there is another one that is so
much like a big extended family.
I never know when something may hurt, like a serrated knife stuck deep
into my chest and twisted, or when I can just let something flow over me
and pass on by. I do know that even when I seem calm, the emotions just
under the skin are a mess. Such as the molten lava just below the
surface that bubbles and builds until it has to be released in the form
of a volcanic eruption. I work hard to keep it under control and not
allow things to bother me, or to show that I've been bothered as the
possibility is real that it would only make matters worse. So I take
those deep breaths, count to a thousand and walk on. All of this is
making me more jumpy and nervous than I usually am. Lets face it, when
one jumps because they think they see something out of the corner of
their eye, and it turns out only to be the seat belt sliding back into
place, you have a problem.
So,
I'll write, then I'll write some more. In the middle of all that
writing, I hope to find some truths, I hope to share some truths. I hope
to make myself feel better and hopefully help someone else feel
better-- even just a little-- in the process. I have learned, that I had
no idea that you could miss someone as badly as I miss my husband. I
had no idea, that his passing would leave such a giant hole in my heart
and in my life. I had no idea, but I'm finding out, and I'm learning how
to walk all over again.
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