Here by the ocean when there is no surf to speak of it is an eerie place indeed. Today as I look out from my writing perch safe in my place of hiding, I wonder WHAT it is about my broken mind that insists on washing everything so damn heavily in melancholy.I started "grief therapy" yesterday and that same sad part of me wonders if I will lose all traces of my beloved husband as I submit to this grueling process of excavation. The thought makes me feel sick way down deep in the pit of my stomach. Every one of my senses in a state of alarm, they are all clinging and savagly screaming.."I won't let you take him from me."
Having had the realization that living half in this world and half in one where I have yet to be invited is not true living forces me to move forward..towards TRUTH. If nothing else I am always in pursuit of my truths, truth and love are the things that have always spoken to my soul, the things that so often kept me alive. I have never had qualms as a writer about sharing the deepest and the darkest in the hopes that it has all happened for a reason. I have always had the desire to share, to throw a voice out into the wilderness...a voice that says..."I am here, it's okay..we can survive the utmost pain" I offer myself up as proof.
Coming up on two years since Bobby's death I am starting to accept he isn't coming back to get me.
It is a beginning..
Footnote: sorry for the occasional pottymouth ; (
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