Changing Plans in the Blink of an Eye

Preface Warning:  This blog entry may be difficult for some to read.  It’s okay, I understand.  It isn’t the easiest to write.  If you have stress and anxiety triggered by talk of suicide, stop here. 

Sometimes, plans change in the blink of an eye and without warning.  I guess that is what this post is about today.  I had a post all done and ready to post, but apparently, my subconscious self had other ideas in the wee hours of the morning. 

Losing a loved one to suicide leaves so many questions unanswered, so many plans changed.  Even what should be a routine, changes. The life you had planned changes: vacations, projects, dinners out, and your future. It all changes…

This morning, I was awakened from my slumber yet again by the sound of the gunshot that took my husband from me almost thirty-six weeks ago.  Once again, I saw the images of my husband’s lifeless body in that creek bed.  Once again, I imagined what his face must have looked like in those final moments.  But it was the sound that awakened me, as it so often does, and reminded me again that he was not sleeping beside me, as if I needed a reminder. 

Every minute of every day, I am reminded that he is not beside me.  I am reminded when I am searching for something to watch on television.  I am reminded when I am trying to figure out what to do for dinner.  I am reminded when I am driving and I reach over to grab his hand.  I am reminded whenever I watch Abby doing something new.  I am reminded when I have “those days” – the days that I have to spend curled up on the couch under a blanket with the Pugs. 

I never know when those days are going to come.  They just do.  I had planned this morning to go to Durham and get my car serviced.  Just like that day in February, those plans have changed.  The thought of going anywhere today is overwhelming and met with incredible anxiety.  My extrovert self is stepping aside to let the little introvert have her way, but I know that this is part of the healing process.  Knowing that, I can give myself grace today.

Grubby, I know you are watching over us, protecting us, and covering us with your love.  I know that you would not want us to have days like this, but I know that when I do, you usually send me some sort of sign that you are still here, surrounding me.  You are forever loved and forever missed.  I will continue to do my best to raise Abby to be the strong, independent person she is becoming.  She is the very best part of you, and I thank you for trusting me with her.  I will love you… always.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be on the couch, and that is perfectly okay.