I feel like I've finally hit the wall. I've run out of bright sides to look on, positive things to think and ways to make sense of this. Though I could still come up with ten things to be thankful for, none of it really matters. I've reached the point where nothing makes sense without them.
While I was taking a shower this morning I noticed that Peter's bath toys, which were still perched on the side of the tub, were starting to get moldy. They haven't been used in almost a year so why wouldn't they be moldy? I could've cleaned them and put them back, but what's the point? He's not coming back. He's not going to use them anymore. Keeping them doesn't make me feel any closer to him. So I threw them out.
I still can't stomach the idea that my kids are dead. I say it out loud sometimes and I just don't believe it. And lately I've gotten really good at believing that they're not dead and gone, but alive in another dimension. But today I just don't care. That doesn't cut it. I want them to be here with me.
I know that at some point I'll feel better. It's a good thing grief comes in waves because if it felt this bad all the time no one would survive it. So I will survive and surely live many more days without them. Fabulous.