I feel stupid for counting.
I feel saner as I count.
I accept now... it doesn't matter how much I wish, how much cry, how much I pray.
It doesn't matter how many times I fold up his side of the blanket, or how much I ask God to wake me up from this nightmare, or to let him visit me in my dreams...
I accept now... he is not coming back.
Now all I want is to mourn my husband and to learn to carry this grief. To learn to live with the weight of his absence filling up my mind, my heart, my life. Knowing that just because he is dead it doesn't mean that we've lost him. He is and always will be forever a part of us.
He is not coming back but the three of us have each other. Grief hasn't killed us. It may even make us kinder, more loving, more human.
In one minute it will be 101 days.
And from now on my girls and I will choose to find a way through this new normal, to bounce forward because we can't bounce back, to count our blessings because God is good to us and He has placed people in our lives who are kind, generous and caring.
We will try to be present in each moment and to look forward because have no other option but to embrace happy-sad.