A Little on the Tired Side of Things

I know I am supposed to make these posts each day but I just can't. Most of the time I'm thinking of anything and everything else to do other than write a post for my blog. It's not that I think the blog posts aren't important anymore because they are. This has become the place were I'm more open than others and right now delving into that arena of truth hurts more than any physical pain I've ever experienced. Today wasn't so bad a day. The temperature turned out to be a bit warmer although it's supposed to drop sharply overnight. It's possible we'll have some flurries and a thin layer of snow by morning. Right now, the wind is picking up so I believe the drop in temperature has begun. Today also was an okay day for me because I was able to get through the day without too many tears. As Christmas season nears, I know it will be a little harder to get through the day. Christmas was always, always Billy's favorite time of year. He loved the whole idea of Christmas from the Christian standpoint (it being the birthday of Jesus and the ideology that goes along with that) as well as the magical way the houses glowed against the whiteness of the snow and the dark night sky. It was one of his dreams to someday live in a house and decorate the outside with lights, holly wreaths, and other decorations. I'm glad that he was able to have two Christmas seasons in which to do exactly that. As greedy as it sounds, I wish he had so many more.

I've been hiding online alot. Part of me wants to reach out to others and make myself not talk about Billy all the time. Like some sort of distraction. Yet when I start to talk with others all that comes out is about Billy. How does a person not talk about someone they loved so much when the person's only been gone a couple of weeks? I know it doesn't seem right to almost blantantly ignore those who care and worry about me. But what can I say or talk about that doesn't include Billy? He was my whole world for nearly two years as I lived in a sort of limbo between being married and staying at Mom's place to care for him after a really rough time in the hospital. The poor guy had to learn to walk and care for himself all over again and needed someone to help him. Though our youngest brother was living at home at the time, he couldn't give Billy what was needed. Thus I stayed five days a week with them and went home for a day and a half to take care of things at home with Chris. It was rough and trying at times but I did it. I don't regret that. Even after I got worse and had to basically go on bedrest for a few months, Billy and I talked every day on the phone. It was something we have done until he was taken to the hospital and with his passing. I still call Mom every day to check on her but also to keep that small part of the routine. It's almost like a paradox. I want people to check on me, to make me smile, to help me through this rough time and yet I don't want people to feel obligated to do that every thing. I don't want to bore people with every little thing that I remember that Billy said, did or loved. As much as I love my friends and I know that they love me, I don't want to hurt them or bore them with my grief when it is almost like a hot a flash, coming or going with such ease that it often takes me by surprise.

This whole world is new to me. I feel like an infant born into a world where things seem cold, distant and leave me with a yearning for comfort and love though it is all around me. My rational side is starting to win out over my emotional side. I give myself the freedom to cry when I need to cry without berating myself inside. I don't hide how deeply it hurts to even think about Billy or his last moments. That hour, no matter how long it seemed at the time, is something I will never, ever forget. The waiting for his chest to become still, the gasping of his final breaths, the raspy way that his once melodic voice sounded after they took the tube from his throat and asked for some spray to numb the nerves so he could tell us goodbye. All of it plays in my mind. The last vision I have is him laying in the casket as I placed a necklace that meant a lot to me onto his chest before we took him to the graveyard and then the casket was placed into the ground. I know his body is there. It's the memory that never leaves me. I know his body is in that ground, cold and uncaring, locked within the gentle yet firm grasp of Mother Earth. I know that the part that made Billy who he was, his love, his beliefs, his soul, is no longer here and he is no longer feeling pain or hurt or suffering so that others can smile. If my writing makes Billy out to be a saint, well, he really almost was in many ways. Billy's miracles were sown in small seeds of unconditional (and I do mean unconditional) love and took days, weeks and sometimes years to bloom within a person. I know I had more opportunities for Billy to toss seeds my way. Maybe that's why I want to make others laugh and always have time to listen to someone. Well, before this reason selfish phase. I want the world to know about Billy, to know about his disease, his struggles, his triumphs. One day soon, I'll write the foundation of his story. Maybe I already have and just don't realize it. I just want the world to know.

I just want to apologize to my wonderful friends out there. I love you all so very much. I'm sorry that I haven't been talkative one moment and then don't want to let go of your ears the next. Please know that my heart is comforted by your words, emails, and cards. I just need some time to deal with some things on my own. Don't give up on me just yet. Take care of yourselves out there.

Love and blessings,
Kim