Christine, Bonni, and I went to the annual candle lighting for The Compassionate Friends. The formal meeting was cancelled (weather) but a few people were there. I am just not ready for that group. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. They are wonderful people. But I feel like I have to resign myself to telling the world that Mary is dead. And every time I say that I fall apart. She is not. She’s alive and well in us all. I have stopped crying so much because I don’t think like that. The CF people don’t say it that way either in so many words. They just are all so sad it brings me down. If I’m going to cry I want it to be when I am celebrating her life and the things we do for her and in her name. If I go back to pining away for her out loud for all to see, I will not be able to function. So I choose to act like she’s a phone call away, out of sight, in another place. Am I fooling my self, I don’t think so. Reality is what you make it.
Some of the stories of the children of TCF are unbearable. I told someone last month that having someone to blame did not make it any easier to live with the loss. After hearing about a 14 year old’s suicide, maybe it does. I’m not sure if I could go on living with that knowledge.
Every time I see Mary’s things down stairs, tears start to form. Because I know they will be there in the same place forever. Some I can use, some I can’t. Some still smell like her. I stopped sniffing.
Here’s the interesting thing, all of what I said above could completely change tomorrow. I just never know how I’m going to feel until the moment I’m living it. Yesterday afternoon was better than the morning and this morning.