It's been one whole month, feels like a year. I wonder how it will feel when it's been a year, when I should have a funny, cuddly, wobbly, happy toddler; when we should be celebrating her first birthday; when we should be cheering her for taking her first steps. The numbness is wearing off and left in it's place is frustration, jealousy, and anger. Sounds ugly and feels ugly and I don't care.
The rotten thing about grief is everybody does it differently and goes through the different steps at different times. It's lonely, it's frustrating, and it's hard to be patient. I have amazing friends; there are many who are concerned about me and willing to do anything for me and for that I am grateful. I have very few friends, thankfully, who can empathize.
Over the last few weeks I've noticed the blondies' make believe change. Every time they play house somebody is dying or dead or killed. It always seems to revolve around death. They have been stripped of a little innocence at their tender age.
I don't really have anything to say. I feel lonely. Upset. Unmotivated. Frustrated. Impatient. I want Jersey in my arms now, not later.