Twelve Months

Yesterday marked 12 months since She passed from this physical earth.

It’s been the longest, hardest twelve months I’ve ever been through. I wish I could say I’ve healed, but to be brutally honest with myself. I really haven’t healed that much. All I’ve really done is mask the hurt, or hidden from it. I want to be better. I want to be OK. I want to be able to think back with fond memories and not cry for Her.

I can’t. The only way I cope is to block Her from my heart and mind. I block Her beautiful children and Her most special, gifted grand-daughter from my mind and I hide away somewhere in a fantasy where She doesn’t exist. That way I don’t have to go through that pain. It’s an extremely selfish way to live, but if I don’t do it that way, I know I will slowly die from grief.

I need to live. I need to give Love. I can’t grieve and give Love at the same time. At least, that’s how I think I feel. I mean, I have been really happy for some time now, but that’s because I haven’t allowed myself to think of Her, or my past life before that August day last year. When I do, I fall again. And I don’t want to be in that dark place anymore. I want to live and Love again.

I’ve been told it takes a long long time to ‘get over’ something like this. I guess I’ve been trying to rush the process. I’m just all fucked up and trying desperately to not be. I don’t know anything really.