Every year around this time, me and my widow friends exchange emails acknowledging each other’s struggles as parents of grieving children. This year, everyone was pretty “up” in spite of fearing the worst seeing as how the number 5 somehow seemed bigger than BIG. Each one of us wondered what big epiphany or hurdle would come up for us. And each one of us were surprised when nothing of the sort arose.
At least not in the more obvious form.
Me and my widow friends would have reinforcement that the saying “life goes on” is indeed true. Along with this “moving on” comes challenges. In my case, the flu [coughing and fever (24/7)], pneumonia, dog crap all over the entry way, a random truck taking out the basketball hoop in front of the house, and YaYa fracturing both bones in his wrist after a fall during a bit of rough housing at the neighbors house. *sigh*
Instead of being the loving mom that I strive to be, I was angry at YaYa (for falling). Not exactly my proudest moment. It’s just life but, at that moment, it was also just too much.
If it had been the annual emotional crumbling which I’d grown accustomed to, I might have handled it better — MAYbe. I don’t know.