What Sam Would Want

If I hear ” your son would want you to be happy” one more time, I think I’m going to scream.

Like, that is going to make me suddenly happy? That’s going to turn my despair around, and make me smile again?

There is just…. no words to answer that.

Tonight, my nerves are raw. My emotions are on edge. The dog is pissing me off. The air is irritating me. The sound of Randy’s voice is grating on my last nerve and I’m feeling completely unsettled and angry that I have to keep waking up day after day. I wish someone else could just live my life out for me for what is left of it, and that I could sit it out. I’d happily lease my body out to someone who wants to live in it and be “happy”. Because, I’m not. I’m sad and I’m broken. Resilience and strength can f— off because where they have always been my go to in life, they are useless to me now.

I’m guess I’m in the thick of it. The darkness comes, and it is relentless. This is what Sam felt that last night I suppose. Except, I have to stay. I have to do it the old fashioned way by letting time take its due course : my family doesn’t deserve to suffer any more than they already are. But I’ll be damned if I am going to be happy because ” that is what Sam would want” . Nobody knows what Sam would want because he isn’t here to tell us.