It’s been 7 months today.
I’m trying to will myself off of the couch to do yoga. But I havnt any motivation. I have a headache. I didn’t get dressed until 4: still not sure why I bothered at all.
I dreamt two nights ago that one of Sam’s friends was mentally struggling. Actually, I dreamt that he was going to take his life. So at the risk of sounding like a lunatic, I reached out to his friend today to ask if he was OK. It turns out, two nights ago he came across a photo of Sam and he reminisced and laughed and cried as he talked to him into the night. It was a tough night for him. I hadn’t spoken to this particular friend of his ever. So, I can’t help but wonder if there wasn’t some intervention on Sam’s part going on there. His friend didn’t think I was crazy. He was appreciative that I cared enough to check up on him. We all need to check up on one another. It’s been a tough few years on everyone
Seven months. I can’t believe we have gone through autumn, winter and now we are into spring. Five more months and it will be a year. It still feels like yesterday: It doesn’t get any easier regardless of what ” they” say. I don’t suspect it will.
I can make it through a week now without crying. But, usually, when I do break, it isn’t pretty. I’m disgusted with myself: I have eaten for comfort all of these months and now most of my wardrobe doesn’t fit. I can’t seem to control my bad eating habits . I almost don’t care: except it’s a real hassle to exchange my uniforms at work. I’ve been trying to intermittently fast to get in under control and shed the extra weight but, these last two days it just wasn’t possible. I’ll try again tomorrow.
It’s funny how all the things that seemed so important before the traumatic loss of a loved one don’t seem to matter much anymore. I just wake up day after day now, wishing I had a countdown to when I’d see him again.
I miss my other children. I really don’t hear much from them, and with the busy lives they all lead I always feel like I’m interrupting if I call them. Having Sam gone really exaggerates the echo I feel when I don’t get to talk to my family.
Seven months of life without Sam. I didn’t think I’d make it this far. I don’t know how I’ve made it this far.