Talking with one of the strongest, most fierce momma bears on the planet and she called me brave. This woman is tough as nails and she thinks I'm strong. I'm not. I think about all my dreams that have been dashed and I cry. I cry for what could have been and for all my plans that won't ever come to be. I'm afraid of not finding myself again. Afraid of not ever being really happy. I don't know what my purpose is. I'm afraid of waking up every day and feeling like someone kicked me in the gut for the rest of my life, but most of all I'm afraid of disappointing my husband. We talked about his dying and how I would do anything to stop it, but we didn't discuss my living. I know he wanted me to take care of his boys...meaning our grandsons, but they have parents for that. I know I had a life before Dwight came along, but he really taught me how to let go and live, laugh, and love. Life became living. I know I'm living. I get up. Feed the critters. Do the chores. Go to work. It's a life, but it's not really living. I'll find it one way or die trying and maybe she's a little bit right because I ain't scared of trying.
No comments:
Post a Comment