Spring Break

This week is spring break for my kids, along with my nephew's in Dayton. I am NOT on spring break, so my wonderful mother-in-law offered to take my kids up to Dayton to spend some time with their cousins. They've been gone since Tuesday morning, and will return sometime tomorrow afternoon while I'm in school. I'm struggling a lot with Anatomy and Physiology. I've almost completely stopped talking to most people, and have received several calls in the last week wondering if I'm still alive. I am still alive--barely. In three days, this Saturday, the 11th rolls around again. But this time, it's the BIG 11th. It's THE 11th--the one year anniversary of the day my life ended. Today, I'm handling it okay. Yesterday, I was handling it okay. It seems almost as though with everything else I have going on, I don't have time to grieve. In a way that's great, but it makes me scared that when I finally have time in my schedule to stop and breathe, the grief will hit full-force and decimate me. I'm hoping that doesn't happen. I'm praying that with the passage of 12 long months, I've gained enough peace and understanding to at least try to accept my reality as what it is, without letting the waves of grief knock me down and drag me under. Along with the peace and understanding I've gained in the last 12 months, though, is this understanding--the waves might knock me down. And that's okay. 12 months--1 year of widowhood-isn't long. To everybody who has never experienced a loss, 12 months marks the end of the acceptable grieving period, and the watchful eyes of the world turn away from the suffering. Grieving is expected to be complete, and the 'getting on with life' commences. In 12 months, I have learned the error of that belief. I am not done grieving. Last night, I had a short conversation with a man who attends my church.

"Do you think you'll always be a widow?" he asked.
My answer was quick and concise. "Yes."
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "You don't think you'll ever be able to be attracted to another man?"
"Maybe. It's possible. But I will always be Ammon's widow."

This, in a nutshell, is how I see my progression. Even though legally I am no longer Ammon's wife, no matter where this life takes me: I am now, and will forever be, Ammon's widow. Remarrying will never change that. I may become _______ (fill in the blank)'s wife, but along with that title I will always hold dear the one that makes me Ammon's Widow.

I'm not really sure where this all came from. I had a few minutes to try to sort out some emotions, and now it's on to the next project. As always, continued prayers for strength, energy, and a nimble mind are appreciated. I'll try to update as I grab free moments in the coming weeks.