I'm not sick.... I'm grieving.

Throw mama from the train! Cathedral Ledge, NH circa 2006.

How to help the grieving, continued...
"I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I’m not sick. I’m grieving and that’s different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after
my loved one’s death. Don’t think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was
with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching our children and grandchildren grow, the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay."
I am unsure if I've started grieving yet. I'm probably still in shock, especially since I have so many moments when I'm waiting to see him again or hear from him. If anything, I am lucky for a couple of reasons - because I was in charge of the finances for our house, I am able to navigate the financial situation we now face fairly easily. My day with the kids runs about the same as it used to - I did daycare drop off and pick up the majority of the time. I'm thankful for that, because our schedules are able to stay 'normal' and 'routine' and that gives us all comfort I think.
But I'm reminded on a daily basis that the person I am, and have been since we first got together, is now changed. And I will always miss that. I miss the person I was being Mike's girlfriend, fiance, and wife. I miss the security he gave me being with him. I miss everything we enjoyed doing together - from having coffee on our front porch to fishing and being outside. And I think I'm most concerned for my kids. That they now will grow up without their father. And that when they get older they will not have their father there to celebrate graduations, weddings, grandchildren. They have been robbed of all of that by this tragedy. And so now I am working to create as many things as possible that will remind them (and me, I suppose) of their dad so that they can look back and remember him in as many ways as possible. Photo collages, journals with their thoughts and memories of dad, a scrapbook of memories and thoughts from those who knew and loved Mike. Memory boxes of things that were special to him that I divide up between the three of us to be kept and gone through when they are older. Somehow I feel like the more things I do the more they will have to hold on to and remember. Especially Adella who may very well end up not remembering him much, if at all, being only 2. And why should any child have to endure that? She still asks me for him daily. She will start to cry, especially at bedtime, and tell me she wants her daddy. And all I can do is hug her and tell her that I do too, but that he's gone and he can't come back now. But even if she doesn't remember so much when she gets older, I am making it my mission to make sure both of my kids know how amazing their dad was, and how much he loved them. I will make it a point to incorporate his life and love into our lives daily. And hopefully that will keep his memory alive in all of us.

And right now, I'm having a VERY odd feeling of deja vu. Remembering sitting where I am right now, seeing this photo of us, and writing about his death on this computer. Surreal.