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I should have known better
Nothing can be changed

The past is still the past
The bridge to nowhere

I should have wrote a letter
Explaining what I feel, that empty feeling

Don’t back down, concentrate on seeing
The breakers in the barthe neighbor’s greeting
My brother had a daughter
The beauty that she brings, illumination

thank god for sufjan.  this season is so confusing, so many feelings, so little time.  up and down, in and out.  we spin around but we aren't moving at all.

there is still a large part of me that wants to refuse to participate in life since i can't do it perfectly.  i wish i could, i wish i was perfect.  i want guarantees, i want concrete examples of how i will be taken care of forever and ever.  it doesn't work that way - i suppose.  what i want and what i experience are so drastically different.  sometimes i feel it is so difficult to lean into the true beauty i am still experiencing, because true beauty is messy, it's not airbrushed.  true beauty is the thunder of a falls and the scorching heat of a desert, it's not the comfortable 68 degrees Fahrenheit you have your house set to, it's not the thunder of your SUV as you fill it up at the gas station.  

this thanksgiving a year ago i was pregnant.
this thanksgiving a year ago i was with my friends in ohio.
this thanksgiving a year ago... a year ago... a year ago.
elly was a whisper of a dream that is no longer here.  

and so in this season of thankfulness, i take stock, of everything that has been lost to me and everything that remains and has been added.  does noticing the additions defeat the loss?  i struggle, at times, with it.  i mean in all honesty, compared to most of my widow friends, i don't struggle that much with guilt because i'm a damn boss and i know logically, i know i didn't choose this road.

i'm not sure if i'm thankful yet.
i'm not sure what christmas will feel like without them.
i'm not sure.

dear elly,

you would be eight months old at your first thanksgiving.  to be honest, i can't even remember what you are allowed to eat at eight months, but god knows i'd be slipping you some food, corn bread at least.  we miss you, addy misses you terribly.  i miss your eyes, i miss holding you close, i miss the fire of knowing what it felt like to be your mom, to be elly's mom.  i'm in less pain now but it comes at a cost.  all healing comes at a cost.  your essence of being continues to slip from my grasp.  i've now lived who knows how many weeks without you as opposed to the five i had with you.  those five weeks baby, i had the world when i had you.

should i tear my heart out now
everything i feel,
returns to you somehow

i wish i was with you elly.  i wish i was resting with you.
my breath is tired, my arms are weak,
someone let me rest.


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that person is selfish
that person is crazy
that person is a coward
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they were depressed for a long time and finally went through with it
there are always warning signs, so people know it's coming
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there is this social stigma around depression, suicide, etc.  i can't tell you what it is like to not be able to talk openly about my husband's death.  to see people either openly or privately distance themselves from my pain, search for reasons that he did it beyond the fact that he was ill and we didn't catch it in time, connect dots that aren't connected.  all so they can convince themselves that they will never know the pain, and i honestly hope they don't- but it's possible they will.  i know people whose lives…

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dating in 2016, also huge LOL at even posting this.

Half of me can’t even believe I am writing this post.  Dating is gruesome, isn’t it?  Like most of life, I suppose.
The weekend that Jim died I was standing there, a wreck, while my phone was blowing up.  Alayne goes “who is texting you so much?”
I respond “oh those are just my tinder matches” 
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again, it’s a tough sell.