Excerpts from the first year.
19 Oct 8:45pm.
Saw the therapist today. I hope this is all normal. Sometimes I feel I’m going crazy. She tells me I’m not. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’ll ever get through this.
20 Oct 9:30pm.
I wonder what my husband thinks? I don’t want to bore him – if he asks me how I am, I guess I’m just the same. Every day. Nothing changes. Will my marriage survive? Will I? He’s got to be tired of this. I am. And my kids probably wonder who I am anymore – certainly not the Mommy they used to know.
22 Oct 10:10pm.
I always seem to do this before bed, don’t I? What a nice way to go to sleep. But it’s the only time I have to myself – and since I’m always thinking of it anyhow, I guess bedtime’s as good as any. Any quiet time for me is painful. Sometimes noise is easier – but I frustrate so easily now – I’m a real shrew.
25 Oct 9:15pm.
Going to bed early tonight. Hope it helps. I’m always so tired. The therapist says grieving is hard work and wears you out. I agree. I could stay in bed all day most of the time if I had the chance.
Mom, I can hardly stand it without you.
Dad, I miss you so much — I try to hear your voice in my head so I don’t forget what it sounds like. I am so terrified that I will.
Wendy, it feels so awful to lose you — you were so young and full of life — I wanted you to grow old with me and still be shuffling in the kitchen and ‘popping’ your cheek.
27 Oct Weds pm.
I didn’t work today. Guess I tripped and fell. I’m a mess. A damned stupid, blubbering mess. I’m so tired. Maybe I’m coming down with something. Isn’t it funny that my pen from the funeral chapel fits so nicely in my journal? Why is that funny? Boy, if someone reads this someday they’ll probably have me committed.
It feels strange reading these pages again. Almost voyeuristic. Can I be a voyeur of myself?