It Hurts LIke Hell

I feel stuck in a crux. Stuck between wanting to be over the intense pain, and wanting to be able to move onto a future that doesn't hurt so much, but not wanting to leave the pain, which represents my past, the husband, my best friend that I lost and can't ever have back in this life. I know that everything is going to be fine, I am going to be fine, and that it will eventually feel better, and I don't need anyone to say that to me. I know that okay? I know it. But just because the knowledge is there, doesn't do a thing for the emotions. The pain isn't intellect or knowledge, it isn't convinceable and it can't be swayed. It doesn't function on logic and understanding, and so, knowing doesn't help it at all. I know I come across as strong, and people say the are proud of me for doing so well, well to hell with that. So what? I am doing well every day. I don't do drugs and I am not drinking. I am raising my kids and taking care of my household. Whoopie! I was doing that before. I couldn't stop living and start acting like a moron because my husband died. It has nothing to do with being strong or doing well, it has to do with being a grown up, having morality and having faith. People don't see me all of the sudden start crying and sobbing when I sit alone in the dark. People don't hear the pitiful cries that escape my lips when I suddenly realize, for the thousandth time that Mickey isn't going to come back ever and that beautiful man, who loved me and loved my boys, with whom I had so many wonderful and beautiful plans, is gone forever. I can't believe sometimes thatI won't hear his goofy laugh, hear one of his silly jokes, watch him play with the boys, work out in the yard, get stuck in his truck for the hundreth time, get upset at his video game, wrap his arms around me as he climbs into bed, call me from the bathtub to tell me something he remembered, roll around on the ground in a stealth move, build a big fire that nearly catches the whole field on fire, tell me he loves me before he leaves for work and every time I talked to him on the phone....and so many other things that I loved about him. It just sucks. It sucks and I hate it. Please don't say to me either that God needed Mickey in heaven....no He didn't, He could have gotten along just fine without him for a few more decades. Don't say to me that at least Mickey isn't in pain anymore because I know that Mickey would have chosen the pain to death if he had the choice because he wouldn't have wanted to leave me and our babies. He woudln't have wanted to have me go through all of this pain and crap that hurts me to the deepest core of my being on nearly a daily basis. The only thing that would make it feel better right now, I apparently can't have. I don't know why. Perhaps I am not depending on God enough or something. Perhaps I am doing something wrong. Perhaps I failed too much and am not worth it. Perhaps I am expecting too much. I don't know, but please don't tell me I am strong, that I am going to be okay. Please don't believe that I am okay all the time. Please talk about Mickey. Please take my boys to do things. Please ask me to do things. Please don't forget that we still are here and still have a lot of pain and are weighed down every day by the stress of life. Don't make assumptions, just ask. Please don't hold me to anyone else's standards or timelines or guide books. I am a relatively smart, wise, logical person who can make smart, wise, logical decisions when it counts. I know when to, and when not to make big descisions. I am not half of a person, I am a whole person who is dealing with grief and is learning a new life. Allow me to make some silly decisions, allow me to mess up a little here and there as long as I'm taking care of myself, my boys and my household. And please thank my mom for being there for me, for helping me take care of my boys, because I couldn't do it without her. She's all I got to help me with them. The only breaks I get are when she takes them, and even then I feel guilty for having her do it so much. She deserves a lot. Well I am going to bed.

Guilt and the Should Haves

I didn't kiss Mickey enough. I didn't hug him enough. I can still hear him saying "You used to think I was funny" or "You used to think my jokes were funny." I didn't hug him enough. I didn't cuddle with him enough. I didn't tell him how much I loved him and appreciated him enough. I know we had some hard times and hard things to deal with, but I wish I had been more loving to him. Now that chance is gone. I have a hard time thinking about ever telling anyone else and doing these things for anyone else because Mickey deserved them more and first. He was a soldier, a wounded veteran, the father of my kids, my best friend, my first love, my life. He deserved everything. I wish I had given him everything. I wish just for one chance to talk to him and tell him how much I love him and for the chance to hear from him that he knows that and he was happy. I don't know why God has not allowed me the "dream". That is all I really want right now. Why not? Though my last act of support and love for him was a fatal one, I know he really appreciated the fact that I agreed to let him have the motorcycle. He was so excited and so happy to be getting it. It was going to be a great, fun and freeing thing for him. I guess it was. I don't even remember what we did the night before the accident. I am sure we watched TV together and then went to bed. In the morning he said good bye to me and he kissed me, I kissed him and Owen probably had to have his turn too. That was a game we played. He called me right before the accident, on his way back to Benzonia, to tell me that he was on his way to get the bike and he'd see me soon. I wasn't home, I was at the lake so he left a message. I deleted not knowing that would be the last message I ever received from him. At least I have video tapes of him so I can hear his voice when it starts to fade. I have good memories of him, but he died way too soon. I didn't want a life with anyone else. I only wanted a life with him. We were supposed to grow old together and sit with eachother on a porch swing and watch sunsets. I don't want to be alone, but neither do I want anyone else but Mickey. I don't want to give anyone the things that I should have given Mickey more of. I don't know if I can until I can feel like he knows that I loved him more than words can say and that he knows that I did think he was funny, and I did appreciate him a ton, and that he was my best friend, and that I enjoyed all of our time together, and that I will always love him. I just want to know that. I want to know that I did okay by him, that I never meant to cause him grief, that I wanted nothing more than to give him pure joy but didn't know how to do it sometimes. I just want his reassurance. I just want him.