This year it seems like all the "special days" have been a little harder than even last year. I can't explain that and I won't even try.
I'm very fortunate that I have family and friends that just know that on those extra hard days I just need my space and time to work through how I might be feeling. I couldn't share how I feel or felt, because I really don't know other than sad. It's hard to sometimes convey sad. People think of sad and think there should be tears. Yes, many days there are tears, sometimes buckets of tears and then there are other days when it is just a constant sadness that just lingers in my heart and can sometimes be seen on my face, even though I do my best to hide that outward appearance of sadness.
This past May 25th Chad would have been 26 years old. I spent much of that day wondering what he would be doing at this time. Where would he be working. Would he be a daddy now. All those things run through my mind 24/7, but on his birthday it just seems to be magnified.
December 1, 2014 will be 4 years since that horrific day and this marks the 4th summer without him. I hate it. I can't find anything good about him not being here other than he is in the presence of the Lord and I know I will see him again one day, but that is truly the only good thing I can come up with at this moment and time in my life.
I've always told my husband he has my whole heart and he still does, but now it's the whole of my heart that I have left, because there is a huge piece of my heart that died when Chad did. A piece of my soul was left in Afghanistan on December 1, 2010.
I don't know how my heart could stand one more day without him and then it does. There are nights when I lay my head on my pillow and pray, Lord, please don't let any thoughts come to my mind tonight. I just need to rest. Sometimes he grants me that, but most nights, that isn't the case. Most nights I lay there and images, memories, sadness, and just wondering thoughts run wild through my mind and the last thing I can do then is close my eyes and actual rest.
The One Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty Second day is no easier than the First day.
|My precious little man|