My mind is polluted with stories and images that I’d like to share, but am afraid will scare you. It’s difficult managing the burden of these thoughts alone, but it is mine to hold. I’m a master at storing these stories in the far reaches of my mind, but they often push their way to the front and show themselves without mercy. The moment the police told me my husband was dead is as much a part of me as anything else, yet I hesitate to offer this secret to anyone. It can be very lonely working to keep this all inside, but I hesitate to share because it’s not like me to bring you down. I’m used to making people smile and these stories, these images and these thoughts will not make you smile. Each morning I wake up feeling stronger than the next. My life is beginning to take shape and I’m able to appreciate the small and happy nuances of the everyday again. This does not mean however, that my mind is clear of grief or that I don’t want to talk about it. In some ways it’s validating to share my struggle with you as it allows you to see me for who I now am – a person who has survived. So don’t be afraid to ask, to listen and to cry as I open my heart to you and show you what I’ve endeared. Don’t be afraid of making me sad or of dredging up bad memories. These memories are with me always, a constant companion in a life I’m rebuilding from the ground up. Every question will come with an answer and bring you closer to my reality while at the same time alleviating small bits of the burden I carry to keep these moments to myself.
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