Every day I talk to my
husband. After his death in July of 2013 I didn’t know how to go on without
him. It’s a bit disconcerting when you’ve spent a lifetime as half of a we, and
then it’s only me. If this has happened to you, you know the agony.
Wandering down the valley of
the shadow of death the first year or so was the worse year of my life, ever.
In that first year have you ever wondered how you were getting up in the
morning? Moving could be torture; why didn’t I just die? Often I thought myself
e real f’ing coward for not just “doing it.”
In less than five months
Kirt will be dead two years. To say my life is different states the obvious,
but the nuances of the change is the gift.
I can’t thank God enough for
the gift of a life with a man, who loved me as much as I loved him. We made the
best of everything life shot at us, and had fun doing it.
Pissed with God is not a
good place for a creation to be. Kirt and I found happiness with each other, so
how are you expected to feel towards the one doing the removing? Come on!
Nightmares of the dark night of the soul are made up of angst like that.
I prayed to get over my mad
with God. How could I realize how arrogant it is to be mad at the creator, and
yet still be so pissed?
As a routine in my life I
talk with God rather than pray as the form of communication. During the storm in
which both God and my husband were lost to me, I prayed.
I talk to Kirt, the manifest
of God I love the best, but best of all I’m talking to God again.
God will be happier, if I
ever freakin learn to listen.
Y’all enjoy your day
No comments:
Post a Comment