Some days I still expect to come home, cry out, "Babies, I'm home!" and wander in the living room to find Cory curled up on the couch with Church huddled in an afghan. Whatever stage of grief I'm currently in, I'm still bitterly disappointed that this never happens anymore.
When I'm driving for work, I want to call and check in, "Hi Cory-Girl. How are you? Did you eat? Did you take your meds?" One of my work routes takes me right by her cemetery, and it's like being kicked in the stomach every single time I go by. Her monument is amazing and beautiful, but I still hate it for existing. I kick and I scream, and the days go by without her.
I read a bumper sticker the other day that said, "If you don't like where you are, move. You are not a tree."
I get it. I'm supposed to accept her death and go on living my life happily.
Give me my girl back, and we'll talk. I'll take every college class you want. I'll pay my taxes on time. I'll stop buying pens and paper. I'll be a better person.
But keep going without her? I can't promise you anything. Everything is so black. I look ahead to the future, and hopelessness just looms. Happy without her? It's just not gonna happen.
Misery surrounds me. My moods go up and down with the nearness and distance from the "difficult dates" on the calendar. But most every day is a bad day. Some are worse.
Sometimes you just have to ask yourself what is the point?
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