My sweet Momma has been in heaven almost 6 months now. 6 months. I can't even fathom it some days. A lot of days. Especially days when I want to call her, which is pretty much every day. I miss her in ways words can't express. I'm feeling like the bird in the middle. I don't want to be nice. I don't want to be around anyone else's Mother, no offense. I don't want to do things I would do with her with anyone else. It hurts me to think of it. Bad. I don't want to share. I don't want to join in some days. I.just.don't. I suppose that is what grief looks like. And, like she and I discussed hundreds of times, this whole.entire.first.year, I get a buy. It's the same kind of understanding I would and have given to other people and it's what I desperately desire myself. Just let me do it how I can cope the best and give me grace in the mean time. I'm hurting and it may not look like it on the outside, but tears stream on the inside. Especially with all that is changing right now that she was a part of, would have been in the middle of, that I want her, and only her, to help with. So, when you see me, smile, hug me when you see I need it, give me space if I don't respond and don't try to help me for Pete's sake, unless I ask. I'm trying. Grief is a hard thing.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit."