Here we are.

January 5, 2014

Here we are, folks.  The ultimate final stretch of the first year of grieving.  January 11th is now sitting in plain sight, refusing to be ignored or unseen.

I've had many distractions lately with holiday gatherings, trips to see family and dates with cute boys.  It has all been welcomed with open arms, but now the distraction dust has settled and I am ready to face this moment.  Reality hit me in the face in church today, as my sweet friend prayed over me and the week ahead.  Commence breakdown number one.  I foresee tears every day this week and I am okay with that.  I'm ready to dive head first into this last moment.

I'm finding the emotions, feelings and realities of sweet Richard's death are loud and clear as they've come flooding back into view.  It's like I'm back in the hospital with him all over again.  I can remember vivid details of every day of the week leading up to his death.

Sunday: the first day in almost two weeks that I slept in instead of getting there first thing in the morning.

Monday: the day I went to my doctor to talk about my emotional roller coaster.  I cried in her office and she suggested a low-dose antidepressant.

Tuesday: the day Richard got upset and offended because I made fun of the show we were watching.  The day I decided he wasn't a good patient.  Of course, we later apologized to one another, understanding his situation was making him incredibly cranky.

Wednesday: the day that sweet Richard felt all of the sudden better.  He showered on his own for the first time in weeks and had a new burst of energy.  The day he wanted to wear the watch I got him for Christmas and I told him we should wait until he got out.  He was only a little loopy on this day.

Thursday: the day he hallucinated on and off.  He'd wake up laughing, in mid conversation.  Who knows who he was talking to in his mind.  The day I cried and prayed over him while he slept.  The day he was diagnosed with leukemia.  The day he was moved to the oncology unit.  The day he had very little life in his eyes.

Friday: the day he was moved to critical care.  The day he was incoherent, on a ventilator, at least 5 pic lines coming out of his body.  The day he was on dialysis.  The last day I ever saw him.

Crying as I write this, I have to say that I am so glad the year is coming to a close.  I can't believe it's here.  I can't believe it's been an entire year.

I anticipate a hard week, but I know that I will be covered in prayer and love by the precious people the good Lord has placed in my life.  I continually stand in awe at the people he's placed around me.

I anticipate an emotional week that will be wrapped up in a last minute trip to the mountains with two precious friends.  A soul vacation is what we will call it.

Richard and I spent a lot of our short time together hiking in the mountains.  I feel a retreat to a cabin is the perfect place to end this year.  A time of quiet, prayer and rest.

I can't wait.