It Will Get Better

This morning I had a mental breakdown.  I did.  I'm not ashamed.  My boys were being a bit rowdy and acting in a way that I felt like I didn't even know them.  All I kept thinking was, "If Steve were here he would know what to do." Or at least I would have a tag team partner with which to tame the crazy.  It never helps that these situations occur when I haven't slept well.  Sleeping has always been a bit of a monster for me. One that is not quite tamed, but it is getting better.

Truth be told, they were just being boys.  Most of the time I adore their craziness, and am eager to take part in the fun and laughter, but today it was just too much.  Now for those of you who have been raising your kiddos on your own for a long time- I have no right to complain, I realize this.  To have my best friend leave the building, have to start work, attempt to go to school, raise three boys, and find some sort of mental stability- well sometimes I think I'm in some big dramatic made for TV episode, only there are no commercial breaks.

So I ran away.  I told my Mom I was leaving, got into the car, and left.  I ended up driving to the cemetery and parking across from Steve's marker.  I walked over to it and plopped myself down and just sobbed. Typically I do not run.  I let the crazy pass and then I deal with it all.  This time, I had reached a point where destruction was imminent and I knew my kids were in safe hands- so I left before I damaged the relationship I have with my boys.  There was such a gut wrenching pull of missing, that I couldn't do anything else but cry- and breath.  Then a lady came up to me and asked if I'd seen her dog.  If this was a TV drama, that would not have happened.  I hiccuped that I had not seen her dog and she went on her merry way.  Then the tears slipped back down my cheeks.  Just when I was about to lose myself to the grief again, a couple of ladies in spandex walked by.  They were chatting about some lady named "Donna" who had two girls.  One was adorable, the other quite a pill and what was Donna going to do about the younger one?

I stared incredulously wondering how they could be gossiping at a time like this?  Didn't they know I was in the middle of a breakdown? For the love ladies!!

Looking for some semblance of sanity I looked across the expanse of green and granite and this is what I saw:

 After I spied this gentleman, he got up.  He picked up the metal vase connected to the marker he was visiting and brought it toward me.  As he got closer I dropped my gaze and put my head in my hands.  Then we did something unexpected and tapped his toe on my name.  He then asked, "Is this you?"  My first thought was "Seriously? Can't a girl get a break?" But I replied that it was, and then he tapped Stephen's name and asked who that was? I answered that it was my husband.  He then patted my head and started walking saying simply, "You are young.  It will get better."  He then filled the vase with water a bit away and walked back to where he had started. I felt a bit like a stalker as I watched him pull a cellophane wrapped bunch of flowers from his chair, sit down, taking the scissors from the cup holder on the chair, he trimmed the stems, placed them in the vase and arranged them to his liking.  He then wadded up the cellophane in his hand, put the scissors back in the holder, and sat back in his chair- just sitting.

It made me wonder how long he had been doing that.  How often had he come to this place, filled the vase, trimmed the flowers and just sat?  Based upon those thoughts I really had to wonder if it really does ever get better?

I am just me.  I suppose it will get better.  It has to, right?  My reasonable side understands this, but that side isn't always in charge.  Oftentimes my heart wins out and I end up a crying, sad little mess.

So has been tricky.  What I realized in this experience with the lady and her dog, and the gossip girls walking by, as well as the man with the vase- they are still living.  Life is still moving and  I am still here.  I'm still in love with breathing in and out.  I still enjoy the wind in the trees and the sun on my face.  I just wish I had Steve to share it all with.  So on we go: living, breathing, experiencing, and finding a way to handle all that this life throws at us.

All my love,
Kami