Today would mark six months, 8 hours and 4 minutes since Thalon was found dead. To never really return to my loving grasp. Oh, yes, I squeezed him tight two days later when we removed his ventilator but nothing was ever the same when I found him that fateful day, April 10th at 2:23pm.
As stated in the post before, I'm having dreams galore about him and his presence to only awaken from the midst of my dreams to not find him in my longing grasp. So much for will, wishing and hoping while conjuring up the spirits surrounding me to grant me my one true wish. I've clicked my heels three times and chanted "there's no place like home, there's no place like my old home" to no avail.
I would like to say I handled this day with grace, patience and love but alas, I did not. Feeling like I was the ONLYone who was understanding or feeling the magnitude of this day. Everything a constant reminder of what bullshit this time of my life is. Though I do have to say, a friend sent me a beautiful card. A simple card telling me she was thinking about me/us this weekend. Then I realized, there IS someone out there remembering something so profound to me that even my husband didn't remember. Or he didn't share his thoughts with me if he did. Instead, our family is on complete edge. More like on the edge of a sharp cliff. Each daring one another to jump. Figuratively speaking.
In other news, Rich is leaving a for a week long trip to visit a best friend this week. I'm both happy and sad for him to leave. Mainly because the crazy and neurotic persona is coming out in the most fierce way. Scared that something is going to happen to him and well, hell! He's leaving me alone with the girls. Doesn't he know I'm not capable of such a thing? My track record sure as hell shows it to be somewhat lackluster in the caretaker department. Luckily, I have friends who have planned moments with me to make sure I'm not sucking my thumb in the corner with overwhelming panic attacks. Panic attacks I can't seem to get under control. A small, semi-panic attack I exhibited for my doctor - both ugly, and well, ugly for her to diagnose and ask if I needed more Xanax.
Thanks but you refilled my script last week but thanks!
I saw this OB on Friday in which we discussed why this fertile Myrtle who gets pregnant when someone/anyone breathes on this person's nether regions is not pregnant like both she and I thought I would be at this time. Hell! If you think about it, I was pregnant at this time last year but now? I can't get pregnant even if an alien being came down from the heavens to inseminate me with every experimental procedure known to man or super-being. I kinda have to think it's a semi-good thing since every person I've come into contact with as of late has been stricken with the plague. All I need is a mermaid spawn to complete my life's story.
Screw you TLC showing the life and times of "Mermaid Girl...."
To end this yet, another crazy rambling, I should address why I closed comments on my last post. I didn't close them because someone said something shitty or demoralized me. I closed them so you and yours didn't feel the need to have to say, "Geez, Shana, I'm so sorry you are sad. I'm so sorry you going through this bullshit." Not to say, I don't appreciate all the kind words extended my way because I truly do.
I just don't want you to feel like you have to say something that has already been said. Because really, it's all been said before, right? Just like this duplicate post in which it has been posted in many different forms from months past.
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