Sucker Punched. Again

Damn it!  That wicked old grief has jumped back in and sucker punched me in the gut.  Again.  Two weeks ago I was saying that I was feeling content.  And the last week has been a roller coaster of grief, anxiety, overwhelming emotions and tears.  Big snotty, raging, screaming out loud, pleading tears.  That hasn't happened in a very long time.  I do not welcome the revisiting of the memories.  In fact, unless I really think about exactly what day it is, I do not connect it to the events of each day three years ago.  But my body has not forgotten and thus my mind has not either.  Three years ago Tom was in his final hospitalization.  The fear of the unknown and the excruciating prospect of what was to come was too much to bear, as is the memory of that time.  Looking back I do not know how I survived it.

January is a difficult month.  Bubba died right before the end of the year.  My father died in early January in 1999.  Tom died in late January, three days before my birthday.  This is my hell month.  I just want to get through it, fast.  I do not enjoy this.  I am tired of just surviving, and waiting to get to the good stuff.  This is not the life I signed up for but it is the one that I have.  It takes an enormous amount of energy to mourn.  And an equal amount of energy to build a new life. It is a slow painful process and is not to be hurried, no matter how desirable it would be. My patience is wearing thin, thankfully not my resolve.