As my last post shows, I'm still struggling. A lot. I might appear to have it all together, to be doing well, to be happy. Some days, I feel that way. Some days, I am wreck. A sobbing, screaming, wreck of a person who feels like her broken heart is hanging halfway out of her chest. There are moments, hours, and sometimes whole days where the tears just won't stop, when I wonder how on earth I'll ever carry this weight, this pain, throughout the rest of my irretrievably damaged life. There are times I question myself -- am I only able to have good days because I am not thinking about Brian enough? I think about him all the time, though, and it is usually with happiness and gratitude for having known his so long and so well, for being the lucky woman with whom he chose to share his life.
I admit, I'm worried about what people will think of me. I generally do a pretty good job not worrying about this, but sometimes that thought creeps in. I especially worry about what Brian's friends and family think. Well, let me assure you -- even though I might not cry when you do, or break down in front of you, that doesn't mean I'm over him. That doesn't mean I don't still feel immense pain, anger, confusion, frustration, and sorrow. That doesn't mean I don't still ache to hear his voice, to tuck my head into the curve he had under his sternum (which perfectly coincided with the height of my head), to smell the cologne he would spray in that spot for me, to walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his body and hug with all my might, to hear new music he would find and share with me, to see him laugh so hard that he stops making any sound and tears run down his face.
I still miss Brian very much. I still cry for how much I miss him. I still don't understand why things happened like they did. I still get completely overwhelmed by sorrow at times and wonder how I'll ever get through this. I'm still not "okay." I'll never be okay. I'll never be "over" this.
I might look like I'm doing well, and I am excited about the next stage of my life, but that doesn't mean there isn't still immense sorrow over the chapters that have ended this year. I still miss Brian dearly, and I always will. I will always look back fondly at the life we had created together -- our house, our friends, our careers in Iowa. I will miss all of that. Just because I'm looking forward to some of the things that lie ahead, that doesn't mean I am not sad about what I'm leaving behind.