23 November 2015
My run today nearly killed me. Not because I am ferociously unfit but rather because my grief decided to ambush me on the hill back up to my house.
This particular hill has fast-moving traffic on both sides. Busy people with busy lives careening to get home at 6pm.
Little did they know that the girl walking unsteadily was not tired but rather fighting for her life and sanity. I have not experienced this kind of sharp, unabating, overwhelming pain since Russ was ill. I thought the worst was over.
OH MY GOD. I WAS WRONG.
I remember this pain. The one that takes my breath way; causes me forget my children, my family, my friends, my own life. It simply screams for my life to be be over. At any cost.
I remember this pain from the days I would sit alongside my sleeping, ill man.
And now ---- I arrive home to my kids excitedly preparing for my birthday tomorrow.
Kids who, I know, feel an overwhelming responsibility to make my day super-special and so I hide my swollen eyes and dash upstairs announcing a quick shower before dinner.
And so another page is turned.