Yet, I am completely broken-down exhausted.
It was bound to happen. I don’t take care of myself properly in April. I eat when I remember to, and sometimes I can’t stop eating. My sleep patterns are laughable. My desire to face the outside world is almost nil.
Of course, I push through, because Madeline and Annabel deserve it, and I would do anything for them.
But when the lovely month of May comes around, I am adrift. I’ve been singularly focused on making it through April. So now what?
May is a brutal reminder that the world kept spinning, and my grief is still here while Madeline is not.
I’m starting to realize that grief isn’t something I live with, it’s something I have to survive.
And even though the relief of surviving a difficult month should be enough to raise my head above water, the knowledge that I will have to do it all again in a year (a year, another year without her) batters me with waves of sorrow.
I will hold my breath while I cling to my life-preserver, and hope the tide takes me back to land.