Making No One Happy

You can never make everyone happy. Sometimes, it seems you can only make "no one" happy. I feel like I am caught somewhere in the middle.

Death doesn't come with a handbook. Sure, they say there are like five stages of grieving, but that is just someone's translation of observations they have made. Even so, "they" still admit that everyone goes through those stages in their own way and in their own order.

It is difficult to have lost my husband and cope with how I process his death while having four young children. It is my responsibility to help them through this process and, truth is, we are processing it differently. I am okay with that and think I am doing fairly well. It is the rest of the world that I struggle with right now.

Words and rumors carry through the wind to my ears, and to my heart. I have kept silent to respect that each of us is processing this loss differently. Perhaps you, who reads this now, grieves for the loss of a son, a brother, or a friend. Your life experiences with Damon were different than mine and for that reason alone, I respect that your process is different than mine. Please respect mine.

There are those who say, I can only imagine what you are going through . . . and to that, I say, "don't." Don't try to imagine it, because it is not imaginable.

For those who think they know and understand the relationship that Damon and I have, or had, I say, "stop." There are so many things you never knew and can't begin to understand. Stop pretending like anyone ever saw the big picture that was my life.

For those who say they worry about me, and the influence I may have on the kids, I say, "enough." I fought through a living hell and kept my crap together most of the time, this challenge is less tormenting to my soul than others I have faced. Your worry in this regard is wasted.

For those who sincerely worry how I am doing, know that I am angry. Not angry at death, but angry at the life. It is difficult to process being so angry with the dead, there is little place to put it, and no one other than Damon really understands all that I have to be angry about. Accept that and leave me the room I need to process this harsh emotion.

Please don't judge me for the choices I make. You don't walk in my shoes, regardless of how parallel your life experiences with Damon may have been; my path is my own. Accept this.

Trust my judgment and accept my apologies if the manner in which I grieve has been offensive or has otherwise hurt you in some way. I am somewhat selfish at present and make taking care of myself a priority. It is how I survive and the only way I know to do this . . . it is the only way that I can be the mother I need to be. I put Damon's needs first for so long, that I got lost. Don't fault me for finding myself again - it is what he wanted all along. To free me from the chains of his addictions. And I feel free, but your judgments feel like restraints and I refuse to be bound by what others think I should be, or how I should be acting.

My heart will forever be broken, but my life is mine to put back together in whatever manner I chose. Thank you Damon - for that. I miss you and love you always.