Oh my Love, Oh my Love,
So much has happened. So much.
I do not recognize the person I am. I would have thought that God would have helped me become a better person. He has not. I still cannot hear him most of the time. You were my man of God. You heard him so well. I can't do this on my own. I don't know how to get close to God again. You made everything so easy for me. You even made my spiritual life easy.
So this person I have become. I used to be really nice. At least most of the time. Now I don't care. People tell me their problems and I don't care. Really I don't care. Where has the empathy gone? Died with you. Where has the compassion gone? Died with you.
Thought maybe the Lord allowed you to die so I would learn to stand spiritually on my own two feet. Well, if that was his aim, I have failed miserably. Maybe it's just a test. You always said that when trials came, it was always either a test from the Lord or an attack from the Adversary. Well, I have no doubt that your death was an attack from the devil. What I don't know is why God allowed you to die. How'd that conversation go? Did he ask you if you were ready to go? Did he ask if you were ready to leave me? Did you say yes. Did you decide to leave me here alone? You said you couldn't live without me, but you think I can live without you? I can't. This thing called living is not. It's just existing. I breathe. I exist. I laugh. I go to work. I even have fun. And then I'm alone. Alone in this house without you. Alone with my tears. Alone with my depression. Why? Why did you leave me? What am I supposed to do? I've seen others live in an alcohol or drug-induced life. Believe me, it has occurred to me. It would be so much easier. SO much easier. But then your death would have been in vain. I assume I am left here to try to do something good. Sure would be nice if the Lord would clue me in as to what that might be. Can't follow in your footsteps. Don't have your faith, your knowledge of the Bible, or your unbelievably tight relationship with the Lord. So that leaves me to do something else. What? Oh, be a waitress. Bless my customers. Really? You had to die so I could do that?
WHAT am I supposed to do?
What I'm doing is waiting for the Lord to come back. We were doing that together before you left.
I love you and I miss you. Always will. But I have so many questions. I'm so tired. I'm so angry. I'm just a mess. And my head hurts.
I wrote that last Thursday. You see, Thursdays are my depressed day. Which is a lot better than it used to be. Used to be every day, every night, every moment, was a depressed moment. Not true anymore.
Last year on this day, your first birthday after your death, was the worst day. Worse than Christmas. Worse than my birthday; worse than the anniversary of your death. Just the worst. It was raining. Very apropos. I sat at your grave in the rain. And wished I was in the ground next to you.
This year, I no longer actively wish to be in the ground next to you.
Don't get me wrong; I still have bad days. Usually on Thursday. Remember I have always hated Thursdays. It was the last day I had with you before returning to work for my work week. You used to try to do things to keep me from getting so down thinking about having to go back to work.
Now Thursdays are bad for a different reason. Work became my savior after your death. So Thursdays are not bad for that reason. I usually have things to do on Tuesday; and Wednesday is Widda Breakfast day; so Thursdays are usually my depressed day.
But I am now, most of the time, not depressed.
You made me who I was. Any good that is in me is because you believed in me and brought it out in me. I am no longer that person. I do not recognize myself. I feel as if I am living someone else's life.
You would be so ashamed of me. I am spiritually a mess. Not the Prayer Warrior of when you knew me. But I'm getting better, Honey. I now pray. Not nearly as long; not nearly as often, not for nearly as many people. But I actually pray instead of just asking the Lord Why? Baby steps.
So, on this your birthday, I want to tell you it is so very much better than last year. So very much better. The wind chill is negative 21 degrees C-29|F-21 so I will not be spending hours at your grave. But I will be going to see you.
I miss you still. I love you always. I thank you for making me the woman I was. Someday I'll get back there. Thank you, My Love, My Man of God.
Birthday, My Love, Birthday.
Always Your Blest