I’m just shot this week.  I’m not feeling great, I’m exhausted and I’m grieving.  Not the best combination in life I’m sure, but it’s where I’m at.  I so badly want to turn to Chris and ask him to take over for an hour so I can sit and read a book in peace and quiet, or so that I can take a shower without having to “fix” buttons on pajamas or make promises to put on another cartoon the second I turn the water off.  I’m sick and I’m tired and I’m sick of being sick and tired.

I’m raw.  I’m too tired to put on my game face and make like everything in my life is golden.  It’s not.  Far from it.  I’ve cried more this week than I’ve creid in a LONG time.  And for once I just don’t care who knows it.

I’m tired of feeling like I’m being tested - whether those feelings are valid or not.  I feel like it’s getting harder to remember what life with Chris was like before cancer.  And if it feels that way for me, what must it be like for Shane?  How will he ever truly remember his dad?

I’m burned out and I’m starting to feel sorry for myself.  Something I didn’t want to ever happen.  Unfortunately, I’m not the only young widow in the world, and I know that.  I have no reason to feel sorry for myself.  I have some of the best parts of my husband in our son.  But I don’t have my husband.  And that is my reality.  And this week, it’s been a little more real than I care to admit.