March 11. A Strange Anniversary

As I plugged my earbuds into my phone this morning at the gym, I caught a glimpse at the date. March 11.

The eleventh day of March used to mean my best friend from junior high school was celebrating her birthday. Now it means something more. It brings up really weird feelings. It isn't an anniversary per se, but it is now a day that makes me think a lot.

Today marks two years since this day:

Two years of feeling aching and utterly crushed. In the last year my friend Lindsey has talked about the literal breaking of one's heart. I knew exactly what it was she spoke of, because I too had felt that awful break. The pain, the anguish, that only subsides with time. I felt it when we lost our baby. I felt it on March 11, 2011.

After watching this clip from The Walking Dead this week, I felt it perfectly described pain and grief. When I heard the news my husband had to share with me on that night, this is exactly what happened to me. I was so broken, I could not breath. I was Rick, right down to the stumbling in a heap on the cold concrete because all of the strength in my body was gone trying to comprehend such heartache and loss. There are still twinges of pain in my heart when I think on it too much, so most of the time I try not to.

This was two years ago. Two years is a really long, long time to try to be working through pain and heartache and grief. I have learned that forgiveness is possible, but that forgetting can be really hard. I have learned the my kids were so tiny...and I often second guess myself and some of my decisions, and oftentimes wonder if I had made different decisions would I be second guessing myself then? I don't know. I have zero answers.

Last year at this time had me with divorce paperwork in my hand. Whew. Feels so hard to say, so awful to say, but I did. I wanted it over. There were just so many mountains to climb, and we are still climbing them...but I wanted some of the pain and hard work to be done, and over with.I felt like divorce was one of those answers that might be more quick than painstakingly fixing my life with a magnifying glass and super glue.

Then I got a text from my little sister on March 11, 2012. She was letting me know that our mom was in the hospital. She tried to end her struggles on this earth, and somehow she was found before that was possible. I knew she was sick, but I had no idea how low her pain had become, that leaving this life would be preferable to finding help and happiness. So. Much. Darkness. So. Much. Pain.

Again, heart wrenching, gut cutting pain. I can still remember seeing my mother on the gurney in the emergency room. Ghost white. Over the next days after she was released from the hospital when she came home with me...my heart began to change toward my husband, toward my mother...and family became the most important thing to me.

Today is not easy. I will honestly tell you that. There are days I don't know if I love, or still love, or want to love, or hope, or what is happening. There are a lot of days I am just here for my kids, out of obligation, because I hope and I pray for better days.

The good and happy days are beginning to outweigh the really terrible and bad ones. I am learning that broken dreams may have to stay broken and I might have to make new dreams, decide on new dreams, build on new dreams. I have learned that fairy tales do exist, but just not for me, at least not now, and I have learned to be okay with that.

Today marks two painful years. Two of the most I have ever had to endure.

Today marks another year that I have my mom.

Tonight I will make cupcakes. We will light a candle to celebrate that she is still with us.

I might light one for us as well. Two candles...hoping to burn into three, and four...and five.