I see life through different eyes; it's not as bright. I'd like to say at the end, when the mourning season has passed, that I got through unscathed, but I'm afraid that would be a lie. I'd like to say I'm still an optimist with rose colored glasses and a bright outlook on the world, but I'm afraid it won't be true. I'm afraid the mourning season will never pass and I'll never get through it, scathed or not.
Sometimes I feel like it's back to life as usual; I get up in the morning with a pep in my step and ready to greet the world with a smile. Other days I don't even want to get up at all. On those days, I often retreat inside myself, or even get to a place where I can't be seen or heard and simply cry. Sometimes that feeling comes at the most inopportune time and I have to excuse myself.
People around me often times forget that mourning is a season we go through; it doesn't pass in a day. It's different for everyone; sometimes it lasts for years - I pray to God this feeling doesn't last that long, because it's almost unbearable at times.
It's especially hard on the days when it's impossible to forget - days like today. It's been 2 months without his cooing and smiling. It's been 2 months without his kissable cheeks and soft skin. It's been 2 months of me trying to push my feelings further down into the caverns of my heart. It's been 2 months of mourning, and I'm not finished. I can't say when it will all be over, or even if I'll be able to pinpoint the exact moment it happens, I just know it's not now.
I still have my own issues I'm dealing with that have come brewing to the surface ever since the tragedy happened. It's like none of those things mattered until Jonathan passed. Now they matter, but it's even harder to deal with them in the wake of such a terrible event. It's hard to put into words, it just feels like everything is jumbled up, and I'm not sure what to even do with myself at times.
I feel like I'm of no use most days. Not much of a friend lately, and can't seem to be much good at anything. Yet, there still seem to be people in my life who have stuck around through the mess. There have been those who kind of trickled off after it happened, even friends I thought were close before didn't say a word when he passed. I'm thankful for the ones who sit with me in my mourning and accept me for all the broken pieces I am, and I know they'll be there when I'm whole again, even if I'm not the same as I was before.
