I’m dissolving in a puddle of tears right now.  My heart is broken and empty.  I don’t know how to pull it all together – my heart or my life.  It feels like there are too many moving parts and I don’t know where anything goes anymore. It’s like a new game packed into a blank box, with game pieces and a board that I don’t recognize, and no instructions on how to play.

My world is different from what it was before.  I knew the rules before.  And, any rules I didn’t know, I had a partner to help me figure it out.  Now I am alone.  The pieces don’t make sense, and I don’t even know the purpose of the game.

I feel like I should know by now.  There are times when I feel like it is all starting to make sense, this new life of mine.  There are times when it is starting to feel predictable and stable.  But, most of the time, it feels crazy and not quite right.

This loss is difficult to define because it isn’t for any one specific thing.  The loss is a million different pieces of different things.  The loss of a future.  The loss of consistency.  The loss of predictability.  The loss of pattern.  The loss of familiarity.  The loss of safety.  I know that there are no guarantees in life, and that at any time there can be change, but the change that resulted from losing one person put ripples in place that I didn’t expect. 

There are parts of my present life that are new and exciting, but that newness also brings a degree of uncertainty that overwhelms me.  I want to hear his familiar voice, even if it means going back to when he was suffering with cancer.

In times like this, I don’t know what is worse, our past life with all of its challenges, or this new life with all of its uncertainty. 

I don’t know which way to turn.  Each path contains feelings of guilt or unworthiness.  Each new direction makes me feel like I’m on the wrong path.  It is overwhelming.  The weight of not knowing how to live my life right now is consuming me.  The words, ‘I should know better’, are ringing through my ears at a deafening volume. 

I feel alone on my journey.  I feel the heaviness of feeling judged.  I want to hide, or become invisible. 

I want someone else to be the adult for a while.  I want someone to look after me and tell me things will be ok.  I want someone to tuck me into bed and watch over me while I sleep, and check for monsters under my bed.  I want to be held.  And then I feel guilty for wanting all those things.  I’m the one who is supposed to give those things to someone else, not have those things done for me.

There should be a final sentence that brings light and hope.  There should be a final sentence that wraps this up and makes it seem purposeful or less pathetic.  I don’t have that sentence today.  All I have are pieces that don’t fit together.