I'm Ashamed to Admit

That it hurts to see other people happy.

One of my best friends found out today that she's going to be a mom soon. She has only been married for 6 weeks. They have only been together for over a month before they got married.

I'm happy for her. But I also cried a lot from all the sadness and envy that I felt upon hearing the news.

I'll be 30 in 2 days, my first birthday without my beloved husband. I decided to celebrate it alone. I want to honor my grief on this day, a day that will remind me of all the beautiful things that I had that are now all gone.

This is my new normal. There will no longer be midnight birthday songs for me. I won't have anyone to make plans with for the day itself. I will no longer be receiving personalized gifts from the one I love the most. It will just be a day that will change my age, nothing more.

I wanted to tell somebody about what I was feeling. I browsed through a list of contacts and friendly names. In the end I sent my thoughts to my late husband. To his social media account that has not had any activity in months.

I told him everything. I sent chunks after chunks of texts on how everything sucks without him. I told him how sad I was and how I hate that he isn't here to see me freak out about the future and what it holds. I told him that I was so afraid of being alone and that it hurts. I told him everything hurt.

I told him that when I lost him, I lost a part of my heart that celebrates other people's happiness. I told him that I was losing compassion and disregarding more and more people and the trivial things that they whine about. I understand how perspective changes everything, I know that we all process grief differently. I just can't show compassion and empathy as much as I want to. I pick people to help, people to listen to (usually confined to a very limited few). I feel like I have to grow my heart back before I start feeling again.

I'm tired. I am done. I just want to get rid of the pain and longing and sadness but I can't.

I am not praying to God. Not yet. I just want to be alone with my thoughts.

I want to pretend that he's still here. That we will be seeing each other in a few. I want to live in this dream. I want to be where he is. For a few days, I'd like to believe that he never left.

Finally

I dreamt of you

You came to me

As young as we were when we first met

A short visit

You were feeling under the weather

Then you said you had to go

I told you I was going to drive you home

So I did

I kept looking at you

You were sleeping

My passenger's seat suddenly caught a glimpse of heaven

You were healthy

You were beautiful

The night was so dark but peaceful

It was so quiet

Somewhere along the way I realized I wasn't wearing my seatbelt

So I looked for a place to stop and put it on

It seemed like we were going to our old house

I stopped the car

You stirred

I calmed you down

Told you it was okay

I was just putting on my seatbelt

You went back to sleep

I put my seatbelt on, adjusted my seat

I turned on the engine

Got back on the road

And then suddenly we were at your house

The house you grew up in

We went inside

I told you to go rest now

You asked me to stay

I said it's fine

You can rest now

You asked me to wait

While waiting I saw some of your folks

I said hi

Then you came back

Said you had two tickets for me

You handed them over

I took them

Then the dream was over

I can't believe I only dream of you now

I miss you

I'm so sorry I can't be there for you

Not yet

But someday

Why I Write Like This

I write in fragments. I write in chopped up sentences. I cut them wherever I want.

It's not style, it's not some creative stuff that has a logical reason behind it.

I write like this because ever since I lost the love of my life, I have been thinking like this.

Botched thoughts. Random inserts.

That's just my mind nowadays.

And I try to write them out. One word at a time.

Hoping that as the words run out, so does my grief.

I write like this because I lost the person who used to laugh at how I can talk nonstop when I'm with him.

But there's no one to tell my stories to now is there.

So I write like this to try to breathe out my pain.

One word at a time.

One stupid sentence at a time.

One unfinished thought at a time.

I write like this because I feel like this.

Broken.

On hold.

I used to love writing about him.

Now I hate having to write about my loss.

But I have to write.

Because there's no one here to listen.

He should've been here.

But he's not.

These words are my only escape.

Could you stay my love?

Dreaming With A Broken Heart

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

You roll out of bed and down on your knees

And for a moment you can hardly breathe

Wondering, "Was she really here?

Is she standing in my room?"

No she's not

'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The giving up is the hardest part

She takes you in with her crying eyes

Then all at once you have to say goodbye

Wondering, "Could you stay my love?

Will you wake up by my side?"

No she can't

'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hand?

would you get them if I did?

No you won't

'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

Why do people keep telling me that God will not let me down when that's exactly what he did?