Grief recovery, loss of child, healing after death & loss 

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Michelle Shelton 480-577-8272 m@teamshelton.com
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Not a Fan of Saturdays

I am not a big fan of Saturdays anymore. Everytime I think of Phil's accident I remember it was Saturday morning at 10:41 AM. This was the time my son took his last breath. I don't like to think about it. Each week another Saturday comes and goes. I now refer to it as Sad-urday.I hate Saturday

Yesterday was Saturday. I am glad it is behind me. I know that significance is assigned by me and I am working with that concept. I simply feel the way I feel right now. I am raw. Raw emotions and somehow it is weaved around Saturday. That is the day the "event" happened. It is like any other Holiday or birthday, wedding anniversary….only it is somthing I wish I didn't remember. Something I wish my mind wasn't in tune to.

I am sure I will get over it. Loads of good things happen on Saturday. I am like a kid right now counting the days up to some event…only I am hoping that the further I get from it…the less it will hurt. I know I have work to do…I know that people say time heals all wounds….I also know this is not true. I have to work through it. I have to come to terms with it and deal with it and gather coping tools along the way. Just like anything…time doesn't heal anything….if I get a flat tire and just wait for time to make it all better…I would be waiting a long time. Same here. I have to take action.

Getting back to Saturdays. They aren't bad. I just am using them as the measuring stick right now. I am aware. It is funny how people give me these intellectual responses that are suppose to heal my heart. All I need are other people to give their heart. A hug. A smile. Whatever it takes to give me the space to go through this. I need them to let me know they love me right where I am and not expect me to have to do something.

But it makes them uncomfortable that I am so sad. Yes. I think that is what it boils down to. They say it is because they are worried about me. Maybe they are. The thing is…I am not broken. I feel a little broken…yet, I will heal. I will recover. I just don't have a nice neat package to wrap it all up in so they don't feel bad. Believe me, I want to get over it more than they want me to. I want to go on more than they want me to. I don't get to right now. It is my reality.

I have to listen to the baby point at photos of daddy and run to the door looking for him. I have to look at his car parked at our house when I pull up or go outside. I have to take the calls for his bills. I have to open his mail. I have to look at the photos I have plan Holidays without him. I have to watch his siblings and his dad break down and struggle.

sadurdayEverything in my day reminds me of him. It is all so new and raw. You know how when you have an open sore….maybe a burn and it really hurts.? It is like that. No amount of pain killer touches it. You just have pain and you know you simply have to go through it for it to heal. There will always be a scar.

I miss you Phil Henry. I am sure you never knew how much you touched my life. I know I told you…the closest you came was Ava Rose and she didn't leave you….you left her.

I have a lifetime of Saturdays left. It is possible I could live another 50 years. That is 2,600 Saturdays. I guess I will have to learn to like them eventually….or not.

 

 

 

 
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