The Year Of Quiet Solitude.

I have spent this year largely in my own self sequestering.

After he died, I felt broken.

Like he was another project I couldn't fix.

Another failed attempt at something I so eagerly tried, and in the end found myself drowning, with no lifeguard to save me, him, or us.

Oddly, when I look back at all of my many jobs, they were all based on helping, with little to no return on my investment.

One of which was coincidentally spending my youth as a lifeguard.

At one point I had the pool record with the most saves...

Anyways...

Literally, and figuratively I have always looked to help others.

That aside, I needed this past year to quietly lick my wounds, alone.

To be angry, no furious, with my feelings and with how they were manhandled all these years.

Falling apart over and over again, rethinking every thought and every word I have been told, and every word I uttered.

Hoping I would be put back together, without the glue that was him, hell, the glue that IS me.

A lot of silent sobbing.

All the while trying to rediscover the substance and persona that used to be me.

Little did I know his death would be the first of many this past year.

A domino effect.

He died, then my aunt, ten days later, my grandmother, and a month after that, my children's only grandfather passed.

I started to think the only reason I needed to leave the house was to go to funerals.

Lately, I haven't been feeling all that great myself.

But we do what we need to do.

Put one foot in front of the other and hope for the best.

For my kids and for myself.

They have lost enough.

They can't lose me.

I will make this work, and figure it out.

Relearn how to be me.

Nothing a few band aids and a box of kleenex can't fix.

Love you all.

We will get through this, or should I say, I am determined to get through this.

Hopeless doesn't have a place in my house.

Hopefulness always does.

Many kisses.

Promise.

Xoxo,

C.