“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Rumi

I don’t know what to do with the pain.  Logically I know that nothing will ever fix it. Right after he died, I would jump on my neighbor’s trampoline as high as could to try to reach the depth of the pain and get it out of me. It was as close as I could get to feel some way of release. It has been 2 years and the pain has not gone away. If anything, it feels more intense. I guess that is because I don’t have the shock and trauma protecting me – the fog surrounding me.  The pain is knowing I can’t see him, I can’t talk to him, I can’t touch him, I didn’t get to say good bye.  The pain is watching his sons grow up without their Dad. Their Dad who adored them and loved them more than anything in this world. The Dad that rushed home from work every day to spend time with them.  The Dad who worked 3 jobs to support us and put his stepson through college.   The pain is looking at these boys everyday with this reality.  And wondering what they do with their pain. Not being able to fix their pain either. I don’t even know what is worse, not being able to fix theirs or mine.

This wasn’t ever part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to die. He wasn’t supposed to leave us. He was supposed to be here with us, we were supposed to grow old together.  I just don’t know ‘why’ he is not here. And I can’t really explain what I mean by that – but it is how I feel.  It doesn’t make any sense. It just hurts so much. 

So I am waiting, hoping, looking for the light.