Why me…what a stupid question. But I still ask it.
Why did my husband shoot himself? That question burns inside of me. I want to know the logic behind an illogical act. There was pain inside of him, wounds that he self-medicated to forget. I know that much. But I don’t know everything else.
I wish I had better answers for our children. I wish I had better answers for myself.
I don’t want this life. I don’t want the word widow attached to a description of myself. I don’t want children who are afraid that their mother will die next. I don’t want to explain the harsh realities of life to my children yet.
The choice is not mine. Life handed me this and now I bear the yoke of it all. The world feels heavy on my chest at times and I cannot breathe. I’m under water but my children are next to me and I have to continue the ascent to the surface.
Most days I bear it but some days I want to just cry. Why me?