Why Me?

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?

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