August is always a harder month than usual. Sissy would be turning 45 on Monday. It's still unbelievable that she is dead. Just yesterday I was walking into the living room and grabbed my cell phone to see if she had called. I also had the thought "hmm.... I wonder why she hasn't called me in a while. It's been some time since I talked to her."
Well if that isn't the understatement of the year.
Each day is progressively worse. I feel as if I have cinder blocks attached to my extremities. Every movement requires more and more effort and energy. Getting out of bed is a chore that is tiresome and almost unbearable much less going through the daily routine.
I'm just so tired.
Tomorrow also marks 12 years since our car accident. I'm not sure I ever explained what exactly happened but maybe tomorrow.
Grief is a wild animal that attacks and retreats and leaves you always on edge. You never know when you will be brought down by one single swipe or when you will be mauled by multiple strikes that feel like the attack will never stop.
Grief is very alive. It very much moves and follows you like a shadow. Sometimes it is less noticeable and other times it's right there in front of you, mimicking your every move, unable to leave your side. Even when you can't see it, the grief is always there.
Four and a half years and I'm still exhausted by the ducking, weaving and trying to outrun the nonstop grief.
Right now I'm too tired to run. I've been overrun and knocked down but there is stuff happening behind the scenes that require my full attention and I'm unable to give in to the cement bricks. So I keep trying to drag one foot in front of the other.