Rough Day

5:38AM

That's what time my phone said it was after I woke up bawling this morning. It was still dark. I don't remember the details of my dream only it was about Mike and it had me upset.

I rolled over and reminded myself it was just a dream and that if I tried I could sleep a bit longer before getting up for work.

This is common lately. I have two types of dreams. The ones where I wake up crying or the ones where I wake up defensive in panic half convinced I need to run. Where? From what? What brought me to tears? I can't recall. All I can clearly remember is the feeling the moment I wake up.

Once upon a time I could remember the dreams so lucidly. Every single detail. I could tell you every word he said. How he smelled. The lines in his face. Now I have no recollection. Not even fragments. However, the feeling it brings seems to linger all day. Always present in the back of my mind. On these days I have a harder time. Everything seems to remind me of his death. Of my loss. Of that night.

Today I was achy. My head hurt and I was consumed by this quiet sadness. My inner light was dimmed. It reminds me of the physiological effect the trauma has caused. It didn't just change my life. It changed my body.

To make matters worse I was in the courtyard at work today and I noticed the office next to ours had a gold star parents flag hung. I asked the girl who worked there in passing which of her coworkers was the Gold Star parent. She said it was her. I told her I was a gold star widow myself and gave her my condolences.  As it does it hit her particularly hard today. She began to cry. For me, for her. For the loss that displayed star represents.

I took a moment to sit in the gazebo with her a moment. I knew I had to get back into the office but I couldn't leave her there in tears. He didn't die in battle. For some reason I instinctively knew it was domestic violence. How did I know that? I even asked "was it domestic violence"? Why in the world would I assume that? I don't even know any other survivors who died that way. His wife shot him.

I think I was supposed to be there today. I was meant to console her. After all the struggling I've personally had with my in laws accusing me both directly and indirectly being involved with Mikes death I finally met a mom who's son was murdered by his wife. How surreal the moment was...

After she calmed down and we shared stories I began walking toward my office. In the distance a car back fired twice. It startled me. One bang for each loss. What a weird coincidence? I half-giggled at myself for being startled by the bangs. It sounded nothing like the shot of Mikes gun that night. The backfires echoed. The gunfire had no echo. Then I realized it didn't matter...the loud bang still made me flashback to the night he died. That's the shitty part of PTSD I guess. So full of surprises.

As I sat back down at my desk the song "Please Remember Me" by Tim McGraw was playing. I can't turn it off in my head. Every thing reminds me on the days. Everything.

I'm just glad this day is about over. I'm ready for a fresh start tomorrow. I am exhausted. My brain needs a break. On these days I feel as if I'm on the verge of crying all day. It's like being on the verge of a sneeze. You just wish you could so you can move on. Just get through it.

Some days are hard.

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