Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
...I'm trying, but I can't stop going back in time, letting memories replay over and over and over. Four days from today is the anniversary of my fiance's passing. How can it be that three years have passed without him here? And in 47 days, my daughter Autumn should be turning four years old; but she's not here either.
None of it's fair. None of the pain has ever truly gone away. I've tried moving forward, really, but it's so easy for me to find myself back at square one, without much effort. For instance, driving on the expressway last night, all I could think about was how much it hurt not to have a child, or even the possibility of a child right now. I cried, and listened to a play list that only intensifies the sadness. It's a conversation my mom and I had last week, about me feeling these urges to have a child, as if having a healthy pregnancy and giving birth to a healthy, living child will erase all the pain and fill the void. I don't know if that would remedy the situation.
And when I think about how this year I would most likely be getting married, I just can't help but magnify the fact that in the three years since my fiance died, I haven't had one healthy relationship with marriage potential. NOT ONE. No one compares to Rob. That might be the bottom line. And everyone is human, which means that everyone dies, and I don't think I could stand the loss of another person I've given my heart and soul to.
We were supposed to be a happy couple, waiting for that big day to finally arrive.
We wanted to go to Fiji on our honeymoon.
We were going to buy a house together.
We wanted to have a house full of kids someday, and he would have been an amazing father.
So many things we wanted to do and see and learn together, but all of those dreams have died.
Sometimes I just wonder why I'm here in the absence of my fiance, and my children?
...I'm trying, but I can't stop going back in time, letting memories replay over and over and over. Four days from today is the anniversary of my fiance's passing. How can it be that three years have passed without him here? And in 47 days, my daughter Autumn should be turning four years old; but she's not here either.
None of it's fair. None of the pain has ever truly gone away. I've tried moving forward, really, but it's so easy for me to find myself back at square one, without much effort. For instance, driving on the expressway last night, all I could think about was how much it hurt not to have a child, or even the possibility of a child right now. I cried, and listened to a play list that only intensifies the sadness. It's a conversation my mom and I had last week, about me feeling these urges to have a child, as if having a healthy pregnancy and giving birth to a healthy, living child will erase all the pain and fill the void. I don't know if that would remedy the situation.
And when I think about how this year I would most likely be getting married, I just can't help but magnify the fact that in the three years since my fiance died, I haven't had one healthy relationship with marriage potential. NOT ONE. No one compares to Rob. That might be the bottom line. And everyone is human, which means that everyone dies, and I don't think I could stand the loss of another person I've given my heart and soul to.
We were supposed to be a happy couple, waiting for that big day to finally arrive.
We wanted to go to Fiji on our honeymoon.
We were going to buy a house together.
We wanted to have a house full of kids someday, and he would have been an amazing father.
So many things we wanted to do and see and learn together, but all of those dreams have died.
Sometimes I just wonder why I'm here in the absence of my fiance, and my children?
