Home Again and Dark Places


 My sister and I returned to my TN home from the ranch just shy of midnight Monday. I spent the day yesterday recovering from the physical exhaustion of the trip and battling the mental darkness the trip and return home brought on.

Being at the ranch with Mark's family was honestly the hardest thing I've done since burying my husband. It took every bit of emotional strength I had to carry on there day to day. We arrived in the area on Saturday, and I chose to go to the ranch then. Not to check in, but to get the "first" of being at the ranch done without Mark's family being present. It was a smart move. Once I parked, it took me a solid 5 minutes to even get out of the car. Once I had succeeded in doing that, I went into the office to ask for permission to take my sister around. Two sentences into asking for permission, I started sobbing. Honestly, I should have known then that it was too soon for me to be at the ranch. There was no place where I didn't see my husband in my mind. I did my best through the week to keep myself together when I was with the family, disappearing when the waves of grief became too much for me. 

By the time Friday came around, I was emotionally exhausted. From then until we left Sunday morning, it took everything in me to keep moving. I just wanted to find a dark place to crawl into. I wanted to world to disappear. I didn't want to feel or even breathe anymore. We checked into our hotel, and I was in bed by 6. I needed to escape. Sleep was the only way to do that. Unfortunately, it didn't come. It was a night filled with tossing and turning and tears. 

My sister is a good travel partner. She is an avid reader and buried herself in her books. It meant I didn't have to talk. We spent most of the day in silence. Sadly, she had to fly home at 6 am Tuesday. After about 3 hours of sleep, she was up and back at the airport. It was fitting that it started lightning and thundering as we made the 15-minute drive to the airport and continued on my drive back home. Walking into a silent, empty house with the beginnings of a storm outside was fitting. It reflected the turmoil I was fighting internally. 

I stayed up after I returned home. The contractors had (still have) my house a disaster, so there was plenty for me to do. (Not to mention unpacking). I was in a terrible place yesterday. Honestly, I'm not much better today. Coming home already emotionally exhausted and trying to deal with the waves of grief I'm being hit with because I AM home is hard. It's lonely, but the company of others wouldn't make it any easier. It's not THEIR company my soul wants. It's Marks'. I found myself smelling his suit jacket as I passed it hanging in the breakfast area. For a moment, I had Mark with me. I could close my eyes, and he was there, just for a moment. Of course, when I opened my eyes, I was swamped with yet another wave of grief. After 3 months, the waves of grief are just as high and strong as ever. The frequency they hit me often seems to be more frequent than they were immediately after Mark's death, 

I feel like I'm drowning, 

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