Tissues May Be Required

At bedtime last night, I was more than ready to have the little cherubs asleep and resting in their beds whilst I could be elsewhere.  Impressive use of the word whilst I might add.  As I lay reading books with Mr. Willpot, our independent goes by the beat of his own drum 4 year old who doesn't take much crap from anyone, when he asks me...

"Mommy what's that called when you throw a penny and make a wish?"

"A wishing well?"

"Yeah.  Next time I make a wish I'm going to ask for Mimi to be alive again."

Got me right there.  Didn't see it coming.  I cried and said, "Yeah.  That would be great.  I really miss Mimi."  He hugged me and said, "It's alright."

Most times I try to appear composed as I swallow my tears and worry that my boys are going to remember be as a sad mommy, as one who cries at the drop of the hat, as one who seems to be WAY more impatient that she used to be.  I have changed. 

I know.  I'm sorry guys.  I'm grieving.  It's a process.  I'm riding the waves through it.  Sometimes I crash and burn.  Others I right on the white caps and think such happy thoughts of how lucky I was to have had such a good relationship with my mom. 

On Monday nights I have been attending a Griefshare group at church.  Thus far I am not much into the sharing.  I am a hestitant open person.  You must win my trust before I open up.  Therefore my role is to listen and internally reflect hoping to encourage the healing in my heart.

My whole reality has be altered.  I am searching for a new normal for me.  One which doesn't include my Mom.  My thoughts are that stinks and I don't want to do it.

There.  I shared.  Bring on the healing.  Just a bit.  Teeny tiny bit.  I'm not greedy.