Sharon died two months ago after her second lung transplant. I was her full time caretaker for the past three years. Her death, although not unexpected, sent me into that bottomless black hole from which I have painfully clawed my way out. The light of day felt good but I now fear that I am not really out but instead, I'm back teetering on the edge and I fear the blackness that seems to be enveloping my heart.
I cry watching the evening news - not from seeing earthquake victims but a story about a lost dog just found. Stupid things. I am regressing.
I know that I must do this alone. The homily about my having no shoes until I met the man with no feet is balderdash. I'm sorry for him but my feet still pain me greatly. I have tried breavement groups. Again, other's pain does not lessen mine.