Wednesday, January 14, 2015

A Piece From My Journal

This was written a couple of days after the first anniversary of R's death. A memorial service was given, which felt just like another funeral.
"I spent the entire service crying on Saturday. I felt like a freak of nature, it just wouldn’t stop. My son hasn’t seen me cry once yet, except for the funeral. But now he has. He looked at me so curiously and put a little finger to my cheek, let a tear roll onto it and said, 'I catched a tear Mommy' in the sweetest little voice. He was trying to help me with my crying."

Monday, January 12, 2015


It's been a while.
I thought for sure I would feel compelled to blog over the holidays, but I was sick most of the time, so I wasn't compelled to do much of anything. I went to the cemetery, drove by our old house. Thought about Christmas's we spent there, and the last one we spent there together. Those are good memories now. Not as painful as they used to be.

I'm about to call someone out. Believe me, this is ALL part of the process of grief and the aftermath of suicide. Please note: I am Christian woman, but I also believe God invented swear words for us to have an outlet. Shit is about to get real.

This is what I came across this morning, which motivated me to write...I logged in to R's Facebook account because I have read that if you don't log in every so often, your page will be shut down. I don't want that to happen to his page because I know he still has many visitors, and I want people to be able to go there, just as I do. I looked at his list of friends and saw one named, "Sarah Elizabeth". This is the strange girl who tattooed a copy of my husband's tattoo, my husband's initial's and my son's initial's just below her breast, a few days after he died.

I thought she meant well, watching my son for me while I was making funeral plans. But I was wrong. She was trying to insert herself into my role. She had to make herself part of "the drama" so that she could feel important. But the thing is, she wasn't important. After R died, she had the nerve to call herself his best friend (to my face)- which was a direct insult to me and my marriage. What kind of person does that? Answer: a narcissist. She thought herself more important to my husband than I was, despite only having known him for a year and a half. Imagine: your husband just died unexpectedly and this one cries to you about how she lost "her best friend." Excuse me?

Her former name on Facebook was Sarah Spicer. But, when I reported her for having pictures of my son on her FB page without my permission, I guess she had to come up with a new page. Let it be known that this is a sick woman who wanted to be in my shoes. She still has photos of my son on her new Facebook page. In fact one of the album's names is "BENJI- Love of my life." Excuse me? No, you cannot have my son- because he's MY son. 

Her photo album

I'm fairly sure she is anonymously following my blog.

She never will have the chance to be more important than I was to R. He called me his best friend. He chose me. I was his wife. We had a beautiful child together. We will always have a bond, even though he is not physically here; and no one can take that away from my son and I.