A blog that touches home

Journal entry by Deni Rust, March 15, 2004:
"Now, let's remember what helps me to feel better: talking about my feelings! This is a release for me. This is why I keep the journal. I don't have my husband to talk to anymore.
I need to rid myself of anger and pain and this is how I choose to do it. It works for me. It comforts me to receive e-mails from people who tell me they read the journals and care about Rich and our family. I need this to get through every day."

I read this article about a woman and her blog that she kept after losing her husband. The words of both the article and the blog touched me. Take a minute and read it.

http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/05032/450666.stm

I was crying at the end as she wrote about her daughters need to talk to daddy.

Journal entry by Deni Rust, July 12, 2004, on her wedding anniversary:
"Madi always pretends to call her daddy. Usually it is when I pick her up from school and her class is playing outside and we have to walk through the 4-year-old room to leave. She will stop and pick up the toy phones and pretend to call him on each one. I patiently wait for her and try my hardest not to cry. ...
In the car the other day she "called" daddy and said, "Hi daddy. Watch you doin'? I want to come to heaven with you, daddy. No, no no, I want to come to heaven with you, daddy." I almost had to pull the car over. Once again my heart broke. I found it so strange that she said, "... no, no, no... "
It was almost if he told her she had to stay here with me -- that I need her."

I am relieved to say that in some way I have found a therapy here. In the writing. The writing of the thoughts has helped the thoughts to crystalize, to be dealt with and to be put where they need to be kept. I started this blog journey looking at needing to write each day, and not to hold myself to just grief, but also include joy and memories and photos and share the pure emotion of the day - be it pain or happiness.

I am not wearing black as tradition called for, but I have grieved each day and all day. Moments of the sun coming thru are there. Moments of just crawling into bed and curling up in the dark are there also. It is just three months and it feels like both yesterday and a year. I look at pictures and it hurts. I don't look at pictures and it hurts. I don't want to forget the times we had together and I don't want them to be over and I want one more day and yet am happy for our last day.

I know there is more I want to say. I will come back to this.