I must say that lately I havent been feeling much like myself. It seems that everywhere I turn, people are saying the same thing, and Ive began to wonder…is it really me? Or is it everyone around me, that’s somehow effecting me? I wouldn’t know. I think it’s the season.
It seems Ive picked myself up so many times, that I wonder how many more times I am going to have to, and if eventually will I just give up on getting up again. Because honestly, sometimes it feels like the very last thing I want to do. But then something whispers. As I drive down the road, questioning my mere existence; the kids. And I do it, once more. For them. I pick myself up, scrape the remains of myself back together, and push along.
Through the hard and the tough, and the unwanted days where things just seem so damn bleak…because of them.
I almost wonder…if its wrong.
Wrong to rely on them and their love to get me through things. Is it too much. Too much to put on them, to expect of them.
I was thinking today…in a weird sort of way, that Josh is how old Dylan was, when he first came up. Way back when. So long ago, when I thought the worse pain in the world was trying to muddle through loosing Emmy. And my wife.
Not knowing what the roads ahead even held.
Trying to get four kids through that, is even harder, in my opinion, on certain days. Trying to acknowledge their pain, and loss while trying to MOVE yourself along, is difficult. Loosing the kids…loosing…Molly.
I wonder sometimes, why I pushed on. Why? What kept me going then? And why…if I did THAT, THEN, why is THIS so difficult at times?
And I don’t really have an answer for that, except to admit, openly…that I really love the kids. Right or wrong. Good or bad. Its just how it is. How its going to be.
Even on days, when I question everything about the existence of dirt…I love them. And I can honestly say, I will go to hell and back again for them.
All over again.
But for now, I will pick up. Once again. And again. And again. And however many times I get shoved down, because if I will go to hell and back, then I can pick myself up out of a self pity fit and continue on.
And I will.