The last few days have been a mix of good days and bad days and sometimes somewhere in the middle.

Mali has been gone for almost 4 months now.  Our quiet house has settled into an strange daily routine.

Going from the former routine of school, softball, adventuring with my daughter through the summer to only having to get up for work and sharing the day with my husband seems awkward.  We have always been best friends. Sometimes we chat a lot and other days the strain of grief in our home leaves long hours of silence.

Trying to figure out again where we fit into our life and the world again is confusing.  I am caught in a balancing act of rage, constricted acceptance and despair.

I find the words Mali, Mali I miss you always on my lips. I am not angry with her.  I am angry at the world and still in love with it at the same time.  Sometimes it feels like watching a movie.  I’m in it but not totally present.  I look at Tim and I am comforted that he is still rowing the boat.  Amazed really. I see his sadness and pain but he keeps going.

He told me the other night he promised to never check out on me. I felt such a weigh lifted knowing he would always stay no matter how despondent and needy I may be at times.

That is the definition of love for me at this point of my life. Thank you God for sending me this man who will always be with me, holding my hand through all this madness.

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