It has been a long time since I wrote anything. The world continued turning and there are days when I participate in the convoluted mess that has become my existence. There are days I choose not to. There are days where nothing matters and a vast emptiness lay before me. Sometimes I can see light and I can laugh.

There is a constant in my world. Mali. When she left 3 years, 6 months and 7 days ago life as I knew it ceased. This is the part where my family began to unravel. Maybe it was already unraveled and I was too blind to see it or maybe I didn’t want to see it.

When I started this blog, I told myself this would be real and raw. I don’t see a reason why I should deviate from that now.

So here is another unpleasant side effect of losing a child. Families can and do disintegrate after losing a child. Let’s use another word. Divorce.

When we lost our daughter, we lost our way. Family members stop speaking, others stay with one side or the other. Husbands and wives so caught up in their individual pain, drift apart.

Looking at the chaos behind me, one thing that stands out is communication, in my situation, the lack of it. Substance abuse, suicide attempts, overcompensation of ensuring the other children are provided for even if they are adults. All the things there was no compromise on and ignoring each other and their needs.

The best part? The fighting. Spouses fight. It’s part of the package. The fights we had post Mali were vicious. For a long time it was you did this, you don’t remember because you drank too much. Neglecting needs of the other and vice versa. A lot of ugliness over who gets attention, who got left behind. It hurts my head even thinking about that.

Let’s throw in therapy. We seek out relief from this unreal pain. Such unbearable pain you would do anything to escape it. Solace in others, comfort in the bottle, or the hard path; therapy.

I chose therapy after I overdosed on medication. I wanted the pain to end no matter the cost. Brick by brick I tried to erect a life post Mali. My partner of 31 years chose another path.

All the anger and pent up rage blew up in both our faces. As a result, I am on the West Coast without a home (I have a roof over my head, don’t get me wrong). Ex-husband stayed behind in what was our house with a 1600 mile buffer between us. If someone would have asked me 2 months ago did I think I would be in this situation, I would have laughed. I am not laughing.

So I have no words of wisdom to share. I am back in that place of pain. I have no family now save my two grown sons. I am grateful I don’t have to breathe ugliness and chaos anymore. I am grateful I don’t have to babysit intoxicated people and their bad behavior anymore. I am grateful the words bitch and cunt do not describe me in the least. I am grateful I don’t have to put a fake smile on my face just to please the spouse and last but not least, I don’t have to make sandwiches anymore. I do however, miss my dog.