The last couple of months have slipped by. The sharp sting of missing Mali has lessened. Don’t get me wrong it hurts. It’s just not the kind of hurt that leaves you agonizing displaced and unable to breathe.
This hurt is different. Always in the back of you head. Always in your heart and mind.
I wonder sometimes if this pain and I have somehow are learning to live with each other?
Instead of living in the last year I have found crawling up the ragged wall of rock that has been my prison a worthy task. Sometimes I stop, catch my breath, feel the pain and push on. There is light up there. A new life that beckons me up out of the grave I dug for myself.
Anger at this whole situation has not touched me. Waiting and wondering what it would be like has left me only uttering words of gratitude to Our Lady for sparing me that.
Why is it that it takes celebrities to complete Suicide that gets people all riled up. Good God, if one of the Kardashian’s offed themselves would the world stop?
Granted I know this is ridiculous. I am genuinely sorry for those poor souls and the hell there families are starting down. No one chooses this hell. If they do they are just plain Mad.
So I am here. I’m still breathing. I still pray. I can still love. Miss you Mals. More than the Sun and the Moon and all the stars in the sky.