Stay Strong, My Love.

 I let myself cry this week.

A few weeks before that— I tattooed endearing words in my husband’s handwriting behind my right ear. The sentiment will forever be he’s telling me the right thing. He slept on the right side of the bed, therefore anything he whispered, was into that ear. I’d told him to stay strong an infinite amount of times. 

Some days in-between I’m alone, some days I’m overwhelmed. Everyone else just seems to be carrying on with their regular lives. So nonchalant. Here I am—syringe of morphine in one hand, Cerafina in the other. Couraira yelling from another room needing something. 

It seems impossible some days to be everything to everyone. But, I have no choice. 

In a weekend Matt lost his independence. We’re at a place where he sleeps more than he’s awake, he has a catheter and oxygen. 

I miss him so much, even with him here. 

I’ve sworn that I could hear my own heartbreaking a million times before. But, it’s never sounded this loud. Each crackle and pop is palpable. 

The emotions are overwhelming. They burn hotter than the tears. Some of my friends and comrades in the world of cancer wives showed support today. My little brother-in-law hung the Christmas lights. My dad held me today, probably for the first time since I was a toddler. I tried to nap and woke from the worst dream ever. The sight of them removing Matt from my home. 

So yes—I lose my mind while everyone needs me at the same time. But, that doesn’t translate to wanting to lose any piece of my puzzle. 

So of course whilst editing my book, I filed Articles of Incorporation for my nonprofit. I hope that I can help one person, when they feel as alone as I do. 

When Life Gets Krzy, LLC. A cancer caretaker support. If I can help one person, I will.