Two years ago during the week when Brian was dying, sometimes I left him briefly with our daughters while I ran to the grocery store. When I'd go through the express checkout line I couldn't look at the clerk, because I didn't want her to see how much pain was in my eyes. I didn't want her to feel concern, pity, or worst of all ask. I couldn't talk about it, because that would cause me to unravel completely.
Almost two years later I still feel that way. I can put on a "happy face" when I'm out in public, but it is an effort. Inside I feel so hurt and raw still. It is easier to be alone and not have to put the happy face mask on.
It feels like I was fused with Brian - body, heart, and soul. When he was ripped away from me I was left raw, wounded, oozing, with no protective layers. I feel incomplete, vulnerable, lost. I feel hurt in a way that is so deep I can't recover.
