My Roller-coaster Ride

This has been a difficult week for me. If ever the phrase "roller-coaster" applied to one's emotional state, this would be the week. The highs and lows have been extreme; quick to begin and slower to end. My tears still come slowly but so does my patience. I am quick to love but equally quick to snap and bite.

Ben is home and on 12 days of leave. I am so happy. I am so lucky. I have my best friend to hold me and love and laugh with me. I have my help-mate to clean with me and drive a lot. I have a hero to hold on to in pride. I get lost in his smile and get school girl chills when his foot finds mine under the dinner table. It is wonderful.

Aaron is gone. I am so sad. I am so robbed. I miss him more than I ever have, knowing that I won't enjoy his company again in this life. I have fresh, unearthed memories. I have injured and confused children. I have sleepless nights and exhausting days. I get lost in the condolences and explanations. It is grievous.

Now weave them together and add a little bit more.

Ben is home and on 12 days of leave. Aaron is gone. I am so happy. I am so sad. I am so lucky. I have been robbed. My twelve year old is away and I miss him to aching. I have my best friend to hold me and love and laugh with me. I miss him more than I ever have, knowing that I won't enjoy his company again in this life. My teenager is walking a precarious morale line. I have my help-mate to clean with me and drive a lot. I have fresh, unearthed memories. I am overwhelmed by up and coming events like Jamboree and weddings. I have a hero to hold on to in pride. I have injured children and sleepless nights. I have logistics to sort out like art camps, soccer practices, Young Men's, soccer games, doctors appointments. I get lost in his smile and get school girl chills when his foot finds mine under the dinner table. I get lost in the condolences and explanations. It is heavy. It is wonderful. It is grievous.

I am exhausted.

And in the meantime, nothing is getting done. The laundry is piling up, the bathrooms aren't clean, there is no milk in fridge and the floor is in desperate need of the vacuum. My plants are dying and I haven't checked the mailbox in a week.

I know it won't last forever. I know I am simply suffering through the typical textbook grieving pattern. I know that I am not alone and that I am loved and that this is all apart of a greater plan. My faith is not wavering and my knowledge is sure. I am just so very tired. I am ready to get off of this roller-coaster ride.