I don’t think I ever knew the meaning of tired before Shawn died. I pretended that I did. I often thought I was exhausted. Now, I own an entirely new definition for the concept of fatigue. There isn’t a day, a moment or honestly a second that I am not reminded of the loss of Shawn. For over seven months I feel like I have been tested to endure incomprehensible grief and the worst part is, I don’t see an end in sight. When do I stop enduring, when do I stop hurting, when do I stop thinking about it?
The days drain me. Good days or bad days, by the time night falls, I am worn out and weary to start the next day. My best days are those where I find motivation to enter a task and possibly complete it. Lately, more frequent days are unmotivated. Is this a sign of depression? Is this a phase in the grieving process? Is this a passage I must walk through?
One eye open, the other shut…this is a lousy way to build stamina. Maybe soon the strength I am building will help me stay awake.
