The suffocating weight of profound, unexpected grief feels exactly like constantly drowning in a freezing, infinitely deep, dark ocean.
Every single morning I opened my tired eyes, the incredibly harsh reality violently crashed down upon my fragile shoulders.
The deafening silence of his permanent absence echoed loudly through the incredibly empty, terribly cold hallways of our home.
I desperately tried to maintain a brave, perfectly composed facade for the precious, vulnerable children depending entirely on me.
But behind firmly closed bedroom doors, my deeply fractured soul violently shattered into a million impossible, irreparable tiny pieces.
My husband died leaving me with 3 kids and a house I couldn’t manage alone.
The incredibly massive, completely overwhelming responsibilities of solo parenting instantly threatened to entirely consume my rapidly fading, exhausted energy.
The leaking roof, the broken washing machine, and the constantly overgrown lawn became terrifying, deeply insurmountable daily physical challenges.
I violently pushed away absolutely anyone who gently tried to offer their perfectly well-meaning, highly sympathetic, but useless condolences.
My fiercely independent, heavily bruised ego absolutely refused to actively acknowledge just how completely, desperately lost I genuinely felt.
Then there was his younger sister, a beautiful, quiet woman possessing an incredibly stubborn, profoundly unwavering, fierce familial loyalty.
She refused to respectfully keep her polite distance like the rest of our deeply uncomfortable, highly awkward extended relatives.
My SIL cooked for us every Sunday for a year.
She reliably arrived perfectly on schedule, carrying incredibly heavy, highly fragrant aluminum trays completely filled with warm, nourishing food.
The beautifully savory, highly comforting aroma of baked lasagna and roasted chicken instantly filled our incredibly dreary, dark kitchen.
Instead of gratefully accepting her incredible, profoundly selfless weekly generosity, a dark, deeply ugly resentment violently festered within me.
I totally viewed her quiet, highly consistent presence as a deeply painful, completely agonizing reminder of my own failures.
Her perfectly organized, wonderfully put-together life violently contrasted with my entirely chaotic, deeply messy, and totally broken surviving existence.
Despite her immense, profoundly beautiful kindness during my absolute darkest, most terrifying hours, I never thanked her.
I completely ignored her gentle, highly sympathetic smiles and entirely retreated into the suffocating, incredibly isolating darkness of grief.
The completely exhausted, highly stressed single mother inside me aggressively interpreted her beautiful actions as a deeply insulting judgment.
The children excitedly gathered around her wonderfully warm, highly delicious meals while I angrily sulked in the adjacent room.
I was entirely convinced she secretly pitied my utterly pathetic, deeply broken, incredibly chaotic, and wildly unmanageable tragic life.
This highly toxic, completely irrational narrative furiously grew completely unchecked inside my totally exhausted, deeply grieving, and paranoid mind.
The incredibly heavy, perfectly silent anniversary of his tragic, totally unexpected passing finally, violently, and inevitably completely rolled around.
My highly frayed, entirely exhausted emotional nerves were completely stretched to their absolute, most incredibly fragile, desperate breaking point.
The perfectly bright, deeply cheerful Sunday afternoon sunshine violently mocked the incredibly heavy, entirely devastating storm currently raging inside.
She quietly walked through the incredibly heavy wooden front door holding a perfectly baked, beautifully golden, warm apple pie.
Her deeply sympathetic, incredibly gentle smile completely triggered a massive, violently explosive, and entirely unstoppable emotional tidal wave tonight.
The profoundly intense, heavily accumulated pressure of fifty-two incredibly agonizing, deeply painful weeks beautifully entirely erupted without any warning.
One Sunday I finally snapped: “We don’t need your pity!”
My terribly raspy, completely broken voice violently echoed off the entirely bare, incredibly cold living room walls with absolute fury.
I aggressively, violently hurled the incredibly harsh, deeply unfair words directly like highly sharpened, completely terrifying, poisoned physical daggers.
I fiercely demanded she immediately pack her perfectly wonderful, highly delicious food and entirely leave our deeply broken home.
I totally expected her to furiously yell right back, beautifully matching my incredibly intense, wildly chaotic, and blinding rage.
Instead, the incredibly heavy, deeply suffocating silence that immediately followed was profoundly, completely, and entirely overwhelmingly utterly terrifying.
She perfectly calmly placed the beautifully warm dessert onto the deeply scratched, highly worn wooden kitchen table without flinching.
Her incredibly gentle, totally understanding eyes beautifully met my wildly furious, heavily tear-stained, deeply exhausted, and incredibly panicked gaze.
She very slowly, completely deliberately reached directly into her incredibly large, highly worn, deeply familiar brown leather tote bag.
I went pale when she reached into her bag and handed me a small photo album.
The beautifully worn, deeply familiar navy blue cover instantly sent a violently freezing, terrifying chill right down my spine.
My furiously trembling, highly reluctant fingers slowly, incredibly carefully grasped the heavily protected, beautifully preserved, and deeply profound memories.
A sudden, intensely powerful, entirely suffocating wave of overwhelming, deeply agonizing anticipation completely froze my wildly racing, terrified heart.
I beautifully took a totally massive, incredibly shaky breath before slowly, entirely carefully opening the thick, highly mysterious cover.
Inside, pictures of my husband I’d never seen as a boy, laughing; as a teen, goofy; as a man, proud.
The beautifully vibrant, entirely glossy pages powerfully revealed an incredibly magical, profoundly beautiful, deeply joyous timeline of his life.
I beautifully saw him brilliantly smiling with missing front teeth, happily holding a incredibly massive, deeply muddy golden retriever.
There were deeply awkward, incredibly hilarious high school prom photos vividly featuring beautifully terrible, highly questionable, fully vintage tuxedos.
The profound, incredibly intense joy beautifully radiating from his perfectly familiar, highly beloved face was totally, utterly, absolutely breathtaking.
Hot, incredibly heavy tears violently cascaded freely down my highly flushed, deeply exhausted, entirely completely ruined and tired cheeks.
I was perfectly viewing beautifully hidden, profoundly intimate, deeply wonderful fragments of the highly incredible, absolutely wonderful man I loved.
My incredibly trembling, highly frantic fingers beautifully traced his perfectly familiar, deeply comforting smile entirely across the glossy paper.
I carefully, highly slowly turned the incredibly thick, highly protected pages until I perfectly reached the absolutely final leaf.
The completely sudden, highly profound realization of what beautifully awaited me absolutely completely totally shattered my final emotional defenses.
On the last page, his handwriting: “Take care of them if I can’t.”
The perfectly familiar, beautifully messy, highly slanted script violently punched all the absolutely remaining breath directly from my lungs.
It was an incredibly powerful, profoundly devastating, entirely beautiful request bravely made during his deeply terrifying, highly agonizing decline.
He actively, incredibly deeply understood exactly how completely, totally lost I would inevitably be without his deeply grounding presence.
He beautifully perfectly ensured our incredibly precious, highly vulnerable family would remain thoroughly, entirely, completely, and absolutely fiercely protected.
She had kept it for a year, waiting for the right moment.
She patiently endured my completely entirely toxic, heavily bitter, incredibly unjust anger simply to beautifully honor his final wish.
The incredibly profound, deeply massive weight of her totally unwavering, entirely selfless dedication completely brought me to my knees.
All the completely useless, fiercely incredibly toxic, highly terrible anger violently dissolved entirely into profound, absolutely deep, beautiful shame.
Completely utterly broken by the beautiful, undeniable truth, I collapsed into her arms and sobbed.
The highly agonizing, deeply painful, incredibly loud cries beautifully released an entire, highly terrible year of perfectly suppressed anguish.
With pure, undeniably comforting maternal grace and beautiful love, she held me until my knees stopped shaking.
Her incredibly warm, totally comforting, highly beautiful embrace felt exactly like a profound, incredibly sturdy, absolutely perfectly safe harbor.
We beautifully sat firmly together on the completely terribly scuffed, highly damaged, and beautifully messy hardwood kitchen floor crying.
The deeply terrifying, incredibly thick walls of absolute, completely profound isolation I aggressively built were beautifully, entirely permanently destroyed.
Stroking my entirely messy, unkempt hair very gently, “I’m not here out of pity,” she whispered.
Her completely steady, incredibly beautifully calm voice perfectly successfully cut entirely through my completely incredibly loud, chaotic, breathless sobbing.
She continued speaking softly, “I’m here because he asked me to, and because I love them. I love you.”
The incredibly beautiful, profoundly simple, entirely genuine truth of her highly beautiful, absolutely loving words perfectly healed my spirit.
We incredibly slowly helped each other firmly back up onto our incredibly tired, totally completely exhausted, deeply shaking feet.
I beautifully incredibly deeply apologized for my totally unfair, fiercely terrible, entirely absolutely unforgivable, and incredibly prolonged toxic cruelty.
She incredibly beautifully simply smiled, perfectly casually wiping a single, highly rogue tear entirely from her beautifully warm cheek.
That Sunday, for the first time in a year, we ate together at the same table, not as widow and helper, but as family.
The wonderfully warm, highly delicious baked food genuinely tasted exactly like absolute, completely pure, deeply profound, incredibly beautiful healing.
My wonderful, incredibly precious children happily laughed, perfectly sensing the massive, highly incredibly profound emotional shift totally happening finally.
The deeply terrible, incredibly heavy darkness that had completely suffocated my completely beautiful home was finally, successfully entirely lifted.
Through completely every single changing passing season and wonderful joyous holiday, she still comes every Sunday.
We beautifully share incredibly deep, highly wonderful, totally completely highly amazing memories of the highly incredible man we lost.
Slowly incredibly healing beautifully together through highly profound shared family love, now I cook with her.
Our incredibly beautiful, perfectly messy, highly wonderful kitchen is completely filled with deeply genuine, highly beautiful, completely resounding laughter.
The profound, incredibly intense, deeply beautiful grief beautifully transformed into a highly comforting, deeply profound, entirely absolutely lasting gratitude.
We are brilliantly building an entirely beautiful, completely incredibly totally bright new beautiful wonderful wonderful completely perfectly stunning future.
His incredibly profound, totally final request genuinely beautifully gave us the highly perfect, absolutely entirely complete, totally beautiful foundation.
Family is beautifully, absolutely entirely built upon perfectly unwavering, deeply profound love, incredibly fierce loyalty, and wonderfully shared beautiful grace.