It's a hard thing to feel like you can't trust yourself or sometimes feel at home in your own mind. As I come upon my angel's birthday, I feel more and more that way. I may feel perfectly normal and emotionally steady all day and then something, say a FaceBook post or an item I still have from when my angel was in my arms or pictures of her funeral, jump out at me. When that happens, I go from a peaceful state to a sobbing mess. Sometimes when that happens, especially when I hit the worst of hysterical moments, I separate. The emotional side of me is focused on my pain, on the large, bloody hole where my heart used to be, while the analytical side looks on and wonders when the rest of me will calm down.
Nights are the worst. During the day, I can keep my brain focused on the tasks of the moment. But at night, when I need to sleep, I find myself particularly vulnerable to those triggers, those things that set me off. I'm thankful for my husband's warm arms and quiet spirit that can help me calm down. I'm particularly thankful for his priesthood power, the authority he has from God to give me a blessing that will help me find my peace again. I can only imagine how hard it would be to pull myself together if he wasn't there. During the light of day, I know I will see my angel again. I know she's here with me, whether I can see her or not, as often as she can be. During the day, I take strength in that. At night, none of it matters. Only my empty arms do, while I wait for the light to come again. I'm sure I'm not alone in this.
