I was asked to put up links to all the segments for
this when I wrote the final installment, so here ya go:
start here, then Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,
then this, and Part 5.
Right now, my brain feels like a salad spinner.
I could easily turn this into a very long soap opera and
relay all the details of: the memorial service, finding the
pool of blood under the sofa, disposing of the sofa and rug,
moving back in gradually over a period of two months
before I could sleep in the house again.
Not to mention, the house was heading to foreclosure
because he let the mortgage get three months behind
(even though I left enough money in the bank for him
to be able to pay the bills for six months) and...
over $22,000 in credit card bills.
That almost covers it.
Obviously, I survived it. I CHOSE to survive it.
It sucked for a long time, and there were plenty of times
when I wasn't sure that I would survive.
Plenty of times, too, when I really didn't want to survive.
Those times scared me the most.
Some of those times were not too long ago.
I don't want to go back there again.
He made the choices that determined his life... and death.
I will never understand all of his choices. I don't need to...
Nearly thirty years have gone by since Michael and I met.
More than half of my life. That's enough.
I cannot erase that time, nor do I want to. But, what I can do,
is put that time in perspective. It's done. I am not.
I am taking back my life. I am claiming my life... for ME.
I CHOOSE to live:
with a full heart.
I choose to have a good life.