An Apology

I owe you an apology; I really thought I could handle it, but I didn't.
Instead of warning you, I kept it together as best I could, though not very well.
This time of year sucks for me, in the biggest way possible. From Thanksgiving to mid-December, I am a mess, a puddle of emotional goo.
I really miss Mitch, I miss being married, I miss being loved for who I am, I miss my children having a father, I miss having emotional support for holidays, I miss having sex, I miss the smell of a man in my house, I miss the feel of a man in my bed, I miss laughing at my fucked up family when I really want to cry, I miss not having to deal with being alone, I miss not having to deal with dating, I miss not being lonely beyond description.
I keep his memory alive. I must, my children depend on it. I'm the only way they'll know where they came from, that they were created with an amazing love by parents who wanted them more than anything and who committed their lives to growing with them, loving them.
It would be easier for all of us, truly it would, if I could just let go, stop talking, stop remembering, stop reminding, stop missing and stop crying; pretend he didn't happen or that he's not still important.
But I won't.
It's my job to honor the life of the man who changed mine so dramatically.

None of this means you don't count, it doesn't mean you're not important.
Yes, it means you're not first, but you're now and that is all we have.