Today I had one of those days where I would have loved to have crawled up in a small space and snuggled up with a blankie. That’s the great thing about being two. For the most part, you can do that whenever you want.

This is a hard time of year for me, even though I’m trying really hard for it not to be. No matter how hard I try, the end of June my brain turns on this TV set in the back of my brain that starts playing the events from six years ago. I was right smack dab in the middle of Andy’s (my late husband) hospice.

Looking back, I suppose we had figured hospice would be like the movies where he would sit with a blanket over his lap and just peacefully wrap up life while I snuggled next to him. We had watched the episode of ER where Dr. Green spent his days dying in Hawaii sitting in a lawn chair on the beach and cried thinking it was all so peaceful. We had NO idea what lay ahead. We had a few moments of precious times of talking and snuggling that we cherished, but other than those few times, it was a nightmare of failed pain management, incredible panic filled frustration and not to be dramatic, but moments of absolute horror. I really don’t want to quote Forest Gump here, but honestly, the phrase, “That’s all I have to say about that.” I’ll save the details for the book I want to write about my journey with Andy someday.

So those events spanning from June 18th, when we brought him home from treatment, until July 4th when he passed away, have been playing in the background of my mind. In addition to distracting me and tying me up with the emotions of that time, it’s like that little TV is plugged right into my energy sources. I could sleep for days. (Though not actually at night…)

Thankfully I’ve had the fun events of my friend’s wedding to focus on and of course, my family keeps me remembering my blessings. Sometimes it’s hard though because I think about how Andy never got to have what I have in Miles. Then I remember the total peace I sense from him and I know that whatever his world is like right now, it’s totally rockin the socks off that time in hospice or anything he ever experienced here in his short life.

So it’s going to be ok. I just wish there was an off button, or at least a snooze on that stinkin TV in my head. It’s so ridiculous to focus on that scary time when we had so many other amazing things we experienced together.

So maybe next June will be the year my brain will change channels.