I have always found writing therapeutic and tonight I have successfully purged something…not sure what…but something fierce.

People always ask me how I am or what is new. I always respond with a lie (usually "OK" or "nothing"), and then proceed with a narrative in my head about what I wished I could say. What I wished that person knew or understood that I cannot actually vocalize. I can't find the voice to say it for a variety of reasons, but the primary one being that I am afraid of losing control. Like I did today.

Lori asked me "Are you OK today? You seem off." I decided to tell the truth and proceeded to cry for the remainder of the day. Yep, that's right. I cried for 12.5 hours straight. The people in the cafeteria at work, at the lunchtime in-service, the gas station and the tailors are probably wondering who the crazy lady is.

So I got home tonight and wrote, and cried and wrote some more. In fact, as I type I am still crying and I am starting to wonder if I will actually stop by tomorrow, seeing as I am going onto hour 13. Anyway, I wanted to share an excerpt from my journal, at least to give myself the peace of mind that I can be truthful about how I am really feeling. I am not sure if it is a poem or a narrative or perhaps more of a stream of consciousness. Anyway, it is called:

Write What is Too Hard to Say

How am I? You ask.
"OK" seems worse than fine,
but more socially appropriate than
dying inside.

If you really want to know:
My thoughts are like freight trains
roaring through my brain, all day and all night
My stomach feels sick
My legs feel weak
And NO, I am not eating
It is tough to swallow when it feels like someone is squeezing my air pipe.

What's new? You ask
I smelt Cam last night, on his clothes
And sobbed into them
And agonized about throwing away a plastic bag that smelt like him
And rolled it up and put it aside
And unrolled it and smelt it
And rolled it up and put it aside
And unrolled it and smelt it
And rolled it up and put it aside
And unrolled it and smelt it and
Threw it away.

I brought Cam home today
He sat in the back seat
In a box of ashes
3cm squared
And I sobbed into the box to.

And everything I do
I think
I am alone, and I am going home alone, and sleeping alone
And I want to scream
LEAVE ME ALONE
So I can get used to this feeling
Because it is hard to rely on other people,
When I just want to rely on Cam.

But I want to scream
THIS IS HOW HURT I AM.

Welcome to my home...

As of November 1 I obtained possession of my house. The actual 'possession' was anti-climatic as I have been living here since April, but it was a big day nevertheless...Emotionally speaking. Over the past 4 months I have been really trying to create "Sandy's Space." As I have been re-decorating, I have surrounded myself with items that bring me peace and comfort. In every nook and cranny I have something that I can look at and smile, or sigh, or breathe.

I have shards of sea glass in the bathroom that remind me of the time I spent on Savary Island this summer. MacKay and Richie searched, and searched and searched for the glass, which proved to be quite therapeutic at a time when the innocence of childhood was a saving grace.

I have my jar of dimes. They say when someone you love has died, they leave dimes for you to find to let you know they are OK. I have found lots, and I have kept every one.

I have a bundle of river stones wrapped in a blue satin cloth. They are from a service that my co-workers had for me once I returned to work. At the beginning of the service, everyone was given a stone to hold, and they were asked to invest in it a hope or a wish for me. At the end, one by one, everyone presented their stone (and wish) to me. All the stones were then wrapped in a blue satin cloth and given to me to keep. I hold the bundle and the weight of it reminds me of the all the love and support I have.

I have special paintings everywhere. In the bedroom I have a series of goddesses that my mom painted. They remind me of the strength of women, and I like to think they watch over me while I sleep. In the living room I have a painting of cherry blossoms, which my mom and I did one day at the lake. The cherry blossoms symbolize the fragility of human existence.

I have a rock. One day in August, I took the day off work and drove to Jasper to sit on a rock and stare at the mountains. That day I found a large rock that looks remarkably like a snow capped mountain. It is now sitting on my bookshelf and it reminds me of a couple of things. First, how much Cam and I loved the mountains and how much peace going there brought us, and continues to bring me. Second, my tenacity and courage to make the drive to 'our beloved Jasper' to sit on a rock,and stare at the mountains, alone.

I have a picture of Cam at the top of Whistler during Whistler Cup in April. He looks so happy, proud and content in that picture. Right beside that, a picture of Angel Glacier.

Above my doorway, a sign that reads "I believe in Angels."