Acceptance....seems like an easy enough word. Seems like when someone dies, the natural thing to do is to "accept" that they're no longer with us and that's that. Then why is it so difficult for me to accept that Pete was killed. He won't be home waiting for me after a long day of shopping. He won't walk up the back walk, sit on the steps to take off his boots and come inside after a long day at work. He's not just outside fiddling around in the garage. He's not upstairs in his office working on a set of plans. He's not out back working on the chicken coop. He's not sitting on the couch playing with Stel. He's not in the shower. He's not taking a nap with Stella sleeping on his chest. He's not he's not he's not!!!!! I could go on and on about the places "he's not". Yet I can't fully accept that he's actually not here. If I could only accept that he's not coming home....I might be able to start my road to recovery. But I haven't accepted it. Not sure when I will. There's still a twinge of hope that it's all a bad dream, and that he is all those places that he's actually not.
Acceptance is an obstacle that I need to overcome. But it doesn't seem like I'm overcoming anything soon.
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