It’s been a while since I have posted, but I only like to write when the emotions are bursting out of me.

Also, there’s the fact that I came down with a brutal stomach bug. Awful. It reminded me of how being ill can make you feel helpless. Especially when you are rendered motionless by dreaded nausea. It caused me to think of this question for the first time since I lost Kev: Who is my emergency contact now? There was a moment when I was crawling on the floor of the bathroom that I seriously felt bad for making fun of those LifeAlert commercials.

My sense of comfort that my Kev had once provided for me whenever I was ill… was gone.

Not to say that I didn’t pray to him the entire miserable process because I most certainly did. In fact, my prayers would be better classified as demands. For example, “Kevin Michael Gervais, I’m going to need you to take care of this (expletive) I don’t know what’s going on with my body, but GET.ON.IT.” We had that kind of relationship in life so why should it change now that he’s my Angel?

Back to me on the floor:

I started to wish he was sitting next to me holding my hand, brushing my hair back and somehow managing to make me laugh. (Probably by pretending he was my dog talking to me in a British accent. This was a go-to routine of his.) If you have ever been ill, then you know the last thing you want to do is start to cry. It just makes things worse. I feel like when you are in that much pain your brain gets fuzzy. So as I was battling my tears I finally got the courage to do what everyone should do when they can’t function: I called my Mom.

She was able to think for me and called a family friend who lives in my area. Like Angels sent from heaven, this sweet family dropped what they were doing to take me to a clinic, then bring me to their house and watch over me. I don’t think I could have survived that mess without their generosity and love.

I guess here I am again being reminded that this journey through grief is all about adapting. Part of that adapting is learning to replace this blinding pain in my heart with the light of courage and love.

Courage, to deal with my emotions.

Love, to accept them as a healthy piece of my soul.

Courage, to stand up for me.

Love, to remember that my life is too short not to fight for it.

Courage, to express gratitude.

Love, to know that it should be shared.

Courage, to reach out for help.

Love, to remember that God will only give when I ask.

Till Next Time.