I'm just so tired of being sad. I'm tired of writing the same thing - my head hurts, my thoughts hurt, my breathe hurts, my blood hurts, my tears hurt. I want to write something smart and happy and funny, but I'm coming up empty.
I'm afraid I've come to a point where I purposely do things to make sure I'm not happy. I'm sleeping too much. I'm not eating healthy. I'm not exercising. It's been almost a year and I haven't even lost any baby weight. I've done nothing that I said I was going to in the last entry. That Monday - when I said I was going to do all those things to feel better - I was hit with a huge wave of depression and guilt and even shame. It literally knocked me off my feet. I'm afraid that I might be feeling sorry for myself.
But, I had fun the night of his birthday. I went out with Kim and Angie the next night -and I had fun - regardless of a few moments of tears - because someone came up to me at the Hard Rock Cafe and asked me if I knew that I had a job to do. He meant taking care of Madi and Ethan. He happened to be someone I knew in my late teens and early twenties. He was nothing but horrible to me. He doesn't know me and he certainly didn't know Rich. He is not my friend. And if I had any strength I would have told him so instead of just crying. However, his comment brings me to a point. So many people say to me something like, "You have to be strong for your children." I find this absurd and offensive. I BREATHE FOR MY CHILDREN. They keep me alive. Everyday I get to see his beautiful blue eyes. I know people want to say something positive and I know people honestly don't know what to say to me. If you run into me and you really want to say something - just say...well, I don't know - just don't say that I need to be strong for my kids. I already know that.

The kids and I went to Rich's parents for Easter. Holidays are really weird and awkward. I want Madi and Ethan to spend them with Rich's family because I want them to experience what he did - the personalities and the humor. I want them to know the people he loved. I want them to be in the house where he grew up. I should tell his parents and his brother how much I need them. I need their stories and their memories. I need their pictures and their videos. I'm so angry and sad and I don't want to hurt or upset them - so I just don't say much to them - because I don't know what to say. But being in the house where he grew up is so hard. I want to take the photos off the wall and scour them and touch them and cry into them. I want to lift Ethan and point and show him his daddy. So, when I'm there, I try to glance at them as I walk by. Then I search Ethan's face to make sure I'm not imagining the resemblance. When I'm there, I imagine Rich in his bedroom as a young teen listening to Rock Over London on a Sunday night on WYDD. I see him studying for a test at the kitchen table. I see him shoveling snow. I see him waiting for his school bus. I see him playing basketball in the park across the street. I see him playing guitar in his bedroom. I see him learning to drive. I see him getting into trouble for staying out too late. I even imagine him talking on the phone, late into the night, with a girl he had a crush on. Then I breathe deep to smell what he smelled. Then I hold my breathe. Somehow, I keep myself from screaming and collapsing.

Last night I was staring at Ethan. We were at Kim's house so he was busy playing with all of the different toys. He danced to the Barney video that was on and he pulled himself to his feet. He was so proud and looked at me with his squinty smile. I was proud too, it was the first I saw him pull up to the standing position. Grammy told me he had done it at her house and the daycare said he did it there also, but I got to see it last night. I watched him and said to myself, "That's Rich Rust's little boy. He is smiling at me and he loves me. I get to touch him and hold him and love him every minute of every day. Look what I have." I looked over at Madison and said to myself, "That's Rich Rust's little girl. She is the person who brought him the most joy he ever felt. He got to experience pure love in her. She is smiling at me and she loves me. I get to touch her and hold her and love her every minute of every day. Look what I have. Look what Rich gave me."

contact me: denirust2004@yahoo.com