The day after the funeral I had to fly home, to my beautiful home I've made with my husband, on the other side of the country. Our beautiful house, our four precious babies, our dog and our cat, and this lovely little family that is as happy and pure on the inside as it appears to be on the outside. This family that I thought could only exist on television shows, is my real life. I am living my dream.
And yet overwhelming guilt took over all of my emotions as I had to go. How could I leave my mother? My father? My sister? My body got on the plane bound for Arizona, but my heart stayed in NJ. In millions of tiny pieces.
It's hard to piece a heart back together when the pieces aren't all in one place.
It's hard when your head knows you're not doing anything wrong, but yet this awful feeling of guilt overtakes your soul. I know that this life I'm creating is a wonderful environment to raise my children, and yet this huge part of me wants to uproot all of it and move to NJ to take care of my family. I had gotten to a point in my healing where I knew I couldn't control it, but now I think, well I can't control it, but I could help a lot more than I am. I could do more if I was there. I know I can't control it, but I could help... what is wrong with me?
Therapy starts Tuesday. I hope they fix broken hearts that are scattered across the country.