I have been thinking a lot about this place--what it means to me, to the memory of Ronan.
When I started out, there were so many of us, and we all found each other in this hell we were in. Four years later, and except for a handful of them, I don't know what has become of most of the women I started with on this journey. Part of me thought we would be bound by our tragedy forever, but inevitably, time has move each of us to a unique place--new lives, new jobs, and some fortunate to have new children to love. If you still read this, I pray and hope you are well, and content---dare I say happy(ier) than when we met four years ago.
I have a sense of guilt writing about my life now on a space that I have held sacred for Ronan for four years. There are every day stories I want to share---about love and beauty in my life. And not that this place was meant to be varying shades of gray and depression, but I just assumed that this space held the purpose for writing through my grief. God only knows what would have become of me, my spirit, had I not had an outlet to speak freely of the pain, the horror, the insanity of this path. But for the very reason I began writing---the terrible isolation that no one could relate to, or how no one could approach me about my grief--I find myself in the same position four years later. I am isolated again. And I must make a choice what to do. Continue on in this space with a different view---or move on to a new venue, where I can start fresh.
The thought of leaving really makes me so very sad. If I do leave, I feel like I am leaving the only grasp of Ronan that I have, even though I know that's not really true.
I have a lot to think about in the next few days.