My guilt is not murdering someone, my guilt doesn’t include hating someone, my guilt is something pure and simple. Most people wouldn’t even call it a guilt. You see I am guilty of happiness, those rare and beautiful moments. When a real smile graces my face and my large blue eyes tend to twinkle with pleasure. My cheeks will blossom with a light pink, and laughter will bubble from my belly; most of the time the cause for this rare tranquillity is my partner and my puppy, but sometimes, it is my own love of life that brings these rare moments about.
Life is at peace in these amazing moments, life is ‘normal’ in these beautiful moments. The lovely days make life bearable; blue skies with green grasses, butterflies and daisy’s run through your mind, and happiness flow’s through your veins. But they never last. And when they disappear, the guilt comes along; guilt for being alive when my son is not, guilt for enjoying myself, joking and having a good time. I try to tell myself that is what Ryker would have wanted, a happy, laughing mother. But how do you convince yourself when you don’t believe it?
How can you convince yourself that happiness is not a curse? That happiness is what life is meant to be about when all you can ever think about is the misery that consumes your whole being? Maybe 4 months is too early to figure this out, but maybe 4 months is the perfect time to figure this out. Whatever I feel I know there is a purpose, but maybe grief, guilt, self-hatred and even pure-love is all a lesson. A lesson I never wanted, but a lesson I will get.