Epilogue, part 1

This beautiful blog and I have come to a cross-roads.

When I started writing in the days right before and after Stephen’s death, it was a way to reach out and, at times, to inform.  It started as a running commentary, a rebuttal to the statement “I don’t know how you do it.  I couldn’t.”  (The answer to that, of course, is “You just do.  You don’t have a choice.  I don’t have a choice.”)  Back then, it wasn’t even in blog form.

The blog started as an Ambien and xanax-laced commentary on what to do with all the extra funeral cake and why I shouldn’t cruise ebay at 3am in that state.  I was spilling my guts and my heart and my fears to nobody in particular.  And yet, I was desperate for somebody to know and to hear. 

Over the years, it replaced all the times I could have drunk dialed (but didn’t) and all the random crap that may have gotten shipped my way.  I wish I could go back and count how many words were written only through the muscle memory of my fingers because I couldn’t see the screen through the tears. 

How many times did an episode of Grey’s Anatomy strike a chord?  How many blog posts were interrupted because I had to nurse a little back to sleep?  How many nutty bars were eaten?  Bottles of vanilla vodka emptied?

This is the beginning of the end.

At least for this chapter in our lives.

I started writing here as a form of therapy.  I craved the support that comes with spilling one’s guts to the interwebz at large but it was more about organizing my thoughts and my hopes and as a place to record my memories. 

Sometimes I wrote just for the littles.  I forget that they really were just babies when all of this happened to us.  I look at a common, everyday three-year-old and think about how very little Ella was.  And Amelia really was a wee babe.  It’s little wonder we all survived without a visit from the health department, CPS or the police. 

Anyway, this isn’t about that anymore.  This is the beginning of the end.

In the course of the rest of the year, ending on New Year’s Eve, I’m going to wrap up this blog and walk away.  I’ll probably start a new one at some point (maybe New Year’s Day) but there is a part of me that thinks “Notes to Self” found its own end. 

And I’m okay with it.  Because nothing is the same as it was four years ago.  The littles have changed and grown.  I have changed and, well, I keep on changing.  I don’t know that I’ve grown but I do have a different perspective and a whole new set of priorities for my life. 

So, if anyone is left reading this after all these years and all this time, is there anything you want me to address?  Re-address?  Are there any thoughts left undone?  A story I started but never finished?  What should I do with four years of memories, 700+ posts and a thousand comments?

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12 thoughts on “Epilogue, part 1

  1. For starters, you should print a complete copy of your blog from start to finish. You should pay to get it bound. And you should save it for the littles to read in about 20 years. This is their story as much as it is yours and as you said, they were so very young when you lost Stephen, your writings will help them to understand what they can’t even remember. I wish you all the best for the next step in your journey.

  2. I whole-heartedly agree with Polly!! I think a rpinting from beginning to end would be just the perfect finale to a journey for you and your daughters! Sending you much love from Arkansas!!

  3. Just wanted to let you know that I’ve been reading your blog since the beginning and I’m still here! I agree with the others that a printed copy would be great for you to have… But also, please don’t stop writing! New blog, articles somewhere, a book? You’re such a fantastic writer and I can’t wait to read more, wherever that may be 🙂 much love

  4. I’m going to miss your blog (very selfish of me I know) but I’m so happy for you Jenn.
    I reeeeeally hope you will get this blog put into book form because it would be a good way to honor this journey.
    I think your Littles will love this book some day.

  5. While I peeked into your life via your blogI felt you talked about a lot of things I have felt over the years raising my own children. I raised mine in different circumstances but had many of the same frustrations, struggles, and thoughts. Your words helped me feel connected and more “normal”. The struggles you have gone through are unique to you but you touched so much on many of the human struggle we all face. I have missed you and reading your blog has helped me stay connected to you and your children. YES! Publish…. and know I’m so glad you are opening a new chapter. Love ya Jenn……

  6. I have read every word ever typed on this blog, and selfishly I am sad it’s coming to an end. But happier than even words can express that you have found happiness. I am just honored to have been able to read about your life over the past few years. I rejoiced in the good times with you and shed tears through the hardships you endured. I sincerely wish you and your family all the best. Please, PLEASE start another blog though. I love reading you!

    xoxo

  7. I ran across your blog a year or so ago. Your words really touched me. I agree that you should save the whole blog for your little girls. Thank you for all you have shared. I will miss your posts, Marilyn

  8. I’ve been reading since the beginning and I have appreciated the window you have left open to your world. I am grateful that you have come to a place in your heart where you can close this window and, perhaps, open a new one. I will be on the lookout for it, but if you decide not to give us another window, that is just as well. I pray only the best for you and your littles. Blessings always to you, Jenn!

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