“No, quite honestly, I’m not.”

No, I’m not ‘ok’, I feel like I’m packing for a funeral. Each day draws me closer to the sobering reality of the crushing heart wrenching soul agony I’ve been living in for the past 6 months. Saturday I will drive 10 hours. 10 hours to see my oldest child who I haven’t seen in over 6 months. Who I haven’t spoken to in over 6 months. On Monday I get the awesome joy (sarcasm intended) of witnessing the Court Martial of my first born child. On another day next week I have the grueling opportunity to listen to my daughter as she tells prosecutors and the judge everything he did to her. I never wanted to hear the details. She’s growing into a beautiful young lady. It kills me to know he took her innocence.  She knows what’s it’s like to be with a man. She already knows how to where a tampon for Gawds sake! She shouldn’t even be comfortable with wearing one!!!! 

Oh my gawd! I hold my chest, it aches. It pounds. It hurts. Tears (as usual) stream down my face.

I’m packing for a funeral. The veiwing of the body, then the burial of my own soul, as I listen to the details then the sentencing.

No. I’m not ok at all.