23 years of marriage. Damn, 23 years. I could not believe that it would last that long because he had proposed to me in a bar.
As he proposed to me my heart skipped beats as a CD does when it has scratches on it. I said, ''yes!'' and I promised to keep my vows as we made a promise before God. We had six beautiful children together. (Raheem is my favorite.) Money was always hard to come by because my husband and I dropped out of high school and we did not meet the credentials of many employers.
Although money was scarce and material things were absent, love filled in those gaps. I do not tell my kids that I love them enough, but I do love them. I would fight the heinous of villians for my children. I loved my husband with all of my heart and soul. When he died that cool November day my heart froze and I neglected the things that I loved. How can I move forward when the man I loved for 23yrs got buried in front of my eyes?
I ventured into drugs and I lost my perspective on life. Who am I anymore? Does my kids still love me? I had never been the mother that they needed. I am a failure. I can not keep a house for my kids to live in.
Three strokes had hit me and now I am lying in a hospital bed. I can not get the thoughts of not saying sorry to my kids out of my head. I need recovery, so I stopped doing drugs.
Living was more important then temporary pleasure. I was looking for something. Maybe it was to fill the hole that was there when my husband died. Do you know how many nights I had cried?
11 years has past since he had died and it has been 6 years since I had been clean of drugs. I am present in my children's lives. I am alive. My husband is still gone and I still cry, but I will continue to live. I'll live because life is beautiful.
I won wars. I conquered storms.