Happiness.

It’s a word that means so much more to me now than it ever did before.

There was a time in my life, when I thought I would never be happy again. I truly believed that the rest of my existence would be so overshadowed with pain that I would be incapable of finding joy.

During that difficult time, my children were my lifeline. They were what I lived for every single day. Because of them, I continued on. I got out of bed. I wiped their tears. I continued to be their Mom. Even on the days that I didn’t want to, their constant love and need for me kept me going.

One afternoon, I turned on music while I was cleaning my kitchen. It started off a soft melody, but the volume was soon turned up LOUD by little fingers. Suddenly, I was dancing in the kitchen with my babies. I watched them spin and giggle, jumping and twirling to the beat. As I watched them, my heart wanted to burst out of my chest. It felt foreign at first, and there was a significant amount of guilt that accompanied it, but it was there. I felt happy.

Over time it has gotten easier. I have learned to be unaplogetically happy.  It is something that was difficult to allow, and to embrace, but I know for certain that my RJ would want nothing less for me.

Through widowhood, I’ve learned that being happy doesn’t mean that you don’t struggle or feel pain. Being happy doesn’t mean that you aren’t full of wounds and scars. It doesn’t mean that things are perfect or even ideal. Being happy doesn’t mean that you forget.

Happiness is found by searching out the good and the beautiful in everyday life. It means absorbing every ounce of joy that you can despite your circumstances in this life.

Happiness is a choice, and it’s one that I have to make daily.

I am so thankful for these sweet little people. They teach me every day to be a better person. ❤ They are my happy.