Returning

I can feel it, I think. Returning. Trying. Over my shoulder. On the edge of my thoughts. Friends and family use anologies like, "It never goes away but it changes." "It's still a wound, just not as deep." I feel it waiting for me. I am willing the suicidal thoughts to not return. The sadness, though, it's there. All the time. I am willing the suicidal thoughts to not return. The sheer exahaustion of it, though, it's there. All the time. The images of him stay on the edge of my mind. The happy ones make me sad. They're all happy, aren't we? We had few bad times, and even the worst of them we worked hard as a family to conquer. We just couln't conquer that last. Oh to close my eyes and dream.