The sounds outside my door remind me I cannot remain sequestered mourning my loss despite how much I wish otherwise. I have other obligations calling and there are others depending on me. I must bury my grief, put on a smiling face and carry on. It is in these moments my past serves me well.
Ironically, it is my little guy Smokey who needs me the least yet the most. The most standoffish of my three cats, that ragtag band that came to replace that which I had lost, he needs the least attention yet he is the one who is bonded to me. A few pats here, a few snuggles there and all is right with his world. I have rescued him more than once and while he craves his independence he also needs to know I’m there.
The weird part about writing about such an intense personal experience is that the dam has burst and words now flow from me. I am going to let them and I am finally going to share my story. I hope it will raise awareness and make it easier for other victims of abuse to come forward and to thrive.
I am buoyed by the support from those around me. Like a flower long deprived of rain, the petals of my soul are gradually unfolding to the healing moisture of acceptance. I am learning to trust again. To everyone who has reached out I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I wrote about Libby here on my sports website because she made regular appearances on my shows and was an integral part of my sports work. It seemed only fitting. In the future I will return to the website where my journal is located and that is dedicated to the book I intend to write someday. This website will return to being devoted mostly to sports.
In the meantime, sports goes on and so perhaps will my work there as well.