Martin Luther King Day. This is when it all began one year ago. The boys and I were sitting in the car waiting for Daddy to come out of his doctor’s appointment so we could go see some crazy Dinosaurs. He came out and the anxiety fell off our shoulders. The rain cloud lifted. A whoosh was released from our mouths as he was told to go get his hernia looked at. Routine surgery. Once again reminded by his primary care doctor that Daniel was young and extremely healthy.
Wow. How could that have been a year ago already? How can we be where we are today? Is he really gone?
Poop is a big subject in our house right now. Potty talk and talking about “butts.” Lucas finds it all hilarious. Why do we go? When we go what happens? Where does it go? Lucas asked me today while sitting at the dinner table if daddy still pooped. I said no. He stopped pooping because his body stopped working. He looked me directly in the eyes and explained that he didn’t want to poop anymore. I said, “Lucas why don't you want to poop anymore?” with an exasperated sigh. This is not dinner time talk. He responded, “Because I want to go to heaven too.”
I suppose the questions may eventually stop but I highly doubt it. He's very intuitive and analytical and is always thinking. He's always trying to figure out why something happens. When and where his father is. He is always with us, always on both of our minds.
This is a hard post and something I have debated sharing. The first time this happened it felt like someone punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind right out of me. Somewhat fitting since I have felt like hitting quite a few people throughout this process. Obviously, I have not acted on those feelings but they are still valid feelings that I have. Your emotions tend to stay heightened throughout your grief journey.
As I was getting Lucas’s coat on him this morning he asked me what color his eyes were. I have no idea where this came from, but I stated that they were blue like Daddy’s. He said in a very matter of fact voice, "I wish you were in heaven and daddy was still here.” This is the second time he has said this since April. It didn’t hurt quite as bad this time as the first. And the realistic part of me knows that this is only the beginning. I will hear this several more times throughout our life as he gets in trouble, is grounded, I don’t allow him to go a friends’ house, I don’t throw the ball as well his dad, and so on. The truth hurts. The loss so severe and significant for him. He is hurting right now and I know if the shoe were reversed he would have said the same thing about me. Kids should have both of their parents.
I still feel so broken. So incomplete. You don't live your life for someone else but you live with that person and you need and depend on that person on so many levels. I am not a co-dependent person and never have been. I also enjoy being alone at times, but all the time is quite different. I made it through Christmas and I enjoyed many parts of it . One of the biggest struggles with Christmas was in seeing everyone else’s complete families together. Each gathering we attended involved whole families, entire families. People with their partners, lovers, spouses.
As the New Year approaches I feel lost. I still can't comprehend what has happened. I'm so exhausted from the holidays that I sit down tonight which is extremely unusual but because I decided to sit down I just became so emotional. I’m crying, hiccupping, working to catch my breath. This is the exact reason I can't stop moving. The pain is just unbearable. I miss talking to him, I miss running my hands through his hair, I miss him holding me. I need to talk about the boys. I need to bounce ideas off of him. I need support. I need help with major decisions coming up. I feel so out of control and I absolutely despise that feeling. I hate crying. I hate feeling weak all the time.
So many people want to help but there's really nothing and I mean nothing you can do at this point. I feel helpless for myself I feel helpless for Lucas and Reed. Not only am I just sad, I know that I'm not parenting as well as I would if Daniel were here. I know that I am not as good a therapist as I should be. So on top of grieving and feeling out of control I feel somewhat like a failure. I feel that I'm feeling in every aspect because I cannot climb out of this. It’s like a sinkhole has opened up and swallowed me. I feel in some ways my world ended when Daniel died. Realistically I know that's not the truth. Realistically I know I have to keep going. I know that I've got to get through this. I’ve got to keep climbing and clawing my way out of this sinkhole. I scream inside my head sometimes at myself to get it together. Man up, People lose people every day. But damn this is so hard. I've got to be a parent. I've got to get myself together. Ive got to figure these decisions out. Everything is so heavy but I’ve got to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’ve got to learn to live again.
Meet the Author (me)
Driven by a need to help others. I have known from a young age that this is what I wanted to do. This is my very real, somewhat sarcastic, look into my newfound widowhood. I hope this site will help you as much as it helps me.