Today marks 18 months Daniel. Eighteen long months without you. That is exactly half of Reed’s life time you have now been absent. Five rounds of soccer and one t-ball season you have missed. New schools and transitions for both boys. Illnesses. Nose bleeds. Arguments and laughter. Weekend getaways. Family drama. Another round of birthdays. The start of another Panther season. The list goes on and on and the loss has not gotten easier. I am no more accepting today than I was when we first received your diagnosis. I'm not holding on to anger but many days I do continue to walk in a haze of confusion and shock.
We are adapting our everyday life but your absence remains a huge hole in mine, Lucas and Reed’s hearts. They continue to surprise me with questions that I cannot answer. They yearn for your presence so deeply. Your shoes are simply too large for me to fill. They each demonstrate pieces of your personality and attributes that are both amazing and sorrowful. Our family and friends continue to life me up in support. I'm forever grateful. Outsiders continue to make judgements, or maybe not judgments as much as uneducated comments. I've been there. Before I lost you I didn't understand the depth of loss either and I'd much rather be treated like the human being I am than like a glass house that could shatter at any moment. I am still me.
Like most couples I took you for granted and never dreamt you wouldn't be here today either dancing with me in the kitchen or being aggravated that I left cabinet doors open in the kitchen during the mad rush out the door this morning. I will go ahead and own up to ordering two new pairs of heels today. Hey, I needed some retail therapy.
We hope you are seeing our growth, helping us through our struggles and laughing along both with and at us as we fumble through our days. I pray that you hear our conversations and are in agreement with my single parenting choices; it lacks some finesse, I know! I am managing the bullies at school, the outbursts, the whining and the adventurous spirits of our children the best way I know how. How different they would be if you were still by my side where you are meant to be. You would have loved teaching the boys the words to Let it Ride tonight while racing through the house and giving piggy back rides.
A friend of yours sent me an email this week. Someone who had not reached out to me before but reminded me what an amazing man you were. He wrote how you left a lasting impression on him and talked about your generosity. That is what we all hope for, right? To leave a lasting impression, even if it’s only to one person? To make something of ourselves and be proud of whom we become.
In reading his note I was reminded of a poem; The Dash by Linda Ellis. I can’t even remember when I first heard it but I know that for many years it hung in my parents’ pantry.
“All that mattered was the dash between the years, not what we had but who we were.”
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.