The Last Year

New Year's Eve always makes me melancholic, but wow....this year.  I can barely stop the tears and it has been this way all day.  I've tried to keep Sophie busy which in turn keeps me busy, but every thought is about you.

This will be the last year.  The last year of "us".  The last year with you.  I must admit that it feels like this is the last year of my life right now. 

I know realistically that it isn't.  2018 will come in a few hours.  I'll get up, take care of things around the house, work on the business, care for the kids but it all feels kind of hollow right now.  I want so desperately to feel a different way.  I want to feel like me again, but I don't feel like me without you.

Remember when I said that I wouldn't know who I am without you?  You told me that idea was ridiculous.  That I was a mother, a daughter, a sister, a teacher, a leader...  I've thought about that a great deal.  I am those things, but your influence on each of those roles was what made me better.  A better mother by your example of fatherhood.  A better daughter as I saw your love for your mom and your encouragement of mine.  A better sister as you embraced my siblings as your own.  A better teacher because you were always there to cheer me on, celebrate, critique and help me think through things.  A better leader because you saw something in me that I rarely see in myself.

In retrospect I see your influence in my walk with God.  We never really seemed to get that whole family Bible study/prayer thing right, did we?  But what you taught me by example was that it was okay to question God, to have doubts, to ask questions some wouldn't ask.  It doesn't make you less.  It actually helps draw me closer to God as I realize that His love is the same whether I understand it or not.  You taught me that it's okay to be me.  You'll probably never realize the magnitude of that.

And now here I sit on New Year's Eve trying to wrap my mind around the idea that you're really gone and this is the last year.  The longing that I have to see you again, in a new year, in a place where you no longer struggle is intense.  I can't imagine the pain and misery of those that grieve without that hope.

I hope that in a year I will be able to look at this post and write more than just my pain.  I hope that I'll be writing to celebrate what God has done and to be so incredibly thankful that I'm one year closer to holding you in my arms again.

Christmas Without You

I'm sure there are countless songs about Christmases without someone you love.  I hate every single one of them.

Today was weird.  It was sad.  It was different.  You'll be happy to know that we made it though.  Sophie and Joey had great presents.  Joey was notably impressed with his presents.  Sophie marvelled at the magic and wonder of the day and rolled around in her presents.  The grandmas spent the afternoon eating and playing games.  It was fine. 

No.  It wasn't fine.  It was quiet and it was sad.  It wasn't the same without you.  In so many ways it felt like it was less.  Less than what it always is.  Less than what it should be.  Just....less.

Despite the sadness we know that we are blessed.  Blessed to have each other.  Blessed to have a God that is in love with us.  Blessed to have your memory to make us laugh and sometimes on days like today, to make us cry.

She Was Beautiful

She was beautiful.  It wasn't her first solo in church, but it was amazing.  Remember about three years ago when she sang "Jingle Bells" at Second Baptist?  I loved that so much.  She was so happy and loved performing so much.  We were both so proud.

Today she sang a sweet and soft solo at the end of "O What a Glorious Night".  She was perfect.  Angelic.  In tune (important to the music teacher!).  She was beautiful.  When she was finished there were many leaky eyes.

I don't know if you can see or have any kind of perception about what happens here.  I suppose there must be some as the Bible says that people in heaven are aware of what's happening here, but I'm not sure if I buy into the creepy "always watching you" kind of thing that some people say.  Anyway, I wish I could have set beside you and held your hand as we watched her sing.  She was beautiful.

You Wouldn't Have Liked It Anyway

Just got back from a little trip to Branson.  Your mom, my mom, the kids, Dave and his family all went.  It was fun.  It was COLD.  We missed you.  You wouldn't have liked most of it, really.

The Polar Express train ride was a fun experience.  We had to walk a long way in the freezing cold.  You would have hated that.  Watching the kids have fun?  I think you would have loved.

The cabins we stayed in were fun.  You wouldn't have liked climbing the stairs to the beds or the tiny bathroom but you would have loved sitting by the fire and talking.  I missed having you to cuddle with.

We shopped one of the days.  You wouldn't have liked it anyway, but the boys did go to a fish hatchery.  I imagine that you would have liked shooting the bull with Dave during that.

The show at the Light and Sound Theater was great.  Sophie really enjoyed it and paid attention the whole time.  The seats were small and tight and it was obviously a very conservative crowd there.  You would have loved watching Sophie's face as she watched the show, but you really wouldn't have liked much of the other parts of the evening.

Silver Dollar City was pretty different than when we went this summer.  First of all, it was COLD!  BURR!  I think I liked it better in the cold than in the heat though.  I just needed it to be a few degrees warmer.  If you were there, we probably would have rented the little cart like we did this summer but it was MUCH busier.  It was so crowded that just walking down the streets was difficult.  The lights were beautiful and the parade was just magic.  The food was what you would expect.  You would have loved seeing the sights, but it wouldn't have been an easy day for you. 

I just kept telling myself that you wouldn't have liked most of what we did anyway, but it really didn't take away the sting of your absence.

This month is hard.  Harder than I thought it would be.  I thought I was figuring out some coping strategies.  I thought I was figuring out how to get through things as a single mom.  I thought I was getting used to this hollow ache inside me.   I guess I'm not.

Turning a Corner and Feeling It

Headed out the door one morning this week.  Mornings are tough.  Getting ready and out the door is a lot of work without your help.  This morning when we pulled up to school Sophie said "YAY for us, Mom!  We made it!"  LOL.  Yep.  Progress in baby steps.

I think I've turned a corner of sorts.  For many weeks I've just wallowed in my pain.  I've gone to work.  Fed the kids.  Paid the bills.  Cried every day.  Missed you every day.  Any time I thought of my future it seemed dark and hopeless.  I could only imagine me the way I am now.  Broken.  Fearful.  Struggling.  Seconds away from a break down every single minute of the day.

But this week?  This week I'm really trying to wrap my brain around what the fuck is going on.  I'm trying to find something good about this situation.  I'm trying to imagine a day when I'll wake up happy or find joy in life the way I did when you were here and we were doing life together.  I'm desperately trying to find  out who I am without you.

I've been trying to think about something good about being single.  I can have the thermostat set on whatever temp I want, but who cares.  I like it cold like you.  I can make whatever I want for supper, but it's weird that it is not fun to plan anymore without you.  I can do whatever I want, but what I want is to hang out with you.  I could screw around, but that's exhausting.  I only want to belong to you.  I don't like it, but I'm trying to find joy.

So, the corner I've turned doesn't seem like much.  Some days it isn't at all.  But I'm trying to figure out my life without you.  I haven't been doing that.  I've just been existing sadly and incomplete.  Heck, that's really what's happening most of the time now.  I'm just doing what has to be done, but some days its like I can feel you cheering me on.  Telling me that I'm strong enough and smart enough and that I can do it.  

Thank you for loving me so much that I can still feel it.

A Weird Week

It's been a weird week without you.

It was weird being at Thanksgiving without you sitting near me eating plain Pringles and turkey sandwiches on white bread with Miracle Whip.

It was weird planning the kids' Christmas gifts without your input.

It was weird putting up the Christmas tree without you.  Joey taught Sophie how to put the angel on just like you showed him.

It was weird to eat at Cici's with just Sophie.  Quiet, sort of, and just weird.  Is this the new normal people talk about?  It's weird and I don't like it.

It was weird being in the Farmington movie theater without you.  Unlike the other theaters, it hasn't changed at all.

It was weird being at home and wanting to go out to eat or run around and not being able to.  I mean, I guess I could have gone alone or with Sophie but I just wanted to hang out with you.  I wanted to dream with you and talk about the coming holidays and just be near you.

I couldn't.  It was sad and it was weird.

I am Thankful

I am thankful for 25 years with you.
I am thankful that with you I knew what it was like to feel beautiful, to feel accomplished, to feel desired.
I am thankful for the role model you unknowingly were in showing forgiveness and patience.
I am thankful that we talked about life without each other just in case because it feels like you are cheering me on even now.
I am thankful for your support with my crazy internet business that has now turned into so much more.
I am thankful for your passionate embrace of games and toys and fun.  They make me happy too.
I am thankful that you shared your heart with me and that you saw my darkness and loved it too.
I am thankful for your acceptance.  I could always be me even when that "me" was less than good.
I am thankful that you told me and the kids every single day that you loved us.  Sometimes many times a day.
I am thankful for our son.  I hear you when he talks and when he plans his future I can hear your wisdom in his words.  He is so much like you.
I am thankful for our daughter.  I can't believe that we got to be pregnant and bring such a ray of sunshine into the world.  She may be carrying me right now, but she does so with your strength and honesty.
I am thankful that I know what true love feels like and looks like.  I know there are some that live an entire lifetime without knowing what that can be.
I am thankful that you supported my independence as much as my submission.
I am thankful for your faith in God and that you let me see your struggle to know it, understand it and embrace it.
I am thankful that I was known as yours and you were known as mine.
I am not happy today, but I am thankful. 
I am thankful that death is not the end and that one day my hopes will be realized and I will once again be in your arms.
I am thankful for God's perfect timing even when I don't understand it and today I am so incredibly thankful for you.

You Prepared Me More Than I Realized

I went to the cemetery again this weekend.  Twice.  Once with your mom and Sophie to place flowers and then on Sunday with Joey.  He wanted to go as it was the 19th and a month had passed.  He misses you.  Tonight he said "I miss hearing Dad yelling at his computer."  I said "I miss him sitting in that chair talking to me."  Sophie said "I miss laying next to him in bed."

Sophie and I brought flowers on Saturday as did your mom.  Sophie picked purple flowers because they were your favorite.  Then she said "But Daddy knows how I like to match things so I'll get some blue ones too."  :-)  It was hard to be there with your mom and Sophie.  It was hard to see the flowers dried up and dead on the cold, muddy clay.  It was hard to see your name on that stupid metal sign.  I'm sure that some day I'll be able to visit your resting place and feel something other than anger and intense sadness, but it isn't today.

Your mom is having a hard time.  I can't imagine burying Joey or Sophie.  I can't fathom that kind of pain.  I want to help her as much as I can, but most days I feel like I'm drowning in my own grief.  Being held captive in the quicksand of my life.  I feel like I'm in a daze and am just acting out my life.

Although my grief seems all consuming at times, you prepared me more than you realized.  I can hear you answer me when I tearfully asked "What on earth would I do without you?"  I think about that all the time.  I replay your voice telling me that I would be sad, that I would do what I needed to do and that I would take care of the kids.  In a way it seems that you are cheering me on.