I don’t want to post another sad, hopeless blog, but here we are. I send out my apologies for depressing or bringing anyone down, but this is what I am feeling, and I don’t know what to do with it all. It is bottled up to where I am almost suffocating from it. So here it is, all of it, so brave of me, to put it out there, and subject myself to judgement at every turn. But after all that has happened, maybe I don’t care what others think about me as much anymore? Because really…..being happy is all that matters, and I am hoping to reach that peak, as soon as I know that my kids are okay, and essentially happy.
My grandmother’s house is on the market and has had a million offers. I am not at all surprised, because I always recognized the value, from a sentimental standpoint and from a location, location, location standpoint. The offers came in like wildfire, and sent me stumbling backwards, because it all happened so fast, and I never had a chance to say goodbye to my home.
I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to anyone, or anything, and yet, here I am, pushing and pulling myself from day to night, night to day, not sleeping or letting myself become too aware of all that has taken place.
Ross was a rock for me, always there and essentially, my best friend. One day he was gone, and it has been a downhill spiral of events for my children and I. And life doesn’t stop or slow down for you, so you have to keep shuffling your feet, no matter where your head or heart stay. And children…..how do they process that they will never see their father again? I don’t know how to protect them, and make them feel confident that I am here, when it is apparent, I could die tomorrow! I have learned from this. I am making plans, so that my children aren’t lost in this vicious cycle of LOSS. I will NEVER have them feel this way…..alone, isolated, and with this cold reality in their hearts, that anyone can die at any given moment. No wonder they are holding on so tight. No wonder they stay close at night, and wander looking for me, when I am up, and I can’t sleep. No wonder they panic if I disappear from their sight. Why haven’t I comprehended their loss to the full extent? Is this the time to be enforcing strict rules? Maybe, but slowly, and not overnight. And I made lots of mistakes, in my own world of grief, and I owned those mistakes, and I am back pedaling, and trying SO hard to undo any of that damage. My kids are really all that matters, now more than ever, and I can’t imagine putting anyone or anything before them.
When Reagan snaps at me, or is moody when I pick him up from school, I remember……today was Donuts with Dad. When Bailey is in full fledged meltdown mode, and starts swinging and punching out of frustration, I may get hurt, but I remember……her dad isn’t coming home to her, or hugging her and tickling her as he walks in. He is just gone, and Bailey thinks everyone she loves will die now. My heart is broken into a million pieces, because my babies feel this tremendous pain. I would do anything in the world to make that go away for them, but I can’t, and I think that is the hardest part of parenting. Not being able to protect your children from pain.
This downhill spiral of events has come fast and furious, and it has been brutal and unforgiving. My husband DIED. He didn’t leave me, or disappear one day, he DIED. This leaves me with a confusing mess of emotions, but mostly fear and sadness for our children. Is it really true, that he has gone to a better place? Why is that so hard to understand? Was it so bad here with his family? I can’t imagine he would have wanted to be away from his children. Never.
And then I have to leave home, which was the right decision, given all the circumstances, though it has been a slow and painful crumbling of everything that I have come to know and love. My Grandpa watched birds and squirrels with his binoculars in the back room. He would water the bird baths every morning in his Gilligan hat. My Grandma would sit outside almost every evening, staring into the sunset. That same sunset that I stared into years later, as I found my way back to this home, as an adult. But every night the sunsets were different, and every night, they spoke different words to me. They brought me peace, solitude, and they brought me to tears, happy and sad, but mostly happy, because I was finally home. I can’t believe that I will never see those sunsets again.
Bailey said her first sentence in this home. SIX words, all at once, and without skipping a beat. I wasn’t prepared for it, and I had to catch my breath and process what had happened. Had she just said, “I had cupcakes, they were yummy”, or was I dreaming? But she did. She TALKED to me, as if it were nothing, but it was EVERYTHING, because all of the days before, she would get off the bus, and I would take her hand, and tell her that I missed her, and did she have a good day? And she would mumble or smile, sometimes grimace, but she would NEVER tell me about her day. But she did that day, right there in the driveway, and she did from that point on, moving forward. It was the most beautiful day ever.
Reagan had his video games and love of sports. He knew all the players names, and their records, and his dad and him would talk about sports non-stop. Playing video games was their thing, and talking trash to each other. I can hear Reagan’s giggle right now, and the way his dad would taunt him, and sometimes even fall asleep during a game, and still make basketball shots! How?? They laughed so hard during these games, that Reagan would wet his pants. I never made any negative comments about how often it was, these video games, because Reagan was so HAPPY. He doesn’t have anyone to play with now, but an online friend that he never sees in person, and though he laughs with this boy, and they enjoy each other’s company, it will never be the same. All in our home. The video games, laughter, barking, and bonds, all working together in a chaotic manner, but a manner that made sense to us. All of that, gone overnight, and now the kids and I are in another home that is unfamiliar, and though they are acclimating, I cannot leave my home, because it is forever tattooed in my soul……where I lived as a child, and then again, as an adult, for seven wonderful years.
And it was all sentimental, sure. My mother and I had laid in the hammock in the back yard, and shared some memories of when we were together, and it was comforting to have her so close, and for her to be so nurturing towards me. It was pleasant and warm, and just RIGHT, like a real mother and daughter. And that was my last memory of her, in my home. She was on life support after that. My grandpa had died at the VA, and I was curled up in bed with him, despite the looks from the nurses, because they wanted to take his body. I had left home with my Bandit, because she was sick, and I had waited too long to put her to rest, because I was being selfish, and couldn’t let her go. I remember Ross kissing her face, as he fought to not cry, and then he turned away as I walked out the door, because he could bear to see her disappear out the door. That dog was the vain of our existence, and yet we loved her to the ends of the earth.
So many memories. I still cannot register, that I will not be back there. I won’t be feeding the deer and their babies, feeding the stray cat, and all of the wildlife critters that made our house their home. I cannot register that I won’t be sitting next to the pool, watching my children splash, and watching my Cowboy huff and puff in a small circle around the pool, barely making it back to the steps, to catch his breath. I cannot believe that I HAVE to register all of this loss, and yet, those hits kept on coming. There was a terrible dog fight, and my Star was injured to the point of being in shock, and I went racing towards the vet, knowing the whole time, that this was it, and I was having to let her go. Had Ross been there, maybe she would still be alive, and no one would have gotten hurt, but there I was, arms and legs all splayed out, keeping each dog off of one another, not even feeling the teeth on my neck or hands, because it didn’t matter, in all of the frenzied turmoil and my frantic yelling at the kids to close their door. And having to leave my Star’s body in a rush back to the kids, and never really grieving for her, my firstborn dog, that comforted me during some of the saddest points in my life, and stayed with me with such an undying loyalty.
I have learned everything there is know about life, what I want, and how I want to live. I want there to be no doubt, that my children feel protected and loved, and at the same time, feel confident to embrace others with kindness, and to be forgiving with themselves, when they have fallen. I have learned that every single day is a blessing, and every moment should be remembered and appreciated. I have learned that loss is crippling, catastrophic, but you have to take the punches, and push through deafening tears, so that you can find strength for your children, and for a completely different life, that honestly, you are terrified of.
Be grateful, appreciative, and don’t take anyone for granted. Pause, and remember…..hold on tight, because life is so damn fast. It can all be over, literally, in the blink of the eye. Thank GOD I have pictures, blogs, and thank GOD I have MEMORIES. Happy memories. That really is all that matters, is fighting to be happy, and fighting to remember.