Friday, February 8, 2013

     So this week I've been sick. The kids and I have all had the sore throats, coughs, ear infections and sinus infections… I know I would tell you quite often how much I appreciated you; I’m sure not nearly enough now that I think about it…  I appreciate when I would come home from work and you had picked the kids up from various locations, had a great dinner cooking, helping our two oldest with homework and have the washing machine going. This was not an isolated event, this was an everyday occurrence. I miss that you would know when I would be struggling at work and I would go to get in my truck and there would be a package of chocolate cinnamon bears on the seat with a sweet note about how much you love me. I miss the days you would pick me up from work and you would want to go sit by the creek in the park and eat pizza, let the kids play as long as they wanted. I miss that you would know when I was going to have my period before I was going to and make sure that I was prepared. I miss the kind words, the beautiful face that would tell me that you “understand and support” me in the difficult decisions. I appreciate you dealing with my crazy, irrational family, let me tell you- they are still crazy and irrational. I miss the man that would pack the kids and I up in the truck and take us on some adventure, making sure we were having fun, seeing new things, eating chocolate Twizzlers, happy to be together. You made my life fun and whole, since the beginning of us.
     It isn't the same without you. I will say, that if up in Heaven I was told that I would meet this amazing man, we would date all through college and then be married for twelve years BUT he would have to return to Heaven when he was 38 and I would be devastated- I wouldn't change anything. I would do it all over again and be grateful. Sometimes I turn onto our street and hope I see your truck in the driveway, and then I remember… it is real. My heart is broken, my world upside down and love for life lost, but I would choose it all over again.
      I’m grateful for you, you always said I made you a better man, turned the snowboard bum into a college graduate, a father, a man of integrity- but it was the other way around, you made me a better person, a better mom, a better wife and friend. I hope you hear me as I tell you this on a daily basis as I drive to work, lay in bed…I miss you so much. I will do my best to teach the kids your amazing skills at being an amazing person, considerate, giving, kind, patient, loving and fun. I’m taking care of the sick kids, the sick me and thinking of all the times you took care of us when we were sick. I’m wishing I had told you more how amazing you are, how much I appreciate you. 

Saturday, February 2, 2013

February 2, 2013
So, I’m missing you so bad I ache. I used to have this life, it wasn't perfect but now it really seems like it was. One phone call changed that life and I don’t think it will ever be the same. It will never be the same. I get up each day because I have to, because what I have left of you is our three beautiful children that I love so much. I get up and do what I have to for them. Only what has to be done to get by that day. Pretty much that’s it, no planning ahead that reminds me to much of the plans we had together, the ones that included us growing old together. Remember? The ones where we are together and sailing anywhere there is warm sandy beaches, you and I sitting on the dock staring at the Indian River patiently waiting for the porpoise to make an appearance. We had a lot of plans.
I look at pictures and my heart breaks. I don’t look at pictures and my heart breaks. Old cards. Your handwriting. The boys use your soap in the shower, I smell it and sometimes I pretend it is you and everything is back to the way it used to be. The smell of your t-shirt, that same smell I would smell when you would hug me tight. No one else can hug me like you. There aren't many people that are 6 feet five inches and lean over to hug my five foot nine. On a really bad day I smell your favorite black volcom hat that still smells like your sweat. It smells like you after you would work in the yard all day. It is so comforting and also so unbelievably lonely. I can’t get enough of you. Your clothes. Your truck key that you put in my wallet because you kept locking yourself out and I kept lecturing you about how much the lock smith was costing us, I told you that we were going to have to start putting the lock smith in our monthly budget.  You made the key and put it in my wallet, it belongs to the truck that you died in. I keep the key that doesn't have a truck; I keep it because you put it there. That damn truck.  Sometimes I see a truck that looks just like yours. I look for the sticker of the surf boards on the back window. A few days ago there was one just like it driving towards our house and I pretended it was you heading home. You know, like you used to after work with groceries for some amazing meal that you would cook. I picture you in the kitchen with your head phones on listening to a book on your IPod. The kids are eating my cooking, they don’t complain for the most part. If we could have bought a new truck that had side air bags would you be alive? Were you trying to call us when the accident happened? They never found your phone. You always had your phone. The accident happened about the same time you were going to call us, before the kids went to bed. I listen to your last voice mail message, listening to the last “I love you” you left me. I miss you. I love you, just like you would say to baby girl- “to the moon and back”.
 When I sit in the group room at work I get this horrible panic in the pit of my stomach. When I hear the phone in the office ring while I sit in that room I feel pure fear. Did you know I was day dreaming about you coming home, what we would do for your birthday, how handsome you were, when the door opened and I was told there was an emergency phone call for me.  I hate that phone call, the one that changed my whole world. How did we get here? How did this happen? How is this possible? Can you just come back now? Please? Why couldn't this just be a nightmare, a really realistic one.  I've had enough of this nightmare. This isn't the way it was supposed to happen… it isn't the way it was supposed to be… Did I tell you my husband died? I probably did, sometimes I feel like I have to say it to remind myself it is true. I don’t understand how everyone’s lives keep moving forward. Why does the old couple in the grocery store get to grow old together? Why is that couple in Wal-Mart so happy? Their happy is too happy for me now.  My heart is heavy. I used to have a husband, I used to be happy, not all the time but looking back it was really pretty damn happy.