Questions & Resiliency

So without my husband here, everything changes. Seriously, everything. Support is given, support is lost. Decisions have to be made. Questions have to be answered. Explanations need to be given. It's overwhelming and I'm not sure where to start.

What I do know is what I'd like to plan out over the next few months looks like it will have to be fast forwarded into the next few weeks. Major decisions, major changes and major transitions are being heaped on top of our major loss. 

I worry about my children. I've been told countless times by numerous people over the last few weeks that 'children are resilient' and I shouldn't worry too much about them. I know they mean well when they say that, but honestly, I find it a little difficult to so easily label them.

These resilient children of mine are my only inheritance from my husband. They will be his (and my) lasting legacy of who we are, what we believe and what we have together invested (and what I will continue to invest) into their lives, bodies, minds and spirits. Maybe children are somewhat resilient and go with the flow, but these are MY babies.

And they have so many questions: Are you a widow? Do we have to move? Are you going to get married again? Who will walk me down the aisle when I get married? Can daddy see me? Is Santa Clause real? Why did daddy die? Will you die? Can I sleep with you again tonight? Who will walk me down the aisle? Can I open a Christmas present? Why were you pushing on daddy's chest with your hands? Why did he look like that? Who will walk me down the aisle? Can I have a candy cane?

Resilient:
a : capable of withstanding shock without permanent deformation or rupture

b : tending to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change

Hmmmm. Am I resilient enough? Will I recover and adjust easily to this misfortune/change in my life? Time moves forward. Life goes on. I tell myself I need to buck up and get my act straight and figure out a way to provide for my kids and find a home and fix the car and take them to school and cook them dinner and do the laundry and get into a new routine so I won't notice the HUGE HOLE that is in my life. Carry on! March forward! Get it done! It's only been 3 and a half weeks since he died, but be resilient!

...A couple of sweet families I know from several years ago recently had a wedding joining 2 beautiful young people in marriage. They posted pictures from the wedding for everyone to view and oh was it gorgeous! I still wish we could have been there. But as I poured over the photos, trying to virtually experience the event, seeing the joy on the faces of the family members, imagining their laughter, seeing the side-whispers and noting the sun shining on the beautiful churchyard... I wept.

Because all that was echoing in my head was her little voice: 'Who will walk me down the aisle?' 

You just don't understand. One of Donnie's greatest joys was to dream about  and imagine Emmi's wedding with her. They would sit and cuddle and talk about that special day and she would giggle as they would discuss their first dance together at her wedding. And she would gaze up at him with complete adoration when he would tell her how he would walk her down the aisle and give her away to her husband. She built up this magical moment in her mind and now she has to re-imagine it in a completely different way. 

I know it is what it is. He's gone. We will adjust. We will move forward. We will learn to be resilient. But we just lost him. He's gone. And now... we have to learn to be resilient.

Our Favorite Time of Day

This was our favorite time of the day. There was just something so sweet about the babies being tucked in bed, fast asleep & having alone time with each other. 

We would watch our favorite shows together, laugh at the Desperate Housewives of New Jersey or shudder at Criminal Minds. We would discuss the days events, our plans for tomorrow, or our dreams for our future. 

We would share the cute things the kids did or said that day, or shake our heads at what the world was coming to... We would sigh, and we would snack and then we would head to bed. 

And he would tell me as he did so often, "This is my absolute favorite time of the day. I look forward all day to us coming to lie down so we can cuddle and fall asleep together."

Now, it's my most dreaded time of day. I wander around the house, trying to find something to busy myself with. I keep myself going until I am utterly exhausted and have to lie down. 

And then I face his empty pillow where he took his last breath and I weep myself to sleep.

And I wake an hour later only to have to fall asleep again, alone. 

Without. 

Empty. 

Half of me is gone.