It is Friday night and I am wandering around the house like a lost child. I’ve been holding it together pretty well, I think. I have had so much to do! Endless phone calls, emails, visitors, kids running here and there, and then the packing. Always the packing waiting for me. Not that I have to do it, I actually hired a company to come and pack us, but people brought me boxes so now I feel guilty if I don’t pack a bit myself. Besides, I am purging as I pack. We have a lot of stuff in the house that we really don’t need and frankly haven’t looked at since we moved here five years ago. No use dragging it all across the country again.
I have never been a ‘hugger’, but lately it seems I have been getting hugs from most everyone I meet. It actually doesn’t bother me much at all. I can’t decide if it helps, but I know it doesn’t hurt. I think I will miss this outpouring of love when I move. I live in a small town now, everybody either knows me or has heard of my tragedy and has something to say to me. Even if it is, “I don’t know what to say.” I can understand that, I wouldn’t know what to say either. When I move to the ‘big city’, I will be a small fish in a big pond. Nobody will know that I have been left. Nobody will know that I am but half a person now. That my bigger, better, stronger half is missing. They won’t understand why I cry when I drive or wear sunglasses in the grocery store. Maybe after a while they will assume I am divorced. That I had a failed marriage. Will they take the time to find out? Will they ever know that I had a marriage that most people would envy? That I was in love with my husband until the day he died and even now can’t be angry with him for leaving me?
We went on a date every Friday night. Even if we were not getting along, we would go out. By the time we came home, we were always getting along. We worked on our marriage. Every day. It was the most important thing in both of our lives.
Shakespears says that Tears empty the well of grief. I wonder how deep my well is. How long I will have to cry. I don’t mind really, the crying. I’m just amazed that they keep coming. Always full and clear. Tears are really amazing when you think about it. Is it possible to run out?
Of all the kids, Ben is the one that talks about his dad the most. It surprises me because I didn’t think they were that close. But, then again, it is hard to read Ben. You never really know what he is thinking. He said to me the other day that he wished dad was still alive. He wanted to do scientist stuff with him. How was he ever going to be able to be a scientist now?
I don’ t know how to help my kids deal with this, but I’m trying. Jared and I went to Melbourne today to get his scout pants. We were in the car for an hour or so and had time to really talk. Funny, he is the one that asks how I am doing. He worries about me. I, of course, worry about him. He and his dad had many long talks about things. They both needed each other so very much. They have similar problems, or issues, and they understood each other. I remember telling Brad how lucky Jared was to have him to help him through these problems. Brad’s dad was not around when he was growing up and it made it really hard. Now, it is the same for Jared. It makes me sad that it worked out this way. It hardly seems fair. But, I am not going to ask why, or cry no fair. I know it is all for a purpose. One that I don’t know, but I trust that the Lord does and that his hand is in this. How could I survive without that?
Most days are okay. Just not today.