July 21st, 2009 marked 3 years since John passed away. It was a challenging day and will forever be a challenging day. I caught myself saying one of his phrases… “It is what it is.” I haven’t bawled but, I’ve shed tears.
Midnight, I found myself in a bar. A bar??? Yes, a bar??? I don’t drink, but if I did it would have been a good day to take up drinking. Several co-workers had promotions and we were celebrating. My initial thoughts was not to go. But then at some point, I had a 180 reversal, I didn’t want to be alone… and since I couldn’t embrace John, hanging out at a bar seemed like a rational thing to do. I literally am like a fish out of water at a bar… I don’t drink… don’t dance… oh well… at least the company was better than a toddler. Other than being emotionally drained when I saw the clock had creeped past midnight, I was doing okay.
My drive home took me through Elkton. On July 21, 2009, John had died in Elkton at Union Hospital. The tears started… my eyes burned… my heart ached.
On the door of my sitter’s house a huge mostly yellow moth sat on the door. It made me think of a LiveStrong band.
I picked up my son and just wanted to hold him… to snuggle… to hold him close. Instead he wiggled and squirmed and wanted down. It reminded me of how when I got back from the hospital I picked up Nathaniel, held him close and tried to explain to him that his Daddy was dead and kiddo pointed to a bird and said, “bird!”
In the morning we went to the park with friends and it was nice to get out and do something that we enjoyed, but it was even better to hear my friend acknowledge the day and ask how I was doing. So many people skirt around the issue or hide when there is NOTHING MORE that I would like to do than talk about John… to remember and honor him and share his life and his stories and his soul and the WE that there once was.
In the afternoon we went to a friend’s house it was their daughter’s birthday. Funny how one person’s happy day is another person’s worst day.
As if to drive that point home, my cousin delivered a healthy baby boy, today.
I’ve learned it’s okay to be happy and sad, just generally not in the same second.
Kiddo picked out a flower to take to the cemetery. He knows where his daddy is buried, he picked where to put the flower,
And he fixes the LiveStrong band…
And then my heart breaks when he says,
“But I don’t know… When will daddy not be died?”
I don’t know what to say. How does one explain to their four year old son that his Daddy is never coming home? …will never be there to pick him up? … won’t be able to give him piggy back rides or hold his hand when he crosses the street? won’t be teaching him how to throw a ball (and oh by the way, his moms sucks at it)? won’t be taking him to a game? won’t be teaching him how to use a hammer and how to fix things? won’t take him to the firehouse to let him sit on the fire truck? won’t be there to see him graduate from high school? Won’t be able to explain to him about dating? and won’t ever have the opportunity to hold his grandchildren.
I wanted to curl up in a ball and bawl, but instead I said, “I don’t know, buddy, I don’t know.”
My worst day is somebody’s best day. And your worst day is or will be somebody’s best day.
John- Miss you… Love you… forever and ever always…