Tuesday, May 06, 2008

six weeks

My dear sweet Jeffrey,

It's been six weeks since you died in my arms. It feels like an eternity and no time at all at the same time. The years that stretch out before me without you in them are so painful to comprehend. We had so many hopes and plans. We had been through such a hard year as it was and it kills me to think that you died with all these worries.
There are so many things that I wish you were here to share with me. Liv is reading! I am amazed. She is such a little inquisitive thing. Liv's swimming continues to improve and she is definitely a 'little fish' as you called her. She misses you so very badly. I wish I could take away some of the hurt for her. She loves to hear stories about you and remember the things you did together.
Briar is talking so much recently. It's as if he woke up one morning and decided it was time that he talked. He says, "Listen me!"and "I thirsty." He sometimes will create four words sentences! It's all so amazing to me. He still hops everywhere. I find his gregarious personality so much like yours.
How are they still learning and growing when everything is so broken? I really wish I could break free from this nightmare and be the mommy I wanted to be. I can't be that without you. We were a team. Now I'm a one winged bird. How can I teach the kids to fly if I can't do it myself?
I am realizing how much I took you for granted. I always thought I was the one who did the majority of the work around here. Who even cares now? Was it really a contest? I do realize how much you did do around here. The fence in the backyard is down. The faucet in the front yard is broken. The new garage doors are still unpainted. The engine light is on in the car. The drywall remains unputtied in the basement. The deck boards are sagging and need replacing. I can't keep up to all these things. I am planning to fix the fence in the next couple of weeks myself but how can I do everything myself now? I am mentally and physically exhausted and the thought of having anything to do other than feeding and bathing the kids fills me with dread.
I think this experience has forced me to grow in ways that I told myself I was so evolved. I am realizing how much ego I did carry. How much resentment and anger fueled me. Things that didn't mean anything to me before mean even less to me now. In fact, almost nothing is important anymore....only the kids. We all die anyway and we can't take anything with us. The only thing we leave behind are the ones who love us and their memories of us. Can anything else matter?
I wish you were here. I still can't fathom the finality of your death. I always think I hear you or smell you. It's like a punch in the gut everytime I realize that it's not you. I am constantly searching for possible signs that you could still 'be with us'. The sceptic in me is too strong, though and every coincidence can be explained. I wish I knew....I guess I'll never know until my end.
I miss laughing with you. Everything was worth a chuckle in your eyes. I can't see through those eyes anymore. Nothing's funny and I miss the joy you brought to our home. I feel this oppressive sadness in the house since your death. Is it me or can other people feel it too?
I love you, Jeffrey. I will never, ever stop loving you. You were my everything. How can I be anything without you? My 'other half'.
I will try to do my best for the kids on my own. I will try to be strong and to protect them as you would. I will try to hold everything together. I will try to become whole again. Please, if you are out there somewhere, hold me when you can and tell me it's okay.
I love you the whole pie.



BlessedMama said...

That made me cry....your heart is breaking and I can't even begin to fathom your pain. I have followed your journey over the past seven weeks. I found your blog while looking through homeschooling blogs. I began following your journey the week before Jeff passed away. You have made me think about all the things in my husband that I take for granted. You challenge me to enjoy every moment and not be rude or caddy about the things that drive me insane. I know that I'd miss them if they were gone. I so appreciate your willingness to let others see your pain. It has been a wake up call in my life and I thank you for that.

I haven't posted because I don't want you to think that I am trying to push God down your throat at this very difficult time...but I have been praying for you and the kids almost every day. I serve a BIG God that loves you very much. He doesn't want you to have to hurt so much. He wants to hold you through this time. All you have to do is call out to Him. I don't know where you stand with God (if you're angry, bitter, mad, etc.) but he gets it and is okay if you yell at him. :-) But reach out to him afterwards. I have absolutely no idea why unfair things in this life happens, but they do. I often think of how God must have felt as he gave up his Son, Jesus, to save the world. My ugly, vile, sinfilled self was made beautiful however because of that gift. That is true love...

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Matthew 5:4

"Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning, for in you I put my trust. Teach me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." Psalm 143:8

Anonymous said...

My heart aches for you.

I am battling breast cancer and reading about your journey has forced me to 'truly' appreciate my amazing support team. I have written my husband and children letters of appreciation and will try never to take them for granted. I want nothing to be left unsaid.

You and your family are in my constant thoughts and prayers.


Poppy & Mei said...

"...I always thought I was the one who did the majority of the work around here. Who even cares now? Was it really a contest?..."

This was so important for me to read Jackie.
You are helping so many people through your writing.
I hope it gives you a glimmer of relief...Xxx

13mimosa said...

If you ever worry that others will forget Jeff, don't. I don't know you and I didn't know your husband but through your words I can see a man who put his family first, who laughed loud and with his whole body and who thought you, and then the children, were his everything. I believe that he will live on to everyone who knew him and I hope you find a way to continue all you started together.

randi said...

This is beautiful. Your words make your love for your husband very evident.

You are in my prayers, Jackie.