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.

Me