...powerless

Well, I'm not sure where it came from...that's the interesting thing about grief. Even when you feel like you are doing fine, a day rolls around, for no real reason, and knocks you on your ass. About the time when you feel like you have everything in control (or at least as much as you can being out numbered), and the bottom falls out. The figurative doorbell rings, and emotions just come walking right in like you actually invited them. You can blame feminine hormones. You can blame dreary weather. You can blame a cocktail. But, the fact of the matter is when it comes, you can't make it go away until it's run it's course.

It started last week. Oscar mentioned at the breakfast table that he had a dream about Jason. We were all excited to know what happened. Turns out, nothing happened. He said he just saw his dad walking through the house. I could tell by his answer that he was a little underwhelmed. Like he had wished that it would have been more meaningful...longer...some sort of interaction that would have left him with a big grin. The often used phrase to people who are missing a loved one who is no longer here is, "...but they are with you...they are here watching you...they are loving you from a far..."And I'm sorry, but that is bologna shit.

My heart sort of broke that day for Oscar. They were given nothing. No good-bye. No closure. No chance to let their heart catch up with reality. Their last vision of Jason was on a stretcher out the window. Why didn't I let them see him on that stretcher? I would do just about anything for my kids to have just one more interaction with Jason. I would give anything for them to be able to say one more thing, give him a hug, just lay eyes on him...if for only 5 minutes. It is a pain that resonates so deeply inside of me that it actually physically hurts at times. It gnaws and tears at my heart, knowing that I am...powerless.

Atticus is now at that stage where he's verbal with no filter. He says things partly to get a reaction and partly because he doesn't know what he is saying. He likes to repeat the phrases that I might mutter under my breath, and does them with authority. He is very matter-of-fact about where his dad is. Driving down the road the other day he said, "...you know, my dad passed away...but I don't really know why or where he went..." I was sort of taken with how he phrased it. I mean he's only 3, and half the time he's talking about super heroes. He has started asking questions...the likes of which I remember Nora asking when she was his age. With each question asked, I know that it's one more I don't have real answers to. One more question that I have to try do deflect because I know his brain can't comprehend the real answer.

And then, last night as I was channel surfing, a PBS show came on, sort of Lawrence-Welk-like. The dancing started. The laughter got louder. The signature moves came out. It was hilarious, heart warming, rowdy and it made me emotional. It came in like a rhinoceros and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I cried, hard. I could hear the giggles and the squeals, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to let it out. The scene was like that of any Saturday night five years ago, but I was the only one noticing something was missing...and once again, I was powerless.

So, today is a new day. Today is the chance to start over. Today is the day to let yesterday's grief know that while we loved having them visit, we were running out of clean towels. Today is the day when you look at yesterday and hope you've learned something. Today will be filled with tantrums, freak-outs, spilled juice, dirty clothes and dishes. However tonight, we'll get the pleasure of watching Nora at t-ball practice...and that is just pure entertainment.