Four years ago today, I was blissfully unaware of where life would lead...unaware of the cards I would be dealt...unaware that life as I knew it would change forever. And today, I'm feeling that ignorance I was so lucky to have. Even four years later, it is painful.
Four years ago tomorrow would be the last time I spoke to my best friend. Four years ago tomorrow was the last time I made him coffee or complained to myself how lucky he was that I let him sleep in. Four years ago tomorrow he was rushed out of our house in an ambulance while our kids were watching. Four years ago was the last time I spoke to him with his eyes open and looking at me. He was getting ready to be helicoptered to St. Louis and I said, "I'll see you when I get there..." At the time I meant St. Louis, now I know the destination is outside the realm of this world.
Today, I wish I was "there" if only for 45 minutes. Four years later, I feel like I am finally dealing with loss. It's scary, debilitating and more painful than I ever thought imaginable. But, the loss isn't just for myself, it is for all of us. It is for all of the things we have faced and are going to face, without a husband, a father and a friend. After Jason passed away, I didn't lose it...I didn't have time. I had so much to figure out, kids to take care of and things to keep going. I became a professional at spinning plates like those people in the circus. I convinced myself that this was how I was going to deal with loss. While I know this year is just one of many that grief will be difficult, perhaps when the circus leaves town this is how it feels.
There are all of these things I cannot do or memories and experiences I cannot recreate. All of these things that kids really need their father to help them, and those same things that I long for my husband to help me from loosing my shit. In the beginning I think I thought I could play both roles and everything would be fine. But I see looks in the kids eyes sometimes, and I think to myself, "Yes, if you only knew how hard I was trying to NOT make this a shit show..." Every mother loves her children, but I am not sure if mine will ever know the magnitude of my love. I love them for two people one they see and one they cannot see.
Anger, fear and loathing, are all consuming, and I don't blame any of one in this house for feeling them sometimes. I know that the Talls would rather talk to their dad about personal stuff. I know Nora has told me she never wants to get married because her dad can't walk her down the isle. I know that Atticus looks just like someone he'll never meet, and he only knows this because everyone tells him. I have been told that maybe another "male figure" could fill in for some things in the kids lives. But the fact remains that they just don't want someone, they want their dad. I've seen people who lovingly try to step in and be that "male figure," and I almost cringe, as I know exactly what the kids are thinking...all the while praying that my kids see the kindness of the gesture before blurting out, "Step off buddy!" We will get to that place eventually, but I am not sure any of us are ready yet.
"The Little Bulldog" is what Jason used to lovingly refer to me as. He saw me give a nurse a talking-to one time when he was in the hospital, and never let me forget it. He said while that side of me didn't come out often, when it did people better look out. Well, he was probably grinning recently, as it did come out and subsequently, I no longer work outside of the home. Everything happens for a reason, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't relieved. I missed doing my full time job, the tittle I'm most proud of on my resume, raising my kids. Jason would be proud that I tried something new, but grateful that I know to put our kids as my priority.
Some days are going to just be like this and there is no avoiding it, as it will only be worse if I do. Regardless of wanting to talk to Jason one more time, chanting it to myself before I go to bed won't will it to happen. I look around and think at how much has changed and how much we all have changed. While that is scary, I know how proud he would be of all of us...four years later, that is the takeaway I have to adopt. "I'll see you when I get there..."
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