Flood Gates are Open

The last few days have been busy, filled with packing and chasing the girls (Tye is still in Unionville). The tears seem to be right on the verge of bursting through any minute of any day, and I am not always prepared for them. The interesting thing right now is I am so busy that when I'm fine, I'm fine; and when I'm not, I just get knocked off my feet. I've cried over a 1/2 dozen times today...

I coincidentally was on the road past the cemetery tonight in the middle of the storm. I was alone, so I pulled into the cemetery and just sat and stared at Brian's grave. The grass is completely grown over, and it doesn't necessarily look like a new grave.

I was racing around earlier today to get in and out of the shower. I just started to run water over my head when I just burst into tears. I didn't even see it coming. I don't even know what I was crying about, and sometimes I realize there is so much to cry about that I don't have to have a reason. Another time today I stepped in our room, kind of busily putting things away, and glanced up to see the picture of Brian and me from the dodgeball tournament...he has no hair, we both are smiling. I just lost it.

The packing is going ok. Every once in a while that feeling sneaks in on me, and I am overwhelmed with the fact that I am packing up my life, the life that Brian and I created together, I'm packing it all up and moving...ditching some things, putting some things away for safe keeping. It is very emotional for me because I am as happy about it all as I am sad. I was at the new house today briefly to do some measuring, and it felt good to be there. I really feel like this will be a good house for us to make a home together, just the four of us. Even so, it feels heartwrenching to even want to be in a home without Brian, yet here I am in our home without him now.

The special part about memories is that they are always there. I have found myself caught off guard by memories of brief moments I had not remembered before, many that have made me chuckle or brought a smile to my face. I find myself often just shaking off the tears and trying to keep the memory a good one without tears.

I just want to be happy again. I had Chinese last night, and my fortune said...you will live a long life. I flashed back to the moments that Brian would cry because he knew he would never live a long life, and I would cry because I knew it too, and also that I knew I would probably live to be 100 and be a widow for like 60+ years. Brian himself was my biggest concern. But when I would get in those...OMG, what am I going to do...modes, I would figure that he would die and I would be lonely and sad and miss him for decades before my life was over. Those thoughts all make me sad, as I do want to live a long life, I do want to be here for my kids, and I know that Brian doesn't want me to be miserable my whole life. That is easy to say. I don't wish to be gone with him. I know I'll be with him again someday. It is just my someday is likely a long time for a widow to wait.

You probably couldn't possibly know how I feel unless you have loved someone and been loved by someone the way Brian and I loved each other, and then had that stolen from you. Cancer stole Brian's life and ruined mine. I am blessed to have my children and my family and friends, there are lots of good things in my life. I try to just focus on those things right now. But I'm not going to pretend I don't feel this way, my life as I knew it is over, my dreams and hopes and plans, all gone. It doesn't mean I won't be able to pick myself up, or for that matter that I haven't already picked myself up some. It doesn't mean I won't find new hopes and dreams and plans. I am just in limbo right now, feeling like everything I wanted in life as far as a family and marriage and future all died with Brian. I feel like a shell, which isn't surprising because who I am has changed since our battle with melanoma. I did not expect to come out of the carnage of Brian's illness and death unscathed. I really wondered if anything of the old Jenni would even survive. That is left to be seen. I can't comment really on that, other than I right now don't feel like the old Jenni. Like I said, it is limbo, I feel like I'm in the middle of the old Jenni and wondering what I will become, how I will be stronger and different because of all of this, not knowing really completely how I feel or what I even want in life.

Right now I am good to sit on the deck in the breeze, to lay in bed in the morning and watch the sunrise, to take a long bath and do a crossword.

Jenni the mom seems to be resurfacing the fastest, mostly because that part of me either has to step up or get run over! I find myself settling back into some normalcy as a mom. I volunteered to be trained on the computer for swim team to help input numbers and keep score. I was anxious to try this new job, especially because I have some odd fascination with computers and numbers and that type of job. Then I realized in the last day or so that maybe that wasn't a good idea, considering I am Tye's only parent. He'll be on swim team next year, and I will need to be with him to keep track of him and cheer him on from the side and make sure he gets where he is supposed to be and stays where he needs to be. The girls are both getting to the age they can do all that, and I can run around and check on them; plus they have Tim and Abby. I laid in bed this morning and realized that if I'm going to do the computer, it will have to be when Tye is a lot older because my Mom role has changed to a Mom/any part of Daddy you can fill in...I can't ever and wouldn't ever attempt to take Brian's place. But my responsiblities with him are different in that I can't trade off.

Brian told me once after we came home with hospice that he was worried that by the time he died, there would be nothing left of me because I had given so much to him. I told him I worried about that too. But I also told him the only way I could live with myself would be to give all of everything to him. I told him I figured him dying would probably kill me anyway, and I would never be the same, regardless. I knew I would have to regroup and figure out what to do next. I was drained, and I have no regrets. I did feel like I died that day, I just was left here instead of going on to Heaven. I know there are many people who don't get the chance to love someone completely as I love Brian. I know there are many out there who have regrets after their loved one is gone, words unsaid, things undone. I don't have that, and it is probably one of the most important things that keeps me getting out of bed each day.

I seem to be finding myself coming across moments in this year that remind me of last year, when Brian knew it was his last year. By 4th of July last year, he knew this was it. We had arranged with Tim and Abby to take the girls to Unionville instead of splitting the day because Brian really wanted to spend time with the Halleys back home. It is hard to think that in 2007 we were right, it was his last. I don't particularly feel a lot like celebrating, so we'll see how that goes.

I am missing Tye a lot, which I think might be some of why I've been so weepy. He is having a great time, and I am anxious to see him and the rest of our family.

Enough on my thoughts tonight...