And how Job kept his patience.
And how everyone looked and Job and figured he must have done something to cause all this pain.
And I cried. I kept it together enough to survive the Mass, and let loose in the parking lot. The Mass was for Brian. The lector pronounced his name wrong. I shudder to think that my husband has been forgotten...or at least his name is not recognizable. I think we should have one of those things at church like they have when you look online at a radio station...they announce names and they have the pronunciation listed too.
Not Holly, like HALL-EE.
Not Hailie or Hailey or Halie or Haley or Haleigh, all pronounced HAY-LEE.
Just Halley, like valley and alley.
May sound stupid, but it is like a stab in the heart when his name is pronounced incorrectly. It doesn't really bother me when it is my name, I just usually politely correct them. But anyone saying Brian Halley would, in my opinion, have to have known something. I mean it isn't anything new, he's dead for God's sakes.
I figure the prayers for Brian Haley Holly Halley all count the same, so I shouldn't be so sensitive.
The girls were supposed to serve at the Mass. I was thankful that we could have the chance to celebrate Brian's life together at Mass, and to have the girls with Tye on a day he was missing his daddy so much. I was thankful that the girls were coincidentally scheduled to serve so it wouldn't take away from their time with their own father. Brian was such positive influence on them, and all of our lives were blessed by him. The weekend turned out to be a very busy one, and the girls overslept at their dad's, which led to them not coming to Mass. It was accidental, and I am glad they still had time to do most of their morning plans with Tim for Father's Day. I hadn't made other plans for the girls to remember Brian on Father's Day, other than going to Mass together; so consequently, the day came and went with basically no mention from the girls about Tye's daddy.
I cried. I cried a lot. I don't even know if I shed a tear last year on Father's Day. This year was a rough one. I have come to realize that we all grieve differently. Rachel and I have worked hard to respect each other and how we grieve. Even so, I find that when I'm sad, I get really tired of feeling like everyone else is "over it". Especially because I don't feel like I'm March 21, 2008 sad. It is a different sad. It is a lonely sad, and a missing Brian sad. It is a sad that comes with all the firsts. I don't know what I want or what I expect. I have finally come to realize that nothing really makes me feel better. Sometimes I hope people will bring up Brian to me, and other times I hope they won't because it hurts so bad. Sometimes when I think it will hurt, I find myself smiling instead. Lately I have really battled anger because I think the reality of my life has finally settled in on me.
Grief totally sucks. A close friend told me that she thought the 2nd year was harder than the 1st. I don't know what I think about that. I think so far, the 2nd year has been calmer. I think I smile more and enjoy more moments. I do think that when the pain surfaces, it hurts worse than it did a year ago. I think the numbness has worn off.
I promised a little laugh, so here goes.
I have drilled Tye (and the girls) about wearing sunscreen. Tye doesn't fight me on it anymore. I have been clear with him that his daddy died from melanoma, and wearing sunscreen helps us not get melanoma. So today we were going to the pool...
Tye: Get your sunscreen on Mom!
Me: Thanks for reminding me!
Tye: Yeah, because my dad died because he got sunburned!
Me: (Sigh). Well, actually that isn't the reason that Daddy died. Remember I told you that sunscreen can help us hopefully not get melanoma?
Tye: So he didn't get sunburned?
Me: (By now I am putting on sunscreen) No, he had a mole that made him sick.
Tye: A MOLE! (Then he dashes out of my room).
And comes back with the book The Mitten, with the pages flipped open to show a mole.
As. In. Mammal.
MOLE
mole1
/moʊl/ [mohl]
–noun
1. any of various small insectivorous mammals, esp. of the family Talpidae, living chiefly underground, and having velvety fur, very small eyes, and strong forefeet.
I wish I had a camera so you could have seen the shock on his face. A million things ran through my mind, and I admit, a brief flash of Brian fighting off a killer mole did cross my mind. I can only imagine what Tye was thinking.
So I got out the skin check cards and showed him a mole...
MOLE
–noun
a small, congenital spot or blemish on the human skin, usually of a dark color, slightly elevated, and sometimes hairy; nevus.
Tye giggled and giggled. While I do wish I could just laugh with Tye about some normal farting and burping, as documented in my other blog, I am thankful we can find humor instead of sadness in some things that are so serious.
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