3 Week Reflections

Whew! It has been 3 weeks.

3 long, grueling weeks.

3 very short weeks.

Either way, it has been hell. I can only imagine how awful it would be if I didn't have so much love and support.

My thoughts of Brian are painful and bring many tears. I have moments where my heart flutters, and moments when I am sure my heart stops. I don't think it has beat the same since he died. I am amazed, simply shocked, that my life has become this, that he is really gone.

I would say that I keep waiting for him to walk through the door, but I don't. Maybe that is because he hasn't walked for so long. Right now every second of the day is a stark reminder that he is gone, I think mostly because we had spent nearly every minute of every day together for I don't know how long.

The quiet has been good for me. I can cry and talk to Brian, turn the music up loud, sleep or just lay in bed, write thank you's, and mostly just clear my head. It has helped me to have the quiet days so that I have the energy to spend time with the kids when they are home. I think it has helped my patience level, considering my nerves are shot. I seem to have my days and nights mixed up, so I do try to take a nap sometimes so I can still function. My head feels foggy, my heart heavy.

The past week was another full of picking our lives apart. The death certificate arrived. Yep, the cause of death was metastatic melanoma caused by a primary melanoma, yep, skin cancer folks! I can only pray that someone's life will be touched by my loss, and that they will make wiser decisions about the sun, and about doing a skin check. This past week has by far been the most difficult, mostly because the pain of missing him seems to have engulfed me. The rain makes it hard to want to visit the cemetery. I'm not sure the cemetery would bring me any comfort right now anyway.

I haven't mentioned, but Amberlea is doing better. This is a relief to those of us closest to her because she was really starting to worry me. It will be a constant effort, as grieving is truly a process that continues for a long time.

Comments from Tye:
How come the doctors made Daddy go to Heaven?
I have an idea! Just drop me off in Heaven and come back and get me!
Is my Dad here? (asked about everytime we come home, I guess just to verify)
I'm sick too Mom, I need to go to Heaven.

Several mornings he has jumped up and looked out the window to see what Heaven looks like. It is nice when there are clouds and the sun is shining because he can see the beauty of the sky, and it seems to bring him comfort in knowing Daddy is out there. It is difficult for all of us to understand our beliefs in Heaven, and this tangible thought seems to be the easiest to hang on to.

Rachel is doing well also. She has really stepped up and helped around the house. She seems to have grown up so much. This morning I got up and took a shower before they all got up. She wondered what was wrong with me! I can't remember the last time I took a shower in the morning. Mornings were always crazy, and a lot of times I would finally get in a shower before the kids got home from school. It was nice to be up and going, although I have not taken a nap today and I'm very tired. I saw several different people today who commented on how tired I looked. I guess this is how you look when your husband dies. Hopefully I might have been able to stop the cycle, if I can stay up a few more hours and then sleep at the normal time.

I did find some trouble getting motivated this week. I felt like the days just piled on top of each other, and all of a sudden, it is Friday. I realized one day this week that I couldn't remember what Brian's voice sounded like. The t.v. was on, and a commercial for Longhorn Steakhouse came on. It showed some new steak that I immediately thought Brian would have liked. The thought of him ordering tried to go through my head, but I couldn't remember what he sounded like. Six and a half years, and I forget his voice in less than 3 weeks? Then it came back to me. But even so, the feeling was uneasy, almost desperate.

I spend most of my time just focusing on surviving this, getting though these difficult moments, and helping my kids have some sense of a healthy transition to a life without Brian. I want them to know we can be happy, we can be successful, that Brian's death doesn't need to be our focus. He wouldn't want that. It takes time though, when all I can think about is him dying. The grief I felt before he died is compounded now by the understanding that everything I feared has no doubt become my reality. It makes me wonder how I can ever keep from worrying about everyone else in my life, when I know how this turned out.

Hope you all enjoy your weekend, even if it is cold and rainy.
Jenni