Going Solo

Just having one of those nights.  One of those single parenting nights.  One of those single, alone nights.

Parent teacher conferences are this week.  I shouldn't be going alone.  OR...I shouldn't be taking all of the kids...someone should be at home with them making dinner (or ordering dinner) while I go and truly concentrate on how my kid is doing in school.  Instead I sit and worry about the other 2 demolishing the room.

At the very least, I should be able to tell someone how his kid is doing...since he'd probably be out of town anyway.

My son, who needs his dad, has been throwing major temper tantrums this last week.  Knock-down, drag-out, punch-the-door tantrums.  He goes through these phases so it's really nothing new...sometimes I think he just gets overwhelmed with what's going on in that little head.  But my husband was the one who used to get down on his knees and calmly tell my son to take 4 deep breaths.  Now my kid is stuck with the parent who has a temper to match his and will just throw him in his room at the first sign of a blow-up.

I've been wishing all week that my husband could be here.  For many reasons.  To parent.  To comfort.  To support.  And to just celebrate his 38th birthday on Friday.

But he's not.

And where do I find myself these days?

Quietly crying as I fix dinner.

Feeling alone and like life will just never be the same.

Taking 4 deep breaths and waiting for things to calm down.

WHY???

Going through a loss like this has us all asking the same question:

Why?

To be honest...I try not to ask it too often.  But it’s really not something you can help.  And when I really think about it...I’m not sure I really want to know the answer. 

If I really asked the question, “Why was my husband taken away from his children when they were just babies?” and got an answer...it would still be incomprehensible to me.

If I asked the question, “Why did my husband have to leave me to deal with this all on my own?” and got an answer...I would still be angry.

If I asked the question, “Why did this happen?” and got an answer...I don’t think I’d be any further along than I am now.

So I really just try not to ask.

The truth is...death makes no sense.  How many of us have spent years with someone who was the picture of health...only to be shocked by how random death can be?  How many of us survived the dangerous teenage years with someone who drove too fast and constantly tested fate...only to lose them on their commute to work?  How many of us did everything the doctors told us to do...only to find out that our loved one only had weeks left?

And Keith Richards is still alive?  Again...makes no sense.

Going through something like this makes most of us doubt what we thought were “sure things” our entire lives.  That if we worked hard, loved each other, and were just generally good people...we would be rewarded by a long, happy, boring life together.

We all have our ways of rationalizing what has happened.  Some turn to God and get comfort in the belief that He has a master plan and that plan will lead us to a point where we’ll all meet again.  Some turn away from God, angry that a spirit so in control of what happens here and who they have put all of their trust and hope into...should suddenly turn on them in this way.  And some have never given religion a second thought and believe that it plays no part in how or why this happened.

I’m betting at this point...most of you are trying to figure out which way I’m leaning.  But I don’t write to persuade anyone to go the same direction I’m going.  In reality...I understand all points of view...the comfort that comes with believing, the anger that comes with disappointment, and the lack of believing in anything at all.

No matter what your beliefs, the question of “why” will have you running in circles for the rest of your life, if you don’t get a handle on it.  On our darkest days, of course we’re going to ask that question into the thin air that won’t answer back.  Just don’t let the question of “why” paralyze you.  You may know the answer some day.  You may not.  Until then, you have to do your best to live the life you have now.  Be good to people.  Do a few things your old self wouldn’t do.  Go out and have fun every once in awhile.

I mean...why not?

The Weather Is Gray. And So Am I.

I’m not exactly sad enough to be blue. I’m not depressed enough to be black. I’m falling somewhere in between the two.

Next week is my husband’s birthday. I know I’ve mentioned this before...but his birthday is really my hardest day (I think...it’s really hard to narrow that down, isn’t it?).

What’s interesting is that I don’t think most people know that. The holidays are obvious grief triggers, so people are watching me closely then. I’m fortunate to have friends who will always remember the anniversary of his death and really take care of me then. But his birthday is something that most people don’t remember...and it’s hard for me to explain to others why it’s Milestone Mountain for me.

I’ve started to think of his birthday as the start of “the next year.” Instead of thinking of his anniversary as a huge milestone, I sit around and think, “This is the 4th birthday he’s missed.”

My husband is the same age as my sister and her husband, as well as a lot of my friends, so that always makes it interesting. I look at them and wonder what he would be doing now. Would he be advancing his career like some of them are? Would he be taking my son to golf lessons? What kinds of changes would we have gone through together?

I’ve learned enough about myself, in the last few years, to know that the week before the actual day is the worst for me. I get tired. I feel drained all of the time. I snap at my children because the slightest request suddenly seems overwhelming to me. I cry for no reason (usually in the car). And since most people don’t realize how hard his birthday is...they have no idea what the hell is wrong with me.

What compounds the problem is...I don’t like to tell them. At least, not when I’m actually going through it. It’s hard to believe that someone who started a support page can get pretty bad about talking about her grief with others...but that’s the truth. I retreat back into what I think of as “my cave.”

Most of the time, I write about how I hope that people start to have a better and more positive attitude about life because I want them to know that a happy life is very possible, even in our situation. And don’t get me wrong...I like my life. I can do my life. I’m starting to get to a pretty good place.

But this is one of those times when I truly understand that we sometimes just need to wallow. So, just so you know...when you tell me that you’re just feeling sad...I get it.

I don’t need anyone to fix this. I don’t need anyone to take me out for a spa day (but if you offer...I won’t argue). I don’t need anyone to try and make me feel better.

I need to feel what I’m going to feel for a few days.

I know I’m making it sound simple. It’s really not. It’s not easy for me or the people who care about me. I don’t like to talk about what’s going on. I would rather turn inward. And for someone who lives her life so...outward...when I get like this, it’s very confusing to those around me.

The feelings I have are indescribable...I could never do them justice with words. If I tried, it would never make sense to someone who isn’t...me. There is a cloud in my soul and I just have to be patient with myself until it dissipates.

Usually, on the actual day of my husband’s birthday...I’m fine. I can talk about what a great guy he was. My feelings will have come to the surface once again...and I can actually explain what’s going on.

Until then...be patient. I’ll be a different color in a few days.