Dear Chris . . .

November 3, 2014

Dear Chris,

Well it is once again November 3. It appears this date is going to happen every year, and the weekend that surrounds it, whether or not I am prepared for it. Or for that matter, whether or not I want it to happen. Apparently it is going to hit me like a baseball bat to the gut every year . . . or maybe like a bat to the head. I’m not really sure. I just know it hurts. A hurt that is completely exhausting and mentally draining. One in which my blood pressure has soared, and I need to stay seated lest I pass out. (Seriously. My coworker drove me home Friday so that I wouldn’t pass out while driving. We took my blood pressure at the school, and for me it was quite high.) It’s a pain that has been present all weekend. There has been very little focus in my thoughts all weekend. Finally, my answer on Saturday was to crawl into bed. I slept for almost three hours. It was the middle of the day. When I woke up, it was as if it was two years ago, on that Saturday afternoon, and as the hours ticked by, the timeline of what happened went through my head.  By Saturday night, heart and mind hurting, I collapsed into bed.

I know what you are thinking. But it’s been two years. Shouldn’t it be easier by now? Okay, maybe you aren’t thinking that, but I sure have been. We have made great strides in the last two years, and I have to say I am really proud of the children and I. Last year I was prepared for the first anniversary . . . I ran away. I had an escape plan. We went to Williamsburg, and enjoyed our time together as a family as we shared funny stories about you. This anniversary, I thought we could handle at home. I thought we would be okay. For myself, boy was I wrong. I’m already thinking of an escape plan for next year!

But enough about the last three days of our extended weekend, (teacher work days here) and how miserable I have been to be around. For the sake of our children and for myself, I have to stand up, face the world, and focus on the positive. Easier said than done, but I believe you may have mentioned once, that I was a wee bit stubborn at times. Here’s hoping I put the stubbornness to good use. 

In thinking of ways to force myself to be positive this weekend, I did try shoe shopping with the girls yesterday. Yes retail therapy is completely superficial. Yes, you would think this was torture, but the girls sure didn’t! Okay, it was a bit frustrating for me that they had to try on all the fancy heels, and didn’t want to leave the store, but we were able to get out a few laughs. 

We tried watching a favorite movie, Mary Poppins. All we wanted after that was a spoonful of sugar.

Today, after going to the cemetery, we tried going out for a late lunch at Ford’s Fish Shack. The children started the meal with root beer floats. Guess they did get that spoonful of sugar. There were definitely smiles as they finished their treats.

Tonight, I recalled that I started making a list two years ago. It was a list of things that I was learning to do since 2012. Things that I probably never would have taken the time to learn had you not died. I thought I should share some of it with you.

I learned how to light the pilot light on the hot water heater. It turned out not to be as scary as I had always thought it was. Well that, and the gas company wouldn’t come out to fix it, so it was either I learn how to do it, or we had really cold showers. Seeing as it was December and freezing out, I decided I had better learn.

I learned how to change the toilet seats. I know, completely random. However, it needed to be done. So I thought, if I am changing one in the house, I should probably change all three. Even got the fancy kind, that close slowly. I never knew I would be excited to have new toilet seats!

I built an entire entertainment/bookcase unit for the basement. We had always discussed having built-in bookcases for the wall where the tv was. Well, they aren’t quite built-ins, but they do cover almost the entire wall. Once I had them built, I did ask a neighbor to help secure them to the wall. If we ever move, the bookcases/entertainment center will most likely have to stay.

I’ve learned that our oldest could turn out to be quite the cook. He has taken after you, and likes to experiment with food and flavors. They don’t always work quite the way he would like, but how else would he learn? Cooking takes time and practice.

I’ve learned that our middle one is going to be the baker in the family, as well as the mediator. She makes delicious pancakes, just like you taught her. She has learned how to keep the peace in the house as well between siblings . . . or she is just really good at getting them to do what she wants them to do. It’s a toss up really J

I’ve learned that our youngest is the one who can put into words, what I have been thinking. She may only be 8 in actual years, but her heart and soul are much wiser than that. We can all learn something from her.

I’ve also learned that I have to face my fears, and I have to continue to live. Do you remember that conversation we had years ago? You asked me at what point would I let my fears control my life, and would I ever stop living because of the fear? For awhile, I did want to stop living. I wanted to curl up into a ball, with my babies, and make the nightmare go away. It wasn’t fair that all of this was happening. But I’ve realized, in the last two years, I cannot go back in time. Not to live. I can go back in time to enjoy the memories, and share the stories with anyone who wants to listen. I can know that there will be times when the pain of missing you will be tremendous, and completely paralyzing. But, as you would have told me, to truly live I must continue to move forward.

So here we are. Another year of you being gone has passed. At this exact moment in time, I can say, we are okay. I don’t know what tomorrow or the days after will bring. But today, we are okay. We miss you and we love you, of that I am sure. But we are continuing to live, and continuing to move forward.

I know you would be proud of us.

Until next time I write. . .

Love,

Amy