It's just stuff. That’s all that it is. It is not him and it will not bring him back. I can choose to be happy or choose to be miserable; either way the distance is the same.
Most of the time I am fine. Most of the time life is good. Most of the time I can see the sun through the clouds. That’s most of the time.
Then there are the reality checks. The times when the universe gives me a huge f. you. The times when I have to drag myself through the moment for Kendall and for Tom.
So, we have this summer girl coming. Yes, you got that right, summer girl!!! Right? Can I get a whoop whoop!!! It’s all good; I am lucky. Kendall and I will get to have an awesome summer together and I will have a live-in extra set of hands. So, there are really no complaints, except getting the space ready for her…
Remember when I so valiantly packed and donated the nursery? Remember when I said I’m a Type B in reality? So I half-packed and donated the nursery. I have pushed around the rest of the nursery for the past four months. And that brings us to today. The carload of the rest of the nursery. The tears. The anguish. The f. you from the universe. This load is not even stuff he used. It’s just a bunch of toys and rattles, bed rails and stuffed animals. So why should I care, right?
But, I do. I hate the f. you moments. I hate when I have to feel so deeply, and then feel to a point where I am empty. In the beginning I was shielded by shock. Well, shock, some good vacations and books, friends, the occasional chocolate cake, and you know. Now, the shock has worn off, and when it hurts, it hurts to a deep, empty-armed place. A place where I can feel the longing that only one person can fill. My arms hurt the most. They ache in such a huge way to hold my baby.
And then, I take a really deep breath, wipe away the tears, pull into the parking lot, and drop off that carload of stuff. Get back in the car, continue on to work, march into a kindergarten classroom, open up those empty arms, and give back and take back as much as I possibly can.
I can choose to be happy…the distance is the same!!!
Most of the time I am fine. Most of the time life is good. Most of the time I can see the sun through the clouds. That’s most of the time.
Then there are the reality checks. The times when the universe gives me a huge f. you. The times when I have to drag myself through the moment for Kendall and for Tom.
So, we have this summer girl coming. Yes, you got that right, summer girl!!! Right? Can I get a whoop whoop!!! It’s all good; I am lucky. Kendall and I will get to have an awesome summer together and I will have a live-in extra set of hands. So, there are really no complaints, except getting the space ready for her…
Remember when I so valiantly packed and donated the nursery? Remember when I said I’m a Type B in reality? So I half-packed and donated the nursery. I have pushed around the rest of the nursery for the past four months. And that brings us to today. The carload of the rest of the nursery. The tears. The anguish. The f. you from the universe. This load is not even stuff he used. It’s just a bunch of toys and rattles, bed rails and stuffed animals. So why should I care, right?
But, I do. I hate the f. you moments. I hate when I have to feel so deeply, and then feel to a point where I am empty. In the beginning I was shielded by shock. Well, shock, some good vacations and books, friends, the occasional chocolate cake, and you know. Now, the shock has worn off, and when it hurts, it hurts to a deep, empty-armed place. A place where I can feel the longing that only one person can fill. My arms hurt the most. They ache in such a huge way to hold my baby.
And then, I take a really deep breath, wipe away the tears, pull into the parking lot, and drop off that carload of stuff. Get back in the car, continue on to work, march into a kindergarten classroom, open up those empty arms, and give back and take back as much as I possibly can.
I can choose to be happy…the distance is the same!!!