Title of this post was taken from the song Wait It Out by Imogen Heap
My Dearest Mike,
Couldn't sleep last night. So, I decided to sit down and write you a letter. We used to write each other all the time. Of course you will never read this, but maybe it will make me feel a little better.
I feel you in the absence and presence of everything. I see you in our children's smiles, I hear you in the music I play, and I feel you when I'm all alone. My mind can not wrap itself around the fact you are gone. At times it's almost like your simply at work. Sometimes, I can almost hear you in my head, or I know exactly how you would have responded to something. I often talk to you out loud, as if you were standing right next to me. A part of me feels like I'm going crazy. I realize now that a lot of things I've done the last two and a half months have been in an effort to show myself that I understand you are gone. My obsessive need to organize your things and the fact I can't wear my wedding rings, I'm trying to force myself to realize what my heart does not want to acknowledge.
Someone recently told me that I always look angry. Kind of ironic being that I was always the optimist in our relationship, but I guess it's an accurate assessment. I am angry. I'm also sad, hurt, and annoyed. I used to lump lonely and being alone into the same category, but they are totally different. I have come to enjoy being alone, but I'm not usually lonely. However, the kids need to be out and about, doing things. I try hard for you, because I know that's what you would want.
I find that things that were once routine, take more thought and effort. Cooking has become a big deal. I have not figured out how to cook for four people, especially when most of the time I don't care about eating. I make to much of everything, and you know how much I hate leftovers. So, I find that I'm just avoiding this task all together. This also means that the kids are eating more sandwiches than they would like, or we order out. You would be disappointed, because you were always on top of what they ate. Trips to the store take a lot more planning and patience on my part. Gone are the days of going by myself. Shopping with three kids who want to be anywhere except the grocery store, is not fun. They pick and fight and then I yell.
All of this makes me wonder just how much I'm failing you, how much I am failing the kids. I don't think Sebastian is dealing with any of this. I try to talk to him about it, but he won't open up. Poor Tyler breaks down at night, and every.single.time asks me how and why you had to die. It doesn't matter what answer I give her, a logical or spiritual one, she asks every night. The other night she said that she no longer wanted me to use her nickname T or T Bear. Do you know why? She said that because you had picked out the name Tyler she wanted everyone to call her that so that she had one more reminder of you. When I asked her what she liked most about drawing her response was "I feel close to dad when I do." Mason is dealing with some separation anxiety. He wants to sleep next to me, and often sleeping next to me is not enough, he wants to rest his little head on my chest. When he does this he will often say "Mom, I hear your heart beating." and that is most often followed by "Mom, why are you crying." Mason will often climb in my lap only to say "I want you mom." I explain that he can not physically get any closer to me, but he says it over and over again "I just want you mom." It's like he thinks if he can't touch me then I'll leave and not come back.
I am dealing with my own set of issues. Someone said that I talk about you a lot in my blog, well of course, you were a part of everything in my life. There is not one single aspect of my life that has not been affected by your passing. From which vehicle I drive to the number of text messages I send each month, everything has changed. Nothing will ever be the same. I tell myself that we need to find our new "normal" routine. I'm just kidding myself, because nothing will ever feel normal again. Normal was coming home to find you cleaning the house as your music played from the stereo. Normal was watching the kids run out to meet you when you pulled in the driveway from work. Normal was setting a place for five people at the dinner table. Normal no longer exists.
I often think about wasted moments. How often did we take our time together for granted. Our marriage was like any other, we had our share of ups and downs. For my sanity I can not focus on the lows, if I did I think I would be overcome with guilt and regret. Instead I chose to look at all the ups, but in doing this I also make myself incredibly sad. Why did we let life get so busy, and if I had been a better wife would that have changed anything...would you still be here? Rationally, I know the answer to that is no. Irrationally I have to wonder.
Love Always and Forever,