Table

I will never forget the day I had to tell my children their daddy was dead. I sat them down at our kitchen table, loaded them up with their favorite dunkin’ donuts and told them the news. This was all I kept thinking about tonight at dinner. It is hard to sit and watch them eat while horrible memories swirl around me at this table.

Tonight at bedtime my six year old was crying again about daddy. Every night when we say our evening prayers we pray to everyone in our family and then end with, “Dear G-d, please bless daddy in heaven.” I hold my breath every time we say it as I am never sure how he will react. Some nights he lets it slide and we go on to our snuggling. Most nights though, he starts to cry. He wanted to know if he would see daddy when he got to heaven and I said yes. He then asked, what if daddy dies in heaven before he gets to see him. I told him once you are in heaven - you are just there.

He is upset that daddy never got the chance to see his magic tricks. He told me he wants to bring his box of magic with him to heaven. I told him O.K. He asked me how he will know when he is going to die to bring it with him. I just want to vomit. I hate when he talks about going to heaven. It is painful and awful and it hurts. So I just tell him that he would not be going to heaven for a long, long time. But someday when he is an old man, I bet G-d will have a box of magic waiting for him. This did not really help his tears as they still fell from his face and I just lay with him snuggling as he cried on and on about how much he missed his daddy.

Last night went better as my father and step-mother were staying with us and I think the company helps distract him. He just kept saying tonight that it is hard that there are only three people who live in this house now. I just nod my head because I am trying so desperately not to get upset. Afraid if I speak anymore I will just cry too.

We had such a busy weekend and all of it was fun, good stuff. Yet I am just miserable. I can’t find my happy place anymore. I feel like I am racing from one event to the other, only thinking about where I have to go next. I can’t seem to be just "in the moment" and relax. I find this depressing. Then I wonder if I am depressed or if this is just part of the grieving process. I try so hard to appreciate my life and my children, family and friends. I am just not succeeding.

I don’t think I was good company for my dad and stepmother this weekend. I am just not myself and can’t seem to carry on a normal conversation or focus on what is right in front of me.

I went out last night with a group of girlfriends. As I sat in the cozy wine bar I just kept thinking about the fact that it is another Saturday. 11 weeks now since you have been gone. I drank some wine and had a smile on my face, but I am not the same person I was 11 weeks ago. I wonder if everyone can tell by looking at me how I really feel. I am trying to act normal, but just feel like I am not normal and don’t think I will ever be the fun-loving good times girl I once was.

I am going to get everyone therapy. I was fooling myself when I thought we didn’t need it. I thought the children and I would be able to deal with our problems on our own. But I realize that we can’t and probably shouldn’t. I don’t really know any details yet, but I am going to try. I will see how it plays out over the next few weeks. By February I should have us all in something and hope it helps. At this point it certainly can’t make things worse.

I am going to try and be a better parent this week. I failed miserably last week and feel awful about everything. Maybe I will start by getting a table cloth and just try and hide any bad memories under the rug so to speak.