Flat Tire

Yesterday I woke up and found a dead cat on the back porch. It was half eaten. I totally freaked out as if I had stumbled across a crime scene. Apparently my post traumatic stress is still in full force as a dead cat sends me screaming in the opposite direction. I called a friend who said she would take care of it. I was so upset she had to do this and that you weren’t here to help. But then I started to laugh. You and I would have had to call her anyway as I know you, and there is no way you would have touched a dead cat either!

I went to the cemetery to laugh with you about the dead cat and wish you a happy Father’s Day. Funny stories are not so funny when I can’t hear your voice. I stood next to your grave in the early morning sun thinking about all the sweet and wonderful moments you are missing over the next few weeks. I started crying and got myself all worked up. I left shortly after. Your grave just seems to upset me more and more these days. It is not as peaceful as it once was; it is not as helpful as it once was. I worry that once the children are home for the summer I will not have many opportunities to visit you. Maybe this is for the best. Maybe come the Fall I will reevaluate my need to visit you quite so often.

I have been holding back so much of my sorrow this week. I have been feeling my mind wander and take me back to the day you died and have tried very hard to stop it before I truly get totally sucked back in. Some days I am successful – some days - not so much.

I have been avoiding thinking about tomorrow. But tomorrows seem to come whether I am ready or not. You are missing your daughter graduate from Pre-K. Your baby is almost a Kindergartner and it breaks my heart that you won’t be there. She will be the only child with no daddy to get that look or that smile that only a father can give his daughter. This hurts most of all. I will try very hard not to completely lose my cool. I am keeping my son home from school so he can attend with me. I won’t feel so alone and his presence will keep me from hysteria. I hope.

You have already missed your son’s final first grade performance, and soon enough you will miss their Hebrew school gradation. I had our daughter’s baby naming last Saturday (four and half years late) but I finally did it and you weren’t there. It is really hard to fully enjoy these moments, these tiny milestones without you by my side. Now everything I do - I must do alone. I try not to dwell on this but it seems impossible. You are just not here and instead of being full of smiles I simply try and hold back tears.

Today as I was rushing from school to swimming class the car started to make a strange noise and get a bumpy feeling. I pulled over to the side of a dangerous road and looked out the window at the back tire. Flat. I sat for a moment in utter panic. The first person I would normally call is dead. I decided to just put that thought away as it is not helpful now. I called my roadside assistance. An hour later they sent someone.

I sat in the car with the two kids bouncing around and driving me bonkers and thought of you. Mostly because we got stuck down the road from the Entenmanns’ outlet. A place you and I banned ourselves due to the amount of damage we have done there. I started to cry and then reprimanded myself. I am not on the George Washington Bridge. I am not rushing to pick up the children. We are all together and the worse thing right now is that we will miss swimming. This is so minor in the grand scheme of things. It is just a tire – not a death I kept saying as I stared at the cookie palace with tears in my eyes.

We got home hours later and I threw everyone into bed fast and furiously. As they were putting on their pajamas, I remembered I needed to plug in the video camera for tomorrow. I went to check the tape to see what was on it and WHAM! There you are on the screen and I drop the camera on the table as if it were on fire.

I am trying to deal with so much that life throws at me; dead cats, flat tires and just being a single mom – but your face on video - seeing you holding your kids and smiling and waving as if I could reach through the screen and hug you - this is just too much for me to take.

Everything I worked so hard on this week – all the sadness I have been pushing away came crashing down on me seeing you unannounced on video. I crumbled. The tears pour out of me and I am sobbing as if you just died. Everything terrible comes back to me; my protective seal is shattered within seconds of seeing your face.

I miss you so much and hate that you are gone. I am sorry I failed you and sorry you failed our children. I am trying to be strong for our babies – not because I feel like being strong. I don’t think I will bring the video camera tomorrow – because the truth is – I am just not that strong – not yet.