Cinco de Mayo

I am more than halfway through my first year of mourning. They say the first year is the worst because you have to deal with so many firsts – duh! Every holiday my husband has missed, every birthday, everyday something significant occurred, every single Saturday has laid heavily on my heart. Nothing passes by without me noticing. It seems to be up to me to decide how badly I am going to let it hurt. Which is why I moved on my birthday; to completely and utterly distract myself. Mother’s day is coming and I am not even going to think twice about it. It will be just another Sunday – I will be fine.

But tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo – this quite possibly could be the one holiday I can’t recover from.

My husband and I used to own a Mexican restaurant. It is where we met and fell in love. Many of my fondest memories still live in that restaurant and always will. Cinco de Mayo was always the most insane and busiest day for us. Mexican Independence Day and no American would feel complete without drinking a Margarita. As this was our craziest day each year we would also have the worst fights about nothing. But still I loved it. I would make about a million margaritas as my husband would try and keep the customers happy, as we shot each other glances from across the room. Roll our eyes or just wink at one another. Inevitably I would throw a check book at him and he would ask to see me in the walk-in refrigerator to discuss our beer inventory, where we would kiss in private and make up.

But that was then, this is now.

As if the week could not get more complicated, my mother sent us another one of those books – those dealing with death and children books. Mom – I forgot to say thank you. Ironically it is written by the same person who wrote my new favorite book, “Grief Therapy”. I read it to the children tonight and as my four year old walked around while I read, I realized this is just so beyond her. My six year old listened, what he got from it I don’t know. There is a picture where a child goes to a cemetery to visit the person who died. I pointed it out and asked them if they would want to go see daddy’s name. I couldn’t say body or final resting place or anything like that – I just said name. My son looked at me and said, “We went there already!” I said we could go back and bring rocks. I told them that we leave rocks to show daddy that we love and miss him. I should probably Google the real reason we leave rocks – as I have no clue.

My son said yes, he would like to go. The four year old was intrigued by the rock factor as she comes home with pockets full of pebbles daily. They didn’t ask me anything or even cry – I was relieved.

Will they understand tomorrow when I am crying in my coffee? They will never know how much I wish May 5th was over with already. I used to love Cinco de Mayo with all my heart. It was a day that my husband always smiled and laughed. I loved watching him do what he did best, making other people happy. I loved getting angry with him about how he cut the limes the wrong way and would love making up even more.

I will miss him more tomorrow than any day this year. Cinco de Mayo for you might just be the day that falls between May 4th and May 6th, but for me it is everything.

Weekend

This has been one of those weekends I won’t forget for a long time.

We belong to an amazing private park, which has been closed for months on end for renovations. Finally this past Saturday, it re-opened. This park is the entire reason my husband and I moved to the neighborhood. My children have grown up in this park and there were days I spent more time there than at home. This park has its own personality and at times is like a member of my family.

Walking into the park on Saturday was a mixture of emotions. The great sigh of relief I felt to be “home” again and the agonizing truth that I will never walk through these gates with my husband again.

I felt odd at times – probably my own insecurity, that people who have not seen me all winter were watching my every move. Waiting to see how I am or how I will react to whatever. Mostly there was love – a lot of love coming to me. I was fine until someone would walk over to me and ask me how I am doing. Then I would bite my lip so hard to keep the tears from coming. I would flash my fake smile and tell them I am fine. I think some people were surprised when I say I am fine – what do you really expect me to say?

Those ended up being the easy encounters. The people who don’t ask me how I am doing, because they too have experienced loss; they just look at me and say – it sucks doesn’t it. Those were the times words failed me and the tears just ran silently down my face. A few times people just hugged me this weekend and said your name out loud and how much they missed you. No lip biting or teeth gritting could keep my tears away.

I spent a lot of time missing you this weekend – in our perfect sunny park. I can’t believe you will never sit on a bench with me and watch our children make mud pies or play baseball. Every bench felt empty without you, even though it was filled with all our friends.

Then we get to tonight – probably one of the worst nights in our family history. Personally I thought I was good this weekend – there was not a lot of screaming and yelling and crying. I was trying to stay relaxed and low key. But at some point tonight my six year old got very angry with me. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, just that he was angry with me. I didn’t push him. He is allowed to be angry with me. But then at bed time he told me when he is a teenager he is moving to Australia to get away from me. He might as well just take a knife and slice my heart into pieces now. I tried to get him to tell me why he was leaving. He finally said I was a terrible mommy and it is all my fault daddy is dead.

I didn’t say anything for a very long time. I just didn’t know what to say. I put him into bed and tucked him in without getting worked up. His sister was fake sleeping in the bottom bunk and he was huffing and puffing angrily on the top bunk. I prayed with him and then asked him for a hug and kiss. He refused. That is when I started to cry. Not because he told me he was moving to Australia or that he blamed me for his dead daddy – but because he denied me a good night kiss. I started crying and then the four year old started crying and then finally the six year old joined us in our tears.

I took his head into my hands so he had to look me in the eye and said to him, “I am going to tell you something grown up now and I want you to really listen.” I said to him, “daddy dying is hard on me, it is hard on your sister and it is hard on you. But no matter what, we are a family and we need to stick together. We can get angry at one another, we can fight and then we make up – but we are a family – and we stay together!”

By this time I am choking on my words and the tears are pouring down my face. My son is crying hysterically and grabs me into his arms and says he is sorry he was mad and he is not mad anymore. His is crying and crying.

My daughter is hysterically crying so I climb down to her bed and she says to me – I want to listen to you mommy, but I just can’t take it anymore – I miss my daddy!

This scene went on for a few minutes; me climbing back and forth between the two beds as everyone is crying and kissing and hugging me.

I got everyone out of bed and into the bathroom. We blew our noses and washed our faces and calmed down. My son asked me if crying solves problems – I said sometimes crying just makes you feel better and your problems don’t seem so bad.

I got everyone back into bed again and this time they went to sleep without tears without drama as if nothing insane just happened.

So now I sit here thinking about what I said and what they said and feel terrible. Terrible that I made them cry, terrible that they were upset to begin with. Maybe I said the wrong things to them tonight. Deep down I believe in being honest with them and getting them to be honest with me. I want them to know how important our family is and how normal it is to be upset with each other.

I am no longer second guessing myself anymore. I am no longer listening to anyone else’s advice. If I screw up and say the wrong thing – so be it. There are three people in this world I have to please these days – my children and myself. Everyone else must take a number.

I am exhausted and it is Sunday – six more sleeps till I can be back in the park.

Two Beers

I had two beers with dinner tonight – and then it was all over. As I was getting the kids out of the shower I actually walked over to the telephone to call you. I saw my hand reaching out to grab the phone and then all of a sudden I gasped. In just an instance I had forgotten you were dead, thought of something I wanted to tell you and then was reminded all over again that you could not be reached. All it took was two beers. I didn’t cry or get upset, but I was so amazed that such a thing could happen. Is this a good sign or a bad one? I am not sure. Maybe because it was a beautiful day and I had pizza and beer with my friends and life for a moment felt normal – that I momentarily forgot how miserable I actually am.

Maybe this is the key to everything. Distracting myself and throwing myself so far into living that I don’t have to time to feel sadness. Maybe because your photos are not in the house yet – maybe because I am just trying so very hard not to look as bad on the outside as I feel on the inside.

I went back to the house today. I have no idea why. I stood in the backyard and just felt a comfort I don’t feel anywhere else. It is the same feeling I get in the cemetery. A terribly sad feeling that is overshadowed with sweet memories of you and of our life together. I wish someone would change the freaking locks already so I can’t go back. It is enough that I have the cemetery to go to. I could easily spend all my time shuffling back and forth between the house and the cemetery, just living in the past until I probably go crazy. I should give the keys to a friend and just take control of my own actions. No – I don’t see myself being that proactive.

Your six year old son has lost his two front teeth. I can’t believe you aren’t here to see his goofy, yet adorable face. This is such a quirky milestone in a child’s life. The only moment in time where they have no front teeth. They talk funny, can’t eat well and as the larger teeth come in – they grow up almost right in front of you. Some days I just really can't believe you aren't here to share with me all the joys of our beautiful children.

You are missing so much these days I almost can’t keep track. I have found myself feeling very odd this week. I feel sad but the tears don’t come. I almost want to cry to release myself of some of the burden – but they just stay intact.

We are slowly getting used to the new house. Very slowly. I find I have a much harder time adjusting then they do. I am more annoyed with the new house then anything else. Everything is different and I still walk around lost and out of sorts.
I just don’t feel like this is home. I am surrounded by familiar items but they all seem foreign in these new surroundings. I am trying to be patient. Trying.

I keep making promises to myself for the coming months. I have a wish list going on in my head. I want to calm down and stop feeling stressed out. I want to have more fun and go on enjoyable adventures with my children. I want to stop feeling like I am on an emotional roller coaster. I don’t want to go to one on one therapy. I have called someone twice and twice I have hung up before leaving a message. I just don’t feel like spending the time and energy on something that I think is a waste. Nothing anyone says is going to bring my husband back, make me feel less guilty or sad or whatever it is I feel.

I feel like at times I am much better when the voices in my head – aka my family stop harassing me and telling me what they think I should be doing. No one has walked in my shoes and yet everyone seems perfectly content telling me what I need to do to fix my situation.

At this point the only advice I am willing to take is to drink two beers and hang out with some friends.

Slow Motion

Sometimes I feel like I am in slow motion as the rest of the world zooms by me. I can be walking or driving and then everything inside me just stops. Just shuts down and all I see is your face. In these moments that come to me without any warning or provoking - I miss you so profoundly.

Forget the anger I felt all weekend. The sadness and the tears. This is different. This is loss. I miss you so much it feels unbearable. I miss talking to you and hearing your voice. I miss sharing my life with you and of course I miss sharing our children. I don’t ever want my feelings for you to go away and yet they are so painful. I don’t ever want to forget how much fun we had and how much we loved each other. If all I have left are painful memories than I accept this. I just wish you were here today, with us, making new memories. I just really miss you so very much today.

Maybe because this awful ordeal of choosing a headstone and the wording is just - well, it just sucks. I think the moment this is all over I am going to choose my own stone, write the words and pick a place. I can’t bear for my children to have to do this for me. This is just awful. It is morbid and painful and I wish we had discussed and planned this when he was alive and well and maybe it just wouldn’t seem so terrible right now.

My four year old was brushing her teeth tonight – with green spit spilling from her mouth she said to me, I miss daddy. I wish he wasn’t dead. And then went right back to brushing. These moments that also come from nowhere are just too much for me. I try to comfort and say I am sorry daddy is dead. I try and not cry hysterically. I know they miss him and he is always in our thoughts. Sometimes they just need to say them out loud. I blog and they tell me things while brushing their teeth. It is all the same. Grieving and dealing and trying somehow and someway to live a normal life wrapped in an abnormal package.

I had some time alone with my six year old today. I looked at him and asked, so how are you doing? How are you really doing? He knew exactly what I meant. He didn’t say fine – which I was thankful for. He said I am O.K. He said I am kind of sad because daddy is dead. Then he said I am kind of mad too. Why did daddy have to die and not someone else? I don’t really answer him because there is no answer. I simply told him that it is totally normal to feel mad and sad. I don’t want him to keep anything from me. I always feel better when he opens up to me, but he didn’t have a lot more to say about daddy after that. He is way to into “The Diary of a Wimpy Kid” and only wanted to talk about that. This was fine with me.

I am dreading, with a fear I cannot explain, the unveiling. My mother thinks I should talk to a shrink before I tell the children about the day. But they already know daddy’s body is in the ground. They know he is dead. This is really not a situation that can be sugar coated. I won’t lie. The best I can do is ask them if they want to come and not pressure them into attending. But I know them – my children will want to go and it will be awful . . .

I wish I could speed myself up and catch up with everyone – but I am stuck in slow motion. Revisiting past memories while simultaneously trying to live life and move forward. I am moving forward, a little bit everyday, but I do so with cement shoes.

Sad Saturday

Today was a sad Saturday and I only have myself to blame. Some days I just can’t get that black cloud to leave me alone. It should have been a better day than it was. The sun was shinning we had birthday party plans – but nothing seemed to make my empty sad feelings go away.

Maybe because it has just been a terribly long week. Nothing seems normal and there is just so much to do and so little time to get anything done.

The children were such a nightmare today. We had an early doctor’s appointment and then I took them for donuts and to a bookstore. It should have been a nice Saturday morning – but it wasn’t. Throughout it all they just didn’t listen to me. They are defiant to me and fight each other. Probably normal behavior for 4 and 6, but it just wears me down until I am left helpless. It is so very difficult being a single parent; more difficult than I ever imagined. This was the kind of day where I am at my wits end and every little thing sets me off. The kind of day my husband should have been here to rescue me. He would tell me to take a walk – lie down and rest – read a book – something just to cool off and calm down. But he isn’t here to rescue me anymore – and it makes my horrible black cloud seem even darker.

I picked up my friend and her children for the birthday party. The moment she opened the door I just broke down in tears. I feel like the world’s worst parent today and it is mostly because I just don’t know what I am doing wrong. Maybe I am too strict on them. Maybe I am not strict enough. I just don’t know anymore. Maybe I am just tired and the move has taken such an emotional toll on me that I am out of patience, energy, whatever it is I need to get me through tough parenting times. I have a lot of help. I really do. This is not what bothers me. It is the emotional stress that never leaves – that will never go away. This is what causes me stress and grief and . . .

She went out to the car and talked to my kids. She helped intervene for us. We had a much better day after that. We laughed and hugged and cried and I hoped the rest of the day would be just better. I guess it was – for a Saturday.

Our new house is not feeling like a home yet. It just feels like a place where we live now. I am not even close to being unpacked or settled in and our normal routines are still not quite there.

I go into the new backyard and our tree isn’t there. Nothing is familiar and maybe I am just unsettled by this. I miss you so much. I miss being in a place where I used to see you live your life. It is painful to be somewhere you have never been. It hurts and makes me so upset – it is probably what is making this place not feel like home – you are not here.

Your ghost is not here and there are no pictures of you anywhere. There aren’t any pictures up anywhere – but I miss seeing your face. I thought if I didn’t see you every day smiling from the walls I would feel better. I don’t. I feel worse. I feel like I am not sure what to do with photos. Nothing feels right. I am just keeping them in a box in the middle of my bedroom until I decide. Maybe I will never decide and the box will just remain where I step over or around it - never making any decisions.

I hate feeling this way, so out of sorts, so sad and tired. I hate feeling like my life is a mess and I don’t know where to begin. I thought once the move was over I would be better. But now there are just new sad thoughts and worries and concerns.

I am trying to keep it all together. I am tired of defending my actions to my family. I am tired of everyone telling me what they think I should be doing. I wish no one knew where I moved to. I wish I changed my phone number. I wish I could just be invisible for a few more months. I wish the children would behave better and hope it is not my fault they act this way in the first place.

I just want to feel happy and normal again and I don’t ever see this happening. I feel worry and dread and hate the phone calls that will come from this post.

I just want the world to leave me alone for while and let me unpack and be miserable in peace.

Shopping

I really hate shopping. Yes, I am one of those freaky girls who hate to shop. If I do have to go into a store, I know what I want before I go. I get what I need and get out. Quick and painless - that is how I shop. I am not a browser, if I am in a store for any long periods of time I get antsy and impatient and just leave.

So now I am shopping for a headstone. This is some kind of cruel joke, because you can’t just walk into a store for a headstone. Or maybe you can, but I just won’t. All I know is that I went to Target today and they don’t have them – they have everything else of course – but not a headstone. I started looking on-line at photos my mom sent me, but it is just too surreal to be doing this. So I did what I do best – I ran off to the cemetery to look for answers.

I went in with a mission, which really didn’t help my overall reason for being there, but it was a bit distracting. Instead of head down, hurrying to my husband’s grave, I read every stone along the way. I tried to notice the intricate designs that went into each stone. I tried to think about the person who had to make the decision to put this headstone with this design and these words just so. There are a lot of dead people in this cemetery. The stones go on for miles. You can really get caught up in each and every family member and try to figure out who is married to whom and why they picked what. It is like a dead soap opera.

I sat at your grave in the wet grass and cried some. I asked you what you wanted on your tombstone. There was no answer and you were no help at all. I ran down a few scenarios with you. It seems almost ridiculous that this is what I did on a beautiful spring day. Sitting in a cemetery talking to my dead husband about what his final resting place will say. I was so angry with you today. Just so sad and angry that I cried out of sheer frustration.

It feels terrible to miss you so much and be angry at you so very much. I am trying hard not to think about you being dead and then there is this. An event that is so totally focused on you. This is all about you and it just brings back so many emotions I have dealt with over the past six months. This is an impossible task. It is awful and terrible and truly overwhelming. Deep down I just don’t want to do it. I want the perfect head stone to just magically appear with the greatest saying ever and I want to not have to do a darn thing. But really, if I was making wishes – I would just wish this whole thing away and have you back in our lives.

Your six year old is sad this week. He misses the old house. He misses his daddy. I am full of anger and grief. Today would not be a good day to write the message for your stone – it may say “big fat jerk” or something more awful. I will wait till tomorrow and hope I am in a better frame of mind.

I am trying to do this the right way without thinking about it. Does that make any sense? I am trying to find the right words that don’t exist. I am trying to find a message that your children and someday grandchildren will read and know that you were loved.

Maybe it should just be blank – because deep down there are no words for how I feel.

Last Look

My six year old came home from Hebrew school tonight crying hysterically. I looked at him and asked what was wrong. He said, I miss our old house and I want to go there now! He stretched his hand out toward the direction of the house and continued to cry.

I picked him up and carried him inside letting him cry in my arms. I think today was the first day he has been driven by the house to go on to our new place. I think reality just hit him very hard. My daughter, who mimics her brother, said sadly that she wanted to go say goodbye to the house too.

Honestly, I just wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. Finally I said to them, I will take you back to the old house to say goodbye - but I don’t want to take you if it will make you more upset. They said it would make them feel better. I put my trust in them to tell me the truth.

We walked down the familiar sidewalk and I let us in. I still can’t figure out how to work the locks and keys in my new house. It was all the more frustrating as I swiftly unlocked the old house without incident.

The kids walked in and looked around. Then they ran around. We went into every empty room. They went into their bedroom and kissed the walls. My daughter went into the bathroom and kissed the tub. I tried very hard not to cry. They were not sad; they were just taking it all in. They were finding tiny bits of toys left behind and putting them into their pockets. Any piece of paper or scrap of something on the floor they grabbed. As if they wanted to take every last bit they could out of the house.

After about ten minutes I told them it was time to go home. It sounded odd to say this being in our house – but well, this isn’t our home anymore. As we walked back I let the tears slide down my face. The children were smiling. They left the house last Wednesday for school and never went back. I think seeing the house empty was probably good for them – to see that nothing important was left behind and everything we need is right here with us.

At dinner I reminded them this – that all our things are with us and that all we left behind are the walls and the floor. My six year old agreed that everything we need is with us – there were no more tears.

I on the other hand am now very upset. Upset that they have to deal with so much so soon. They are so little and all I want to do is protect them. It seems impossible at times. No, it seems impossible all of the time.

My father-in-law is coming up in a few weeks. I am thinking about trying to get my husband’s unveiling done while he is up north. I asked my mother to make calls. I just can’t. I keep asking my family what to put on the tombstone – it is an impossible task. I get it now, why so many graves say beloved this and beloved that. No words are enough to express how I feel. No words feel right and nothing is coming to me – no lyrics no poetry – nothing. Here I am the writer and I can’t think of a freaking thing to write on his tombstone. I guess everyone gets to this point and then they just write beloved.

I have no idea how much headstones cost. But if they charge by the letter I am simply going to put – Mr. G.