My grandmother told me life is all about survival of the fittest. She would know as she is almost ninety and has survived quite a bit in her long life. Her life is filled with stories of good times, sad times and everything in between. My life is one of her sad times. I think it pains her to see me struggling and she only wants the problems to go away – like yesterday. But of course, it doesn’t work that way.
I am sure my mother is expecting me to blog about her – as we have had a horrid few days together. I am going to try and not bash her and blame anything on her. But then again – this is my blog for me to vent and she doesn’t have to read it! My mom thinks she is giving me good advice. She thinks she is trying to save my children from a horrible childhood. She thinks she is protecting them and helping me. She thinks she is right – how can I tell her I disagree. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
My mother has never “gotten” me and I don’t think she ever will. My relationship with her feels like quicksand sometimes. She does or says something that makes me angry so I say something, then she says something, then I say something worse. Before I know it I am sinking into a pit of anger and despair only to have her look at me and say – you really should be on drugs that calm you – your anger is out of control.
She doesn’t understand that my anger comes out in its worst form around her. No one else criticizes me as much as her, but she calls it advice. I always react badly when she is telling me something I didn’t ask to hear. She thinks I am a terrible mother sometimes and am too harsh with the children. She thinks I don’t go to therapy enough. She thinks a lot of things about me that I just don’t want to hear. Maybe she is right, but the fact is that she doesn’t stop - ever. She says anything and everything about every little thing and I can’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with it before suicide and I surely can’t deal with it now.
Sometimes I don’t care my husband is dead. Doesn’t that just sound so awful? I don’t care because what is done is done and I can’t undo a single thing. All that is left is this life I am struggling to live. To deal with the after effects of how suicide lives in my soul. How a dead daddy affects my children and how the rest of our lives will unfold. My relationship with everyone I know has suffered this year. I am sure I have lost friends these past nine months as I don’t call or want to see anyone. I am sure I have yelled and screamed and blew up at everyone in my family. I am sorry but my heart is broken – my husband is dead and my dreams are shattered – everything else just falls by the wayside.
I don’t care that my husband is dead until mail comes with his name on it – bills I have made a thousand calls to change the name. I don’t care that he is dead until the phone rings and someone is looking for him – or when I walk past our old house and think about how nothing is settled there either. I don’t care he is dead until my children are crying for him. Or when my daughter learns to ride a bike without training wheels and your son learns to dive into the water and you are no where to be found to share these trivial joys only a parent can appreciate.
Maybe I should just go back to crying day in and day out. Then everyone will remember what I am dealing with. Remember that every new day is a day without my husband. Every new day I think about the day he died and the awful look on his face. Every new day I think about dragging his lifeless body from the garage. If I am not crying and am not acting sad I am just asking for someone to judge me incorrectly.
My mother asked me – if everyone thinks one way and you think another – who do you think is wrong? I don’t know how to respond to this question. I am just trying to get through each new day and try not to look too far back because it is devastating and try not to look too far ahead because it is terrifying. What everyone thinks about me and how I act is not even on my very long list of things bothering me.
I can’t possibly justify my actions to anyone. All I know is that I am trying to do my best and yet it seems to never be enough. I would like to one day think that I am like my grandmother and that the survival of the fittest will prevail. These days I don’t feel that way about myself at all. Maybe I should look to my children for some courage, as they have much more than me.
My six year old son looked at me the other day and said – well, I guess we are just going to have to live the rest of our lives without daddy – survival of the fittest indeed!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Tragedy
I am in a funk and not the fun Parliament seventies rock kind. I am just in a funk – maybe it is depression, but I don’t think so. Maybe I am just tired and hot and sweaty and lonely and bored and missing my husband and the life I was supposed to be living.
I feel like I am in a Shakespearean tragedy. I only say this because I was told this is what people are saying about me. Well not the Shakespeare part, but I am an English major after all so . . .
A friend who was trying to make me feel better said that her neighbor saw me the other day and said, “Is that woman with the two beautiful children the one who had that terrible tragedy?” I think I was supposed to hear that she complimented my children. Instead I just think - oh great, now I am a tragedy!
But I am not a tragedy! A tragedy is when a child dies or someone runs into a burning building to save another person and they die instead. My husband walking into a garage and never walking out – this is not a tragedy – this is just fucked up!
This morning the children woke me very early. I went into the kitchen to make coffee and then lay back down onto my bed while I waited for it to brew. Suddenly I was sitting at my kitchen table and you were sitting across from me. You were so young and handsome and I was starring at you like you were a ghost. You were telling me to stop complaining about my life and the kids and go live and appreciate my life. Go enjoy myself. When I tried to interrupt you, to tell you how difficult life has been for me, you put your hand up to halt my words and just smiled. You wouldn’t let me talk. I finally could look at you no longer. I put my hands in front of my face; put peeked at you through my fingers. You were just sitting at the table smiling at me with your young, vibrant and beautiful face and then I woke up.
Maybe this is the cause of my funk today. Because I don’t know if this was you visiting me from heaven and telling me to get my life together or my subconscious acting out. Either way I am disappointing us both.
I don’t think I will ever fall in love again. I don’t see myself ever marrying again or dating or anything like that. I just don’t see it at all. Maybe I am not supposed to see it now – but in my heart deep down – I never see it all. Yes, I joke with my friends about cute fireman and silly stuff. But I followed cute firemen around in Costco even when I was married. It was just fun – nothing seems fun anymore no matter how much I joke.
Then I look at my children and think how much they could use their father right now- any father right now and I think; well I will just disappoint them too.
Maybe I am a tragedy. How did I get to this point in my life where I am just lost and stumbling and trying to find my way? I am not supposed to be like this at 39. I am a mother and really should have so much more together than I do. I feel like I have disappointed my children, my family and really myself.
Quite possibly I am just feeling sorry for myself these days. I realize this is fruitless and doesn’t help at all. I don’t want to be viewed as tragic or any other negative terms. I just want my happy self back. I don’t really care about much these days – just my children. I want to give them a happy, love-filled life. I want to watch them laugh and smile and don’t want to disappoint them any longer.
I feel like I am in a Shakespearean tragedy. I only say this because I was told this is what people are saying about me. Well not the Shakespeare part, but I am an English major after all so . . .
A friend who was trying to make me feel better said that her neighbor saw me the other day and said, “Is that woman with the two beautiful children the one who had that terrible tragedy?” I think I was supposed to hear that she complimented my children. Instead I just think - oh great, now I am a tragedy!
But I am not a tragedy! A tragedy is when a child dies or someone runs into a burning building to save another person and they die instead. My husband walking into a garage and never walking out – this is not a tragedy – this is just fucked up!
This morning the children woke me very early. I went into the kitchen to make coffee and then lay back down onto my bed while I waited for it to brew. Suddenly I was sitting at my kitchen table and you were sitting across from me. You were so young and handsome and I was starring at you like you were a ghost. You were telling me to stop complaining about my life and the kids and go live and appreciate my life. Go enjoy myself. When I tried to interrupt you, to tell you how difficult life has been for me, you put your hand up to halt my words and just smiled. You wouldn’t let me talk. I finally could look at you no longer. I put my hands in front of my face; put peeked at you through my fingers. You were just sitting at the table smiling at me with your young, vibrant and beautiful face and then I woke up.
Maybe this is the cause of my funk today. Because I don’t know if this was you visiting me from heaven and telling me to get my life together or my subconscious acting out. Either way I am disappointing us both.
I don’t think I will ever fall in love again. I don’t see myself ever marrying again or dating or anything like that. I just don’t see it at all. Maybe I am not supposed to see it now – but in my heart deep down – I never see it all. Yes, I joke with my friends about cute fireman and silly stuff. But I followed cute firemen around in Costco even when I was married. It was just fun – nothing seems fun anymore no matter how much I joke.
Then I look at my children and think how much they could use their father right now- any father right now and I think; well I will just disappoint them too.
Maybe I am a tragedy. How did I get to this point in my life where I am just lost and stumbling and trying to find my way? I am not supposed to be like this at 39. I am a mother and really should have so much more together than I do. I feel like I have disappointed my children, my family and really myself.
Quite possibly I am just feeling sorry for myself these days. I realize this is fruitless and doesn’t help at all. I don’t want to be viewed as tragic or any other negative terms. I just want my happy self back. I don’t really care about much these days – just my children. I want to give them a happy, love-filled life. I want to watch them laugh and smile and don’t want to disappoint them any longer.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Nine Months
Tomorrow is nine months you are dead. Nine long, dreary, tear-filled and overwhelming months. The only thoughts that linger in my mind these days are – I wish you were here.
My children and I are stuck at the moment. We are in between their school days ending and their camp time beginning. This has been the longest school year ever. I feel like my children should have graduated high school by now – not just pre-k and first grade. I have never been so happy to say goodbye to school – it has just really been a long hard school year.
But now summer is officially here and we are stuck. We wake up each day with no place we have to be. I am working from home while we are in limbo – and though this is convenient for a single mom, it is quite impossible too. I put them into bed each night and then get to work – spending hours upon hours working while they sleep. I have been up till 2 am almost every night. Then I wake with them each morning trying to keep my crankiness at bay while trying to find fun ways to entertain them.
Today was no exception. We woke up and though it was beautiful out, we went to the movies. Just for something to do. Then I took them swimming all afternoon and then after sheer exhaustion, took them out to the local diner for dinner. Somehow it doesn’t seem to matter how little or how much we do. The end of each day is always the same. We return to an empty home where I get them into bed, we pray to daddy in heaven and then it is just me all alone again – just me.
I am probably a little more melancholy this holiday weekend than most. Last year was a really great July 4th for all of us. We got a police escort (thanks to a friend) straight to the closest spot one can get to the NYC fireworks. It was a magical night for my husband and our children. We aren’t doing that this year and we really aren’t doing much of anything. My neighborhood is deserted with most people away or spending time with their family, because that is what people do. What we would be doing if you weren’t dead.
I sat in the diner tonight facing the window. I watched the couples walk by with their children. I knew all of them by name or face – it is the kind of hood I live in. I would have done anything to be them – just for a moment. To not know my pain and sorrow – to not feel so abandoned and destroyed. If only for a moment, I would have liked to walk in their shoes.
But I walk in mine – and then I looked across the table at my two monsters throwing french fries at each other and fighting over the half inch space on the seat they share – and realized - I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.
On the way home I met a woman who lives three doors down from me. I knew who she was and she knew me, but we have never spoken – not till tonight. She looked at my children and said, if you ever want to knock on my door and talk that would be nice. She is an elderly Jewish woman and looks like Dr. Ruth minus the accent. She said to me, we have something very terrible in common. I said yes, I know. Eleven years ago her husband sent her to the bank to make a deposit. When she came home she found he had shot himself dead.
She was talking about our situations and how terrible they were. I was pleading with her through my eyes to not say anything more specific. I was praying silently for her to not say the word suicide in front of my babies. She thankfully never said the word – but she said a lot more.
After eleven years I am still angry, she said. After eleven years I still think it was a waste and not necessary. He could have talked to me, she said. He didn’t have to do this. But you know this already, she said. She looked at the kids again and said, but you have it much worse than me.
I tried not to cry as I walked away with an extra super fake smile on my face. Honestly, I am just trying to get through tomorrow and then the next day. I can’t imagine anything more now. I would like to think that I could someday come to peace with all that has happened – but maybe I won’t. Maybe I am really asking just way too much.
Of course then at bedtime my six year old cried for you. I just miss daddy he said. Why did he have to die? Then he just cried and cried. He hasn’t cried in a long time. The pain fills up my heart and spills over into everything as I lie with him and feel his tears. This just doesn't get any easier.
So nine months later I still wish you were here. Your children miss you and so do I. I feel at times we have come so very far since the day you died and then I realize – we haven’t even taken a step.
My children and I are stuck at the moment. We are in between their school days ending and their camp time beginning. This has been the longest school year ever. I feel like my children should have graduated high school by now – not just pre-k and first grade. I have never been so happy to say goodbye to school – it has just really been a long hard school year.
But now summer is officially here and we are stuck. We wake up each day with no place we have to be. I am working from home while we are in limbo – and though this is convenient for a single mom, it is quite impossible too. I put them into bed each night and then get to work – spending hours upon hours working while they sleep. I have been up till 2 am almost every night. Then I wake with them each morning trying to keep my crankiness at bay while trying to find fun ways to entertain them.
Today was no exception. We woke up and though it was beautiful out, we went to the movies. Just for something to do. Then I took them swimming all afternoon and then after sheer exhaustion, took them out to the local diner for dinner. Somehow it doesn’t seem to matter how little or how much we do. The end of each day is always the same. We return to an empty home where I get them into bed, we pray to daddy in heaven and then it is just me all alone again – just me.
I am probably a little more melancholy this holiday weekend than most. Last year was a really great July 4th for all of us. We got a police escort (thanks to a friend) straight to the closest spot one can get to the NYC fireworks. It was a magical night for my husband and our children. We aren’t doing that this year and we really aren’t doing much of anything. My neighborhood is deserted with most people away or spending time with their family, because that is what people do. What we would be doing if you weren’t dead.
I sat in the diner tonight facing the window. I watched the couples walk by with their children. I knew all of them by name or face – it is the kind of hood I live in. I would have done anything to be them – just for a moment. To not know my pain and sorrow – to not feel so abandoned and destroyed. If only for a moment, I would have liked to walk in their shoes.
But I walk in mine – and then I looked across the table at my two monsters throwing french fries at each other and fighting over the half inch space on the seat they share – and realized - I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.
On the way home I met a woman who lives three doors down from me. I knew who she was and she knew me, but we have never spoken – not till tonight. She looked at my children and said, if you ever want to knock on my door and talk that would be nice. She is an elderly Jewish woman and looks like Dr. Ruth minus the accent. She said to me, we have something very terrible in common. I said yes, I know. Eleven years ago her husband sent her to the bank to make a deposit. When she came home she found he had shot himself dead.
She was talking about our situations and how terrible they were. I was pleading with her through my eyes to not say anything more specific. I was praying silently for her to not say the word suicide in front of my babies. She thankfully never said the word – but she said a lot more.
After eleven years I am still angry, she said. After eleven years I still think it was a waste and not necessary. He could have talked to me, she said. He didn’t have to do this. But you know this already, she said. She looked at the kids again and said, but you have it much worse than me.
I tried not to cry as I walked away with an extra super fake smile on my face. Honestly, I am just trying to get through tomorrow and then the next day. I can’t imagine anything more now. I would like to think that I could someday come to peace with all that has happened – but maybe I won’t. Maybe I am really asking just way too much.
Of course then at bedtime my six year old cried for you. I just miss daddy he said. Why did he have to die? Then he just cried and cried. He hasn’t cried in a long time. The pain fills up my heart and spills over into everything as I lie with him and feel his tears. This just doesn't get any easier.
So nine months later I still wish you were here. Your children miss you and so do I. I feel at times we have come so very far since the day you died and then I realize – we haven’t even taken a step.
Monday, June 28, 2010
2 am
It is 2 am and my daughter has a fever of 104. I am freaking out, exhausted and freaking out some more. I know there are people out there I can call and won’t hate me at 2 am, like my mother, my sister and a handful of friends. It isn’t the same. I am holding back tears because I wish you were here to help me – or at the very least, here to tell me there is nothing to worry about. But you aren’t here and it makes the moment ten times worse – at least in my frazzled sleep deprived worrisome mind.
I give her more Tylenol and then get a cold compress to wash her down. She is in great spirits for such a high fever. She is talking and babbling away, about who knows what. I am just smiling and focusing on getting her fever down. I am not sure what she is saying until she says – “Mommy are you going to die before me or after me?” Really I am thinking - I can’t even begin to figure out how to answer this question – and did I mention it was now 2:30 am and I just want to cry.
I look at her and say I am not going to die for a very long time and you don’t need to worry about that right now – would you like some juice? If she were older I may not have gotten away with not really answering her question – but thank goodness she is only four and juice is golden.
Saturday I took the kids into the city to take your eldest son out to lunch at the diner. He is leaving soon and I don’t know how many times we will see him. I took him to the one place where we always went with you. It was nice. I didn’t feel like I could take him anywhere else and wasn’t really worried about you not being there. The kids love spending time with him and there is always so much chaos in a small diner. To be honest I didn’t get the chance to feel sad that you weren’t there. It may have been the nicest Saturday ever so far.
I sat across from all your children eating the meal you would have ordered and I just looked at our children. I am amazed at how much they have grown and changed since you have died. I wonder if you would even recognize them now. They are such different people from nine months ago. Partly worse, partly better but still quite different.
Our daughter still has a fever. It is going on day four. I am taking care of her all on my own. I am worrying about her and watching her and still you haven’t come through the door to help. Today at some point I stared at the coffee pot and was just stunned by your death – yet again. Somehow it still feels like it didn’t happen. Like this is all just some mistake. There are just moments that I really have a hard time really believing you actually took your own life.
I went to the supermarket with our sick child as we all still need groceries and to get more Tylenol. The deli lady saw me and came right over. Are you dating yet? she asked me. I laughed at her and said no. I truly find it funny that people expect me to bounce right back into what? – A normal life again. I am still thinking you are coming home to me – some how some way. The very idea of me dating just sounds like a bad joke.
People are still very kind to me and the children – generous, understanding and helpful. I am letting friends and family help me more – though it is hard. I have come to the conclusion that I really can’t do everything all by myself. I hate this and am frustrated by the concept of needing others. When once you and I were able to never have to ask for help. Maybe that was our problem – you and I should have asked for help sooner – maybe you would still be alive if you had just asked me.
I am hoping to not see the clock at 2 am today. I am hoping the fever goes away soon. Summer vacation starts today and you are not here to revel in the new chaos that is beginning.
But every day is a new adventure in our lives – some bad some pretty good. I am trying to rid myself of the guilt I feel when something makes me happy. Quite possibly I owe it to you to feel happy again – to feel that which you cannot. At the very least, I truly owe it our children.
I give her more Tylenol and then get a cold compress to wash her down. She is in great spirits for such a high fever. She is talking and babbling away, about who knows what. I am just smiling and focusing on getting her fever down. I am not sure what she is saying until she says – “Mommy are you going to die before me or after me?” Really I am thinking - I can’t even begin to figure out how to answer this question – and did I mention it was now 2:30 am and I just want to cry.
I look at her and say I am not going to die for a very long time and you don’t need to worry about that right now – would you like some juice? If she were older I may not have gotten away with not really answering her question – but thank goodness she is only four and juice is golden.
Saturday I took the kids into the city to take your eldest son out to lunch at the diner. He is leaving soon and I don’t know how many times we will see him. I took him to the one place where we always went with you. It was nice. I didn’t feel like I could take him anywhere else and wasn’t really worried about you not being there. The kids love spending time with him and there is always so much chaos in a small diner. To be honest I didn’t get the chance to feel sad that you weren’t there. It may have been the nicest Saturday ever so far.
I sat across from all your children eating the meal you would have ordered and I just looked at our children. I am amazed at how much they have grown and changed since you have died. I wonder if you would even recognize them now. They are such different people from nine months ago. Partly worse, partly better but still quite different.
Our daughter still has a fever. It is going on day four. I am taking care of her all on my own. I am worrying about her and watching her and still you haven’t come through the door to help. Today at some point I stared at the coffee pot and was just stunned by your death – yet again. Somehow it still feels like it didn’t happen. Like this is all just some mistake. There are just moments that I really have a hard time really believing you actually took your own life.
I went to the supermarket with our sick child as we all still need groceries and to get more Tylenol. The deli lady saw me and came right over. Are you dating yet? she asked me. I laughed at her and said no. I truly find it funny that people expect me to bounce right back into what? – A normal life again. I am still thinking you are coming home to me – some how some way. The very idea of me dating just sounds like a bad joke.
People are still very kind to me and the children – generous, understanding and helpful. I am letting friends and family help me more – though it is hard. I have come to the conclusion that I really can’t do everything all by myself. I hate this and am frustrated by the concept of needing others. When once you and I were able to never have to ask for help. Maybe that was our problem – you and I should have asked for help sooner – maybe you would still be alive if you had just asked me.
I am hoping to not see the clock at 2 am today. I am hoping the fever goes away soon. Summer vacation starts today and you are not here to revel in the new chaos that is beginning.
But every day is a new adventure in our lives – some bad some pretty good. I am trying to rid myself of the guilt I feel when something makes me happy. Quite possibly I owe it to you to feel happy again – to feel that which you cannot. At the very least, I truly owe it our children.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
POST
Today was just an ordinary day in the life of me. It was hectic and busy, stressful and insane. I took my son to school and then dropped my daughter at a friend’s house for hours so I could get to work. I cried the whole way there. Typical me.
There are days that go by and nothing great and nothing horrible occurs. It is just a day. These seem to be getting easier for me. The days where there is a glitch in my plans, or schedules change or something breaks and I really need your help – these are the days I cry for you the most.
Then I feel truly guilty as it seems I only cry on days when I need you. I feel selfish and then cry even more. I try to get through the days not crying and just do what must get done. I just can’t possibly cry all the time – I did that already. Now I cry when I could use your help and I am wondering if you are up in heaven scowling at me for only crying then. When the children are behaving and the day is a good one, I don’t cry for you. Tears don’t bring you back. I figured this one out. So on good days, I try not to cry.
I drove to work frustrated that you weren’t around to help me. This end of school year, camp not yet started, still working everyday overwhelming time in my life is just hard. This is all hard for me and I am trying my best. After the frustration wore off I just cried because I really miss you. I really missed my best friend and father of my children today.
I have been so strong through all these graduations. Standing there with my head held high because I know that people are looking at me feeling bad for me. I know they are sad for my children and I just want to put on a good face. I did a miserable job at our daughter’s pre-k graduation.
All it took was for me to see one father carrying his daughter on his shoulders to the graduation ceremony and I couldn’t walk inside. The kids ran ahead, eager for the ceremony as I hid behind a car hysterical beyond belief, unable to catch my breath. It was just so terrible being there alone, I couldn’t take another step. My good friend found me and let me cry all over her beautiful dress and she didn’t have to say a word. She just let me cry and say this just isn’t right – he should be here today – it just isn’t right!
But I got past that day and got through Hebrew school graduation and am getting through everything else – how - I am just not sure. Because tonight ice cream is melting in the freezer and I can’t eat it fast enough. The refrigerator is broken and it may as well be the end of the world for me. I just don’t know what to do next and I am just lost – all day I have just felt lost without you.
All I want is you here tonight. Though you would of course be mad the fridge is shot you would be in all your glory eating every frozen thing in sight. But you are not here and so tomorrow I must navigate through what the heck to do when your fridge breaks and you haven’t a clue.
We have been in our new place for two months and it still doesn’t feel like home. Everything is here almost unpacked and yes we are settling in – but it doesn’t feel like home. I don’t feel you here – I don’t feel your presence here. I don’t see images of you anywhere. I guess a few months ago I wanted to be rid of ghosts but now I miss looking at a room and picturing you doing something there. It makes me sad that I just don’t feel you anymore.
The only teeny tiny piece of you I have left comes every single morning. It sounds strange, but true. When my husband and I moved from Manhattan to Queens we argued about what paper we would get delivered to the house. I wanted the Times, he wanted the Post. I bought the Times but rarely read it – he loved the Post. He won. I was kind of embarrassed at first as I think we are the only house in the hood that actually gets the Post delivered – everyone gets the Times. About a month after my husband died the Post called to say my subscription was up and would I like to renew. I didn’t even hesitate. I asked if they had a lifetime subscription.
Every morning I wake up, walk to my door and hug the paper tightly in my arms and think about you.
There are days that go by and nothing great and nothing horrible occurs. It is just a day. These seem to be getting easier for me. The days where there is a glitch in my plans, or schedules change or something breaks and I really need your help – these are the days I cry for you the most.
Then I feel truly guilty as it seems I only cry on days when I need you. I feel selfish and then cry even more. I try to get through the days not crying and just do what must get done. I just can’t possibly cry all the time – I did that already. Now I cry when I could use your help and I am wondering if you are up in heaven scowling at me for only crying then. When the children are behaving and the day is a good one, I don’t cry for you. Tears don’t bring you back. I figured this one out. So on good days, I try not to cry.
I drove to work frustrated that you weren’t around to help me. This end of school year, camp not yet started, still working everyday overwhelming time in my life is just hard. This is all hard for me and I am trying my best. After the frustration wore off I just cried because I really miss you. I really missed my best friend and father of my children today.
I have been so strong through all these graduations. Standing there with my head held high because I know that people are looking at me feeling bad for me. I know they are sad for my children and I just want to put on a good face. I did a miserable job at our daughter’s pre-k graduation.
All it took was for me to see one father carrying his daughter on his shoulders to the graduation ceremony and I couldn’t walk inside. The kids ran ahead, eager for the ceremony as I hid behind a car hysterical beyond belief, unable to catch my breath. It was just so terrible being there alone, I couldn’t take another step. My good friend found me and let me cry all over her beautiful dress and she didn’t have to say a word. She just let me cry and say this just isn’t right – he should be here today – it just isn’t right!
But I got past that day and got through Hebrew school graduation and am getting through everything else – how - I am just not sure. Because tonight ice cream is melting in the freezer and I can’t eat it fast enough. The refrigerator is broken and it may as well be the end of the world for me. I just don’t know what to do next and I am just lost – all day I have just felt lost without you.
All I want is you here tonight. Though you would of course be mad the fridge is shot you would be in all your glory eating every frozen thing in sight. But you are not here and so tomorrow I must navigate through what the heck to do when your fridge breaks and you haven’t a clue.
We have been in our new place for two months and it still doesn’t feel like home. Everything is here almost unpacked and yes we are settling in – but it doesn’t feel like home. I don’t feel you here – I don’t feel your presence here. I don’t see images of you anywhere. I guess a few months ago I wanted to be rid of ghosts but now I miss looking at a room and picturing you doing something there. It makes me sad that I just don’t feel you anymore.
The only teeny tiny piece of you I have left comes every single morning. It sounds strange, but true. When my husband and I moved from Manhattan to Queens we argued about what paper we would get delivered to the house. I wanted the Times, he wanted the Post. I bought the Times but rarely read it – he loved the Post. He won. I was kind of embarrassed at first as I think we are the only house in the hood that actually gets the Post delivered – everyone gets the Times. About a month after my husband died the Post called to say my subscription was up and would I like to renew. I didn’t even hesitate. I asked if they had a lifetime subscription.
Every morning I wake up, walk to my door and hug the paper tightly in my arms and think about you.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Messiah
The weekend went pretty well despite yesterday. My son told me he knew it was Father’s Day, but he said it without tears. He did say this to me as he was running through the water park with a million other happy children. Death was the farthest thought from his mind. We were all so caught up in this new fun element – it was easy to forget what was going on outside in the world. I was pretty fine myself. Only the glimpse here and there of father’s doting on their children did my heart ache and my tears come.
There were so many distractions for all three of us; there wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on you being dead. My children were so doted on by their grandparents, aunts and uncles – they didn’t have a second to feel sad. I spent the day trying not to think about the day. Only once did I sit and look at photos of you and think about last year – until my mother scolded me for making myself miserable – thanks mom. I also called my father and father-in-law secretly, so my children wouldn’t hear me wish them a happy Father’s Day. To my step-father who we spent the vacation with, I hugged him and just whispered the words in his ears.
The only glitch in my weekend happened weeks before. My children attend Hebrew School and I have spoken often about how amazing they are and what a good influence the Rabbi and Rebbitzin have been on my entire family. I still love them, but sometimes, for me at least, religion can cause trouble.
About two weeks ago my children had a lesson which involved learning about the Messiah. My children were taught about what has to happen in the world for the Messiah to return. Apparently (mind you this is in the words of my children) everyone has to be really good and then heaven will close and all the dead people will return to Earth. They told me this as they returned home from Hebrew School one night. They didn’t say anything else – just this. I was worried about this new information. But when two weeks went by and nothing more was said, I thought they forget all about it.
Then on Friday we drove to the Poconos with my sister. As we sat on the highway stuck in horrid traffic my children started telling my sister all about the Messiah. “Did you know”, they said, “when the Messiah comes heaven will close and daddy will come back to us.” I sucked in my breath, gripped the wheel and kept on driving. My sister just looked at me with shock and dread in her eyes. I just shook my head at her and neither of us said anything. I was trying to come up with something to say – but even after four hours in the car - I had nothing.
Thankfully I distracted them by pointing at road kill and we talked about how gross it was. But it seemed that all weekend, whenever they got the chance, they talked about when the Messiah comes they will see daddy. As if this event was right around the corner. I guess I should have seen this coming. Of course the children are going to think this after being told the story of the Messiah. For eight and half months we have all been telling them that daddy is gone and he is never coming back. Now it seems they have a found a loop-hole in the system and they are not giving up on this theory no matter what.
At some point over the weekend I looked at them very seriously and very sadly and said, “it would be wonderful if the Messiah could come. But we will not see this happen in our lifetime – daddy is not coming back.” I waited for tears. Instead they both looked at me and said, “No mommy, you are wrong” and just walked away.
My good friend, who also sends her children to Hebrew School immediately called the Rebbitzin after I sent her a desperate text. The Rebbitzin agreed to meet with the children tomorrow before their graduation to clarify the story and help them understand a little bit about what she told them. She said she is going to tell them how G-d needs daddy with him and how important it is for daddy and G-d to be together. I am not sure this is going to work. Hopefully they will listen to her better than me. I just pray they are not disappointed all over again.
I am really not upset or angry at anyone about this. In fact, maybe it is better to be harsh now in the early stages and not let them dwell for years and years living with the hope that he may return. It feels mean to deny them this fantasy – but I think it is unhealthy to let them life their entire lives waiting for something that is really never going to occur. Maybe I am a bad Jew, but for me right now, mommy with dead daddy trumps religion.
I am sure tomorrow will be a hard and sad day. But tonight I am just laughing to myself. I am sending the children to day camp in a few weeks run by a Catholic School. There is absolutely no religious instruction at all – but still they will be hanging out with plenty of children who do attend Catholic School. G-d only knows what new theories of daddy’s return they will come up with then. Wait till someone tells them how Jesus came back.
Heaven help me.
There were so many distractions for all three of us; there wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on you being dead. My children were so doted on by their grandparents, aunts and uncles – they didn’t have a second to feel sad. I spent the day trying not to think about the day. Only once did I sit and look at photos of you and think about last year – until my mother scolded me for making myself miserable – thanks mom. I also called my father and father-in-law secretly, so my children wouldn’t hear me wish them a happy Father’s Day. To my step-father who we spent the vacation with, I hugged him and just whispered the words in his ears.
The only glitch in my weekend happened weeks before. My children attend Hebrew School and I have spoken often about how amazing they are and what a good influence the Rabbi and Rebbitzin have been on my entire family. I still love them, but sometimes, for me at least, religion can cause trouble.
About two weeks ago my children had a lesson which involved learning about the Messiah. My children were taught about what has to happen in the world for the Messiah to return. Apparently (mind you this is in the words of my children) everyone has to be really good and then heaven will close and all the dead people will return to Earth. They told me this as they returned home from Hebrew School one night. They didn’t say anything else – just this. I was worried about this new information. But when two weeks went by and nothing more was said, I thought they forget all about it.
Then on Friday we drove to the Poconos with my sister. As we sat on the highway stuck in horrid traffic my children started telling my sister all about the Messiah. “Did you know”, they said, “when the Messiah comes heaven will close and daddy will come back to us.” I sucked in my breath, gripped the wheel and kept on driving. My sister just looked at me with shock and dread in her eyes. I just shook my head at her and neither of us said anything. I was trying to come up with something to say – but even after four hours in the car - I had nothing.
Thankfully I distracted them by pointing at road kill and we talked about how gross it was. But it seemed that all weekend, whenever they got the chance, they talked about when the Messiah comes they will see daddy. As if this event was right around the corner. I guess I should have seen this coming. Of course the children are going to think this after being told the story of the Messiah. For eight and half months we have all been telling them that daddy is gone and he is never coming back. Now it seems they have a found a loop-hole in the system and they are not giving up on this theory no matter what.
At some point over the weekend I looked at them very seriously and very sadly and said, “it would be wonderful if the Messiah could come. But we will not see this happen in our lifetime – daddy is not coming back.” I waited for tears. Instead they both looked at me and said, “No mommy, you are wrong” and just walked away.
My good friend, who also sends her children to Hebrew School immediately called the Rebbitzin after I sent her a desperate text. The Rebbitzin agreed to meet with the children tomorrow before their graduation to clarify the story and help them understand a little bit about what she told them. She said she is going to tell them how G-d needs daddy with him and how important it is for daddy and G-d to be together. I am not sure this is going to work. Hopefully they will listen to her better than me. I just pray they are not disappointed all over again.
I am really not upset or angry at anyone about this. In fact, maybe it is better to be harsh now in the early stages and not let them dwell for years and years living with the hope that he may return. It feels mean to deny them this fantasy – but I think it is unhealthy to let them life their entire lives waiting for something that is really never going to occur. Maybe I am a bad Jew, but for me right now, mommy with dead daddy trumps religion.
I am sure tomorrow will be a hard and sad day. But tonight I am just laughing to myself. I am sending the children to day camp in a few weeks run by a Catholic School. There is absolutely no religious instruction at all – but still they will be hanging out with plenty of children who do attend Catholic School. G-d only knows what new theories of daddy’s return they will come up with then. Wait till someone tells them how Jesus came back.
Heaven help me.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
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.
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.
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