Friday, March 25, 2011

three


This morning will mark three years since I've held your warm hand. Heard your snores. Felt safe knowing I was yours.

My life doesn't stop today as it did three years ago....although I partially wish it would. There are appoinments to be attended, childcare to sort out and errands to run.

I'd like to lay in my bed and think of only you. To keen quietly and close my eyes to the empty side of our bed.

But I am terrified that by allowing myself to sink into the grief that still runs so deeply through my heart, I will fall back into that pit of loss. The dark and scary place where time does stop and all I feel is the loss of you.

So I fill my day. To the brim.

I will take the kids to the beach with our notes for you attached to helium balloons. I'll barely allow myself that hour to let the sadness sink in...I need to keep my heart up and my eyes sharp for my little ones.

When this tradition is fulfilled I will begin running again. Focusing on dinner and bathtime. Fingernail clipping and playing referee to intermittent sibling discord.

But after the night has brought quiet and our two children rest, I'll truly feel the loss of you. I'll remember that first night without you. The enormity of the loss. The confusion and unbelievability found in your death. I will cry out for you. I will hold the last dirty shirt of yours close and attempt to smell the long lost scent of you. I will wonder at the ability of others who naively went about their day unaware of this day's significance. And I will miss you as fiercely as I did that first day.

I love you, Jeffrey, with all my heart. I miss you still. And I don't think I can, or will, ever stop.

6 comments:

  1. Absolutely beautiful Jackie! My heart goes out to you and your little ones today. The widow community is with you today as we know your pain and how deeply you miss Jeff. Blessings, peace and hugs.

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  2. Beautiful, heartbreaking post, Jackie. I found myself nodding throughout the whole thing. Keeping so busy that the grief doesn't have time to sink in and then having it wash over after the kids are asleep and quiet and darkness surround...I sure recognize that. I hope that you and your kiddos have a sweet time at the beach sending your messages to Jeff. I know he's with you all, so proud of you and loving you into the future.

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  3. Thinking of you and sending prayers and understanding your way.

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  4. Keep moving forward Jackie. Beautiful post. Love the balloon idea - your children are lucky to have you. One brave step at a time even when we don't want to.

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  5. I've been speechless since your post last week....I've thought of you, I've told the story of your post last week to anyone who would listen, and now this one. The night is a lonely place and the day is a busy place. I hold you in my thoughts and cry a cathartic cry.

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  6. Beautiful post. Holding you in my thoughts...

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