Widow. That word rocks me to my core. Every time it has to come out of my mouth, I feel like I want to throw up. Every time I have to check that box on a form, I can feel the color flee from my face, and I feel like I could faint at any given moment. I still hate that word with a passion. When I think of a widow, I think of someone who is old and grey. I think of a little old lady sitting in a rocking chair knitting, reading glasses barely hanging from her nose, while her black cat sits on her lap. I am 27. I am not grey. Instead of a cat on my lap, I have a 5 year old and an infant. This is not what a widow's life is supposed to look like. I am not supposed to be a widow.
I think my emotions have started to catch up with me the past few days. Yesterday was the worst of them. All the thoughts that were sitting on the back burner of my mind, got together and ransacked my emotions yesterday. I cried until I was so tired, emotionally and physically, that I had no choice but to go to bed.
Over the weekend I took the kids to the fair. I had Keegan, Kayden, and Tasia. We met up with Pat's parents, and they brought Hailee, and Natalie (along with Pat's nephews and his little sister). We let the kids ride the rides, and play the games. Overall I think they all had a great time. I put on a smile, but, however, couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Well, someone. Pat. Last year we had gone to the fair together. WE watched the kids have fun on the rides, not ME alone. It weighed heavy on my heart all day and night long. I also couldn't help but notice how many families were there. A mom, a dad, and a son. A mom, a dad, a son, and a daughter. Laughing and enjoying themselves. Eating corn dogs, cotton candy, and funnel cakes together. Fathers chasing their sons to the next ride. Giggles, and bright eyes. Laughter and enjoyment. I wanted what they had. I wanted MY family back, which is now nothing but a crushed dream.
One year ago, August 15, 2010, we attended one of the concerts at the fair. It was an outdoor concert because our arena was destroyed by a tornado a couple months earlier. Hinder and Finger 11 were playing. If I remember right, Pat won the tickets. I could never keep track of how many concerts he went to in his life, but I know it was more than anyone I had ever known, and he usually got the tickets for free. That was his thing. Concerts were his thing. Music was his thing. He loved it, and he loved seeing them perform. We attended several concerts together in the time I had with him, and I think I attended more concerts in that short amount of time, than I did in my life leading up to meeting him. I will forever cherish those moments, because I got to spend time with the man I love, doing what he loved. For months, up until this concert, he would ask me when he could take Keegan to his first concert. I am pretty sure the first time he asked I told him 16. His jaw hit the floor. He argued and argued and argued, but I stood my ground. Well sort of. Gradually, I worked my way down to 15, then 12, then 10. I was adamant that my 4 year old would not be attending a concert anytime soon. Part of my rationale was that Keegan was my baby, and I was his mommy. He would NOT be attending a concert anytime soon. The other part of my rationale (which was actually reasonable) was that Keegan was born with a mild/moderate hearing loss. I did not want to subject him to a loud concert, that could, potentially, make that problem even worse. After he heard the news that the concert was to be played outside, due to the storm damage, and finding out he won the tickets, he came to me to plead his case one more time. I caved. He was on cloud nine. He was so proud that he was there with his son, at his first concert. And Keegan (who from day 1 has also had a tremendous love for music) had a blast! Pat posted on facebook, while at the concert that night: "My son is attending his first rock concert and it's awesome". He was so proud, I couldn't help but to be excited for him. Today, I am glad I caved. Keegan will forever be able to hold on to that memory of his first concert, and how special it was to be there with Pat. The thing that I remember most about this concert, is not the music, or the performance. The thing I remember most, is that Pat was going through chemotherapy at the time, he was sick and weak. Yet he was smiling from ear to ear, without a worry in the world. That is the memory I hold in my heart for that day.
And just for the record, I think we may just have another music enthusiast in the family. I was about 5 months pregnant with Kayden at that concert, and he was doing somersaults the entire time the music was playing.
Three Days Grace played this year. I wanted to go, but couldn't afford it. As I thought about it often in the days leading up to the big show, my heart was heavy. I knew Pat would have wanted to go, and I'm sure he would have found us tickets to go somehow, somewhere. He would have enjoyed one of the things he loved to do most. It's just another thing he can't experience anymore, which breaks my heart.
Yesterday, I enrolled Keegan in Kindergarten. I can't believe he is grown up enough to go to school already. We went a couple weeks ago, and got all his school supplies. We picked out crayons, markers, and pencils. We got tissue, glue, and hand sanitizer. And when it was time, with pride, he picked out his very own Buzz Lightyear backpack. He is very excited to go to school, but most excited about riding the school bus. I'm nervous for him to go, but excited for him at the same time. I'm sure if you are a mother with kids in school, you know exactly what this milestone feels like. As excited as I am for him, my eyes well up with tears thinking about it. Not just because my first born going to be in Kindergarten, but also because the love of my life is going to miss out on his Son's first day of school. Everything has to end in bittersweet these days.
Through out this process I have had several people let me down. People that I considered family, have vanished from my life. Friendships have become strained. It puts a damper on my spirit when I really sit down and think about it. It's saddening because it all came out of left field. It was all so unexpected and feels so unnatural. In the beginning, I read about my address book changing, after going through what I have, but honestly, I thought, "Nah, not me." Which coincidentally is what I thought when I first heard the news that Pat had Leukemia, "Nah, not us. He'll make it. It won't take him." Unfortunately, in both scenarios, it WAS me.
All of this, sitting on the back burner of my mind. Just stewing. Simmering.
Last night I was on facebook. I clicked on a link a friend of mine posted, which took me to a blog. After reading through the blog, I clicked on a recommended link from the author. It took me to Youtube. I watched the recommended video, and clicked on the sidebar on something that must have looked interesting. Before I knew it, somehow, I was watching infant memorial videos. I don't know how I ended up there, but they sort of had me in a trance. They were so sad, yet so beautiful. The final one I clicked on, was a baby that was born prematurely. The mother had been in the hospital for four days. Her amniotic sac had ruptured before she came in to the hospital. Knowing the risks involved, she, with the doctor's guidance, was trying desperately trying to save her baby's life, by avoiding delivery. On the fourth day she was told, her and the baby both had an infection, and if she wanted to see her baby alive, she needed to deliver. So she delivered. The baby was so small, yet so beautiful. So tiny, yet so perfect. The video, compiled of photos, showed numerous family members holding her, including her older sister. It was beautiful. I was in tears already. Then towards the end of the video, I noticed a drastic change. The baby no longer had color. She was pale, then she was white. I knew she had passed away, and they were saying their goodbyes. While I sympathized with their sorrow, this immediately brought back memories, and emotions, of what I saw, and felt, the day Pat passed away. He was pale. Then he was ghost white. The life had left his body, and he took a piece of me with. A part of me died that day, when my love, my life, was taken from me.
And what had been simmering, finally boiled over.
