Two weeks before Dave died, we attended that jazz and gospel brunch. He thoroughly enjoyed the food and the company and was so sweetly proud. That was our last date, and I still can’t comprehend how quickly things changed after that day. The kids are actually doing amazingly well. They have their moments, of course, but I am apparently the only one out of the five of us who hadn’t accepted what was going to happen.
When Jeff and I were waiting for the car at the hospital, he said something to me along the lines of how surreal the feeling was – “kind of like when you bring your newborn home from the hospital”. I responded with something like “except this time you go home alone.” I do feel so alone. It doesn’t make sense. I am surrounded by my incredible kids. Yet, I feel Dave’s absence so profoundly in everything we do.
I am trying so hard not to wallow or feel sorry for myself, but it hasn’t been particularly successful so far. I’m definitely doing my best not to drag everyone else down. It is beautiful here. I have been reading, swimming with the kids, enjoying the feel of the sun soaking into my skin, and wishing so hard that he was here.