The most difficult challenge associated with Brian's death is undoubtedly handling the boyz' fears, frustrations and curiosity.
The frustrations come and go. When I notice that Grant seems to be "in a mood" and slightly destructive, it may take me a few days, but eventually, I come to my senses and realize maybe he is missing Daddy a bit more than I had assumed. We talk about Brian some to see if this is the underlying cause. Honestly, it never surfaces that it is or isn't the cause with Grant. He simply doesn't talk about it too much. He also doesn't like to see my cry anymore, which I rarely do anyway. He walks away to his room and hides under his covers. I have to sweet talk him out of his retreat explaining that it is okay for Mommy to cry some because I loved Daddy so much and some things just remind me of him.
This happened when we watched UP a couple weeks ago. Thank you so much to my friends for recommending I NOT see that movie over the summer when it was released. Still, it felt quite refreshing to have a full-throttle sob as I watched Carl, (spoiler alert) the main grumpy crotchety character, release those cumbersome house-toting balloons knowing that was his PAST and realize that acknowledging the present was WAY more honoring to his late wife. I identify with sad widows overcoming their grief opening a path to a new FREE self all too well, even in cartoon form.
But, I digress.
Grant, for the first time, had issues with my tears rather than smothering me with kisses and offering me tissues. The thing is, Grant doesn't miss Brian too much. He was relieved to see, what he perceived to be, Brian's suffering gone. If you ask Grant if he misses Daddy, he will tell you no. I think he does and I think he misses having a Daddy PERIOD, but his frustrations are hard to identify because of his lack of verbal communication.
Gavin, on the other hand, is a whole other challenge. Gavin is VERBAL. Always has been. He will debate a topic to no end convincing me that some day he will be a lawyer or a politician. Since Brian died, Gavin will occasionally bring up the subject of Daddy coming alive again. The conversations usually go something like this one did last week:
Gavin: Mom, what if Dad could move?
Me: What do you mean move?
Gavin: What if Jesus made Daddy's body move again?
Me: Why would Jesus want Daddy's body to move again? We buried Daddy, remember?
Gavin: No, what if Jesus made Daddy's body move and made him alive again?
Me: Jesus wouldn't do that, Sweetie.
Gavin: No, he could. Jesus can do anything.
Me: Yes, He can, but Jesus is glad Daddy is in heaven with Him.
Gavin: Yeah, but Jesus could let Dad come back and be with us.
Me: Daddy wouldn't want to leave heaven, Bud.
Gavin: Daddy wouldn't WANT to come back and be with us? I think he would.
Me: Gavin, once you are in heaven, there isn't anymore sadness or things that make you feel bad. Daddy can't miss us in heaven because feelings like that don't exist there. You don't miss anything in heaven. It is perfect. We can't understand it. I don't understand it. But that is why we all want to get there some day.
Gavin: I think Dad wants to come back to play with us.
Me: I can see why you would think that. If heaven wasn't perfect, he would. The best thing we can do is to keep trusting Jesus to take care of us now and to get to heaven some day ourselves.
It breaks my heart into 10,000 pieces to know Gavin holds tight to the idea that Daddy could come back to life. Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain the concept of heaven to a little boy that just wants his Daddy? How do you explain to a little, literal-interpreting mind the concept of something that NO earthly mind can comprehend, trying to make heaven sound so great when I don't get it myself? Try explaining my little boyz that heaven is so great their daddy wouldn't want to come back and they, too, want to get there someday, but just NOT RIGHT NOW. It is impossible.
Or, at the very least, it is challenging.
I do my best.
KEEP BELIEVING
I am beginning to think something must be wrong with me. When I look back and think about my loss of my beloved Brian, I am not overwhelmed with sorrow. In fact, when I reminisce as I did this past weekend with relatives about what happened this week last year - which was when Brian began showing increasing signs of confusion and loss of balance and we made the transition from fighting to live to preparing to die - I didn't even cry. When I shared with my family and friends some details regarding the boyz' struggles and issues, I didn't even tear up. My loved ones did. I didn't.
I can't help but wonder what is wrong with me. How could I be so cold? I can't help but wonder if THEY wonder what is wrong with me. "How could she be so unfeeling? It hasn't even been a year."
Or could it be that I live with this emptiness every day? Could it be that I am farther in my grief process because the loss of Brian was such a sharp contrast to my everyday living, therefore forcing me to accept faster in order to carry forward effectively? Could it be that when others see me they are instantly reminded of Brian causing them to face some emotions they don't feel on an everyday basis because Brian's absence didn't affect their everyday living? Or could it be that I am suppressing my own grief?
What bothers me the most is that given the awesome marriage I had to Brian, given the amazing mutually satisfying relationship we shared, my loss is immense. Shouldn't the proportion of that loss drive my despair? Or could it be because of our healthy, loving, respectful connection, I feel equipped to move on easier? Could it be that the love Brian and I shared for each other and for our God outfitted me with the ability to peacefully and happily reflect upon my life with Brian as a blessing that will guide my future rather than mourn what will never be? Could it be that I absorbed a portion Brian's infectious positive attitude choosing happiness and contentment right now rather than more sadness and guilt?
I don't know the answer.
What I do know is that some days I feel badly for not being more emotional over my loss.
Some days I don't.
KEEP BELIEVING
What my Dad got for his birthday this year...
Dear Dad,
Happy Birthday, you old fart!
Wondering why you get a letter this year instead of a card? Or, knowing you, you probably didn’t even notice!
I was looking through the birthday cards for dads in the card deparment the other day. It was the first time since Brian’s death that I had been in the “Dad” section. I could not stop thinking about how my boyz will never buy a birthday card for their dad. Each one of those sentimental cards stating “Dad, you’ve always been there for me” or each card that mentioned the practicality of a Dad who fixed things or each card that humorously pointed out Dad’s aptitude at handling the remote control and taking a nap – each and every one made me realize how much my boyz are missing in their lives. I tried to hold it together and look away, only to see the section “to my Husband, on his Birthday.” I had to leave the card department and I cried for the next few minutes.
So, YOU GET A BIRTHDAY LETTER THIS YEAR and every year until I have the emotional stability to handle that section of the card department again.
I think it is in having a great dad like you that I realize how much my boyz are missing. In reading those cards and nodding yes to so many of the statements, I felt such admiration for my own dad, thus such despair for their loss.
Dad, I love you dearly. You drive me nuts sometimes, but I value you. I love you. I respect you. I appreciate you.
I pray my verbalizing that on your birthday will give you great comfort and pride every day of the year.
Angie
KEEP BELIEVING
This is my boyz on Christmas morning:
(That's MaHannah)
So, I knew it was coming. I knew the holidays would provide some time of sadness and melancholy this year, what with being a FIRST YEAR WIDOW and all. I have learned to expect these feelings at times that would have in other circumstances been emotionally blissful.
I was, however, unprepared that I would seemingly be going about life JUST FINE in my own little world so quickly losing sight of whom else is living under my roof this first Christmas without Brian. I have lost enough relatives over the years to know better. How could I be so stinking BLIND? How could I, in my own selfish chapter of life, forget that my OWN CHILDREN are experiencing their first holiday without their daddy? Honestly, ever since I started dating, I have become a different person in my own home. I am horrified looking in the mirror God has placed in front of me these past few days.
And do you know what it took for me to remember this GLARINGLY OBVIOUS FACT??? It took my son's crying during Home Alone. It took many minutes of prying and comforting to get him to talk to me and finally just confess that he misses Daddy. It took a picture Grant drew today at school of our family - the four of us with Daddy in a casket. While taking a moment to look around this house at the ornaments that bear Brian's photographs or the very obvious FOUR stockings on the mantle, I can see the constant reminders to their innocent little memories. I am sure the constant display of TV shows and movies and holiday specials that revolve around family traditions or families reunited are knives in their chests.
So, these next couple weeks, I am taking a break from the dating scene that seems to have overrun my thoughts and my priorities. I am concentrating again on my children. I am refocusing on them and their needs and their emotions. I am realigning my priorities to spend time with them instead of out on a date, to stay up late reading and watching TV with them instead of texting new acquaintances, to share a root beer float and a game of MarioKart instead of a glass of wine and awkward conversation with a nearly perfect stranger, to lovingly smother them with hugs and kisses instead of determining if a date is good-night-kiss worthy.
I am so embarrassed that my own selfish desires and my own earthly pleasures lately have clouded my judgement with my children. One thing that I feel I have handled SO well in this entire event since 2007 was my focus on the boyz, ensuring I was in tune with their emotions in any situation.
The thing is, since I started dating, God has not been my number one priority, either. The fact that I have been slightly oblivious to my children solidifies that God is not first in my life. I know better.
While I do not like the image God has revealed to me in my mirror this week, I am incredibly thankful that He showed me this just in time for the Christmas break. I have plenty of HOME time to make some things up to the boyz.
KEEP BELIEVING
