The memories of that day are not as traumatic as they were 12 months ago. But, days like today, where memories of Mike are so strong, I remember the details.. The visions, sounds, and feelings of seeing my husband limp on the table, doctors standing on top of him doing CPR, an ER full of people trying desperately to save him, feeling the social worker hold me up from behind me, watching friends sitting in another room anxiously waiting, watching the feelings of numbness as I literally screamed at God- begging him to not take Mike-bribing Him and promising Him, throwing up multiple times while waiting, the reoccurring image of watching Mike WALK out of my house-talking, breathing, ALIVE and wishing I could run up to him and hug and kiss him one last time, the guilt-the overwhelming guilt, the coulda-woulda-shouldas feelings, walking in to my house the very first time without him, seeing him lying in a casket and having to walk away, walking in to a room of literally hundreds of people all there to celebrate my husband's life, feeling completely numb hugging all of those people who wanted to give me their condolences, seeing the clock turn 5:30pm every day for weeks and him still not coming in our front door from work, sleeping in my bed for the very first time without him, "celebrating" our 5th wedding anniversary without my husband, spending all of my children's first holidays without their father. So, so, SO hard.
But most importantly, I've realized just how thankful I should be and how thankful I am. I'm thankful for all of the people who promised they would call, stop by, check in with me, etc., and who actually followed through. Thankful for all the people that went out of their way to remind me I wasn't alone even in some of the absolute darkest times of my life. Thankful for the people that literally drug me out of the black hole I all too often found myself slipping in to. Thankful for the people that just sat here. Sat here and held my hand, hugged me, listened to me talk, listened to me cry, let me scream, made me laugh. For the friends who just showed up and didn't ask. For the friends who just did something without asking me what I needed. For the tons of meals people brought by to make sure I would eat. For the diapers, formula, clothes, and other baby supplies people sent so that I didn't have to worry about meeting Michael and Madison's needs. For all of the people that sent in donations that helped pay my bills while I tried to figure out how to go from two incomes to one. For the people that mowed my grass and cleaned my house.
I'm sad that the life I planned for myself abruptly came to an end. That my children lost their dad at 4 months old and they will never hear his infectious laugh, Madison will never get to see how much she melted her daddy's heart, Michael will never get to throw a baseball with his daddy and then watch their favorite Texas Rangers play, but just most importantly that they just didn't get enough time with him. I'm sad that I didn't get enough time with him. 8 years wasn't enough. I'm sad that I have had to navigate the last 12 moths of parenthood- with twins- all by myself. Sure- I have an enormous amount of family/friend support. But what about my teammate? The one person that is on your side no matter what. I'm sad I didn't have that. That the one person I thought I was going to navigate life with isn't here.
I'm thankful for the overwhelming amount of friends and family that knew Mike or didn't know Mike that have come around. This is everyone that in some way has been a part of my life the last 12 months. People that don't even know me. Friends and family we've not talked to in years. My online mom's group. Y'all- the collective group of y'all- are the reason I survived this year. I'm just thankful. I'm thankful that in the absolute worst moments of my life I was surrounded by an entire army ready to fight for me and my children to get us through. It's because of you, and the support you gave us, that we survived the last year, that I learned I'm capable of a hell of a lot more than I thought I was, and that I've come to truly believe that there has to be a whole lot more in mine and my children's future to have gone through this absolute hell at such a young age for all of us.
Someone shared this quote with me, from the movie, "Cast Away":
"...I had power over NOTHING. And that's when this feeling came over me
like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive.
Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to
hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So
that's what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my
logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail.
And now, here I am. I'm back. In Memphis, talking to you. I have ice in
my glass... And I've lost her all over again. I'm so sad that I don't
have Kelly. But I'm so grateful that she was with me on that island. And
I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow
the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?"
My friends/family- you were the warm blanket that came over me and helped me to realize I had to keep breathing, keep moving, and keep living. Without every person, new and old, that's helped me through this last year of my life, there is no way I would have survived losing the most important man in my life. So, thank you.
The 3 of us... we're going to be just fine. Who knows what the tide could bring in?
My friends/family- you were the warm blanket that came over me and helped me to realize I had to keep breathing, keep moving, and keep living. Without every person, new and old, that's helped me through this last year of my life, there is no way I would have survived losing the most important man in my life. So, thank you.
The 3 of us... we're going to be just fine. Who knows what the tide could bring in?
{Photo courtesy of Life in Motion Photography}
