I’ve had a lot of emotions stirring lately. I think it’s because so much has changed in my life in such a relatively short period of time and it’s hard to wrap my mind around just how vast the changes have been…and how swiftly life continues to move.
The girls were 10 months old when he died…now they are over 3. They could not feed themselves, dress themselves, walk, or talk…they could not do anything independently. I carried them everywhere. I fed them. I consoled them.
Now they speak in full conversations, they not only dress themselves but have opinions about what they want to wear, they use the potty by themselves. They not only walk, but run, and jump, and climb. They brush their own teeth. They sleep through the night. They say, “Mommy, I love you so much,” and ask me to say their prayers with them when I tuck them in at night. They ask who their Daddy is and what is his name. They cry for him when they are upset with me, though they are crying for someone they have no tangible memory of.
I am so very happy now with my life, even happier than I ever remember being before. My girls are so very happy. And yet strangely, it makes me immensely sad to admit that I am so happy, so content, so fulfilled. It feels like a betrayal in a sense. It feels like it means I’m okay with leaving him behind while we move forward. I feels like people will think I have forgotten him…something that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I still think of him multiple times a day and it still takes my breath away for just a second.
None of us are the same as we were then and it makes me feel so far away from him. He doesn’t know the people we are today, he never will and that feels so final. He will never know his children the way I do, and in the ways I am privileged to get to continue learning them.
Life feels like that river that Heraclitus referred to…ever swiftly moving…you can’t step in the same place twice, you can’t make it stand still and have the past integrate with the present no matter how badly you want it to…
For it is not the same life…and you are not the same you.
You know, I'm not super comfortable with change but I'm not totally unwelcoming of it...but lately I'd love for it to slow down. Let me catch up and adjust to everything. The thing is, especially with children - time doesn't wait. Damnit.
ReplyDeleteWell said. I can hardly remember who I was before my husband died. I am definitely different. I often miss the old me who was hopeful and optomistic. I know what you mean about feeling far away from your husband. My old life with my husband seems so distant and almost unreal at times. My husband (of 19 years) died suddenly in front of me and our three kids 22 months ago. Our youngest, a son, was just learning to crawl. He runs, jumps and flips now. I so wish my husband could see him now! I wish you all the best. Your blog has been a blessing to me.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing MeriBeth...glad to know my words are of some comfort.
ReplyDelete"For it is not the same life…and you are not the same you." That statement is true and very powerful. My husband was killed in 2010. I felt like I was recreating my self before I even knew it after his death.
ReplyDeleteWell written post!
Samantha
There is absolutely no betrayal in being the mother to his children. You are doing what he would have wanted you to do.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully put.
ReplyDeleteWow, just re- and re-reading what you wrote somewhere hidden in there and totally standing out: "So very happy with your life. Such happy girls." Wonderful. Made me happy.
ReplyDelete