Monday, February 18, 2013

steam rolled and trying to dance

Squashed flat, beaten black and blue.  That's what it feels like.  And looking through some horrible twisted lens.  Why did I have to have a conversation with my kids about their dad dying??  About him not being there for all the things he wants to see.  Aiden asked question after question, he wanted to know what we asked the doctors, if he kept fighting if he could live forever...Cilly cried until she fell asleep in my arms.  There are no words good enough.  Maybe there are hugs enough.  But we won't hit that number of hugs for a long long time. 

John was amazing.  He has much to be proud of.  We want to make voice quilts with him telling stories to, about, and with the kids.  I think that will be a nice way to keep him close.  And we want to get cremains jewelry.  That's what it is called: cremains.  Sounds ridiculous to me but, whatever.

And tonight I put them to bed, tomorrow I go to work.  Cilly has dance class.  Hopefully she will not run another 103.8 fever like she did last night.  That was rough.  Rough is the status quo, though. 

I did not tell the kids that this is happening for a reason.  However, I did tell them that we need to honor dad by making there be a reason.  We need to find a way to make this awful, sad, scary thing something that brings us together and makes us better people. 

That is all I have the strength for now.  I wish I could fix this.  I wish I could make it go away, but not if that meant losing John.  I wouldn't change my relationship with him for anything, not even for the pain this part of our journey will bring;  has already brought. 

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
Anne Lamott