I told Aiden tonight that sometimes now, I'm not so weighed down with the sadness of having lost Dad, but when I feel that, and I see his photo, I just get so confused. I have such a hard time understanding that he is no longer a physical part of our world. Even beginning to understand a world that doesn't include him just seems made up.
I know that if you spend too much time focusing on what is wrong, then you become that wrong, far more than you need to. And I think to myself that I am nothing now. I am nothing without him. But I know that is wrong. In fact, because he is gone, I am everything. I am the only thing. Our three small humans need me for everything. As do our pets. Tonight, I read both library books the kids brought home. And Neil was screaming for his current favorite movie, Delhi Safari, which he calls Jaguar 'fari. I set up a night movie schedule though, to avoid these issues. We are still implementing it, so these are the growing pains. I just decided I wasn't playing his game, so I laid down on the mattress on the floor in Aiden and Cilly's room where Neil has been sleeping for weeks now and started mimicing him hollering for his movie. Which he thought was great fun! And then I decided to see how long I could hold the vowel sound in "Classical Baby", Clasicaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal...but I never got to "baby" because Neil started laughing so hard and flopping on my back and I started laughing...and we were all just a big pile of stupid and silly and laughing. And I see, there, how much they need me. The real me. And I see how much I need them.
I know it is dumb and gross but I find myself wanting to start smoking again. And I wonder how much is slightly attached to the original reason I took up the stinky habit back in the day- a quiet desire to shorten what is so hard, to cause small and regular harm. I quit twelve years ago, almost exactly a week before I met John. I wonder too, if it is part of my stumbling and foolish attempt at figuring out who I am without him.
Drinking, smoking, flirting, writing, crying. And when I breathe through my nose, I am usually mad or tired. Now I find I am simply swallowing my smile. I am tired and numb. Lost, angry, confused, lonely, grabbing at straws, watching the world continue around me wondering when I got off, and how I can get back on...or maybe it is more like I am on some ride I never stood in line for. Yeah. That is more like what it is...
I still wish so deeply for something to be easy. I wish I could just be the mom. But I'm not. I am not "just" anything.