*Reader please be aware that I am not disparaging my husband in these writings. I am entitled to my feelings as you are to yours. I ask that you show me the same respect that I would you. If you don’t like what you read, click the close button. If you have further questions, my email can be found in the about me section.
I got up at 4am because sleep just won’t come to me anymore. Our family doctor gave me something to help me sleep, but medicine is not what I need right now. The girls are mostly sleeping fine. They wake often to murmur or cry in their sleep, but I am right there for them. Rubbing heads and soothing hearts. I promise them tomorrow will be a better day…because I will do everything I can to make it. They deserve to believe that it will get better each day. I need to believe it too.
My sister leaves tomorrow to go back home. It will just be me and the girls, but then again it won’t. Hundreds of people are holding us right now.
I got an email from the conference that you wanted me to go to yesterday. You paid my ticket because you wanted me to finally get the stupid book finished and published. I don’t know that I will go. It seems almost wrong to go. Yet…why shouldn’t I follow my dream. I will do everything I can to not allow my dreams to die with you. I’m also considering going back to school. I know you said it was foolish and that all I would ever be was a mom, but screw you…I can do whatever I want now. I want to work in the NICU because of Isabella. Watching her in there and now seeing her totally healthy…that’s where I want to be. I want to rock the babies that are struggling. I know what struggling is and I want to be a comfort to their parents that their child is in good hands.
I’ve begun starting to sell some of your stuff. It’s because I have to. I feel a slice go down my heart every time I do it though. I know how much you loved these things, but I have no choice. I wish I had a choice. Thanks a lot for leaving me no choice. I stare at the wedding ring on my hand knowing I have to sell it as well. On this I will wait until I have no choice. I twirl it absentmindedly like I always did. I know my fidgeting always bothered you and if you were here you would be telling me to sit still and quit. I can almost hear it in my head. But no words can be heard, so I am going to keep twirling. It’s my right.
One of your friends has been in contact with me from your old forum you used to participate in. You have an enormous amount of people who want to write letters to your daughter attesting what a good man you were. There are many who are willing to contribute to a trust fund for them. Numbers of them have expressed if they had only knew, maybe they could have done something. You and I know you would never have reached out. Your pride, your fear of someone knowing you were weak. There was nothing that they could have said to heal you. This man, your friend and now mine…has listened to my heart. His words of comfort have provided exactly what I need. He has organized these letters so that when your daughters are old enough to understand what you did and they are going to feel so much turmoil…they will have these letters that show them that you mattered to people. That you helped others when you couldn’t help yourself. That you were capable of loving on so many, even though you hated yourself. I hope these letters will comfort them and let them know that you were not a bad man. I hope that they always love and forgive you as I have.
Your painting that you begged me to finish still sits on my easel. Unfinished. It looks almost finished, but there were touches you wanted put on it that I hadn’t done. I can’t finish it. It’s almost like its my way of showing you how angry I am. Just as that painting will remain unfinished…so was your life here on earth. I will hang it near the one that I had finished of the mother and child that you had wanted so bad that you begged to buy it. I wish I had given that one to you now, but it was so dear to me and you had already taken so much from me. These paintings are my soul, I just couldn’t let you have it after all we have been through. Yet, now the unfinished one will hang as a reminder of your life. How something could just be stopped and left unfinished.
I’m going to start another painting today. While at your graveside, I couldn’t bear to stare at your casket. Instead I stared past it at the most beautifully created elm tree. If you had sat beside me, I would have pointed it out to you. You would not have seen the beauty in the crooked limbs and leaning trunks, but you would have looked and probably just laughed at me. That tree will be burned in my memory as well as the preacher who kept trying to tell me that you were in a better place. I was so furious that he said that. “BETTER PLACE?” No. The better place would be being here for your daughters, but you chose your life over theirs. I will paint that elm tree with the children sitting under it. Perhaps they will be having a tea party in the painting. A way of showing that under the shelter of the strong, their lives will continue and tea parties are precious.
I listen to this song constantly now. It gives me comfort.