I decided to play hookie from work today. I woke up feeling like crap - physically and emotionally. I think the kids' colds have finally gotten to me (up 'till now I've felt surprisingly good considering they're both sick). Emotionally, I think it's actually getting harder instead of easier as time passes - creeping up on the three month mark. Shock is wearing off, and the reality that Matt is gone forever is hitting me hard. At the risk of sounding overdramatic, my heart is so full of sorrow and pain that it's literally almost hard to breathe. I know I've got to kick myself in the ass to get moving again, or I'm going to fall deeper into this hole. Speaking of holes, what I'd really love to do is just dig a hole good and deep, crawl in, curl up in a ball and stay there forever. I know I can't do that (don't anyone start worrying now).
Being home alone today gave me the opportunity to scream at the top of my lungs and cry as loud and long as I needed to. The sadness and anger I feel is so overwhelming. I'm a different person now than before all this happened and I doubt I'll ever be quite the same, but I liked who I was before. I liked who I was with Matt, and with him as the father of my children. I was always so happy that my kids would have the opportunity to grow up with two loving, patient, passionate parents in the same household - an opportunity I didn't have. I was happy and proud to have been able to provide that for my kids. I was always grateful to God for blessing us so much in so many ways. And now look. Our lives changed in an instant and we'll never get him back. I've never been so sad and angry in my entire life.
I found a website for young widows that has been somewhat helpful - showing that the things I'm thinking and feeling are pretty normal. Someone on that site posted a quote - not really a poem - that has been particularly helpful in keeping some perspective (I have it stuck to my refrigerator):
You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left you.
Your heart can be empty because you can no longer see him,
Or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live in yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he is gone,
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what he'd want for you,
To Smile More, Love More, Laugh More and Go On.
In our 10 short years together, Matt gave me so much and taught me things that will stay with me forever.
He taught me to simplify things. I had a tendency to take a situation and make it so much more complicated than it needed to be and stress myself out (that's how I grew up- didn't know any other way!). He always had such a simple, easy solution, and over time, I learned his way of dealing with things, and seeing things for what they were.
He always made me feel safe. He not only was pretty wise, but his big, strong presence and kind face always made me feel comforted. I could trust him with my life - and did.
I loved the way he would just say it like it is - no sugar coating, no beating around the bush, no bullshit. He never said anything just because he thought it was what someone wanted to hear. He was brutally honest. (Wasn't always an endearing quality, but I'd rather have it that way than the alternative!)
He was a hard worker and a good provider - never did anything half-assed or left it unfinished. He'd work on it until he got it right. He was driven until he accomplished his goal - whatever it was at the time, and he always had a goal. That was his approach to everything he did. He was such a great example for our children, and for me.
He built us this beautiful house from the ground up, and nearly everything inside of it. It's full of the love he had for me and his kids, and the life he enjoyed. I never want to move from it.
He got better looking as he got older. Boy, did he ever. Let's just say I'm gonna miss him for more than just his quick wit, intelligence and sense of humor!
I really think getting all this stuff out in writing is very therapeudic for me... See, who needs a counselor?!