In one hour…

In one hour.  It will be 6 months since Jeff died.  It seems like it’s been longer,  and at times it feels like it was just yesterday.  Oh, how I miss him. 

I really can not believe that this is my life now, how did this happen?  Why did this happen?  How do I make it better?  Why can’t I fix it?

I wish i could flag down the waitress and say “ummm.. excuse me, this isn’t the life I ordered, take it away and bring me my happy life back”  (maybe I’d even say please)

I was really hoping to celebrate making it to 6 months, or at least be proud of surviving to 6 months, but neither will be happening.  All I want to do is cry and scream “WHY ME, WHY HIM, WHY DO MY KIDS HAVE TO BE WITHOUT THEIR DADDY?”  Life is so unfair.

Tomorrow I will make a list of what I am grateful for.

Tomorrow I will buy the kids each a present, but not because I am trying to make up for the fact that their dad died.  Okay, I am, but so what….

Tomorrow I will try and be nice to everyone, even the stupid drive-thru chic at Wendy’s.

Tomorrow I will not spend all morning planning how to sneak a nap in, instead I will load the dishwasher (and then nap)

Tomorrow… It will just be another day without Jeff.  Another day in the life of ‘poor widdo me’ (heehee that was a funny, did ya catch it?  poor widdo/little me..)  I am grateful I still have a sense of humor, however warped it may be….


10 responses to “In one hour…

  1. Dear Laura, I’ve been reading your blog since the catastrophe happened, even if I’m mostly lurking. Your blog is on my Google reader list and whenever I see a new post, I read it, and look at your pictures, and think of you and your family.

    I have much sympathy for you – my father died much too early, when he, my mother and younger siblings were still very young. I don’t know of course what you are going through but I know what my mother went through. I wish so much life was different and your honesty in dealing with grief and fury and your rebellion against fate are painful to read. Painful, but necessary.

    IRL, we are mostly spared the emotional truth of what bereavement means. Your blog shows me the high price you pay for keeping a courageous face. I wonder in shame how many people I know have been going through similar hells and I did not notice it. It makes me ashamed.

    I admire you for your honesty, and I’m certain you are doing the best job a mother can do under such hard circumstances. Your children had a wonderful loving father, and his image and the love he gave to them will stay with them and build their personalities and feelings of self confidence.

    My little sister told me last summer (she is a young adult now): I know many people pity us because papa died when we were so young. But believe me, I wouldn’t change places with anyone. I’m so proud to be his daughter, and he gave us so much, and although he left too soon, I realize he is such a strong presence in my life”.

    I want to say: your children have a horrible loss to deal with, but they are Jeff’s children and will benefit from his love and personality all their lives. And I don’t mean to diminish the loss in any way, pls don’t misunderstand me – I really don’t.

    And they have YOU.

    Six months. I’m sorry your life sucks and I wish I could say something to cheer you up. I hope for you that in time, your life becomes bearable and that one day, you feel happy again. And I hope that you will still be blogging then so that this far-away lurker can be happy for you, too.

  2. I remember counting the days—hoping that by time passing, so would my pain. Well, it is tomorrow and I hope that you have found some form of hope for today. Just want you to know that I “get it”

  3. I am so sorry for your loss. It is never easy to lose someone you love. I lost my mom a year was the hardest time of my life I think. I cannot imagine losing my husband. I think you should be proud of yourself and making it to the 6 month point the way you have. You are still looking forward to tomorrow, even if it is to just load the dishwasher and nap. Some people wouldn’t even be getting out of bed at all! When mom died I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry all the time. I had lost my best friend, the one who knew almost all my secrets, my hurts, my dreams…she was mom. And she was gone. So, on some small level i can relate to what you are going through. Keep hanging in there and talk to your kids about him every through your life with him through them. See him in their eyes and smiles. He will be there…you will see him! He left a part of himself behind with them!

  4. I have no clue what it is like to lose a soul mate. I sorry for what your family has gone thur and I have written before, And I think you are a very strong women with great kids and you all will be stronger and different people than before. Jeff loves you all and I know angles send us their love all the time and they help us be strong.

  5. I’m sure Jeff would be so proud of you, and the fact that you do still have your humour

    Your kids are so lucky to have such a wonderful Mum

  6. django's mommy

    Laura, I feel your pain. I really, really do. Virtual hugs & vanilla vodka shots (I seem to be doling a lot of those out these days).

  7. I just discovered your blog today, because I followed the tag “widow”

    My husband just died, 11 days ago. Already, I can emphasize with your pain and mentality. We have two young daughters, and trying to explain to my oldest about viewings and funerals and what life will be like now that daddy isn’t here is horrendous.

    They say that the six month mark is the hardest. I don’t know why that is. I can’t imagine anything harder than right now.

    I survive every day, sleep and then wake to remember the reality that is my life. He is gone, and I am alone.

    Anyway, I just wanted you to know that your blog is encouraging. You survive. I hope I can do the same.

  8. Thinking of you.

  9. Laura

    Six months was very difficult, heck it has all be hard in one way or another. Being an only parent only makes it worse.

    Just remember this, you can also draw strength from your children, and your humor. My first response when someone else called me a widower, was “widower than what?”

    At around six months I wrote something about choosing how I live, I can’t seem to find it now, but it was similar to what you wrote about your plans for the next day. If we follow those plans or not is up to us. We make the choices on how we handle the death of our spouse. I hope you have the strength to make those tough choices, but don’t be too hard on yourself when you can’t.
    Grieving takes a lot from our minds and bodies, we need our strength, and have to find it where we can.

    I hope you find peace and hope.

  10. Take care of you on those extra hard days, be gentle with you. its o.k to feel sad for yourself.

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