It’s supposed to rain the next few days, but lead way to an absolutely gorgeous weekend weather-wise. Sunny and highs in the low 80s. Perfect summer weather. Only…what do we DO?
Mike and I have been together 11 years; married for almost 8. We’ve always had such a great time together and can find something to do any time. We’ve taken plenty of pointless road trips, gone Sunday driving, hit up the amusement parks, logged our fair share of hours at the ballpark. You name it, we’ve done it.
So then why is it so hard to figure out a way to spend a beautiful weekend? Why? Well, for starters, 1/3 of our family is missing. Incomplete. NOTHING feels good to do without her. Absolutely nothing. Try as we might (and we do try) it feels like every opportunity, every plan is riddled with either painful memories of “the last time we…” or the “we never got to…” We try to be there for each other; fake excitement if the other is; understand disinterest if the other isn’t. We try. But neither of us know how to navigate and when one is up, the other is down. So the cycle of grief goes.
Camping? No. The silence come nightfall would be absolutely deafening and I’m certain it would consume me. Beach? Without her? No. The memories too fresh of last summer and the ONLY beach trip she ever got to take. Oh how she loved it there. Kings Dominion? No. Again. Without her? No. I won’t ever be able to go to Disney or Busch Gardens again. Brunch? Winery? With all of the dads around and their kids for Father’s Day? Ouch. No.
We don’t have any other children. No “we have to do it for (insert theoretical other child’s name here.)” No end of school parties, soccer tournaments or swim meets. We have no household projects because we’ve spent all of our time in the LAST month working on those. Our only errand is grocery shopping (which is a land mine in itself.) Even the Nats are on a West Coast road trip.
It’s. Just. Us. And us used to be okay. Just us was GREAT. Until we had her. And everything changed and SO MUCH for the better.
We didn’t just lose her when she died. We lost each other. We lost our lives. I have no idea what our little family of three would be doing this weekend if she were here. If she hadn’t relapsed. But I know it wouldn’t be painful to figure out. In fact it would be joyous. Kate LOVED adventure. She LOVED going new places and seeing new things and she was JUST starting to have that chance. Even if we were just splashing around in Grandma’s pool. It wouldn’t matter. We’d be together, our family complete.