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It has been 16 weeks since I saw Joe. I can't even believe it.
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It is hard for me to know what to write anymore. I feel like...how much sadness can I put down for others to see?
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Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
Questions
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I am often wondering in my head....is it enough?
The love that I have for my children, the time I spend with them, the things I do for them...I just wonder, can I give them what they need? Will it be enough?
I used to think how lucky my children were to have Joe for a father. He was fun and played games with them and sat with them and read them books. He was loving and outgoing and so unafraid of the world. He was so BIG.
I wanted and thought our children would learn how to live by example. In my head I thought they would learn "X" from their father and learn "X" from their mother....and they would learn what a loving and repectful marriage was from Joe and I...and they would learn that our family of 4 was a precious unit...and they would always feel safe and comforted in their home. I was living that before the accident and now it's gone.
I know that we have friends and family and many people that love us. And I know that we are not "alone". But I also know that that dream above is gone. That is difficult.
So I am always wondering, can I provide my children with all they need to not just get by in life, but to thrive? The way they would have if Joe was here?
The other question I think about and am somewhat haunted by is....Was it enough? I think of this in terms of Joe and I, so specifically....Was I enough? I feel a certain amount of pressure to have been the wife of someone who died young. It probably sounds silly....or...whatever...but I just wonder if I did enough for him.
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Please do not comment to this post.
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I am often wondering in my head....is it enough?
The love that I have for my children, the time I spend with them, the things I do for them...I just wonder, can I give them what they need? Will it be enough?
I used to think how lucky my children were to have Joe for a father. He was fun and played games with them and sat with them and read them books. He was loving and outgoing and so unafraid of the world. He was so BIG.
I wanted and thought our children would learn how to live by example. In my head I thought they would learn "X" from their father and learn "X" from their mother....and they would learn what a loving and repectful marriage was from Joe and I...and they would learn that our family of 4 was a precious unit...and they would always feel safe and comforted in their home. I was living that before the accident and now it's gone.
I know that we have friends and family and many people that love us. And I know that we are not "alone". But I also know that that dream above is gone. That is difficult.
So I am always wondering, can I provide my children with all they need to not just get by in life, but to thrive? The way they would have if Joe was here?
The other question I think about and am somewhat haunted by is....Was it enough? I think of this in terms of Joe and I, so specifically....Was I enough? I feel a certain amount of pressure to have been the wife of someone who died young. It probably sounds silly....or...whatever...but I just wonder if I did enough for him.
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Please do not comment to this post.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
ChaliFOUR
When Luke was around age 3 and learning his last name, I used to tell him that our name was "ChaliFOUR" because there are four people in our family. I told him that before Alyssa was born our last name was "Chalithree". Yes, maybe it seems mean to do to a kid but it was all in fun. After a while (months at least) he figured out that I was kidding. However, even after he figured it out I still always stuck to my guns that our name is ChaliFOUR because there were 4 of us. He would just smile at me like I was crazy.
So for the last three months I have been dreading the topic coming up. When we talk about our last name, or when Alyssa says it, as she likes to do now, I am afraid that my silliness will come to Luke's mind and make him as sad as it makes me.
He doesn't say anything about it.
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So for the last three months I have been dreading the topic coming up. When we talk about our last name, or when Alyssa says it, as she likes to do now, I am afraid that my silliness will come to Luke's mind and make him as sad as it makes me.
He doesn't say anything about it.
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Friday, November 2, 2007
No one knows what to do or say for someone in my shoes. Grief is individual, different for everyone. In the last few weeks I have been thinking if I had a "perfect" person that was doing/saying exactly what I wanted and needed, what would that person be like? I wanted to write some of it down because it tells a lot about how I am feeling.
That person would:
...understand why one minute I am pissed at Joe for having a motorcycle and the next minute I am grateful that he had a motorcycle.
...know that no matter what I say about Joe, be it in a moment when I am angry at him, that I have the deepest love that one person can have for another. Nothing that I say changes that.
...keep telling me that everything will be okay.
...not call me and expect me to talk for any length of time.
...send me emails.
...tell me stories of other kids who live without their fathers (for whatever reasons) and how they don't seem to have a hole in their heart.
...not tell me detailed stories of other people's grief or their own (about Joe). I can not handle it. Unless I ask.
...not ask me to make plans too far in advance.
...not tell me/let me hear stories of how they found out about Joe's accident. Unless I ask.
...keep bad news from me that I don't need to hear.
...go for walks with me.
...not care that my house is a mess, and not expect me to wait on them when they are here.
...keep telling me that one day I will be happy again and I will think of Joe with a good feeling.
...help me figure out how to store Joe's things. But not make me do it.
...help me through Friday nights. And Sundays.
...show me that this is life......this is not the end of the world. That people get through this.
...know that I was half of the marriage.
...know that the Disco ball was mine.
...give me easy, fast, healthy recipes to feed my kids.
...not be as sad about Joe as I am.
...help me pass time.
...let me know that they think about me often.
...let me know that they will put up with my doom and gloom, for as long as it lasts.
...remember that my toothbrush is the only one in the holder.
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That person would:
...understand why one minute I am pissed at Joe for having a motorcycle and the next minute I am grateful that he had a motorcycle.
...know that no matter what I say about Joe, be it in a moment when I am angry at him, that I have the deepest love that one person can have for another. Nothing that I say changes that.
...keep telling me that everything will be okay.
...not call me and expect me to talk for any length of time.
...send me emails.
...tell me stories of other kids who live without their fathers (for whatever reasons) and how they don't seem to have a hole in their heart.
...not tell me detailed stories of other people's grief or their own (about Joe). I can not handle it. Unless I ask.
...not ask me to make plans too far in advance.
...not tell me/let me hear stories of how they found out about Joe's accident. Unless I ask.
...keep bad news from me that I don't need to hear.
...go for walks with me.
...not care that my house is a mess, and not expect me to wait on them when they are here.
...keep telling me that one day I will be happy again and I will think of Joe with a good feeling.
...help me figure out how to store Joe's things. But not make me do it.
...help me through Friday nights. And Sundays.
...show me that this is life......this is not the end of the world. That people get through this.
...know that I was half of the marriage.
...know that the Disco ball was mine.
...give me easy, fast, healthy recipes to feed my kids.
...not be as sad about Joe as I am.
...help me pass time.
...let me know that they think about me often.
...let me know that they will put up with my doom and gloom, for as long as it lasts.
...remember that my toothbrush is the only one in the holder.
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Thursday, November 1, 2007
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How do you go on when the person you were going to share the rest of your life with just never comes home?
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just......never......comes.....home
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No hearing his voice again.
No seeing his face again.
No spending time with him again.
Not another moment with him.
Just nothing.
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But all of his stuff is still here.
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I am living with this every moment of every day. This is my life now. I don't even know how to make sense of it.
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How do you go on when the person you were going to share the rest of your life with just never comes home?
.
just......never......comes.....home
.
.
No hearing his voice again.
No seeing his face again.
No spending time with him again.
Not another moment with him.
Just nothing.
.
But all of his stuff is still here.
.
I am living with this every moment of every day. This is my life now. I don't even know how to make sense of it.
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