I picked Bear up from school yesterday. It’s the first time that I’ve done that since he started kindergarten in mid-August. He always goes to the PM program and I pick him up from there, about 3 hours after school is out. But I wasn’t feeling well so I left work early and picked him up on my way home.
I felt so out of place. The other parents who were there picking their kids up had relationships with each other – they knew each other from the other days that they pick up their kids and I felt like such an outsider. I didn’t even know if I was in the right place or where to stand and wait. I felt very much “less than” in the Mom department. I looked around at the other parents and wondered what they did, profession-wise, that allowed them to be off at 2pm on a weekday. Even the guy on the Harley, with a thick blond pony-tail down his back – he was there to pick up his child.
When Steve was alive, we both chose to work. I find myself wondering if I’d feel differently about Bear and school and picking him up if Steve were alive. Perhaps I want what I can’t have because now I can’t have it. A lot of parents go back to work when their kids start school.
For the first time since Bear started school, I felt like I was missing something. I know the PM program is fine – it’s a well-used program and it’s safe and they keep him busy after school – but God how I wish I didn’t have to use it. I wish I could pick Bear up every day. The look on his face when he saw me was priceless – he was SO excited this HIS Mom was there to pick HIM up. He asked if I could pick him up today too and I had to sadly tell him no, that I needed to work, but that we’d do something fun after I picked him up. Last night, I was ready to chuck it all and move into a double-wide just to be able to pick him up from school more often. But I know that isn’t the answer and it’s not what Steve and I wanted – for us or for Bear. I know it’s temporary but man, it was tough yesterday.
Some days I wonder if I shouldn’t just pack up and move to Oregon, take over my Dad’s t-shirt business and live a simpler life. But it wouldn’t be simple. Self-employment is tough and there are no guarantees of income or success. I’d have to get our own health insurance policy which would be astronomical. And the real estate market absolutely sucks – I wouldn’t make much on the house and that’s not good in the long term.
I know I just need to sit tight and know that this is a phase but it’s hard. I don’t know where my life is going. I’ve always had a plan – and I don’t have one. I’m sick again and had to have blood drawn on Monday. The phlebotomist, I learned, was also a widow of 14 years. It was sudden, as well – her husband was in the military – and she had a 12 year old daughter who is 26 now. I asked if she ever remarried and she said no. She looked sad when she said it. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. I’m not ready to date and I don’t want to rush into anything anytime soon. But some day – I’d like to fall in love again. I’d like to be in a relationship again. I’d like Bear to grow up in a family of three. I don’t if that’ll ever happen. For nearly 10 years, all of my plans included Steve. They never included widowhood. The other night, after I put Bear to bed, I was overcome with just how much I missed Steve. I ended up on my knees in the hallway, hugging his urn while I cried. It’s the closest I can physically get to what is left of him. God, I miss that man. So much.
Everyone talks about the first year being the hardest. And it is hard. For months, I could barely make it through a Tuesday without reliving each and every minute of the day. And the 7th of each month made me cringe. Each milestone without him – birthdays, holidays, things Bear did for the first time – all hard. But the second year brings its own heartache and reality. He is never coming home. I will never joke with him again. I will never go to bed with him or wake up with him next to me. I’ll never wait up for him to safely make it home from work, waiting to hear the garage door opener followed by his keys in the door. He’ll never play with Bear again or joke with him again. I think the second year is harder than the first.
BUT -- with all of this sadness and heartache, I know that I will be happy again. Some day. Bear and I ended up having a good day yesterday – I wasn’t feeling well but we played a game, played Connect-4, put a puzzle together… I’m trying to make sure we have good, quality 1:1 time. He’s my rock – all 42 lbs of him! I asked him recently what he’d think if I had a boyfriend some day. He said he’d be okay with it – but no Grandpas. They need to be able to wrestle! God, I love that kid!
It'll be okay... Just having a moment.
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