“You adore a woman who will forever be a little girl who lost her daddy. The very first man who loved her is no longer hers to have.”
‘Loving the girl who lost her father. This role isn’t for the faint of heart.’
‘He thought he lost his wedding ring. We went back in, couldn’t find it. I asked him again where he thinks he lost it. ‘I don’t know. I just heard it hit the ground.’
“He was confused. He was tired. I couldn’t even be upset. ‘We will find it. It’s ok.’ My heart said we would. My brain knew we wouldn’t. Right then, I accepted he was going to die, and he was going to do that without his ring.”
‘I play out the details of that final weekend in my head. Struck by how quickly it was all over. Just like that, she was gone. Gone forever.’
“It intensifies on November 8th. That is the day my soulmate came home for Veterans Day weekend. It was a Thursday evening, as it is this year. She kissed me goodbye, then my life was turned upside down.”
‘Do you want to tell me about her?’ I will never forget the way you leaned in, just like we were friends, and asked me about Dorothy.
“Thank you to the nurse who dressed my baby and took her picture. Thank you for making sure her hat didn’t cover her eyes and that her hands were positioned so gracefully. That picture means the world to us.”
‘When I lost my father at 18, you were there. You didn’t force me to talk about my emotions. You shared your father with me when I no longer had one.’
“As young parents I would call you crying because the task of being an adult was too overwhelming. I didn’t feel like enough of a wife or mother. You were kind to irrational postpartum me.”
‘There is a lot of fluid in there. I am going to get your doctor.’ My heart sank, and I debated calling my husband, but just sat there, numb, and decided to wait.’
“I trusted my doctor dearly, so I knew she’d have something good to say. She always did. She did not this time.”
‘If I could sit down beside the 25-year-old me. The one sobbing and screaming uncontrollably on the floor the day my Mom died, I would have a lot of things to tell her.’
“I would sit right beside the younger me who is screaming, ‘Why her??’ and ‘Where are YOU?? How did you just disappear??’ and ‘How am I going to survive this without you??'”
‘His dying wish was to be home. I never got to thank him for drying my tears when I was broken inside as a victim of bullying.’
“It’s the things I no longer remember that hurt so deeply. What it feels like to wrap my arms around his neck to hug him. I no longer remember the feeling of joy he brought me. Loving him feels like a lifetime ago.”
‘His breath became labored. My husband caressed his cheek and told him we’d be okay. But his eye searched ours, as if to be sure.’
“He was ours. I knew exactly where I wanted to go. I wanted our first family picture to be of our entire family. We drove straight from the hospital to the cemetery.”
‘My mom spent an hour in the driveway in and out of consciousness playing sidewalk chalk with my daughter. We left that night and I knew it would be the last time I saw her.’
“I had plans to go to her alone, but one hour before I left, I told my husband I needed him to come and that I wanted my daughter there too. I always had an intuition about her wellbeing.”
