Time

Time marches on.  It’s so hard to believe.  Tim used to make so much fun of me for my obsession with dates.  I’d always remember dates, birth dates, anniversaries, compare year after year, put significance in dates… when it was 12:23, I’d say it was my birthday in time… point out my sister’s birthday in time too.  He thought it was crazy, over-the-top. Mostly, I think he just liked to tease me about it.

At his bedside on June 11th, I promised I wouldn’t make a big deal out of the date, because he wouldn’t want me to. I’ve mostly kept to this.  I noticed 7/11… partially because it is his mother’s birthday, and because it was the date of the blood drive my company had in his name.  I largely let 8/11 go by unrecognized.  Mainly because I was packing for the beach. I didn’t acknowledge 9/11 in a big way other than to reflect on 9/11/2001.

But today I gave blood.  Which means it was 2 months or 8 weeks since the last time I gave blood.. the drive that was  in his name. The drive that was a month after he died. 3 months ago, my Tim breathed his last breaths on this earth.  It’s hard to avoid all that.  So I didn’t really try.  One of his friends told me we have to mark the passing of time.  Like it or not, I do.

This weekend we will celebrate what would have been my and Tim’s 7th wedding anniversary.  I have two big events planned – the dedication of a bench at the Vineyard where we were married and the planting of a tree in a nearby park that we liked and was where we took our family photos since moving to Fairfax.  It might be a lot.  But I wanted to fill the time… so I can’t wallow.  I look forward to this weekend and am grateful for all those who plan to join us!

It’s just so hard to believe.  As recently as early May, Tim was asking me what I might want to do for our anniversary this year…that seems like yesterday, and it also seems a lifetime ago.  Which I guess it was.

I can’t stop time, I can’t slow it down. I simply have to live in the present.  Breathe, survive the present.  Survive with my constant companion, Grief.  Try to recognize the wonderful moments with my little ones as they come.

Try to make a difference.

Any way that I can.

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Packing for the beach

Today, I packed for the beach.

It was really, really hard.

It should not have been.  With Tim here I still would have done all the packing.  But this time, I also loaded the car.  That wasn’t hard.  But this time, Tim wasn’t talking to me about whether I had packed yet, or whether I had remembered abc or what time we were leaving, or where was his xyz.

Mostly, it was hard because he should be here.  He should be going to the beach with us. This house that we stayed at last year when I was large-and-in-charge pregnant.  Where we walked on the beach together.  One of our favorite things to do.  And talk about the future.  All the possibilities.  Now I am living a future we never imagined. A future we never discussed.

Everyone worries about me and what I call “the logistics.”  I understand this.  I can take myself out of my life for a minute and imagine what I would feel/ think for a friend if this had happened to a friend and not to me.   I would worry about “the logistics.”  Because in early May  of this year, and every minute before, raising these tiny humans was hard, and exhausting, all-consuming.  And there are so many logistics.  All that is still there, I know.  But it seems completely different now. The logistics are no longer what is hard.  I seem to just know that somehow (and with lots of help from a lot of amazing friends and family) the logistics will be taken care of each day.  I will find the strength to handle the details – the bill-paying, the working, the child-caring.  It’s the sadness and the broken heart that make the future truly unimaginable.

Sometimes the missing him makes my throat close and the air seem so hard to swallow.