When we lost Caleb, I remember turning to Aaron and telling him, "People lose their marriages over tragedies like this. I don't want this horrible thing happening to us to change who we are or how we interact with each other."
I think we did a pretty good job, but, at the end of the day, I see areas of our relationship that were affected. Directly because of that experience. Painful places. Places we can't get back. It was crippling to continue to experience loss in our relationship when we'd already shouldered so much. I don't think it hurt our dealings with each other. I know that I leaned on my husband entirely during that time and he carried me. He carried me. I was a zombie. He was my function. And I know that, once I got out of my well, I was his.
Now, here I am again. I've lost something near and dear to me. I've lost something that is--- was---- me.
I heard a quote this week in a song that said something like, losing you -- it is as if my ability to breathe has been taken. I get that. I can breathe. But it would be so easy to forget how to right now. In fact, I can't even put too much thought into breathing because then I remember your last one as if it's happening in front of me all over again and there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it.