The absense of thought. That's what it comes down to for me. If I can just hold onto enough clarity to keep from thinking, life can go on. I know the facts. I know what's happened, but I can't think about what it all means or how permanent it is or how it affects me, my kids, the families... I just can't. It's too big and it's so painful. What a disgusting truth. I rest in knowledge that he's fine. Somewhere. He's fine. Heaven-- he's fine. I'll see him again. I'll hear his laugh. I'll get to hug him. Hugs were stolen from us in March. Hugs. :( There were moments of tenderness, but his nerves were just so raw, touch was painful. I know he tried. I know it upset him. Put that on the list of things I can't think about. I just have to recognize that this absence is temporary.
I got really upset a couple weeks ago when a discussion was going on about relationships in Heaven and if they'd be the same as they are here. The answer at the time was "no". That doesn't sit well with me, but I don't know if I'm right. I hope I am. I want my husband back. He was good. GOOD. Good to the core. He didn't suck like some do. He was good, giving, kind, funny, generous, let me be me, creative, joyful, a man of God, detemined, goal-oriented. He was a leader. He was stepping into all that the Word calls a husband to be. We were learning together how to have this partnership. I know we spent the first years of our marriage just living, not purposefully living. It was after we had Aubrey that we stepped into adulthood a bit more. With Aidan and Aaron's new job at TR, I think we became real adults. But that surgery and diagnosis catapulted us into a whole new level of grown-up. With each week, we stepped into more. By the end of that first 8 months, we were different people. We respected each other more. Bickering was over. Nit-picking? What's that? We had learned a whole new value for the other person. He can't be gone. This is temporary.
I'm just not sure how to deal with this particular phase of life. Right now, I'm trying out oblivion. Feels about right. I don't want to look back on this time and realize that I didn't deal with it, but I think I am--- kinda. I'm acknowleding the situation. I'm doing the things that need done. I'm thinking about the gravity of it all at times (mostly when driving which isn't my best idea, but I don't have that much control and confirms the fear that you need to be worried about who you meet on the road). I've thought about what this means for me, my kids. I've asked myself where do I go from here. I'm attempting to make no rash decisions. I'm keeping busy. And, when I can, I'm attempting to not think about the ifs, ands, what ifs, maybes, perhaps... as much as humanly possible. I'm wrapped up in duct tape and refusing to feel besides those little moment that I'm able to steal away and completely fall apart. Just shatter. How could this man be gone? How can I do this alone(ish)? Who's going to be my other 1/2 and reign me in? Who's going to understand me like no one else? Who do I get to take on trips and share parenting with? Who's going to spoil me and love it when I spoil him? All kinds of very important, pressing questions, right? How do I honor him? If I can't fix this, what now? Yes... these are all the things that I don't think about and try to banish to an area of thoughtlessness.
I got really upset a couple weeks ago when a discussion was going on about relationships in Heaven and if they'd be the same as they are here. The answer at the time was "no". That doesn't sit well with me, but I don't know if I'm right. I hope I am. I want my husband back. He was good. GOOD. Good to the core. He didn't suck like some do. He was good, giving, kind, funny, generous, let me be me, creative, joyful, a man of God, detemined, goal-oriented. He was a leader. He was stepping into all that the Word calls a husband to be. We were learning together how to have this partnership. I know we spent the first years of our marriage just living, not purposefully living. It was after we had Aubrey that we stepped into adulthood a bit more. With Aidan and Aaron's new job at TR, I think we became real adults. But that surgery and diagnosis catapulted us into a whole new level of grown-up. With each week, we stepped into more. By the end of that first 8 months, we were different people. We respected each other more. Bickering was over. Nit-picking? What's that? We had learned a whole new value for the other person. He can't be gone. This is temporary.
I'm just not sure how to deal with this particular phase of life. Right now, I'm trying out oblivion. Feels about right. I don't want to look back on this time and realize that I didn't deal with it, but I think I am--- kinda. I'm acknowleding the situation. I'm doing the things that need done. I'm thinking about the gravity of it all at times (mostly when driving which isn't my best idea, but I don't have that much control and confirms the fear that you need to be worried about who you meet on the road). I've thought about what this means for me, my kids. I've asked myself where do I go from here. I'm attempting to make no rash decisions. I'm keeping busy. And, when I can, I'm attempting to not think about the ifs, ands, what ifs, maybes, perhaps... as much as humanly possible. I'm wrapped up in duct tape and refusing to feel besides those little moment that I'm able to steal away and completely fall apart. Just shatter. How could this man be gone? How can I do this alone(ish)? Who's going to be my other 1/2 and reign me in? Who's going to understand me like no one else? Who do I get to take on trips and share parenting with? Who's going to spoil me and love it when I spoil him? All kinds of very important, pressing questions, right? How do I honor him? If I can't fix this, what now? Yes... these are all the things that I don't think about and try to banish to an area of thoughtlessness.
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