What was the hardest thing you’re dealing with?
The death of my child’s father. Just when I think I’m finally doing better, I’m a mess all over again. Just when I feel I’m accepting it, that he’s really gone, I think about packing the baby’s diaper bag and spending the day with him. Only to remember no wait he’s gone.
Death has a way where it feels like he died yesterday, yet at the same time it feels so much longer than the (right over) two months it’s really been.
Missing him is an understatement.
I had a dream a few nights ago, and he was alive. For whatever reason, I had gone by the apartment, and there he was- standing in the kitchen, larger than life. I felt such relief upon seeing him.
I was also miffed he hadn’t bothered letting me know he was alive. I said to him, “You’re alive!”
He looked at me, and said “well yeah.”
I still couldn’t believe it even as I looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think you were dead for two months? Do you know how hard this has been on me?” I laid into him.
And despite it being a dream, he answered the way I can only imagine he would if he were alive still, “I’m sorry. I was busy.”
In my dream, that didn’t cut it for me. I turned to put the baby to bed.
I know that if he were alive, he would tell me. He wouldn’t be “too busy” to let me know. Even if he didn’t find the time to tell me per-say, his love for his daughter would drive him to me to get to her.
I woke up, and that dream threw me in a funk all day. It was so real, him standing before me in the kitchen.
Memories fade over time. Faces blur. Right now I can still picture him well, but one day it’ll be hard to conjure up him standing before me, or me laying on his chest. Right now, I let myself think about him, to picture him, trying to make these images as real as possible so hopefully they don’t fade.
It’s pointless, I’m sure. Time will eventually take hold. It always does.