Tuesday Morning

by | Sep 22, 2010 | 0 comments

I feel OK.  When I feel OK it is because I feel proud I am doing this, but also because I’ve forgotten how very permanent your absence is for a little while.  I don’t know how long it will take for that to sink in.  I will never see you again.

Every time I have a little time alone in the apartment like I did this morning…I get a few things done all the while talking aloud- telling you that you died- with curse words included.  This has become my routine.  It helps somehow.

I think about all of the plans we had and how simple it seems for you to just have come home.  I remember talking a lot to a friend who is a military wife when you were first traveling because she understood the dynamics- especially of the adjusting period every time you came back.  I thought and said then, “Well, at least I’m lucky that he’s just touring as a musician and not a soldier.  I don’t have to have that fear every day of receiving that phone call or someone coming to the door.”

Audrey and I continue to “remember Appa” for a bit each morning at breakfast.  There is a picture of you and her framed on the table, and she says, “I love you Appa,” to the picture – her own idea.  I wish you had heard her say those precious words- you never did.

She was only speaking a few two syllable words before you left- how suddenly and subtly that has changed- I often forget as she and I are talking in basic conversations that you never had this form of communication with her.  I am sorry for that- I know you would’ve loved it.  I can only imagine the silly conversations you and Audrey would’ve had.

This morning while I did breakfast dishes, we were talking about going apple and pumpkin picking.  She said, “Appa come apple pick ing!”  I turned and looked at her, and she knew.  She just asks sometimes to see if it’s possible at all I think or if anything has changed.  I sat by her and told her, “No, Appa can’t come remember?”  Lately if I tell her you died, she says, “Mama die?”  or “Audrey die?”  I’m sure she can’t process what this means at all- especially because she has no details.  This morning I told her, “His body stopped working- he got hurt while he was traveling.”  This is something the books on children grieving say to tell small children.   “Au drey bah dee top wo king?”  she asked.

I asked her if she missed you, and she said “ye” which means yes.

JAC

September 22, 2010

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

You May Also Like…

List-making in a Dark Time

List-making in a Dark Time

For any other list-makers out there, I published this on HerStories yesterday.""In this time of quarantine, my lists are offering me space outside of the walls of my home, a way of making sense of chaos, a self-imposed structure on structure-less days, and even a way...

Simple Things

Simple Things

"In our deepest self we keep living with the illusion that we will always be the same." Henri Nowen "It's really very simple," my late spiritual director, Gladys, once said to me. She was talking about how she lived each day, waking up, having a written conversation...

Continuous Living

Continuous Living

"Anxiety turns us toward courage, because the other alternative is despair." Paul Tillich I've claimed "seasonal affective disorder" for years, and that may be so, but I'm starting to realize it's not only summer to fall that is hard for me. It's winter to spring, and...