I feel like Willy Wonka when he says so much to see, so little time to do it, except for me it's more like so many feelings, so little time to process them. A friend of mine came to me recently and told me that two days after you died, he had a dream. His deceased fiancee was there and told him to tell his neighbor friend (ie: me) that her husband (ie: you) was both so sorry and loved her and the children. I have no reason to believe he was lying as it's not like he has anything to gain from telling me this. The whole conversation led me to believe that if you were able to have a do over, that you wouldn't make the same choice. Granted, I have always believed that. I have always believed that it was a spur of the moment impulse that you acted on without thinking through all the consequences. I have always believed that and I always will because not only do I know how much you loved me, I know how much you loved our children and I will NEVER believe that you made the decision to hurt us, to leave us while you were thinking clearly. However, hearing about this dream did help to give me a bit of peace. It was the confirmation and sign I had desperately needed. Unfortunately, it also made me wish that I had a rewind button. The remote from click. I'd use it to go back to that night, I'd change everything about that weekend. I'd do so many things differently. I'd love you better. I'd appreciate you more. I'd kiss you harder and I'd hug you tighter. Sadly, life isn't a movie. We don't get a do over and I don't have the remote from click.
I can't bring you back. I can't change the things we did or didn't do. I can't take back the things we said or say the things I wish we had said. All I have left are memories and photographs. I don't have the joy or hope of the future. I don't have you and I won't again until we are reunited in Heaven. You made your choice and whether others agree with me and think it wasn't a well thought out choice or whether they believe that you premeditated the entire thing, doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because it doesn't change anything. Your children and I now live with the consequences of your decision and we carry the pain that was once yours. I don't fault you for that. I am not angry with you. I just miss you. They miss you. We miss what was and what should have been and we are learning how to survive without you and it's harder than it looks.
Actually, outside of having to live without you, raise children without you, give up the dreams I had with you, and having to permanently miss you, I think this is the hardest . Appearing to be better at surviving without you than I actually am. I am good at filling my days and keeping busy. I am good at smiling and telling people that I am okay, when they ask me how I am doing. I am good at saying I have good days and bad days but making it seem like I likely have more good days than bad. I am good at taking care of the kids and going through the motions. The zoloft that I am taking likely is a contributing factor in why I am so good at it.
What people don't know, however, is that I still have more bad days than good. I am just good at keeping it to myself. People don't see the exhaustion. They don't see the tears that I cry every night. They don't see the longing that I feel and the what ifs that run through my head. They don't see the dreams that I wish could come true or the heartache that I silently carry. They see the bags under my eyes but I am sure that they likely think it's from being the mom of two babies under three, but really they're from grief. They see the shell of who I was and the empty smile that I am able to give. I said once, I don't think I really have happy days, just days that are a little less sad and I still feel that way. I don't really have good days, just days that are a little less hard. And that leads me to what I was saying earlier, that's the hardest part. Watching everyone else's world keep right on going when mine has stopped.
I am not saying people don't still miss you. I am not saying it's not still hard for them. I know they miss you. I know they still have hard days, but I also know that their lives have continued to go on as normal. They can go more than an hour, probably more than a day without thinking of and wishing for you. I can't. I am permanently stuck on November 06, 2016 at 8:04 PM. Everyone's lives have gone on and mine as seemingly ended. I miss everything about you. I miss singing with you while you played the bass. I miss writing you love letters. I miss texting you. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss what I hoped for. And I miss what should have been. I miss everything and I miss it just like I did the night this all happened. I miss you just as much as I did yesterday and yesterday I missed you just as much as I did November 6, 2016 at 8:04 PM and I think I always will.
I have a sweet friend named, Kayla. She's slightly younger than me, but has a small child almost a year younger than Sawyer and she lost her husband the same way that I lost you, the only difference was the method. We have bonded quite a bit and talking to her is one of the things besides our children that helps me through most days. You'd like her a lot. She'd have liked you too. You'd have also have liked her tattoos and I think you would have liked her husband. We all have so much in common, not just individually but as couples as well. She summed up my feelings perfectly today when she sent me this quote: "I don't pay attention to the world ending. It has ended for me many times and began again in the morning." I don't think there's anymore explanation than that needed.
Anyway, I am getting tattoos in your honor the weekend after next. I think you'll like them. I also think your headstone should come in soon. I think you'll like it as well and it will be nice for the kids and I to be able to visit and be with you. It'll be nice to feel close to you again. Tell Jesus to come back soon, I am ready to be home with he, you, and the kids. I am ready to feel your arms and even more than that the arms of Jesus around me.
I love you. I miss you. Forever.
Always,
Jess
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