Jeremy with his Pheasant hunting buddies - Jon, John, and Mark.
This weekend, I've noticed this indescribable panic start to set in to my body. Not an alarming anxiety-type panic, but rather the unsettling truth of my reality seeping into my heart.
I'm realizing with each passing day that Jeremy is slowly slipping through my fingertips and no matter how tight I try to hold on, another day will still come. Another day without the one I was suppose to spend all my days with.
This weekend, I received Jer's last pay stub from his last paycheck at work. They paid him through the end of February, but I was not prepared for the onset of emotions caused by the notification on my iphone for the direct deposit. I don't care about the money, it's the tangible confirmation that Jeremy's life is falling further and further into the distance. Just another reminder that life is going to continue on without him. It's not new anymore for people, life must keep going. But it still feels so fresh in my heart, and I don't want anything to keep going.
So many things have happened in the last 110 days, it has allowed me in small ways to not have to deal with my reality. My grief is there, make no mistake, but I'm terrified of facing the beast head on, worried I might not recover. I fear Grief will knock me out for the count, and win this fight I'm very ill-equiped to handle. So instead, I stand in my corner of the ring, shuffling from foot to foot, looking like I'm ready to fight, ready to move forward, when in reality it's just fancy footwork to keep me from having to actually defend myself.
Maybe it was that this weekend almost felt like a conclusion to all the things that were allowing me to hold on to Jeremy without really dealing with his absence. All these little milestones that I absolutely dreaded having to face were actually excuses for me to escape. Yesterday, a Jeremy King Memorial Pheasant Hunt took place to raise money for college funds for our children. Jer's family came into town for the weekend to participate and support, Jer's friends from all different walks of his life came together and had a good time. But this event was on my calendar for awhile and marked the end of a long series of dates on my calendar: The birth of Jer's niece, Grayci, Christmas, New Years, recording a CD in Jer's memory, Gulf Coast, the birth of Carter, Jeremy's birthday....now that they're all over, I find myself panicked about what to do next. Faith turns 5 in two more weeks, and after that I have nothing to focus my energy on except the harsh reality of this new life as Jeremy's widow and only parent to our three children. The new title alone is overwhelming.
It was a good weekend. It was good to be around Jeremy's family and friends - that's where I feel closest to him. And I feel like I'm starting to get 'used to' this routine, if that's even possible. It's not so startling every morning when I wake up and realize oh yeah, I've got to do this alone again, my husband is dead. It still makes me sick, it's just not as surprising anymore. It's when we're all low on fuel without naps and I'm sitting at home with three kids crying about three different things that reality becomes too much to face. If someone had told me my life would end up in this place, I would have ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction.
I'm still not ready for this. I'm not ready to face the future alone. I'm not prepared for this intense loneliness that is soaking into my bones, this hunger for a warm presence. A reliable presence to lean on, to talk to, to share my day with, to love me at my best and my worst, to accept my crazy, and to help ease the load that we created together. Even though I'm used to having the kids during the day and taking care of them myself at times, knowing that daddy will never be there again to help really makes the responsibility seem so much bigger and less possible.
I'm ready for this joke to be over. It's really not funny anymore.