Lets just say, I survived it. I made it through another Fathers Day without Pete. However in some ways this feels like the first one. It's like last year, I don't remember much. I was still so numbed out in so many ways. It's this year that all the holidays, anniversaries, birthday, etc. are the ones I really feel fully. Today felt a little like dooms day. Even though I know, that I am so blessed to have had Pete. Without him I wouldn't have three beautiful children. Along with 6 very happy years. But still it is what it is. Another "crazy" monumental moment without him.
All the families that that have their husbands and kids together. Those families who have the uncles and grandpa's over for that special "Dad's cookout". Today I had this overwhelming urge to shout out, "What about the children who are fatherless?" What about them?" Yes, they can still wish their grandfathers and their uncles Happy Fathers day. But is it has hard for them to say, as it is for me? It's almost like the words get stuck in my throat and I wish I didn't have to speak. Although, I am so grateful for the uncles, grandparents, and such. In my family they are good "fathers". It's feeling that sad and awful realization I can't say it to my husband. My kids can't say it to their Daddy. Their Truly amazing Daddy.
I wanted to do something with the kids that would honor Pete today. A friend suggested we do something he liked to do. Like bake a cake, or go out to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. Both of those of course felt too hard. But an idea came to me. When Pete and I were engaged and then even after we got married. If we were asked to bring something to a gathering or party we brought "Taffy Apple Pizza", its very tasty. So I thought why not make that for Pete today. It's a happy memory and it would make me feel good to share it with them. To share something about Daddy, before he was daddy. So we went to the store got all the ingredients and came home. However once home, I thought "I can't do this." I can't make this without him". I don't want to go in my house and have to make something that I know he likes. He is not even here to eat it! I got the kids out of the car and unlocked the front door. I came back outside and sat on the side of the car. CL was still asleep, in his carseat. I just sat there. Thinking all these thoughts . I felt immobilized. I held my phone in my hand and txt my younger sister. I asked her if she could get away for 30 minutes. That there was a project I wanted to do with the kids but couldn't seem to get out of the car to do it.
Thankfully she came over. With tears running down my face we walked into the house and started getting the ingredients and such together. The kids helped stir, and put this or that into a bowl. I told them how this was one of Daddy's favorite sweet treats. Once the cookie part was in the oven. I looked at my sister and said Thank you, I needed to do this for the kids and for myself, but I couldn't;t seem to get started. Thank you for being with me. For helping me get through this. She smiled and gave me a big hug and went back to my Dad's to finish helping with preparations. After she left the cookie was done and the kids and I assembled it. We had done it. With a little help, some tears, and a little push from those who love us. We took it with us to the cookout and everyone had a piece. It was nice to be able to share a little bit of "Pete" with everyone.
The party was nice and the food was good. The kids were all tired out and sweaty and in desperate need of a bath. As I was driving home I remembered something my sister had said about when CL was a baby. She said How when she used to stay and spend the night at my house on Wednesday nights she and I would stay up and eat peanut M&M's. I had totally forgotten that. It was like that feeling of "How could I forget something so important" But I did. I had to reach back and remember us doing that. Like a file thats at the back of the drawer. But it went back to me saying earlier about how its the second year where things are so totally real. People aren't kidding when they say the second year is harder. Well, yeah. Your awake now, your out of your coma. It's feeling that loss like a ton of bricks. No, I mean really feeling it. Yes, I felt it before. The loss, the hurt, the excruciating pain that I never want to feel again. However it's this year, this second year, that I feel the sadness. The sad for my children. The sad for myself. The sad of what Pete is missing. Physically missing! It's that feeling where my hear hurts and is so sad my core wants to just turn inward and hide. It's a little like being lonly in a room full of people.
I felt as I drove home that I was back to that not wanting to go home to no one. To open the door and no one is inside waiting. That frustration and overwhelming sense that I just don't have the patience to keep moving forward. The other worst feeling is having absolutely no patience for even listening to my kids telly me a funny story. I love their little voices and the ideas they come up with, but, it's in these moments that I can't listen, I cant reason, I cant be rational. My first action is to get frustrated an yell. I know, great example I am setting. In some ways I know it is just my minds way of saying "Look Lady you have had enough for today."
However if I could just stand back, I would see that Pete's spirit is with us. That he and God are guiding us along. To help me put one foot in front of the other. To pursue, to go onward and upward. We survived it. Another Fathers day. The kids talked about Daddy and they said they missed him. But they also seemed happy to have the "Special" desert we made just for him. Weather they ate it or not, it was something that was a part of him. Maybe it will be a new tradition for us for "Fathers Day".
For now I feel happy that the kids had fun. I feel thankful for my sister for coming to my rescue to help push me forward. I am grateful that we did it. We made something for Pete. In making it I remembered a fun time in our lives, in that the kids learned a little something new about their Daddy. And the amazing and fun man that he was. Happy Fathers Day Roo, you are/were the best Daddy to our children. We are all so lucky and grateful for the times and the Fathers Days that we got to spend with you.
All the families that that have their husbands and kids together. Those families who have the uncles and grandpa's over for that special "Dad's cookout". Today I had this overwhelming urge to shout out, "What about the children who are fatherless?" What about them?" Yes, they can still wish their grandfathers and their uncles Happy Fathers day. But is it has hard for them to say, as it is for me? It's almost like the words get stuck in my throat and I wish I didn't have to speak. Although, I am so grateful for the uncles, grandparents, and such. In my family they are good "fathers". It's feeling that sad and awful realization I can't say it to my husband. My kids can't say it to their Daddy. Their Truly amazing Daddy.
I wanted to do something with the kids that would honor Pete today. A friend suggested we do something he liked to do. Like bake a cake, or go out to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. Both of those of course felt too hard. But an idea came to me. When Pete and I were engaged and then even after we got married. If we were asked to bring something to a gathering or party we brought "Taffy Apple Pizza", its very tasty. So I thought why not make that for Pete today. It's a happy memory and it would make me feel good to share it with them. To share something about Daddy, before he was daddy. So we went to the store got all the ingredients and came home. However once home, I thought "I can't do this." I can't make this without him". I don't want to go in my house and have to make something that I know he likes. He is not even here to eat it! I got the kids out of the car and unlocked the front door. I came back outside and sat on the side of the car. CL was still asleep, in his carseat. I just sat there. Thinking all these thoughts . I felt immobilized. I held my phone in my hand and txt my younger sister. I asked her if she could get away for 30 minutes. That there was a project I wanted to do with the kids but couldn't seem to get out of the car to do it.
Thankfully she came over. With tears running down my face we walked into the house and started getting the ingredients and such together. The kids helped stir, and put this or that into a bowl. I told them how this was one of Daddy's favorite sweet treats. Once the cookie part was in the oven. I looked at my sister and said Thank you, I needed to do this for the kids and for myself, but I couldn't;t seem to get started. Thank you for being with me. For helping me get through this. She smiled and gave me a big hug and went back to my Dad's to finish helping with preparations. After she left the cookie was done and the kids and I assembled it. We had done it. With a little help, some tears, and a little push from those who love us. We took it with us to the cookout and everyone had a piece. It was nice to be able to share a little bit of "Pete" with everyone.
The party was nice and the food was good. The kids were all tired out and sweaty and in desperate need of a bath. As I was driving home I remembered something my sister had said about when CL was a baby. She said How when she used to stay and spend the night at my house on Wednesday nights she and I would stay up and eat peanut M&M's. I had totally forgotten that. It was like that feeling of "How could I forget something so important" But I did. I had to reach back and remember us doing that. Like a file thats at the back of the drawer. But it went back to me saying earlier about how its the second year where things are so totally real. People aren't kidding when they say the second year is harder. Well, yeah. Your awake now, your out of your coma. It's feeling that loss like a ton of bricks. No, I mean really feeling it. Yes, I felt it before. The loss, the hurt, the excruciating pain that I never want to feel again. However it's this year, this second year, that I feel the sadness. The sad for my children. The sad for myself. The sad of what Pete is missing. Physically missing! It's that feeling where my hear hurts and is so sad my core wants to just turn inward and hide. It's a little like being lonly in a room full of people.
I felt as I drove home that I was back to that not wanting to go home to no one. To open the door and no one is inside waiting. That frustration and overwhelming sense that I just don't have the patience to keep moving forward. The other worst feeling is having absolutely no patience for even listening to my kids telly me a funny story. I love their little voices and the ideas they come up with, but, it's in these moments that I can't listen, I cant reason, I cant be rational. My first action is to get frustrated an yell. I know, great example I am setting. In some ways I know it is just my minds way of saying "Look Lady you have had enough for today."
However if I could just stand back, I would see that Pete's spirit is with us. That he and God are guiding us along. To help me put one foot in front of the other. To pursue, to go onward and upward. We survived it. Another Fathers day. The kids talked about Daddy and they said they missed him. But they also seemed happy to have the "Special" desert we made just for him. Weather they ate it or not, it was something that was a part of him. Maybe it will be a new tradition for us for "Fathers Day".
For now I feel happy that the kids had fun. I feel thankful for my sister for coming to my rescue to help push me forward. I am grateful that we did it. We made something for Pete. In making it I remembered a fun time in our lives, in that the kids learned a little something new about their Daddy. And the amazing and fun man that he was. Happy Fathers Day Roo, you are/were the best Daddy to our children. We are all so lucky and grateful for the times and the Fathers Days that we got to spend with you.
Kathryn,
ReplyDeleteFather's Day was hard for me as well. Empty and sad. James' son disappointed him before James died and surely would have disappointed him since his death. The son's pain is too great. He has gone his own way, and I have no one to grieve with, to share stories with, no one who feels even half of what I'm feeling for James.
I pray God lifts both of us up and wraps us in His protective light and love and shows us the way.
Brenda