Not Your Typical Night, But It Is Ours...

Widowed. Fatherless. That's who we are. It is not something for which we planned or could have ever imagined. It is not something for which we could have ever prepared ourselves. It is not a badge of honor, but instead it is a glowing scar across our souls. It is who we are. Is it ALL that we are? Absolutely not. But it defines our days, our actions, our patterns of thought, and more. And no one understands it unless they are scarred the same way we are. 

Tonight my son and I went to dinner at a local restaurant. We had a gift certificate that my in-laws had given me in July for my birthday. So, we went on our mother-son date, ate a great dinner, and talked about daddy. We arrived home and Conner asked if we could go see him. See that's what we say...we don't say "let's go to the cemetery", or "let's go to the graveyard". We say, "let's go see daddy." 

My stomach literally fills with anxiety the second we turn onto the road that leads to the cemetery. I begin having trouble keeping my breaths steady and my hands take on that same old tremble. As we inch closer to the gravel drive that leads into the gated, beautiful cemetery nestled amidst a cattle farm, I have to will myself to take a few deep breaths. I do this because I know once I kneel in front of my husband, I will lose all control. It is the same every time, no matter if it has been months or only days since our last visit. It never gets easier and the tears never lessen. 

Tonight our "date night" might not have been typical for most people, but to a widow and her son, it was. We can be having a totally "normal" day and then something hits us that sends us to that stone with the etched farm scene. Conner took his turn first, as is usual, and I waited beneath the huge shade tree behind him. The breeze blew and I could have stayed there forever. 

Once my son finished talking to his dad, it was my turn to take that dreaded walk. I know that some people say, "you don't have to go." I know I don't have to, but it is the only place we can basically lose all control with our sobs without feeling like a spectacle. And he's my husband; I will always go see him. And Conner will always go see his dad. And I know others say we don't have to go just to try and protect us; everyone knows how taxing it is on us. But my heart will always pull me to Michael's final resting place. 

That is where I last said goodbye as I held onto his casket one last time before they lowered him into the cold December ground. Nestled in the middle of a cattle farm, surrounded by barns and cows grazing, adorned with shade trees with welcoming branches, my husband sleeps beside his family. And our "typical" days are not what others expect, but they are ours. 

I ask tonight that you wrap your arms around those you love. Breathe them in. Hold them tight. Say I love you a million times. Smile and laugh and dance and sing. And if your typical day includes a visit to your lost loved one too, then God Bless you and yours with strength and love. 

We love you and miss you baby. More than any words can measure. 

NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica