Conner and I drove back from my sister's house yesterday and we talked a little of Mike on the drive. It was drizzling rain and we spotted a beautiful rainbow in the distance. I actually pulled over to take a picture. 
Conner said, "Mom, I'm starting to forget the big stuff but I remember the little stuff." I asked what big stuff he has forgotten. He replied, "Dad's voice. But I remember one time he woke me up to go look at a rainbow. I mean, that's not something big but I'll never forget it."
My heart broke. Again.
I explained to my son that every single memory we have of his dad is now part of the "big stuff".
The special nights when Mike would sleep in the floor on a huge pallet of blankets with his sons is big stuff. The moments when he and Conner would sit on the couch, perusing Walmart.com for guns or random toys is big stuff. Teaching his sons how to do something on the farm is big stuff.
Then there are moments as his wife that I cherish as big stuff. The feel of his whiskers when he rubbed his goatee against my cheek just being silly is part of the big stuff. The crazy way he would apply Vicks vapor rub all over his chest and nose and even his lips (gag) at night is part of the big stuff. The way he would only wear his "sexy jeans" I bought him from Gap a long time ago out on date nights is the big stuff. The way his chest would swell with pride when we went out and I was by his side is the big stuff. There are so many things I could ramble on about being big stuff, but you get the idea.
When someone we love with every fiber of our being dies, every second of our time we had with them makes up the big stuff. And then once they are gone forever, all the big stuff that they are missing becomes painful.
Our son starts seventh grade this week and he and I are both experiencing anxiety over it; his dad isn't here to walk him through it. I'll never forget the last open house Mike was able to make. It was the start of fifth grade, the year he left us, and Conner was elated to have both parents there. Mike had always attended open house. Last year was the first with only me; I can tell it bothers Conner to see all the kids with both parents. It's part of our painful big stuff.
Con is thinking about playing Jr High baseball in the Spring. The last time he played, his dad was there. Having a dad root for you in the stands is big stuff; not having him there is huge stuff.
My point is this: life will never be the same for either of us. Even the simplest of days, like this rainy August day, is something big. Mike should be here for it all. Rainy day movie marathon with popcorn; snuggles during a special night with his boy; taking a first day back to school picture of his wife and son; giving his boy advice about Jr high; and much more are all moments he should be here for.
Your moments with your family may seem simple and insignificant; it may be no big deal to you to have your spouse at home right now. He may be annoying the heck out of you. He may have dirty laundry piled in the bathroom floor, or cow manure stained clothes sending an awesome scent wafting through your house; he may be snoring noisily next to you as you are trying to hear your shows. Be grateful. Memorize the smells, the sounds, the feelings. Memorize them all. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, the dark callouses that cover his palms...all of it. Because you never know when it will all be gone and you or your child will start to forget.
Take everything as big stuff. Because it is.
We love and miss you immeasurably. And no one knows the depth of the pain and sadness. I hope your smile is spreading all over Heaven and that the Angels are happier with you there.
#stillhis
Love, NFAxI...
Veronica
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