Right now I am thinking about how
deeply sad I am. My heart just aches. Like, actually aches. I can feel it.
I felt it tonight when my husband turned on the Christmas station and the song
came on that the carolers sing in the Jaws movie. Both, Christmas and the Jaws
movie make me think of my dad. I had to walk out of the room. My escape? The
laundry room. Because we know no one else in my family is going to willingly go
in there. I cried. A. Lot. I wiped my face with a baby wipe and returned to the rest
of dinner clean up while the kids rough housed with Jeremiah.
Grief doesn’t give you a warning or
wait until you are prepared to be sad, until you have taken off your non-water
proof mascara. But, luckily, I haven’t worn make up except to church in months.
The summer tan is no longer saving me. Henry said tonight, mom, why is your
face so red? Jeremiah said, honey, you looked tired. Sadness, four children,
moving in 3 days, and general aging is taking its toll.
Maybe I need to at least put the
waterproof mascara on and some pressed powder. You would think that really
wouldn’t be that hard. Two minutes tops right? Then, why isn’t it happening? I
remember a few years ago, pre-twins, I even put those two items, along with
some lip-gloss in my car hoping that could encourage the habit. Once the kids
are buckled, I will certainly do it. Bert’s Bees is about it. Fail. But, my dad
always thought I was beautiful. He told me every.single.time. he saw me. In gym
clothes, 9 months pregnant with twins, my wedding day, his face looked the
same. I was adored. He really was my first love. There is no one I felt better
around. I enjoyed myself the most with him.
He showed me what it meant to be
comfortable in my skin, to take a compliment, and that kindness mattered. I
wanted many more years with him to learn that even more; to see him walk out
his days in such kindness, such beauty, such friendship. I wanted my children
to see it. I wanted my husband to see it. There was just not enough time.
He would have loved this weekend
coming up. I’m literally going crazy with stress but I can picture him walking
up my huge front steps with his blue Duke sweatshirt on and khaki pants, saying
“its all going to be ok.” He would hug Henry and Callaway, and kiss Lindley and
Mills wishing them a happy second birthday. He would have loved to hold them,
see them blow out their candles, and open their presents. He would have loved
our new house, seeing our life unfold at my “big girl house” as my mom called
it. He would have played with the kids in the back yard while mom and I arranged
pictures and moved furniture so many different places. He would have been so
happy because we were happy.
I don’t know why he isn’t still here
with us. I don’t know why he left us so early. God’s timing is perfect even
when it is not the perfect time for me. I am trying to remember that and not
cry through every Christmas song that plays from now until the New Year.
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