I’ve been wanting to write another post for a while, but it seems like there is always something else needing my attention. Being an only parent doesn’t leave a lot of time for meaningful activities. (An aside — right now I like the term “only parent” to define myself. I agree with Taya over at MrsTDJ.com’s distinction between single and only parent.)
Today after I put my son to bed, I started my nightly routine and as I did, caught a peek of myself in the corner of my eye as I walked by a mirror. I looked tired and most of all, very sad. I wasn’t surprised as I had spent the last couple of hours feeling pretty weepy and missing my husband. But it made me even sadder to think this was the face my son sees looking back at him. Luckily, he is too young yet for this to really impact him in a way that he will remember, and I really make an effort to put on a happy face around him.
The reality is, though, that I am intensely sad. I miss my husband like crazy. Today I missed him because my son is starting solids and my husband would have been so thrilled to start sharing his love of food with our baby. I can just see him getting excited for him to be old enough to cook with. And the crazy thing is, sometimes the things I’m imagining in my head aren’t even things that, had Mike lived, he would have been able to do with Henry. Sometimes I wonder if I’m mourning the loss of my husband or the loss of the life I imagined having when I had children with Michael. I know he would have been an amazing father and sometimes I get so mad at myself for putting off having children for so long. Maybe he could have enjoyed the experience more, had more time to be a father, if I wasn’t so selfish. I know regret is a normal part of grieving though.
It doesn’t take much for me to miss him.
It’s been three months since my husband passed away and I’m starting to think about moving. I am about a one and a half hour drive from most of my family and friends, and it would be nice to live closer to them again. That part makes sense and being near my support system sounds very, very nice. But the thought of selling the home my husband and I bought together, the house we painted together and landscaped together and picked out furniture for, the house my husband worked so hard to get for me, the house we brought our baby home from the hospital to, the house my husband took his last breath in… It’s incredibly hard to think about.
There’s no need to rush into anything, but sometimes I’m incredibly impatient to start my new life. I feel like I am in this limbo stage between my old life and whatever my new life is going to be. It’s going to take time to figure out, though, and I need to find a way to be OK with living in that process.