Knock, Knock...
Who's there???
Owls...
Owls who?
That's right Daddy...Owls hoo!
Family and friends left after two weeks...I asked them to go...Luke had locked himself in the closet because he wanted everyone out of the house...I decided it was time. I was numb...the boys were starving for routine. Luke, Ben and I needed to find a rhythm, a new way to live.
I'm a swim or drown kind of guy...throw me in and see what happens. I know it wasn't the popular decision with some of my family members or friends...they didn't think I should try and go it alone. I'm not going to lie..it was pretty dark when the doors closed. Susan was the heart of our family...It was just us three now. We needed to find our own beat...our own pace...our own pulse. There was a lot we had to experience together...a lot we had to make sense out of together...a lot we had to discover on our own without being propped up. Some may call that isolation...I'll call it learning, growing and living.
My boys watched me long for my best friend, my lover, my wife. They witnessed pain that children shouldn't have to comprehend. But this was our reality. I can remember one of Luke's friends asking him why I was crying all the time. "He misses my Mom"....simple answer. The even simpler solution of his six year old friend was "But why is he sad? Everyone is happy in Heaven." Luke's thoughtful answer, "But we're not in Heaven. We still miss her." As I listened to that exchange, I knew my boy was forever changed...he understood past the cute and fuzzy explanation of death that even some adults still cling to...she's in a better place...she's happy now...she's not in pain...she's with God. Well that six year old knew one thing...she wasn't with us and we missed her and it hurt.
I broke down constantly those first weeks. I wailed, I dropped, I pleaded, I crumbled... For the first time, I felt outside of myself...out of control...frantic...I made noises I had never heard before. During one of those moments...Luke told me a Knock, Knock joke about an owl...I smiled, I stood, I laughed, I moved... My boy saved me. He keeps that joke in his bag of tricks. He never overuses it, but when the moment strikes...he brings it out...
Is it still funny? Not anymore...it's him saying, "Daddy I love you. We're going to be okay." My laugh says, "I know Lukey...thanks."
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