Monday

Monday morning started with Ben in tears.  


Nothing hurts like seeing your child ache...long...and cry...for his mother.  And there was nothing I could do...but hold him and say...I miss her too...


And I do...but the difference is...he eventually went on with his day...and I couldn't.  The pain of losing Susan strikes particularly deep on certain days...and Monday was one of those days.


Ben's tears started after Luke told him his birthday was only a day away.  Instantly I could see the pain hit him...he knew...I want Mommy to be at my Birthday.  Then it struck me...and it lasted all day.


I was able to control my sorrow for most of the day...so I could function...so I could get us through the day.   I tried to stay busy...I tried to evade the pain...push it aside...sweep it under the carpet. But it was still there...and eventually...I knew it would emerge.


Before dinner...I found myself in the basement...trying to avoid it...by organizing.  But there was too much of Susan in those piles...every time I tried to sort things...another memory surfaced...and tears rolled down my face.  


So I moved to an area that would not be interwoven with memories of Susan...the boxes and bins of hand me down clothes the boys had received from their cousins.  


I began making Goodwill bags out of all the clothes the boys would never wear.  One pile to keep...one pile to donate.  It worked for awhile.  The tears dried...and I was together enough to cook a good meal for the boys...and smile a bit at dinner.


After we finished eating...the rain started...and there was no outside for us to escape to on a Monday night.  The boys played in the basement...and I decided to continue my avoidance with the boxes of hand me downs...that's when I came upon some bins with her handwriting....0-3 months...3-6 months...6-9 months...9-12 months...the boys' old clothes.


I opened the bins...one by one.  


Memories flooded my head...and I began to drown in my own tears.  Every shirt...bib... and set of pajamas...held a memory...a time that only Susan and I had shared with one of the boys.  


Stories and moments filled my mind.  But now I held all those memories alone...never to laugh with her about them again.  No one else could possibly understand the joy that happened when my boys wore those clothes.  


It was shocking and heartbreaking to realize that no other person on this earth...could understand the importance of Luke's stained light blue onesie...beacuse they weren't there...when Luke laughed for the first time. 


So the tears rolled...and the sobbing started...and the boys came.  They touched me...and held my face.  Luke wrapped himself around me...as if he was trying to pull the pain out of me...but I just wailed.  It was all too much...I wanted her back...I needed her.


Eventually...I melted into Luke's lap on the basement stairs...and he stroked my head as I bawled. 

I had no idea a human being could cry for an hour...but I did.  At one point I knew I needed help.  I had to be with someone...or talk to someone.  I had to be understood.  

I stood with the phone in my hand...and had no idea who to call.  I wasn't sure I could put what was happening to me into words.  I didn't think anyone could understand...and all I wanted was to be understood...and I was just too tired to explain.

So I hung up the phone...and went it alone.  I pulled myself together...and gave the boys a shower.  I brushed their teeth...and put them in pajamas.

Then I put them in bed...and fell down beside them.  I laid there...thinking...and wishing...and cursing...until I fell asleep.

There are moments when I feel hope...and think that the boys and I will eventually be okay...but on days like Monday...I feel hopeless...and alone.