|I originally hated this movie and then I watched it.|
I'm sobbing. Not able to catch my breath sobbing.
The scene was funny, (I don't actually remember what it even was, but I was laughing), then in a flash there was a cut away to a totally new scene. It showed a man and a woman lying closely together in bed. The two were looking at each other in "that" way and he was stroking her hair.
It kind of felt like I was shot in the stomach when I saw this image.
My husband will be dead 11 weeks tomorrow. That's almost 3 months. Up until the last couple of days of his life I would sleep with him on the hospital bed that was in our home. He was a big man and it was hard to move him as he had become paralyzed, so I had to lay pillows on the bar that was a side railing, to be able to be close to him. He would rub my head just like in the movie.
Right before watching this movie I had a long conversation with my big girl about her daddy. "The day he died, we made a signal because he couldn't talk," she said. "I would squeeze his hand 3 times for I LOVE YOU, and he would squeeze my hand 3 times back."
I didn't get those type of hand squeezes. I asked him to raise him thumb a bit if he needed me to wet his mouth. He did and I wet his mouth. We had already had all of the conversations to be had, all of the "I'm sorry's" - "I wish we had" - "I promise I will's" - and "I'll miss you's".
His final words spoken out loud were "I love you." Not to me, not to his parents, but directly to the faces of his children. The two most precious beings in this world got his last thought. I tried to explain to my daughter as we cried that daddy loved you so much and he didn't want to die.
We are not a family buried deeply in faith, but I told her that I believed that daddy was looking over us. "I know", she said. "BUT IT'S NOT THE SAME!!! I WANT TO TOUCH HIM AGAIN." How can I answer that demand to a 10 year old whose heart has been broken? Then I went into see my son who cried, "Why, why, why did this have to happen to me?" Another question I cannot answer in a sufficient way to help soothe his soul.
Exhausted from the nightly "why's", I went down to my mother's room to get some air. "Ugh, Bridesmaids is on. I hate this movie", I thought. Then I found myself laughing HYSTERICALLY. Then I found myself crying HYSTERICALLY. The operative word being HYSTERICAL.
Death kind of trumps everything else that's going on around you. It sneaks up on you. Meeting with a landscaper yesterday I told him, "I need the lawn, garden, and flowers to look exactly like Eric would have made it look!!!" Knowing it's not possible to duplicate the hard work that Eric put into his own home, I put my head down for a moment to catch myself from crying.
Trying to plot out my family's future, with nobody else who has skin in the game, has become a daunting and overwhelming task. I look inside of myself and try to think and try to remember....what would Eric do? In real life, he doesn't answer. In real life, it's all me. In real life, I am alone with nobody to lie next to. In real life, there is nobody to stroke my hair.
In real life, I look put together. In real life, I cry for my children daily.
In real life, I might just be hysterical, but you'll never see it.