The moment the words were out of his mouth, I felt rage. Instant rage. Of course we were standing in the shop out back- which is where my husband spent most of his time, and where he died. My emotions are always close to the surface out there.
I hate feeling sorry for myself. Really, I do (all evidence to the contrary). This is one of those issues that push my buttons so fast I can almost feel my head start spinning (like in The Exorcist). His son is so small and so cute. He's four (I know, because I asked). My baby was three when Dave died. Sam was 5, Chris was 7. They were so young.
My kids get so mad when I call them my babies- but they'll always be my babies. When the paramedics were working on Dave I just kept thinking over and over, "Oh, my babies." Every chance they had to make memories with their Dad ended on Oct. 1, 2009. Jake will never know his dad at anything other than the level of a three year old. He won't talk to him about girlfriends, or puberty, or his first job. Sam won't be able to read to his dad as he masters the skill of reading. None of them will be able to show their dad the projects they make. There will be no more water fights, no more working in the garden and watching their father obsess over making everything perfectly square and in line.
All the small memories that make up a relationship- they're finished.
I'm so glad that most children won't ever have to deal with losing a parent while they're still a child. It's not that my friend is divorced. It's not that his son is lucky enough to have two parents. The comparison between what others have and what we don't have- it's heart breaking.
I'm furious that Dave's gone. Every time I think I've moved forward and healed a bit- something like this happens to remind me that while I may look fairly still on the surface- underneath I'm paddling like crazy. I'd bet that people never realize when something flips that switch. I don't say anything, but I can feel all the hair on my head stand on end and my skin gets very cold. It feels a lot like the initial shock- so very cold. So often people tell me how strong I am. I'm not strong. I'm mad... and I have a feeling that it's going to be a very long time before I get over it.
*For the record, in case anyone is wondering, I don't like it when people censor themselves either in an attempt to protect me :-) I guess the truth is that it's the situation and not the comments that set me off.
So- please don't quit speaking freely around me.