I am trying so hard to feel okay, but I wake up and I am in so much pain all over again. I don’t understand why you are not here to cuddle me and have coffee. I have plenty to do. I have 3 children, 4 cats, a hamster, a now disgusting house and this blog. Oh. And law school. But I am so empty. It feels pointless. The house is so messy and at bedtime last night R mentioned to me how messy it was. Mind you, comparatively I know it isn’t that bad, but to the standard we held the house to before you passed, it is filthy “to us.” R asked me “Mommy, why don’t you seem to care anymore about anything?” And I told him it’s hard. I told him I just spend most of the time thinking about Daddy and that makes me not care. He replied and said “Me too. I don’t care about anything anymore. But if Daddy was alive I would care about everything.”
If my husband knew what his son had just said to me, he would have shattered into a million pieces. Jesse couldn’t handle the kids being upset over basic things. He wanted to protect them as long as he could from the cruelness of the world. I find this ironic piercing in my heart every day watching them suffer, knowing how conflicting that is with what was so important to their Dad.