Just Half

Jaelyn had her first soccer game of the season today.  I kept looking next to me expecting to see Scott sitting there cheering her on.  Everywhere I look, he is missing from the picture.  I am used to being half of a whole – now I just feel like a half. When we get together with friends, it doesn’t feel right – I am the only half of a couple there – which highlights Scott’s absence, yet I draw strength from being with friends. 

 I don’t think I realized how hard today was for Jaelyn also, until this evening.  She spent some time writing in her journal tonight, even while we were watching the Bertrand kids.  I checked her journal later and she had written about missing her daddy and that he was an angel.  But when she came down from her shower, she climbed up in my lap.  Jaelyn told me that she missed daddy and that she wanted to die just to see daddy again.  I told her that it would break my heart if she died – it is hard enough missing daddy, but to miss her also would break my heart.  Bedtimes are so difficult.  She clings to me until she falls asleep and almost every night at bedtime tells me, “Mommy, you can never leave me.”

It is hard enough dealing with my own grief and loss, but to help a seven year old deal with her grief and loss makes it triple as hard.  I think one of the most overwhelming things about grief is the knowledge that it isn’t going to go away overnight, in three months, or even in a year.  It is hard to stay focused on just one day at a time, but it is overwhelming to think beyond a day at a time.