Good Grief

I don’t ever want to forget this feeling of love for Tom that I am currently feeling. It’s not that I forgot how much I loved him. It’s just that so often it got hidden beneath the pressures of life. Kids, marriage, career, house, friendships, running and goal chasing are just a few of my distractions. Each distraction has an overabundance of sub-categories that are fully equipped with tasks—further distracting me. It happens to all of us. It will happen to you if you let it. Don’t let it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know that I loved Tom, or that he loved me. It just hasn’t felt this intense for a long time. The “better” and “worse”, “richer” and “poorer” have co-existed with this love. Perhaps, I took it for granted. Perhaps we all did.

Now, the awareness of just how deep and strong that love actually was, is coupled with a mixed bag of emotions. I’m happy and sad, full and empty, confident and insecure all at the same time.

Each time that the kids do something where Tom would have exploded with anger, I miss the parenting help and, at the same time, am relieved that we are pardoned from the negativity that came with those outbursts. Every time the kids do something cute or otherwise wonderful, I wish Tom were around to smile or laugh with, saying “Thanks creating these wonderful creatures with me. Aren’t they great?!”

Here I sit, basking in the heat of the Sonoma sun like a teenage girl. The view is spectacular and the pool is inviting. I look around and can only see Tom lying on the deck burning his Irish skin, or in the pool holding baby YaYa. Their eyes are as blue and inviting as the pool water.

Good grief; I do miss him.