It happens everyday, after the work day ends, and I eagerly grab my keys to go. I hope in the mommy-van and pull out of the parking garage. At about the same spot – the spot where I would reach for my phone, call to compare notes on our days, and let him know that I am on my way home – the emptiness makes itself known.
There all day, but hidden, it i s now so visible in the evening light. As I drive, I give in to it. I let it take over. I sometimes even put on the music that reminds me of him, and of us.
I make the final stop at the stop-sign and turn onto my street. I see his truck in the driveway and remember that it doesn’t mean that he is home. Nope. No matter how much I dream it, he isn’t going to come home. The emptiness fills the house too.
It’s everywhere. It’s in the house, at the baseball games, in my heart, and on the kids’ faces. The emptiness is not going anywhere, and time is not going to make it any less. I suppose that we will just get better at filling the gaps with other stuff.
Hope you soon find a peace to fill the empty times.
Juls,
Your post is poignant. My heart breaks for the emptiness in your lives and in your home. I don’t believe it will go away, but I think maybe it will become a dull ache that you will learn to live with – always there, always felt, but kind of pushed to the back of the mind, just so you can survive. Maybe you will rail against that thought – not willing to push Tom to the back of the mind – I don’t think it will happen consciously, but slowly, with the passage of time. I doubt that my words can help at all, I can only hope that it helps you to know that my thoughts are with you and your boys.
I am sad for you. Your sadness is palpable. I hope you get some comfort from people’s words. However unamazing they are.
I’m going to try again. I think that sadness for you comes from knowing that place. That place where you reach for the phone, shoot the email or leave a message. And the fear that one day you won’t be able to do those things. My sadness is for you and for me. Through your sadness I hold mine loves a little closer and remember to be a little wiser.
I wanted to say something here, because this post really grabbed me. But the words just won’t come. :(
Juls, I hope that some day the memories will fill you with joy and celebration of a wonderful life and man. Hugs…
No need for anyone to say anything of substance here.
I am somewhat reassured that along with the sadness comes the wonderful memories. These are memories that I want to have such as seeing his lovely blue eyes looking at me, the time that we spent together with the kids, and without them. I think that it would be unusual to not have the empty feeling in the time slots that he once filled.
Although my days are filled with work, that is hard to find any value in, I *am* functioning and I know that in time I’ll do a better job at that too.
Juls – I can feel your sense of emptiness. I don’t think anything ever ‘fills it up’ but I do think it changes shape a little over time. It visits less often. I also think that over time grief finds a new form and you learn to let it sit beside you instead of having it eat at your heart so much. I’m sure there will always be those moments where you are acutely aware of the empty space that Tom once occupied but as you’ve said, you will get better at soothing it with memories.
Hugs to you.
Nothing new from me that hasn’t already been said. But virtual hugs are always nice, right?
*more hugs from me*
((hugs))
My heart goes out to you, Juls. Take care.