Come to Me. Or Happy Halloween.

It's Halloween. Again. The day that veil lifts, and the living and dead coexist closer than any other day of the year. Or so they say. And so I stand tonight at the window, after the candy has been given, pumpkins extinguished, costumes shed, and children are hopefully long in bed, looking out. Wondering where he is, if he can see me. If he is here at all....

I don’t love Halloween. I watch Gavin get dressed up, and share in his excitement, but deep down I am thinking back to our first one, together as a family. Gavin was three weeks old. Kurt wanted to dress him up and parade him about. I was a tired, new, first time mom. And I convinced my not so tired husband to wait a year, until he was older and could appreciate it. Kurt went along with it, and I think Gavin slept through his first Halloween, like most three week old babies do. We pulled out the plastic pumpkin from the basement because it was easier. There was always next year.

The next year, like promised, our son dressed up. He went out to a few houses, even though I turned down the candy at each. And his dad was not there to see it.

Kurt’s first Halloween as a daddy was also his last Halloween as a daddy. He never saw his son dress up. Never carved a pumpkin. Never knocked on the neighbours door yelling Trick or Treat. And as I watch our little pirate, so excited about today, I regret the fact that Kurt never got to experience it because of me. I never gave him that opportunity. I was too tired. And there were many, many more years ahead.

Or so we all thought.

I hope today that that veil really is as thin as legends say. And that there is something for you beyond this life. I hope that Kurt was able to watch his cow, his monkey, his train, his pirate as the years passed. I can’t give him what he wanted. Can’t take back what was is already done. So I can only hope in some way he is getting it now. And I hope he is smiling a smile as big as his little boy’s. And that he is here.

In the early days after Kurt’s passing, when I was less jaded about the world, less uncertain about my beliefs, I would ask Kurt to come to me, talk to me, visit me in my dreams. For well over a year, every night, before closing my eyes, those were the last words I spoke aloud. Somewhere along the line, I stopped doing that. Out loud, anyway. That’s probably about the time that I started to doubt there was anything beyond the here and now. But tonight, just in case, I will ask him again. And if the world between us really is as blurred as they say, even if I don’t necessarily believe, I still know that I hope he answers.

Come to me, answer me, prove me wrong. Let me see you one more time. Just so I know you can see us, can see him.

Happy Halloween.

Giving Thanks

I often look back on the years past and wish I had spent more time smelling the roses.  Appreciating the little things in life as well as the bigger things.  Taking notice of those things I so easily took for granted.  Because while the memories are sweet, the actual experience was sweeter.

I, like so many people I know, was too busy chasing tomorrow to stop and really appreciate all I had in today.  And then, before I knew it, today was gone...

Its not the big things that make a life worth living.  Its not actually things at all.  I can guarantee you that when Kurt died, I did not wish we had bought a larger house, faster car, or newest smart phone.  I wished that we had time together.  And even today, as I stare at his picture, I do not pine for things.  I pine for time.  Time is the one thing that, once gone, you cannot have back.  You cannot always simply go buy another minute.  Once that moment has passed, there is no guarantee anything similar will come around again.

That is why, on the Thanksgiving Day, I am most thankful for time.  Time spent with family and friends.  Time spent watching Gavin play, laugh, and grow.  Time spent in quiet contemplation now that he is asleep.

We are not remembered once we have left the earth for what we had.  Rather, we are remembered for what we did - how we spent our time.

I spent mine today watching a little boy romp through fields of corn, cuddle animals, and bounce in bouncy houses.  It was time well spent, and if I were to die tomorrow, I would not have thought it a day wasted.

And I am thankful for that.

Inside Out

Image can be found here...

I'm bleeding from the inside out.  Its not a wound you can see.  Not a wound you can put a bandaid on.  Not a wound that will show on any x-ray, or be revealed in any blood test.  But its a wound that is very, very real.

You can mend a broken limb.  Fix a broken body.  But what is the cure for a broken heart?  A broken soul?  A broken being?

I know the world looks at me and says "Come on, its been three years..."  I know they cast their judging eyes my way, form silent opinions in their head.  I know they think I should get on with things.  That this has dragged on long enough.  And I agree with them.  I just can't seem to figure out how.

When you leave a wound untreated long enough, it gets infected.  Goes septic.  Eventually poisons the entire body.  And kills you.

That's what has happened to me.

I buried the hurt under a mountain of responsibility.  I ignored the flashbacks.  Accepted the nightmares.  I ran from the emotions faster than sprinters run the 100 meters.  I thought I left everything far behind.  I thought I was doing pretty well - at least on the outside.  I was hiding it so well even I couldn't feel it sometimes.

But my inside, where the hurt still lays, has caught up with me.  You can't run forever...

Now the foundation I have been standing on for the past three years is slowly crumbling.  I'm watching my world fall around me.  The things I clung to for safety are gone.  The people who held me up have moved on.  I have only myself to rely on.  And I'm simply too weak, too tired from running for far too long.

I don't know what to do.  Do I jump into the abyss that now surrounds me?  Or do I stay where I am hoping someone - anyone - will throw me a life raft?  Knowing that life raft will probably never come.  Do I go, or do I stay?  Do I paste a smile and ignore the impending disaster?  Or finally cry the tears - the real tears - that have lived hidden deep inside?

For three years I have stood firm in my decisions.  Confident that not feeling was simply safer than feeling.  That with time the wound would scab and heal on its own.

I think I know that is not the case.  And I know I do not possess what it takes to deal with this on my own.  But where do you go from here?  And can I accept the consequences or either direction?

Or is it really too late?

I'm still bleeding from the inside out.  But have I already bled to death deep down inside?

Your Child...

Our baby boy is four today.  The baby you helped bring into the world is no longer that infant child you last cast eyes on the day you died.  He's his own little person, his own little man, carrying your genetics but shaped mostly by his mother's hand and the world in which he lives.

I wish you could have known him.  I wish you could have heard him giggle when he gets tickled under the arm.  Or watched him sing and dance in the middle of the living room floor.  I wish you could have been taught the name of every train in Sodor, and got down on your knees to play.  Been subject to his pout, his snarl, but also his smile.  I wish you could have felt his arms around your neck.  I wish you were his best friend instead of me...

I know the boy I live with is not the same boy that would have been had you been alive to mould him.  But I wish you could have had the time to get to know each other just the same.  And I wish I had been allowed to meet that boy too - the one who would grow up with his daddy to play with, to spend time with.  I wish our child had been allowed to blossom into the child he was supposed to be.

If you are out there, I know you are proud of him.  I know you love him.  I just wish you could have felt those ways here - with him.  With us.

I want to say our son will grow up just fine.  That he will be okay without his daddy's hand to hold.  But the truth is I just don't know.  There's no way to know if things will turn out better or worse.  If things will turn out okay.  All I can do is hold our son tight enough for the both of us, trust that instinct that I hold deep within, and continue to raise him in a manner that is both right for me, and would make you proud.

We have a wonderful little boy, Kurt.  And I'm trying, despite the bumpy road we have been given, to do good - both to him, and to you.  And no matter how brief your hand held him, your influence remains.  Regardless of who raises him, he is always one half you.  There are days I look at him and marvel at the strength of genetics.  Little things he does, little ways he dos them, that do nothing but remind me of you.

I know you didn't plan for your legacy to last thins long without you, but thank you for giving me, and trusting me to keep, your legacy well.  I'll do the best I can.  Because I know he is a pretty special little man.  With a very special dad.

You have a hell of a kid, Kurt.  And he's gonna give his mom a hell of a ride.  He's the only thing in this world I have ever loved as much as I love you.

Thank you.

Labour Day

This was Kurt's self portrait four years ago - his depiction of what he was going to look like when the baby was born.

 It was four years ago today that I was induced. At about the exact time Gavin blows out his candles at his party this evening, four years ago I was admitted to hospital to begin a pretty crazy ride.

 Tomorrow I celebrate Gavin. Right now, its all about this man. The man who blew in my face to distract me when the epidural didn't work. Who cracked a joke when the Dr. said "Oh shit" as things went awry to ease the tension. Who held my hand all night, and cried bigger tears than me when his son was finally born.

 I still believe, despite the chaos in the room, the most intimate moments a couple can share are those moments when they are bringing their child into the world. I know it was for us. I treasure that day. And I miss, with all my heart, the man who shared it with me. I hold close every moment we had together. And wish, beyond all wishes, that we had been granted just one more. Gavin is the ultimate product of the best gift I have ever been blessed to receive... his love.

Thank you, Kurtis. I love you. Always

Man's Work

Image can be found here...

I mowed the lawn for probably the last time this year last night.  And as I pushed his lawnmower over his grass, I thought of him.  This was his job.  So was taking out the trash.  Changing the furnace filter.  Cleaning the builtin vac canister.  Changing the oil.  Even scrubbing the toilets was a chore left only to him.

I do them now because I have to.  Because if I didn't no one would.  But while they are part of my schedule, my routine, they are still his jobs.  Things he should be doing.  And probably always will be...

There seems to so much on my shoulders, on top of the weight of the world.

I think he got the easy way out....