When I Grow Up: Two Out of Three

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Gavin announced today that he wants to be a pilot when he grows up.  Its the first time I have heard him express his desires for the future, aside from wanting a trip to the playground or Grandma and Pappa’s house.  And while I know it will change once, twice, or a dozen times between now and next year, let alone the day he turn 18 or 21, listening to him express dreams, goals, and desires – listening to him talk about the future – makes my heart sing.

Growing up, one of my first aspirations was to be a mommy.  That and a figure skater.  And at least half of those childhood dreams came true.  As I aged, the latter one changed.  Teacher, nurse, astronaut, pharmacologist.  Along with it, though, I always wanted to be a mom.  And, as I became old enough to appreciate the fairy tale wedding and the notion of prince charmings and happily ever afters, I also wanted to be a wife.

Which takes us to today.  I know I should feel lucky – blessed even – that two thirds of my dreams came true.  While I never landed a triple salchow, flew to the moon or discovered medication that would cure cancer, the ones that really matter I got to do.  Got to experience.  And I know through them I will leave my mark on my little part of the world.

I am a mother.  And will be a mother until I die.  I am bringing up our son in a manner I hope his father would be proud of, so our legacy can make his mark on the world too – and perhaps someday fly a plane. 

I was a wife.  I stated my vows, and kept them until death did us part.  I saw that journey through to completion – as long as I possibly could.  I never fell out of love.  There were days I did not like everything about my husband.  But I never did not love him.  And in a society where the divorce rate exceeds the success rate of marriages, few couples can honestly say that.

Kurt and I never really spoke about what we wanted to be as we grew up – not in a meaningful conversation that I recall, anyhow.  I know he never really thought he would be a daddy or a husband, but don’t know if he even dared to dream for it.  I hope he did.  While I know his final career was not the life he had envisioned, I hope he died having met many of his future aspirations as well.  At least two out of three.  I hope he died happy about where he was, what he had, and what he had accomplished. 

I often wonder what the last thing on Kurt’s mind was before that fateful moment.  And while part of me hopes it was of Gavin and the more selfish part hopes it was of me, another part – the part that hopes Kurt was really, genuinely, happy – hopes that the last thing he thought was “I did okay.  I did well.”

Two out of three ain’t bad.

How Did This Happen To Me?

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There are moments, some fleeting, some lasting, where all of this seems surreal.  When I watch my widowed self go about my current life from a distance, and shake my head at the absurdity of it all.  When I just can’t help but wonder why, and how.

Everything about this situation is unreal, illogical.  It defies the natural order of things.  It definitely defies my order of things.  Yes, I heard about it happening to others.  But not to me.  It was not in my plans.  Even though I always had concerns about something happening to Kurt, I never really thought it would happen like this.  And that everything since would play out the way it has.

This is not my life.  This is not me.

As a young girl, you see your wedding.  Your children.  Or at least I did.  A happy family sitting around the table, laughing over Sunday supper.  I was not supposed to have to do it like this.  Not supposed to have to do it alone.  Not yet, anyway.

I always, deep down in my heart, in the secret places I never told anyone about, knew that some day I would have to bury my husband.  I knew – not just suspected – that I would outlive Kurtis.  But never, in my wildest dreams or darkest nightmares did I expect it to be then, like that.  So soon.

It just isn’t the way things are supposed to be.

And so I sit here today, living a reality I never imagined, let alone wanted.  Trying to make sense of the insensible.  Find logic in the illogical.

Asking why, but knowing no good answer exists.

Asking how, but knowing no good answer exists.

From a distance, seeing me struggle with the remains of a life that once was so idyllic, pitying the person who has to survive it, yet admiring tht same person for doing so.  And asking again “What am I really doing?  How am I doing it?  Why do I have to?”

How did this happen to me????

Fathers Day

I've really struggled with Fathers Day this year.  The need to commemorate vs the need for self-preservation.  To remember or ignore.  As we sit on the eve of the day set aside to mark Daddys, I'm still not sure whether we will do anything special, or let the day pass unmarked.

I know however, that the day will not go unnoticed.  While Gavin may still be too young to read a calendar, I am not.  Even without the BBQs, cheesy cards, and wrapped power tools, I know what tomorrow is.  Who it celebrates.

And who is not here.

In some ways, I find Fathers Day one of the hardest, most lonely days on the calendar.  Because no one stops to think about just how hard it is when the man who made me a mother, the man who was my son's daddy, is not here for me to share it with.

I've been told to direct my attention to the father figures in Gavin's life, using tomorrow to thank them for the role they have played in shaping my son.  But honestly, there has yet to be a man to step up to the plate and help much in that regard.  I haven't really needed it yet.  Gavin is only starting to need it a little now.  And besides, tomorrow is not "Strong male influence day".  It is father's day.  And dead or alive, you only have one father.

Gavin only has one dad.

No matter how many men come and go through my son's life, I hope he always remembers that, understands that.  That he knows just how much he was loved, and how much he meant to his dad.

That he realizes his dad would be here if he could.  And that his dad is always with him in some manner.

That he is so very much like his dad in so many ways.  And that that is not a bad thing.

I want to say Kurt would have been an amazing father.  I still believe he would have.  But cruel or not, the harsh reality of the world is that we will never really know.  He was still finding his place as a dad when he was ripped from our lives, when father and son were torn apart...

So I don't know what will be on my mind tomorrow.  The dad Kurt was.  The dad Kurt could have been.  The dad Kurt would have been. Or the dad Kurt never got to be.

Irregardless, I know I will be thinking of him.

And wishing he were here.

If you are a father for an hour, a year, or a decade, you are someone's father for life....

Happy Fathers Day Kurt.  We love you.

Yesterday

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I don't talk a lot about the day-to-day struggles that come with PTSD to anyone.  In many ways, its my own burden to carry, my own cross to bare.  I'm not really sure anyone would really get it if I tried.  I'm afraid of the "Oh come on now, Chrystal, its been three years" look that I see in everyone's face - even when they aren't really giving it.

You don't get it until it happens to you.  And even then, I'm not sure you really ever understand...

But lately, the PTSD has reared its ugly head.  Out of the blue, when I thought I was getting a grip on things, the flashbacks returned.  And if you've never experienced them, I'm not talking memories that won't go away.  I'm talking full out out of body experiences.  One moment I am here, in my room, my office, my car, or wherever.  The next I am in the bathroom, with Kurtis.  No obvious triggers.  No warning.  Just a snap of the fingers and I travel from here to there.

It's disorienting.  It's frustrating.  And its just plain hard.  Because I am throwing all my energy into overcoming the obstacles of and moving beyond the chains of the past.  Yet my mind keeps bringing me down, holding me back.

I really am chained to yesterday.

The day before yesterday I was a wife, not a widow.  I saw a future.  I smiled, I laughed.  I loved.  I lived.

The day before yesterday was about life, not death.  Now, not then.

Then yesterday came, and took it all away.

I know there are lessons in the events of yesterday.  Many I have learned.  Some still remain hidden.  I know I had to get through yesterday to become the person I am today.

Yesterday really was the most defining moment of my life thus far.  I'm not sure any future days will top it...

But I'm going to be frank.  Yesterday sucked.  And I know how it ends.  I really don't want to keep going back there.

So how do I tell my mind to settle down?  How do I really put yesterday aside so I can appreciate today and step unfettered into tomorrow?

A psychologist recently told me that there must be unfinished business in yesterday.  That pieces I have ignored, forgotten, or blocked hold the keys to unlocking the chains and moving beyond.  That I have to go back and uncover all the mysteries in order to go forward.

But its a little like being forced to watch a bad re-run over and over again.

I don't want to go there.

Yesterday is behind me.  It happened.  There's nothing I can do to change that.

I just wish it would leave me alone.....