Dear Tommy,
I'm sitting here tonight sipping on tea and indulging on a brownie just listening to sound of the rain coming down outside the half opened door to the porch. This "winter" weather has been a bit peculiar and unseasonably warm. The apartment has been blistering hot, yet I assumed the rain would cool it down, not so much the case. I still refuse to put on the A/C, but I may break down in the next day or two if it doesn't cool off in here. I can hear the sound of cars driving down the road on the slick pavement, but other than that tonight is a quiet and peaceful Saturday night.
Avery and I went to a birthday party today. She enjoyed herself, as did I. It was a nice change of pace as I have been working much more lately. My traveling has been fairly limited and I have just been keeping to myself for the most part. I go out on the occasional Saturday night, but have been in mood where I just want to stay home for a while. Last weekend was a little different as a bunch of military widows came to town for the weekend. We stayed at another widow's house not far from here. It was really a lot of fun and so nice to be around them for a few days. Your parents watched Avery for me. It's such a blessing to have them so close. I know it's still a few hours, but nowhere near as far as my family.
As I sat there at the birthday party today, I looked around and realized that everyone there was a couple, not necessarily married, but a couple none-the-less. It's the first time I can recall being in such a setting since you died. Surprisingly, I was actually ok with it. Maybe because I don't feel "single" in the true sense of the word. I'm not divorced; it's not like I was Never married. You're just gone and now I'm here alone, but in part by choice. Sure, I could date. There have been plenty of men who have wanted that opportunity, but I am beyond ok with Not dating at this point. Too much hurt is still in my heart. It takes a lot for me to want to be in a committed relationship (even more so now after two other failed relationships since your death).
Speaking of your death, the other day I was at the gym and it hit me with such clarity that I stopped mid stride on the elliptical... you've been gone for almost two years. May 10th will be 2, yes TWO years since I last saw you. How can that be? I stood there for a moment on the machine while I gathered myself. It wasn't a sense of overwhelming pain and loss that I felt in that moment, but of strength and... I don't know... accomplishment, maybe-- in that I survived this long? That the day I never thought I'd survive has now been almost two years ago. How in the world have I gotten here? Maybe in part because the first year is such a blur. It just seems so surreal. I'm sure I'll have plenty of moments like this as I get older. All of a sudden I'll be at Nathan and Avery's high school graduation and thinking 'They were so little when Tom died. How have I made it THIS far?' It was a moment of peace at the gym. I felt as though, if I made it to here then I could do anything. I could counquer the world-- my world, at least.
I think a great deal of the time I live in denial, not even the "bad" kind of denial where I don't believe it ever happened or that you are still coming home, but the kind where I just push it out of my mind, saving myself the agony and anguish of feeling that loss and reminder that not only are you not here right now, but that you won't ever be here again. It's that little wall that I've built around my conscious mind, just a thin, clear layer of denial-- just enough to dull the senses so that I can make it through the day without breaking down in tears at those unexpected moments where seemingly normal and harmless trips to Wal-Mart would other wise lead to full-on widow break downs with sobs and mascara down my face; and onlookers wondering why on Earth would this woman, fine just moments ago and now looking at a "Sam's Choice" case of water just lose it? Oh yes, I fought back the tears last week and knew I wasn't ready to buy that brand of water yet, haha. (It was the only water bottles we ever bought since we were on a budget and they were the least expensive.) These are the moments that catch me off guard and if it wasn't for my small self-chosen, slight state of denial, I would not be able to go out in public at times. But I find a way to hold back most of the time when I'm out.
Well, my dear husband, I love you and miss you as always.
Katie
