My mother in law had my kids Friday night, and she took them to buy gifts for me. I bought myself a charm for my bracelet. The Chinese symbol for Eternity. Fitting, right?
This blog has made it possible for me to ‘meet’ some special muthas, some of whom are very unfortunately in the same boat as I am, as it relates to being spousal suicide survivors with kids. I got emails from a few of them last night, and everyone had the holiday jitters. That was my first indication that I wasn’t prepared emotionally.
My kids were super excited about Mother’s Day this year, which was just incredibly cute. Middle darling especially. I woke up to them standing next to me with big grins. Big darling brought my coffee, and we opened gifts then cuddled like a litter of kittens. Awesomeness. Then I said, “Let’s all kiss.” Innocent enough, right? But here is the thing. This phrase has special meaning in our house. When big darling was big enough to know what was going on, he and Dave and I used to do this constantly. We’d be standing in the kitchen, having a moment, and someone would say, “Let’s all kiss” and we would all 3 put our lips together, so we were each touching everyone else, and we would smooch it up. When middle darling came along, it was harder to still reach everyone’s lips, but we still did it. By the time little darling was born, we weren’t having a whole lot of those ‘moments’, but we managed to make it happen at least a couple times. So, I said it this morning, and they all jumped on me and kissed me, but a very specific pair of lips were missing, and that was it. Attack of the grief ninja. The tears just flowed. I tried hard not to let the little darlings see them, because they really wanted me to have a happy day.
They were insistent on beignets for breakfast, so we ran quickly to Café du Monde. My house was a complete disaster because I was slightly hungover on Saturday from Friday night, so I stayed busy this morning trying to clean up before we left for my grandmother’s house. My 93 year old grandmother cooks crawfish bisque every Mother’s Day, without fail. This is bar none the best food in the world and everyone knows it. Dave looked forward to this meal all year. People don’t cook this anymore. It’s a huge pain in the ass, but so worth it. Even thinking of the bisque made me sad.
When we were ready to leave, I called out for all the darlings to go and stand by the front door. Big darling ran back and asked for a squirt of Dave’s cologne. (Oddly enough, “Eternity”) I said, “Oh geez honey you’re going to smell like daddy all day and make me cry.” He’s 10, he just smiled. He grabbed the bottle and squirted it, then skipped happily out of the room. And when the smell hit my nose I had to grab hold of the closet door to keep from falling down. The grief ninja had just kicked me square in the gut. I couldn’t breathe. The wind was knocked right out of me. I knew they were all by the front door, so I just sobbed, so hard. I knew I had to let it out. Keeping it in was physically hurting me.
I recovered as quickly as I could, rushed them into the car, and then just let the tears fall all the way to Mimi’s house. By the time we got there, I felt better, and that was that. The kids had a great day playing with cousins and we came home to a clean house and had a quick swim.
I scored big time for supper too, because I nonchalantly rummaged through the basement freezer after handing little darling a popsicle this evening and found a container of crab and corn soup.
My lesson for today is that I am not this badass superwoman that I pretend to be most of the time. This shit comes out of nowhere, even when I’m thinking, “I got this.” Now I’m really scared for our anniversary, really scared for Father’s Day, really scared for his birthday, really scared for D-Day. I need to be smart. I need to have rock solid plans. I need to lay down and cry and kick and scream and let this beast out before then. Pre panic. I think it’s my small way of attempting slight control over the grief. Because I hate the uncontrollable grief. I need to go stealth on the grief ninja. I have all these dates barreling towards me, and the thought of being incredibly sad again is just painful. I need to make beach plans. We need father’s day plans. I need to make the Disney plans. We need to be far away from here. In a magical place. Because it’s going to take some serious fucking magic to get me through this. Plans. Pink elephants. The beach. Disney. Ya hurd me?