The grief comes in waves. It washes in and then washes back out, sometimes taking me with it. I find solace in conversations with strangers who have no idea what I have been through. I just want to be treated normal. AND I just want everyone else to be on their best behavior while I figure out the highs and lows and try to re-acclimate to a life zone that doesn't include my husband any longer. AND I don't want pity. AND I don't want anyone else to tell me every thing's going to be ok. Because it's not. Please don't try to gauge me and label which stage of grief I'm at. So maybe that's not normal... it sure is asking a lot of every one else.
And then I'm snapped right back to reality and have to deal with the present.
A neighbor's nanny came over this afternoon whom I hadn't met before. She was looking for the child she was supposed to be keeping care of. He happened to be in my house. I invited her in, introduced myself, excused the clutter, swung a leg over Emi and went to retrieve the missing child. When I returned Emi had engaged her in a full conversation about the lady's family: brothers, sisters, mommies and daddies. The lady then appropriately asked Emi: "and where's your daddy?"
Sinking heart of mine starts right about now. Close my eyes. Breathe. Hang on for dear life(and the wall). Push the panic down. Breathe. Swallow. Open my eyes. Breathe. Listen:
"Um, my daddy is up in heaven. Way up high in heaven with his wings on."