I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. I would have preferred to shut the alarm off, pull the covers over my head and block the world out. I laid there a few minutes, and the decided I couldn’t. I couldn’t just lay there. Not now. Not today. I wasn’t going to be defeated. I had to get up. And I did. I showered, got coffee, and cracked the door open to the kids room.
Seven years ago, I would have never thought I would be where I am today. Living life without the little one who made everything livable. But living, with three awesome kids who make getting up and out of bed on those days when I would prefer not to, easier. And doable.
I went to work, smiled, laughed, and did what I was supposed to do. I did everything I do on any other day. I came home, woke the kids up, shuffled them through their routine, and took Josh to school.
Seven years ago, I would have never seen myself doing this. Living this life, that sometimes seems so foreign to me, Im not even sure if Its mine. Reluctant, to let go of what I know to be mine, and hold onto something I don’t know if will be there tomorrow or not. I didn’t take her to school this morning, I didn’t kiss her good morning. I didn’t even see her today. She isn’t here. And most years, its more than I can handle. Its hard, still. Knowing what I know today, and didn’t know then. But today. Its doable.
I got off work, stopped by the store, and came home. Where the dog ran circles and jumped and begged for attention. The kids came home, and the silent vow was broken. Orders were given, laughter was had, and tears were shed. Candy was distributed and consumed, dinner prepared, and laundry piled high.
Seven years. It seems like such a long time, yet it seems like a drop in the bucket. Compared to what still remains undone and unseen. Seven years ago I didn’t want to live to see a new morning. I didn’t want to say good-bye to another day without her. I didn’t want to see what the future held, or what else was out there. I wanted back. My thinking time consisted of something that would look like a lost person sitting on a lonely rock, staring into the past with their back to the future. My mind was closed to the possibilities of a NEW future. The fork in the road could kiss my back side because I was not making any decisions. And I was certainly not going to make it YEARS into this “new” life of mine.
Today I plan. I prepare. I think I wonder. I dream. I want to see tomorrow, I want to see next year. I want to see it all, and then some. I want to live to be three hundred, and still be able to move. I want to see the other side of the world, and I want to see the kids grow up. Kids. Who arent mine. But I love to pieces. And would be just as broken if anything were to ever happen to them. Kids. Who mean the world to me. Kids. Who make this life…life.
Seven years ago, I wouldn’t have thought that I would be taking these kids in, and loving them. Living. Loving. And laughing again. Seven years later.
I want to wake up tomorrow and breath in this life. This new future of mine. I want to see what is going to happen, and I want to get up and GO. And DO what I can in the time I have. I want to live again, I want to smile and laugh. I want to.
Sometimes, its hard. To have this new life, this new plan, this new future, and know that she isn’t a part of it. But its doable. Today, its doable. On a day I would never have thought to see the light, I see it. Bright and clear, just like I did yesterday. And the day before. Even when its clouded up, I know its there. And I want to see where it leads. I want to live this life with the ones I have and the ones I love, knowing. Knowing that I still can love her, and have her. And hold her close, if even just in my heart. Where she will always have that special place. Reserved for my little girl.
Who meant, and means the world to me.
And who I love and miss you, always and forever.
No matter what.
– Your Dad