Its kind of funny, life is.
My wife wanted to become a mother, have a dozen kids, and travel the world.
I was happy being single, really didn’t want kids, and hated flying.
And yet we married, and spent some of the best times together. My being single, not wanting kids, and hating to travel didn’t scare her. Neither did the fact that my head was hardly screwed on right ½ the time. She smiled, she laughed. I loved her, and tried my hardest to make her feel special – just like she was. And yet…life is funny.
Because I raised our daughter alone for two years before she too died.
And as I write this, I am sitting in a little room with red carpet, thousands of miles from home – packing a bag for Italy.
She would have been a great mother, and I don’t doubt that if things had went differently – she would have had atleast ½ of those dozen kids she wanted, and still she would have found time to travel. Because that’s how she was. Its how she rolled. Its how she worked. She made the best of the situation at hand, but was never content to leave it be. She always worked to make a difference.
Its funny because, I never wanted to be married, and I never want to be married. But I was so happy TO be married, to her. Its funny because while I was off the wall stupid, she made me feel like I was someone special, and inspired me to do the same with her. Its funny because, she never tried to change me, but simply living with her, made me want to change. And now, living without her, I find the need to change even stronger. I feel the need to travel. To go. To do what she wanted, yet couldn’t.
This life…it’s funny. And hard. And upside down. And pretty messed up sometimes.
But you know whats even funnier? That I still feel like a part of me is missing. That no matter how far I go from “normal” I am still there, still missing, still empty. With a hole that will never be filled, and that’s ok. Its funny because, I never thought I would reach the point of being ok – yet I have. And I passed that. Im more than ok. Im living this life, reaching those dreams, and writing them all out for her. Because whats funny is – Im living HER dreams. Her dreams, have become my dreams.
And even though I don’t have her, even though I don’t have our daughter, I have more. They are no longer part of my tangible life, they are part of me. Who I am. Together, they have made me who I am. A different person altogether, and someone I don’t even recognize.
How the circle is complete, yet still so very, very empty.