Four Years

I know exactly what I was doing on October 18th, 2010. Almost down to the minute. I remember the email I sent to my friend telling her how Brian made two car payments towards our Kia. I remember the IEP meeting I had after school that day and texting my babysitter to tell her I'd be home a little late. I remember being stopped by another teacher on my way out the door and my heart sinking, only wanting to get home and not talk about work anymore. But then being humbled when she began spilling her guts to me about her husband and what a rough time they were having. I remember feeling guilty for being selfish and then spending the next hour standing with her while she shared and cried and asked for advice. I remember apologizing to my sitter for getting home so late as I frantically threw together dinner for Amelia and making rice cereal and getting baby squash out for my little Em. I remember putting Amelia's plate of mac and cheese and dinosaur nuggets on the table. I remember picking Emerson up out of her bouncy seat on the counter and swiftly snapping her into her high chair. I remember picking up the spoon to airplane some cereal into her tiny mouth...and then my phone ringing. And my already-spinning-out-of-control life shattered into a million pieces. 

The rest of that evening is a delicate mixture of blurriness and precise clarity. Hearing my mother-in-law ask if I'd heard from Brian. Her asking me if I knew he didn't make his appointment in Seattle. Asking if I knew how his job interview went. My mind began racing as I kept repeating "I don't know. I haven't talked to him."  She hung up and then called me back...she was frantic as she explained that his stuff was in labelled boxes. And that there were letters sealed for each of us. She stated something about her theory about what was going on but that part is blurry. I walked out of our home to our back deck, leaving my young children at the table so that I could cry quickly and quietly and re-enter my home so my girls wouldn't know something was amiss. I called my parents and my best friend and told them Brian was missing and that his mother thought he had gone to kill himself. I'm not sure how much time passed but a while later I was getting a call from his mother again, asking me if I would know where he would choose to go to end his life. And of course I knew. I told her where he would be. And then I called my sitters and asked them to come back. I needed to go get my letter. Irrational, I'm sure. But that was my driving force. I needed my letter. I needed to see what he had to say to me as his final thoughts on earth. 

The rest of that night is something that I would like to be able to stuff away forever. I don't want to have any of those memories seared into my brain and onto my heart. But they are there. I will never be able to forget that day. Even four years later. 

This year has come and gone and I feel like I am in a much better place. The day came and we had a great time. A day filled with fun and family. A day at the pumpkin patch. A day filled with coffee from my bestie, Jack Daniels ice cream, playing games with my girls, a conversation with a new friend about faith and hope and strength and a prayer for healing and happiness. Four years seems like forever ago and just yesterday all at the same time. 

It's difficult to grieve and go through emotions. I have read many articles on complicated grief. I'd say my situation brought around complicated grief. But I am healing. My girls are healing. This day came and went without too much upheaval. Amelia and Emerson went through the day not having any idea the significance of this date. For me, there were moments throughout today that swung through all the emotions. A quick burst of anger when taking my kids' pictures in the pumpkin patch wondering why anyone would choose to not stick around for those moments. A quick and quiet cry in the bathroom at the pain of remembering the fairy tale I thought I had. A stabbing pain in my heart for the fleeting thought of what should have been. The emptiness in my stomach as those little thoughts and moments went on throughout my day. Just briefly these blips would find their way to the forefront of my brain, but enough to make my heart sink and my head spin and tears well in my eyes. 

But then, joy! Emerson and Amelia giggling uncontrollably together. My dad laughing in the truck. My mom sharing a story with me about a radio prank and hearing how tickled she was to share. Emerson squealing in delight as she stomped puddles in her boots. Amelia listening intently to a song and then singing at the top of her lungs. My dad hiking through a mud-filled pumpkin patch with a forty pound pumpkin on his shoulder and a four-year-old at his side. A quick hug and I love you from my friend as we ran through for coffee. A text from my sissy with pictures of my niece and nephew at the zoo. Joy! The little bursts of pain and tears throughout my day don't even compare to the immeasurable moments of joy! My girls and I have been to hell and back over the last four years. We have survived. We are tough and we are strong and we have survived. We have joy!

It has been a long, hard road. There have been many ups and downs and I know there will be more coming. But I wouldn't trade those downs for anything. They have molded me and my family into who we are today. And without the downs we wouldn't learn how strongly to cherish those ups.  I know that I have been forever changed by my experiences and I know that I didn't come out this end of things as the person that I was four years ago. But that is ok! I have learned so much. Many more things than I've ever wanted to learn. But I have also been given many gifts!  I now know to slow down! Work is not the be all, end all. It's not about money or cars or houses. It's about time and love and friendship. It's about pausing to make sure that the people that are important to you know how much they mean in your lives. Never forgetting to say "I love you" or passing on one more hug or one last touch. It's about dancing in the rain and not worrying about picking up the house, but sprawling on the carpet and playing a game. It's about pausing for a minute to just take life in. It's about being with people that you care about. It's about smiling and being kind to strangers. It's about giving your everything to the people you love, even if you don't think you have anything left. It's about remembering the little things in life, like sending a card to someone just because, leaving sticky notes on a car to let someone know you're thinking about them, sharing hugs and tears, remembering important dates, like anniversaries and birthdays and even dates like the day someone lost a spouse or a child or a parent so you can pass on one more hug...one little piece of yourself to help mend a broken heart. 

Four years is a lifetime and a blink of an eye. Sadness and heartache and anger and confusion eventually give way to love and smiles and peace and friends and family. It's taken every minute of those four years, and it will probably take every minute of the next four years also. But each year stronger. Each year with a little more joy. Each year knowing there will be challenges and heartache, but also knowing there will be peace and love and joy!

Thank you to all of the friends and family and loved ones and coworkers that have helped us get through the last four years. And thank you to those that have lived through the crazy with us and helped us get to the joy. And thank you to those who will be signing on to get us through the next four years. My only hope is that I will be able to return the love and kindness and joy and hope to help you all tenfold in a time of need, or even just because. 

Much love to you all! Have joy!