Well, this has been one melancholy Friday. Not sure why. I guess it's just one of those days. So, please, excuse the blogging therapy session that is about to take place.
I'm dedicating this Family Friday to the person with whom I made a family. The family that is and will always be the light of my life and the center of my world.
Ruben J and I were a couple for 23 years, parents together for 20 years and parents apart for 7 years. Then, out of the blue, one Monday afternoon, two days after his 51st birthday, he was gone. What the hell?! That is not the way it was supposed to end. Even though we had been apart for 7 years when he died, we had a connection that went back to the day, when I was 14 and he was 19, when we met at the Fireman's Ballpark in Wentzville. (I know my kids get sick of hearing " Right there is where I met your dad for the very first time" every time we drive by!) We still had things to say. We still had things to resolve. We were still connected by 23 years of memories together.
But, unfortunately, we were also connected by 7 years of frequent fighting, screaming, bickering, court dates, etc. I absolutely hate that those last 7 years are even part of the big picture of "us" and our family. It's like a big, fat, ugly finger smudge on a perfect work of art. Very sad. And I have "an ocean of regret" to live with for that. (My advice to anyone going through a divorce and participating in any of the above activities- fighting, screaming, bickering-STOP IT!)
But, what's even worse is that because of a stupid, careless, random accident, Ruben J will not be here to experience our family- our three kids- having families of their own. And our family will not be able to experience those things with him. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. My heart, literally, aches. Every. Single. Day.
But, on the way home today, I stopped by the cross- the place that marks the spot where Ruben J took his last breath. I tidied up, pulled some weeds, looked at the pictures, took some pictures. And when I got back into the car, the Fleetwood Mac song "Don't Stop" was on the radio. And the very first words I heard were, "Yesterday's gone. Don't you look back." Crazy. Things like that happen to me all the time. I'm not a religious person, by any stretch of the imagination, but I do believe in "signs", "gut feelings", etc. I took this as another sign to move on. So I'll try. Or continue to try. But, really, I think it's something I will never recover from. I know that sounds really sad. But it's the sad truth.
BUT, I will try :) And continuing to focus on making things that bring people a little happiness, even if it comes from a place of sadness, is how I'm going to try.
Have a great Saturday and I will be back here Sunday with, I promise, a much more upbeat post.