One of the biggest blessings during this whole ugly ordeal was that all of the siblings got along and agreed on everything, every step of the way.
We have heard many stories since then about siblings (even just two of them) that didn’t agree on anything, and made the whole experience that much worse. We were blessed. From the moment of that first big decision of whether to take him off the respirator or not, to picking out the music for the service, we were in harmony. I have come to see what a huge blessing that is. I love every one of my brothers, step sister and mom, and it would have been extremely heart wrenching to have had to argued over any of it.
We leaned on each other, and supported whoever was having a hard time at that moment. It rotated around to all of us at different times. Maybe that is Gods way of spreading out the anguish and thereby diluting it a bit. I don’t know. At least that is what I’d like to think.
One of the neatest things we did at the service was to have all the guys wear one of Papa’s ties. (A sister-in-law and I wore one too.) We also all wore bright colors to celebrate the fact that when he will no longer be colorblind!
(in order of age – from left to right – Harrison-12, JJ-15, Sawyer-16, Guy-16, Colby-18 and Darren-25)
So much of those two weeks are still a fog to me. I hope that I can sort some of it out soon. My brain is still not fully functional, but I am grateful for every new day that it has a chance to try. I have recently decided that any day which ends in me being dressed, and the kids being fed was a good day.
They say that time heals. They say that the pain will diminish. They say that life goes on.
I get it. I just don’t want it to.
I don’t want time to go by… I want it to stop. I don’t want the pain to diminish… I want him here to help me with it. I don’t want life to go on… because he’s no longer in it.
The only thing that keeps me going some days is the fact that my Daddy would want me to. He’d want me to keep my chin up. Teach the boys. Take care of my family. Keep in touch with my brothers and sister, and take care of Mom Carol. He’d want me to live my life.
So… to honor him, I will.
The last thing he was able to say to me that Saturday night, the 13th of April… the night before he went on the respirator, was… “Stay sweet”.
I’m trying Daddy… I’m trying.
I love you.