Some people, once a loved one has died think it’s just too hard to talk about them, too emotionally raw. I can see where they come to that conclusion, but I never once thought about NOT talking about Kevin. We spent 15 years together, and with three kids who were feeling his loss as keenly as I was, I knew it was important to talk about Daddy and all he meant – and still means – to them.
There’s times though, that I wish they’d give it a break. Even now, 3 years later, where it isn’t quite as raw, quite as new, but instead is a comfortable and well-known ache, it gives me pause when I hear “daddy would have…” or “once time, daddy did…” or “remember?” Because I do remember… everything. What he said, what he did, what they remember, what they think of.
Being the holidays, his name has come up a LOT from my youngest – in everything from Christmas memories, to “Whenever I get sick I think of daddy because I was sick when he died.” [To be honest, i don't remember that she was sick when he died, but then again, I don't remember much of anything of that first 48 hours, either.] Sometimes it’s hard to answer, even if your not really obligated too, even if it’s the pup who’s just talking to hear herself talk. I don’t want to stilt the conversation though, so I do my best to at least nod, to at least say “I know” – especially now, during the holidays.
Kevin never was one to appreciate Christmas. He never cared, as his upbringing was one of pain and terror, instead of love and support. He didn’t really see the point until we had kids, and he was finally able to view it through their eyes, the way it should be. Despite how much it hurts, then, I’ll continue to nod, smile, hug, and hold the precious memories of my kids in the open, under the sun, where they can continue to flourish and nourish their still tender hearts.
Even as mine still breaks.
