alone in our bed

I am sitting in my own bed. For the first time in 6 months.

This will be the first night I’ve ever slept in our bed alone.

I adjusted the level of the crib alone in Ford’s room, with a shitty keychain because I left your tools in Vermont. I had no idea what I was doing. But i’d watched you put it together for each of our sons. I knew I could do it. It took nearly an hour for me to remove 4 sets of screws, but I did it.

I ordered Axl a Happy Meal from the road so that it was here when we arrived. I got dinner delivered for my mom, Darri, and me. I rocked Ford to sleep in the same yellow chair I rocked him in as a newborn; the one we sat in every 2 hours the first couple months, the one you put together. It’s where you would sit and hold the baby while I showered during those early days.

There’s blueberries growing from the bushes you planted and tended to for two years. You never got to see them finally produce fruit. There are raspberries growing. Lots of curling garlic scapes. Your garden is overgrown and hasn’t been touched in nearly 7 months, never got cleaned up after the long and desolate winter, and yet it’s still growing wild. I feel a lot like those little fruits and vegetables. I may need to exert an unbelievable amount of effort just to keep growing, but to stay alive it’s as simple as reaching for the sun.

I was doing totally fine until I sat on this bed. Maybe it’s just because it’s the first time I’ve been alone in… months. I’ve been living in one room with my kids (not one bedroom, one ROOM) since February. It’s July now. To be sitting in “our” room and looking around at all the physical reminders you were real. You were here. And now you’re gone… it unraveled me. And then I realized I was in the same spot, in the same position, where I last saw you alive. You were right here. And then 15 minutes later you were gone. I can feel the weight of that as I sit here.

I’m also joyous about being here. It’s such a strange mix of emotions. Being here hurts, but I can tell it’s also part of my healing. How I feel is a testament to how much I’ve been through already. I’ve worked so hard to not only keep my chin up but make sure I really believe in the things I have been saying–how there’s beauty and joy in even the most painful things, how you can make good out of absolutely anything if you look hard enough. I really and truly believe those things. I believe that what happened to us is incredibly tragic and shitty, but that we have the choice whether this breaks us or elevates us as a family. And all of my focus for the last 6 months has been on keeping myself as mentally and emotionally healthy as possible so that I can be a good mom to my kids and give them the stable life that they deserve. I can’t control that they lost their Daddy, but I can steer where we go from here. And I’m steering them towards a bright future, I think.

I feel badly that I didn’t consider how being here would open fresh wounds for my mom and aunt. I’ve been so focused on making sure Axl and I were ready for this that I didn’t even think about how hard it would be for them, too. Seeing all his stuff is like a suckerpunch for all of us. I forget sometimes that the two of them are so so much a part of this journey with me. They have both been here since literally day one of this new chapter of my life and I am so grateful to them. The people who are willing to walk through this with me, no matter how messy or difficult, are the best gifts I’ve ever been given. And learning to let other people in besides Pete and allow my heart to continue to grow while it breaks are the best gifts I’ve ever given myself.

It’s going to be a long, intense week. But I love being in this world, in my own life, no matter what. I’m so glad I am doing this. I am proud of myself.