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Would you do it again?

If you had known the path you’d be given would you have walked it?

I didn’t expect that seeing this random meme on Facebook this morning would bring me to my knees, that it would make me reflect on my life, and the pieces that brought me to where I am today. It caught me off guard. I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone, I wouldn’t wish the journey I have walked on anyone, but would I walk it again? Without a doubt. I still can’t quite process the series of events, but they have to point to something greater. So far, they all have. The hardest times have brought us to our knees, but from them something greater has always emerged. We couldn’t see it at the time, but looking back as we overcame each challenge, it was all there. It’s overwhelming, really. So to answer the question, yes, I would, I would walk it all again.

I would walk it again to meet him. To fall in love, and to know what true love feels like. Even if it’s the only love I ever know, and even if it means losing him all over again.

I would walk it again, to learn what true grit, dedication, and determination look like. To see him never give up on himself, or anyone else.

I would walk it again for the way he looked at me. For the way he spoke with intention, and never acted on anger.

I would walk it again to see the way others looked at him. To see the way our children looked at him.

I’d walk it for that smile, oh that smile, it lit up every room.

I would walk it again because he made me better. He made me want to be better, without ever making me feel like I wasn’t enough.

I would walk it again for the person he made me, and for the person I am becoming. For the lessons learned, for the lessons I will learn.

I would walk it again to know that I got to wake up by his side every day, until the day I wouldn’t.

I would walk it again.

I would walk it ALL again.

I would walk it all again for one more minute.

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Fathers Day, grief, Life After Loss, Loss, Single Parent, survivors guilt, Vulnerability

Fathers Day after Loss

The start of summertime means pool days, bbqs, family vacation, and Fathers Day. The day we celebrate all those amazing Fathers in our lives. I couldn’t have created a better Father for my children if I sat down and wrote out a list of everything I wanted him to be and somehow manifested him into human form. Literally. Nate was patient, and kind,  and yet, he was consistent and firm. He taught them that life wouldn’t be easy, but provided them with tools to navigate it. He was working hard to shape them into strong, independent little people who love God, and love others. Their Father was busy, but he tucked them into bed every single night with prayers and heart to heart conversations. Every.Single. Night. Not going to lie, I was sometimes jealous. By the time he made it in to me, sometimes hours later, he was ready for bed. I knew Fathers Day was coming, and yet, I chose not to acknowledge it until it was literally crumbling me. I seem to have a way of doing that.

I remember our first Fathers Day together. It was around the time we had just found out I was pregnant. I was terrified. This was not how my life was supposed to look. He wasn’t terrified at all. He had the same calming ways about him that he did until the day he died. I remember going to my first appointment, he came to pick me up and brought me the book “What to expect when your expecting,” professing that he had already read the part talking about what to expect today, and presenting me with our baby’s first outfit, an orange striped Tigger character onesie. I was 19, still very much a child, but I knew in that moment that with this man, the Father of my child, I would be okay. Celebrating your first fathers Day was easy.

Celebrating this first Fathers Day though, is crushing my soul.

What now? Here we are 13 years later. Two children, and me. Alone.

Im tired.

I’m overwhelmed.

I can’t be him, and me.

So what do we do now? How can we celebrate Fathers Day when our hearts are shattered? This is just the first of many, and I know it isn’t going to get easier. I tried to buy Fathers Day cards for the other Fathers in our lives, to celebrate them, and I couldn’t.

I

couldn’t

even.

walk.

down.

the aisle.

I realized days later that wasn’t fair, so I went back. I cried the whole time, ugly cried, publicly. No one bothered me. They just went about picking their own Fathers Day Cards.  I didn’t want to be bothered and yet, it made me feel even more alone. The kids picked out their cards for Grandpas, and uncles, and a few others.

Without a beat, they also picked out several for their own Father.

I guess this means we will celebrate Fathers Day, as we always did. It will just look a little bit different this time.

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