Gunnar's is especially hard for me. Gunnar is our first born child. He's the one that made us parents. That changed our lives forever, taking the focus off of ourselves and putting it on being parents and raising children. If you have kids, you know the transformation that takes place when this happens. Everything about your life and your relationship with each other shifts and changes. He is also our only son, and will carry on Mike's family name. Our relationship changed that day as we now navigated the world of parenthood together, discovering how much we had in common... and not in common! We didn't know what we were having, so when Gunnar was delivered and Mike said 'it's a boy!' it was one of the most magical things I'll ever remember. I was convinced it was a girl so I said 'are you sure?!?' and he laughed and probably made a comment about having seen a penis a few times before and knowing what one looks like. The next week was a blur, as I had a c-section and couldn't get around easily. Mike was the ever doting new dad, running around getting things done at home with me still in the hospital, and staying over with Gunnar and I at night so as to not miss anything, if possible. He dealt with my own issues surrounding my disappointment in how the birth had gone and that I had to have a c-section, to being a very overwhelmed new mom not quite sure of what I was doing. He made me feel confident I was doing a good job. Like I was a good mom. And still a good wife, too. And here we are - 6 years later - and again I'm an overwhelmed mom, only this time I'm overwhelmed because of him. Because I miss him and he's not here to help. He's not here to comfort. Not here to even make some rude comment and make me laugh. And so after a pretty good stint of thinking I was doing OK and trying to keep it together, I'm back at square one. Remembering the day we lost him. All that this loss means to me... and our kids.... and our families and friends. Losing your husband at a young age is something I never even thought about. The only time I ever really worried about losing Mike was long before we were married, when he was serving in Iraq in 2003. Home in Connecticut I never imagined that I would one day be met by a police officer in my kitchen and told that my husband had been killed on his motorcycle. Never in a million years did I expect this kind of news. The thing about losing him so young is that there is so much we never got to do. I suppose that's true for all couples when one passes away. But there were years... decades even... that we never got to live out together. There are 2 kids who aren't even close to grown who now have no father. There are trips we will never take. Conversations we will never have. Goodbyes we didn't get to say.
I can't help but think of what the future holds for Gunnar and Adella and myself. What will his 10th birthday be like. His 20th? His 50th? Will every one be such a harsh reminder that his dad is gone? Or will it fade in time... as his memories fade and our lives continue to move on... all the while glancing back over our shoulders from time to time to check and see if maybe he's still there somewhere?
I can't help but think of what the future holds for Gunnar and Adella and myself. What will his 10th birthday be like. His 20th? His 50th? Will every one be such a harsh reminder that his dad is gone? Or will it fade in time... as his memories fade and our lives continue to move on... all the while glancing back over our shoulders from time to time to check and see if maybe he's still there somewhere?
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