The Oddity in the Peace

These last two weeks have been the most difficult of my life.  Mentally there is more then I can even handle thinking about at any one given time.  I think of Dave, and then I think of all of the years and memories, then I add in the kids and then the kids feelings; and I get to Kendall and what this all means for her.  I find strength in those two little people every minute of everyday.  If they can both get up, get dressed, and go to school; I can do anything.  Life is still flying past us. These have been the shortest two and a half weeks of my life, but it feels like an eternity since Dave's been here.  There is an odd sense of peace in our house.  We get up and go about our day.  Lunches get packed, kids are dropped off, chores are done, kids are picked up, activities are attended, dinner and baths happen; then we are onto the next.  Yet the days go so so slowly. The most insignificant things suddenly take me back to what is missing from our life.  The moments are filled with emptiness.  We lived our life making moments, mostly for the kids; but also for ourselves.  We always worked our hardest at still being best friends before anything else.  The unfinished plans and the moments without him are what make the days long, and the hearts ache.  Hearing a video with the sound of his voice cripples me, and brings me the biggest smile simultaneously.  It is so real, yet so surreal.  I swear one day he is going to walk through that door, but I am far to rational and have too much common sense; I know that will never happen.  I took the kids to dinner last night in Atlantic City, our last date before their sister arrives.  They threw pennies into the water feature in Caesar's, Colton of course shared his wish with me... That his daddy was still alive.  That word, alive, coming from his small voice is loaded; it shakes me to my core.  To hear a little boy who's best friend in this world was his daddy, use the word "Alive" in reference to a wish for him.... I can't even hold it in as I type this; despite best efforts.  There is NOTHING in this world worse then hearing your sweet, innocent, cheerful little boy wish his best friend, role model, and father were simply...ALIVE. Although she didn't say it there, Kamryn did of course when we were home; confirm her wish had been the same as Colton's (and mine).  I LOVE that he (and Kamryn) can talk about him, we remember him through out each day.  I didn't want to put Dave's memory away, I want to make him as much a part of their everyday lives as I can still.  He wasn't the kind of dad to just leave me to "raise the kids", and go about his business.  I never worried about leaving him with them to do something as I often hear other moms joke (in a non joking way) about.  I didn't have a concern in working a few nights when Kendall was born, because he could handle it; he was that kind of man.  I had eternal and unconditional trust in him; especially with our babies.  There is no part of the day that he is not noticeable absent because of how GOOD of a husband/father he was.  The kids and I have a new bedtime routine now, which includes a sweet goodnight, in unison to their dad.  There is SO MUCH PAIN, but there is also peace.  The peacefulness is the oddest feeling I can describe.  I am a person that thrives on facts, details, information.  If I have answers I have everything.  I thankfully, was able to gather a lot of information about Dave's accident.  I have been able to find a "reason" and come to some terms with why it ended as it did.  I will NEVER accept it, I will NEVER be ok with it... but I can get through the day because of what I know about the circumstances.  There is a modicum of peace because of what I know.  I can fall asleep most nights without crying, which feels like a strange accomplishment.  One of the most appropriate adjectives for all of it, aside from tragic, is Odd.  Everything about it is odd: the simplicity in our lives before he went to work that day, the "completion" of so many goals and projects in the months/weeks, even days before he left us.  Knowing that other then in videos, we won't hear his voice again.  The simple menial everyday things that I/we can't do or now do differently... You never realize how much you take for granted running out to wawa to grab a coffee before everyone is up on a Sunday morning; until you can't do that anymore.  Asking him to grab X, Y, Z on his way home from the store.  Granted I have a list of willing helpers into the 100's at this point, which I am so eternally grateful for.  However, it makes you reliant on EVERYONE.  It's painful, tragic, heart wrenching, yet peaceful; in the most odd way possible.  Life feels simpler, simplicity brings that odd sense of peace.  I don't feel like we have to keep living, looking to what's coming up next.  Although I still strive for their lives to be filled with big exciting moments they will cherish and remember, I instead work towards what matters most.  To me, at least for now, what matters most is taking advantage of every minute together.  Whether they are minutes spent laughing, crying, playing, smiling, or hurting.  I soak in every hug, every kind word, every I love you.  There is pain, but there is peace.  Learning to live with that is odd, but we are doing just that; learning to live again....