When I See You Again

A friend of Dave and mine recently posted a song to his Facebook page that I really enjoy (Whiz Khalifa: See You Again).  This is a song I have heard a couple times the last few weeks, but after seeing the video and realizing it was connected to Paul Walker/Fast 7 (one of Dave's favorite movie series); I've been listening to it more.  The idea of again seeing Dave, is one that has really given me a lot of peace and strength.  I have felt like this time in between losing him and one day being reunited with him, is a sort of waiting period.  It's the time I will spend raising our kids, and enjoying them; and eventually (in a VERY long time) the grandchildren they will give me.  All the while, even with that in mind, I have had the mindset that this is now just some in between period in mine and Dave's relationship.  Maybe that is because of the overwhelming feeling I have that he is here with us.  Not only have I had many reasons/signs to believe that he is, it's just an omnipresent sense I get.  That feeling when you are in a room with someone else, the presence the body of another person being in a room gives off; I feel that from him all of the time.  Sometimes that feeling is too much to bear.  It seems like he is so close I can almost touch him, if I were to turn around he would be right behind me... obviously though; that is not the case.  That feeling is pretty well confined, for me at least; to our home.  I haven't "felt" him anywhere other then in our house.  When I am here it's that constant feeling his body would give off, knowing there is another person in the room; an identifiable cut through the stagnant air.  For the most part, I find it comforting knowing he is with us.  It makes me feel protected and as if he is not that far; like he isn't missing out quite as much as I feared.

Yet after listening to that song a bunch more times a sinking thought landed on me... will I ever see him again? I have been looking at the life I have left as an in-between period, until I am again reconnected with Dave.  But who is to say that such a time will happen? Or that there is a place somewhere out there for this reunion to occur? I suppose not being of a particularly strong religious belief leaves me asking this question, or if nothing else, feeling able to ask this question.  I worry that maybe March 2, 2015 at 6:40 am was the absolute end of my chances to ever see him, or be with him again.  Maybe for many this isn't even a thought they want to take in, because that sense of an finality is more then they can bear?  Perhaps that is the reason so many hold their religious beliefs so tightly.  It allows them peace where those like myself only find more questions?  Although a part of me wishes I wasn't the type of person to ask these questions, it also gives me a greater value in the time I did get with him.  I hold every word, every memory that much tighter; because really who is to say that there will be a chance for more?  Ideally one day in many many many years, I would see him again in someplace, someway.  We would pick up our life together exactly as we left it here; but that seems so unrealistic.  If we were meant to come back together as we left each other here, then why was he taken from me at all to begin with?  I don't want to believe this is the ending of my time with Dave.  As I said I know he isn't totally gone from our lives.  His presence is so strong within the walls of our home; sometimes I swear I feel his eyes staring at me.  Yet I still hold out some odd hope that one day I will feel his kiss again, or get to run my fingers through his scruffy beard.  I am fully aware that hope is simply a tool my mind uses to comfort me and keep me going.  I hang onto it just enough to make each day one I can manage through, but never indulge it so deeply that I forget the reality I actually face each day.  Every day is a balancing act of remembering and creating new memories.  Holding on just enough to feel connected; but not so much you can't handle facing the day.  Will I ever "see" Dave again as I knew him?  I really don't believe there is a place exactly like this in the heavens where he is there, just waiting for me; in the same shape and design he was here on earth with us.  I do believe, or at least hope, that there is a place where our spirits/souls whatever you call them can and will again one day reunite and know each other.  I think when that time comes in whatever form it takes, it will be perfect; exactly what I have needed all along.

My replacement...

I haven't written anything in a few weeks now, I really haven't had much to say.  Or maybe I've had too much to say, and wasn't really sure of where to begin again.  These two weeks have been confusing to process.  We welcomed our much anticipated third baby, Kendall Mae Thomas on March 25 at 7:54 AM. She was healthy and perfect, just as we prayed.  Although I was grateful to have my mom there with me; it broke my heart that she needed to be there.  I have been filled every minute of every day with confusion as to how I am feeling.  One second I look at this sweet girl and I beam with happiness, and the next I cry to her inconsolably for all that was supposed to be.  All of my children are the best gifts Dave has ever given me; but there will always be just that little something extra surrounding her.  I think part of the problem I have had in writing anything recently, or about her; is because there is a part of the story that has never been told.  A part that even Dave wasn't privy to until just a few weeks before he passed away.  That I was sure I was going to die...

From about half way through of my pregnancy with Kendall, I would have horrific panic attacks at least one night every weeks or so. They didn't start until after my SPD (a hip issue I was plagued with this go round) started and my dreams of a VBAC went out the window for good.  For no rhyme or reason I would go to lay in bed next to Dave, and rather then think about "normal" end of the day things, or any of the other million things I could have had in my mind; all I could think about was how sure I was that I wasn't going to survive the c-section I would be having.  Those that know me, know I am pretty fearless about medical type things; and very matter of fact.  Statistically chances of anything going wrong were virtually zero, or extremely close to it.  I knew on paper I was irrational, but it didn't matter.  I don't know what it was inside my heart and head, but I KNOW what my fate was going to be.  The month of February was particularly awful for me in that respect, and one night Dave became aware of my anxiety about it.  I woke up in the middle of the night with an uncontrollable panic attack.  He held me close, never asking what I was so upset about.  He was just there to hold me and let me know everything was ok.  The next night, just about a week before the accident, I again was having terrible anxiety before laying down.  Finally, I broke down and told him what I felt I knew.  I told Dave all of my hopes for him and the kids.  I carefully explained what I knew each of them would need emotionally from him.  I asked him to be softer with Colton and more patient (Dave was amazing with our kids, but at times Colton can be incredibly unreasonable and I am virtually the only one that can console him).  I asked him to spend time with Kamryn, not doing big things, but just listening to her, reading with her, or coloring a picture together.  She loves the small quiet moments spent together, they are the most valuable and important to her.  However, because she is so strong and self sufficient, sometimes it's easy to let those moments pass by.  I asked him to tell Kendall about me, and to raise her to be brave and strong.  I told him about the letters...

I was so sure that I was not going to live to make it out of that surgery, that I had painstakingly written each of these precious people letters.  It took me many weeks, late at night when I was crippled by the anxiety, and mostly sadness for what I was so sure I would miss.  I knew exactly what Kamryn and Colton would need to hear throughout their lives from me, all of the things I wanted to reassure them with, ask of them, and share with them.  I wrote to Kendall telling her of the things I wish I knew about her, and her about me.  My dreams for her, and about the exciting life her father would surely give her.  By the time I finished their letters, it was just a few days before Dave's accident.  I had by then come to a strange place of peace with my twisted secret, the fate I was surely expecting.  The night I told Dave about my fears,  we cried together.  He reassured me I was crazy, and hormonal and that all would be fine.  I know a small part of him believed me, not because he wanted it to be so, simply because of how sure I was.  I can't explain what it was about the feelings I kept having, but to me they were never a question... it was a sad fact that I was being clued in on by someone.  I was so sure and so factual with Dave, that he took in just enough of it to prepare himself.  Rather then dismissing me as irrational, he truly really listened.  Dave and I aren't incredibly religious, we don't attend a church or really even align ourselves specifically with any religion.  That night though, and this is the only time in all the years I have known him this happened; we prayed together.  We prayed that the surgery would be fine, and for God to let me watch our children grow up and enjoy their life with me in it.  beyond that night my fears seemed to subside.  I don't know if God took him as my replacement, and if he did I am not sure how that even makes me feel.  I am so grateful to be here watching our babies grow, I thank God and Dave for it everyday.  Would I have ever asked Dave to trade places with me if we knew what I believed to be certain? Never.  Our kids need him in ways totally differently but equally valuable to the way they need me.  But if someone would have asked him to make that choice, I know he would have given me the gift to keep being a mommy to these precious little loves.  I don't know if he prayed on his own about it, asking God to spare me? I don't want to make nonsensical assumptions.  I do know he spent so many years taking care of me and protecting me; that I would't rule it out entirely. 

It seems like such a fantastical story, and it is.  Had his accident not have unfolded as it did, I probably would have left the fears I was having in the past and never let them enter my mind again.  But the way everything surrounding Dave's death occurred, and in such a specific manner; I truly believe he had a reason to go that day.  I don't know that saving me was the entire reason, but I think it was certainly a part of the puzzle.  The details of his accident are almost unbelievable, everything was so precise.  The slightest alteration in direction, speed, or timing and EVERYTHING could have been different.  I will never know why it was him and not me, but I do truly believe he traded places with me and had he not gone that day; that I would not be here to write this. It's an odd part of our story, and as I said; I understand it sounds ridiculous.  That's ok with me.  Whether it was Gods choice, or Dave's own prayer that kept me here with our children, I will never know.  But I am forever grateful to him for always loving and protecting me, and for giving me the greatest gift I could ever receive; being their mom.