Today is Halloween. Yet another holiday that Erik is no longer here for. The days leading up to any holiday always puts me in a strange mood. The anxiety levels become higher than they normally are. The feelings of sadness, anger, disappointment, hope, and everything in between all seem to mix together. Something I still can’t seem to wrap my fingers around.
I woke up and ran across a quote that seemed just too fitting for today by Liz Newman.
You’re with me today,
And no matter how I choose
or do not choose to celebrate
Your love will always remain.
Our love will always remain
Even if the holidays will never
Look the same
The love will always remain.
As I was on my way to attend the twins’ fall festival this morning a wave of desire not to attend washed over me. Not because I didn’t want to be there for the twins, but because this feeling has become all too common. The feeling of walking into an event and having to explain to people where my husband was. The feeling of having to decide to retell the story or try to avoid it. I’ve been anticipating this moment for a while. I had now attended multiple events at their school since they started, but each one I try to avoid conversation just so I wouldn’t have to get into the fact that I’m a widow. And each event I attended I knew it was only a matter of time before a parent at their school would ask me. As I ran into these people more often, the conversations started flowing more. But I can’t avoid telling the parents of the kids my children go to school with. Mostly as events and invites were coming more often. And sure enough, it happened today. I was just talking with one of the dads and he asked “Are you and your husband taking the kids trick-or-treating tonight?” A question that seemed all too harmless, yet made my stomach drop. I quickly answered the question I was all too used to answering by now, “My husband actually passed unexpectedly early last year, but yes I will be taking the twins trick-or-treating with my family tonight, how about you guys?” A formulated response hoping he wouldn’t ask how or when. And there it was. I saw the all too pitiful look that I get from everyone once those words are uttered. Followed by the stumbling awkward conversation that continued after. These are the moments that make each interaction with people harder. And to no fault of his own. He was kind. For once someone who didn’t ask me how Erik died. But now his perception of me has changed. The easy conversation that once was now became another person who didn’t know what to say to me anymore. And I understand the awkwardness of being dropped with news like that. I would feel sorry for myself too. And it’s moments like these that remind me that this is my reality. It makes me miss Erik all the more. It makes me wish with every fiber of my being that Erik was here experiencing these moments with his kids…that they had the chance to run up to both mom and dad at school functions. But that is all they are. Wishes. So here’s to another holiday without you.