It's been 2 weeks and 1 day since we had Catherine's funeral. We are coming up on the 3 week mark of her death. While I have been posting on Facebook a lot, I needed a better outlet. I'm sure it gets exhausting with all my sad posts. This is going to be a place to express where we are in our grief. Some posts could be happy and others could be sad. Most of the time we are middle of the road.
Today was not a good day. Being Sunday, Catherine should have been home. It was one of her only days off from band. We would have done usual Sunday stuff. She would have brought us her grocery list and either she would have gone to the store or we would have gone together. We got up this morning and decided to tackle Wal-mart. It has been a great fear of mine. She knew everyone and living in a small town, we are bound to run into someone who knows us. I will admit that going out into public is damn difficult. I tend to wear a hat and talk on the phone so I'm unapproachable. I'm not ready to talk to random people about how we are doing. Honestly it isn't good. Again, some days are better than others. Once we got into the store we began our usual routine. Dog food, diapers, lunch stuff, and cereal. Walking in, I was already feeling some anxiety. It wasn't until we got to the cereal aisle that "the incident" occurred. We always get a big bag of fruit loops for the baby and a big bag of fruity pebbles for Josh and Catherine. The bigger boys liked both and it was our only real junk food. The boys wanted to get a different cereal. It was in that moment that I realized that I was buying groceries for someone who wasn't with us anymore. The anxiety attack came quickly. I snapped that we were buying the damn fruity pebbles and as soon as I started losing it, my darling husband came around the corner and got me. It was awful. He was half carrying me as I was hyperventilating and once I realized I was about to make a scene, I pulled it halfway together. Joshua held my hand and then sent me to the car with Charlie as my chaperone. It took a Xanax and a PSL (which I now refer to as a hug from Catherine) before I calmed down.
Today was also the day that a dear friend was coming to take photos of Catherine's room. She had offered so that when the day comes that we take her room apart, we always have the memories of how she left it. Another dear friend came to help me hang her photos back up and as I was standing on her bed, I found a note behind her headboard. It was a love letter to me. A letter that listed all the things I had taught her, written on May 18, 2017. I first smiled and then melted down.
I wish I could say that the day got better. Everyone was off today. Crabby and snapping at each other. The baby was impossible, the boys were fighting, patience was thin. We had Catherine's favorite meal for the first time and while it was tough to eat, it was so delicious. And different than the way we usually cook it. Tacos. There are things that only Catherine and I enjoyed. Sour cream was one of them. It wasn't until I went digging in the fridge that I realized that she was the one that always made sure there was sour cream for taco night. Tonight I was the only one to eat it. That was a shitty moment. Seeing only 4 plates on the table was tough. But as we ate, the mood shifted. Everyone was talking and cutting up. There was actually laughter. And my friend Delta knows how to prepare a kick ass taco night.
Throughout our bad day, Josh and I both put each other in a type of time out. Figuring out why we were triggered and how to make it better. Remembering what we would have wanted our parents to do if we were ever in that position as kids. So we decided honesty is key. We spoke to them about how we were both having a shitty day and that we aren't mad at them, just the world.
All is calm again. Max and Charlie are piled in our bed playing video games. Lunches are packed. Chores are completed. Grief devotional done (more to come on that one). The boys will go to bed tonight knowing that we love them and treasure them with the understanding that they have permission to have bad days too.
Our takeaway from the day is that we have triggers. The triggers are unknown. How we handle them is case by case. Minute by minute. Sometimes seconds at a time. Honesty is key.
Today was not a good day. Being Sunday, Catherine should have been home. It was one of her only days off from band. We would have done usual Sunday stuff. She would have brought us her grocery list and either she would have gone to the store or we would have gone together. We got up this morning and decided to tackle Wal-mart. It has been a great fear of mine. She knew everyone and living in a small town, we are bound to run into someone who knows us. I will admit that going out into public is damn difficult. I tend to wear a hat and talk on the phone so I'm unapproachable. I'm not ready to talk to random people about how we are doing. Honestly it isn't good. Again, some days are better than others. Once we got into the store we began our usual routine. Dog food, diapers, lunch stuff, and cereal. Walking in, I was already feeling some anxiety. It wasn't until we got to the cereal aisle that "the incident" occurred. We always get a big bag of fruit loops for the baby and a big bag of fruity pebbles for Josh and Catherine. The bigger boys liked both and it was our only real junk food. The boys wanted to get a different cereal. It was in that moment that I realized that I was buying groceries for someone who wasn't with us anymore. The anxiety attack came quickly. I snapped that we were buying the damn fruity pebbles and as soon as I started losing it, my darling husband came around the corner and got me. It was awful. He was half carrying me as I was hyperventilating and once I realized I was about to make a scene, I pulled it halfway together. Joshua held my hand and then sent me to the car with Charlie as my chaperone. It took a Xanax and a PSL (which I now refer to as a hug from Catherine) before I calmed down.
Today was also the day that a dear friend was coming to take photos of Catherine's room. She had offered so that when the day comes that we take her room apart, we always have the memories of how she left it. Another dear friend came to help me hang her photos back up and as I was standing on her bed, I found a note behind her headboard. It was a love letter to me. A letter that listed all the things I had taught her, written on May 18, 2017. I first smiled and then melted down.
I wish I could say that the day got better. Everyone was off today. Crabby and snapping at each other. The baby was impossible, the boys were fighting, patience was thin. We had Catherine's favorite meal for the first time and while it was tough to eat, it was so delicious. And different than the way we usually cook it. Tacos. There are things that only Catherine and I enjoyed. Sour cream was one of them. It wasn't until I went digging in the fridge that I realized that she was the one that always made sure there was sour cream for taco night. Tonight I was the only one to eat it. That was a shitty moment. Seeing only 4 plates on the table was tough. But as we ate, the mood shifted. Everyone was talking and cutting up. There was actually laughter. And my friend Delta knows how to prepare a kick ass taco night.
Throughout our bad day, Josh and I both put each other in a type of time out. Figuring out why we were triggered and how to make it better. Remembering what we would have wanted our parents to do if we were ever in that position as kids. So we decided honesty is key. We spoke to them about how we were both having a shitty day and that we aren't mad at them, just the world.
All is calm again. Max and Charlie are piled in our bed playing video games. Lunches are packed. Chores are completed. Grief devotional done (more to come on that one). The boys will go to bed tonight knowing that we love them and treasure them with the understanding that they have permission to have bad days too.
Our takeaway from the day is that we have triggers. The triggers are unknown. How we handle them is case by case. Minute by minute. Sometimes seconds at a time. Honesty is key.
my heart hurts for you, prayers
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