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The Day I Came Home and He Wasn't There
All I could do was close my eyes to feel less scared. It's the feeling you have when you are trying to carry too many things and you can feel something start to slip out of your hands. And there is nothing you can do but let that one thing go or else you risk losing everything else you are holding onto. And it's worse when you know that thing that is falling and slipping away from you is going to break as soon as it hits the floor. That is the feeling I had as I laid on the couch and friends and family came in to tell me how sorry they were. The things I visioned falling and breaking.... The vision of growing old together. The vision of raising our children together. The vision of my heart. My love. Ryan. He was slipping out of my grasp. There were so many things I thought of. Who would give our girls away when they get married? Who would teach our son to be a man? No one loves a baby or child as much as their mother or father, right? No one could love them as Ryan and I could together. And this fell out of my hand and broke. Eyes closed.... This is what I saw.
That day that I came home and he wasn't there. I took several showers. Because I was 7 months pregnant and I knew no one would bother me in the shower. I didn't want people to tell me they were sorry. Sorry wasn't going to help me tell Kensington and Cooper that daddy wasn't coming back. Sorry wasn't going to fix all these broken things. In the shower I was alone. And that's where I needed to be. To process everything in my hands and what to hold onto and what needed to fall and how to let it go. I heard a voice deep within my soul tell me that this feeling would pass. That this is the worst. This is the most painful. But it can only get better. It was moments of screaming at the top of my lungs. Crying until I has no tears. Throwing up because I was so very sad and scared. That was the day I came home and he wasn't there.
I know that people want to ask questions. But feel rude or disrespectful. But the truth. I love to talk about Ryan. Even that day. Because he was here. He lived. And that day was just one day. He wasn't there. But the days he was there. Those days. Those days I held onto. I let go of the fears without him and held tight to every memory I could think of. His laugh. His breathing at night. The way he snuggled the kids. The way he would kiss me. There wasn't room for the fear. So that day I had to figure out how to be brave and only hold onto what I could.