ER visit

Well I knew it was bound to happen at some point.  Addi is a two year old in daycare and last night was the night.  Emergency Room visit.  This was the first time she had to go, but a temperature of 105 is no time to mess around and develop anxiety over my fear/memories that await in a hospital room.

Evan was in and out of the hospital ever since I was three months pregnant.  The last time I went to the emergency room was the last time Evan went to the hospital.  It’s been over six months and I could feel my anxiety build as I drove to the ER.  Addi was fine, not even awake really so I didn’t need to speed like a bat out of hell, although I am sure Evan would have wanted me to.  I was able to stay calm and collected…until Addi, in the middle of crying, exclaimed that she wanted her daddy.  I just smoothed her hair down and told her I did too.  I am sure the nurse thought I was reacting to my daughter being in the hospital. I didn’t feel the need to make myself cry harder so I didn’t say anything. What is there to tell a stranger? Sorry I am freaking out over here, it’s just that she’s never been to the emergency room and I could really use her dad but he can’t be here because he had cancer…yeah, that would have really calmed me down…I pulled it together before the doctor came in. Addi’s temp was down and the symptoms seemed to reflect a bout of the flu. I waited for the discharge papers to be drawn up and rocked Addi in the spare chair in the room. I couldn’t help but be overcome with emotions just looking at the damn bed. I don’t know how many times I stared at the stupid lever that controls the bed. I would often rest my forehead on the rail and hold Evan’s hand when he was in the hospital. Addi heard me crying and looked at me, took both of my cheeks in her hands and told me “it’s ok Mama, just breathe.” She then gave me a kiss and put her head back on my chest.

That little girl never ceases to amaze me. She got a dose of temaflu, which she promptly regurgitated once we were back on the road to our house in the wee hours of the morning. I was told to take her home and let her rest and to monitor her temperature, which has been up and down all day.

I knew a trip to the hospital would come. I knew it would be difficult, but I am strong because of everything Evan and I went through. And so is Addi. We managed to get in and out without too much trouble. We are a force to be reckoned with; that’s for damn sure.

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Jogging?

I actually ran on the beach today.  I moved back to live around family after Evan passed and Addi and I recently got our own home around them.  It is an awesome little pad.  Top floor of a duplex beach house.  The beach is five houses down.  And I actually went for a jog.  On the beach.  Of course this was a short affair, but nonetheless I did it.  It ended with me laying in the sand listening to the waves, and who am I kidding that is how the majority of my time “jogging” went, but I did get my adrenaline pumping.  I did think of Evan.  And Addi.  And I got sad, but then I got to thinking of the times Evan and I went jogging together.

There were that few of occasions, but man were they funny thinking back on them.  Let’s just say that the first one was supposed to be an athletic date of sorts when we were still getting to know one another, I mean obviously since I went on a jog for a date (who does that), but he showed up with his two nephews and his niece’s boyfriend.  I mean I don’t jog so this was a bit intimidating to begin with, let alone adding more people to it…and the second one was mostly me getting to stare at his physically fit form as I walked behind him until he took pity on me and turned us back to our apartment.

I actually wrote these memories in my journal, which I haven’t picked up since I sewed my fancy cover around Christmas.  And by the time I was done writing them down I was smiling.  Maybe I will try this elusive jogging again…

I am so tired of talking to his picture.  I wish it were him.  But, I know he is listening.  I know what he would say in response.  I know he is with me.

Six months. Twelve days. Seventeen Hours.

The measurement of time is so misguided.  We look at something and say oh man, an hour, psh, I can make it through an hour.  A day of waiting?  Sure, no problem.

Six months.

Twelve days.

Seventeen hours.

…a lifetime…

It has been so long.  Time has slowly crept by, and yet it hasn’t stopped.  The world hasn’t stopped and I still don’t understand how.  How have I changed so much in the last five years, hell the last six months?  How can I feel and be so different and yet so many carry on as though he was never here. I carry on everyday in some manner; I’ve refused to submit to depression.  Most days I even smile. I have Addi.  But damned if it doesn’t hurt.  Behind every smile and laugh is a jagged knife that is torturous.  A retching in my gut because I can’t share my reasons for smiling with Evan.  I don’t get to call him and hear his voice on my way home from work or when I need to figure out a dinner idea because I am at the store or when I am upset with someone or some injustice in the world…  Where there was his embrace and gentle smile is now a ragged pillow.  Where there was his laughter and stories is now silence.

Addison, our daughter, is now two.  She is the light and the laughter and the only way I draw strength in order to press on.  If it wasn’t for Addi I can honestly say I don’t know where I would be right now.  She is so much like Evan.  She is so much like me.  It is so difficult to see her cut her eyes or make some of her faces because she looks exactly like Evan.  She is so compassionate and caring.  She is so funny and loving.  And one day I have to explain to her the way that the world works, taking those closest to us without rhyme or reason.  I have to share memories and moments in my journal because I don’t get to enjoy them with Evan.  I have to keep my shit together to show her how much I love her and I love her father.  I owe it all to them.  They are and will always be worth it all.  All of the pain and love I feel, this duality that battles inside me at all times…I would do it all again to have them both in my life.  No matter how short my time was with Evan.  And his time with Addi.

Thinking back on the last six months, twelve days and eighteen hours by the time I actually post this…I don’t even know where I have been or who I have been. I have been here, but not really.  It is so difficult to explain because I am not even sure of it myself.  I just feel love toward Addi and then there is sadness.  Where many other emotions should be: I just am.  I don’t know how to grieve. But I think this is part of the process…I don’t really know why I am writing all of this on here…I guess I want those that knew Evan and myself, whoever that is, to know that I have things in mind and in motion to keep his memories alive, to help Addi get to know Evan in the only way she gets to now, to help her understand what I am going through…and to help me understand it I suppose.

I was going to post a picture to go with this post and all of the pictures I have previously uploaded pop up and I can’t help but feel like I am not that person. I have these memories, these great and happy memories, but they feel like they aren’t really mine.  I was there.  I know the details intimately, but I feel so disconnected and disjointed from them, and from everyone and everything.  It is only recently, since I have gotten my own place for Addi and I that I feel like I am her mother again, but it’s not in the same way…

Somehow I have to figure out how to fuse the old me with the one that is left here.  Life as I once knew it will never be the same.  I will never be the same.  Evan changed my life in so many ways, so many times, and the only comfort I can find is in knowing I gave him happiness and love and peace when we were together.