The Package

My friend M summed things up perfectly when she said that the sadness I feel is like this giant package that I am carrying around. It's bulky and heavy and I don't want the package but I can't seem to lose it. I look around and see that no one else has a package like this. And I want to be like them, but I can't, not yet anyway. Slowly, the package will get smaller and then one day it won't be such a burden, and then finally, it will be just a tiny piece of lint in my pocket. I know that getting rid of the package can't be hurried and that it won't be an entirely linear process. I know that my many friends can help me to carry the package on days when it's just too much. I am truly counting on time to heal my wounds.

Each morning when I wake up, the first thought in my conscious brain is that my life has fallen apart. Then I lie there, hoping to make the pain go away. Most days since she left I have awakened at 5 am, crushed by the sadness. I've tossed and turned for the next hour and then it's time to get up and care for JT and get on with the business of living. The early morning seems to be the worst and in a certain way, that's okay. I know that once I get up and get moving things will be better.

This afternoon we tell JT that Mommy is leaving, though I expect that he already understands that she has left. He hasn't mentioned her since the two of them spoke on Tuesday night, so he clearly knows that something is up. He's still his quirky, happy go-lucky six-year-old self and this is a tremendous relief to me. My goal tonight is for him to ease into an acceptance of what has happened. I want him to fall asleep in his own bed, surrounded by his blankies and lots of love. I want him to wake up secure in his world.

I don't want him to wake up with a horrible package to carry around. I'll carry it for him and then one day we'll set that package down and make room for the unexpected joy that life can bring.