I use the word conquer because that is how it felt every day when driving home after a full day of work. I would tell myself in the morning, “All you have to do is today. Don’t think about anything more than this one day and seeing the end of it.” When crawling into bed I think, “I did it. I made it through today.” We are still trying to implement all of Preston’s activities back in our schedule but haven’t quite made it yet. We accomplished piano (that was a mom and P thing) and tomorrow we’re going to try a soccer game. Karate was a dad and P thing and for 2 weeks he has said he would try but backs out the day of. He says he’s just not ready yet but maybe the next time. We’ll get there. It’s just going to take a bit and for me to somehow figure out how to make it a Mom and P thing. Somehow…

The hardest part of the week, the absolute hardest part, was seeing your empty chair at your work desk. Only your jacket still hanging over the back of the chair. To know that you weren’t there if I had a quick question or wanted to run an idea by you. Or if I was away and remoted home, to know that you weren’t there to see my stupid mouse move and try to play a trick on me as you would often do. Or pop up a notepad with a “What are you doing woman?” on it. Those use to annoy me as I was typically in a hurry and think, “Geeze, don’t you have work to do?” God, what I wouldn’t give to have one of those messages pop up now. I would get in my car and break every speed limit to get home to you.  I’m not sure why your desk is such a “spot” for me. It’s worse than seeing your clothes. I think because it was such a part of who you were. You were so proud of it. So proud of how far you had come and what you had accomplished. 

People will ask how we are doing. Well, we are living because what else can we do. We are trying to figure out a new norm. Somethings we are finding works and some we know we need to figure something else out. Preston at times seems to have grown years past his age. Yet other times he will do something that reminds me he is still only eleven. What I notice is he is very attentive to me. Continuously asking if I’m ok or petting my hair with an I love you. I do have to giggle at our sleeping arrangement. I suggested that maybe it was time to try sleeping back in his bed and his reply was, “Not yet. I’m worried that you will roll over and not have anyone next to you.” I think it’s secretly his way of saying he’s just not ready yet. I’m ok with that!

If I stay busy, it’s easy to forget. Many days I feel like you’re just on a business trip. It makes it easier, not sure if it’s right, but it helps. If I stop for a minute and think about reality or I see your clothes or empty desk, it’s all over. I have a continuous physical pain in my chest that empathizes when it hits me yet again that you really aren’t coming back. That I’m never going to hear you say, “KK let’s go!” or “I love you KK.” Every time, it feels like the wind is knocked out of me and I physically can’t breathe. Then the tears ruin my makeup yet again. Damn. I wonder if I’ll ever stop looking like a raccoon? 

So, I’ve been thinking about somethings. I’ve been thinking about how I don’t want to ever forget you, even when I’m old. I’m so afraid I will stop hearing your voice or remembering our love story. I’m worried your voicemail messages that I’ve saved and play over and over will accidentally get deleted. I decided I’m going to write it out. I’m going to get it down so that I can reread it over and over and not forget. To never forget how we became “we” and our 21 days of a slow goodbye. I pray our boys will read it someday and know how special they are to us. That they helped to make us and we were us because of them. I don’t want them to ever forget how much their parents loved each other – no matter how much time has drifted by. As we would say, forever and ever and always will be just you and I, just you and I. Well… I would chant it and you would pat me saying, “Yes, dear. You and I, just you and I.”