It's a typical morning for me.
I wake up next to a head of black hair- but it's not yours. It's your daughter's. She's been terrified of sleeping alone lately and every night is a battle. Because she has such a hard time going to sleep, she sleeps late and I have to wake her up for preschool. "Wake up honey." Even without remembering them specifically, I know I've been dreaming of you and of us all night long. I am tired from it and it leaves a bitter taste behind.
Quick breakfast, getting hair, teeth brushed. In the car. In the school parking lot, a friend of Audrey's runs to her and gives her a hug, unfortunately knocking her down on the wet pavement. Her pants are soaked through. Inside the school room, I go to get her spare pants and change them. Before I leave, she insists I talk to her teacher about her fear of fairy tales. I do and her teacher tells me that she knows what it's in reference to specifically and that some of the kids play "monster" and Audrey bursts into tears. I tell Audrey they won't be playing that today, give her a kiss, and head out.
Today I head to the local Starbucks since I only have a couple of hours before she's through and we don't live that close by. I bring my computer, my notebook with all of my to-do lists and a big binder of ideas for things to do with Audrey. I keep my coat on. It's drafty at my table by the window.
My emails consist of writing back and forth to the realtor who is helping me find a home. Emailing my parents to see if they can babysit. Emailing between a medical center here and my contact at the US Embassy in Switzerland- still a year and a half later and a ton of back and forth and obtaining letters and certificates and faxes, trying to secure your "tissue" that they've held there for further genetic testing. Still wondering what the f--k happened and doing so at the recommendation of the pediatric cardiologist Audrey saw at her pediatrician's recommendation to rule out any genetic heart defect- since- we really don't know what happened to you my sweet husband.
After that putting up a few things on Craigs List that I've finally taken proper photos of. Audrey's old crib mattress- her stroller - her booster seat. These haven't been used for a while and are leaning up on walls in my room or in a stuffed closet in our one bedroom apartment. In the posting, "used by one child for about two years." One child. I take a long look at the photo of the stroller- the stroller I can see you pushing Audrey in- see us walking together along the river path...back when we were just a young family.
Three listings done on Craigs List- I have a lot more to do.
My parking meter will run out in a few minutes- time to go get our daughter.
Life feels hard and every thing I do infused with this sadness and tragedy. I miss you tremendously. Mostly, I miss you simply being alive- but I realize lately- I really miss your love and support as well- in this, what I hope is the most challenging time of my life. If you can, send me some help from where you are. I love you.