Wow. Each morning I wake up with a renewed wound and fresh shock that my Patrick is not here. He’s really not coming back, is he?
Lots of painful reminders surrounding me:
- His piles of clothes as they come through the laundry.
- His textbooks and school folders stacked neatly in our small room.
- His well-known pick-up truck sitting on the driveway, naked without his “Destroyer” kayak on top
- The utter silence of his voice in this house each and every day
- His fitness training calendar/journal left unfinished with unmet sessions of running, paddling, lifting, swimming
- Even the darned toothpaste tube! All 6 of us crowded in one bathroom each night to brush our teeth. Somehow, that tube was always straight and easy to dispense. The last few weeks we have nothing but a crumpled mess of a tube. Pat was diligent about those little things.
- My daughter’s constant, “Why?!”, “Why did he have to leave us?”
- My son’s sobbing comment, “I’m going to live most of my life without having a Papa.”
- All the hospital bills coming in…
It’s ironic that right now any vivid picture of Patrick, things he said, ways he’d hold me or the kids–I have to push away out of the sheer pain–but I know in a year or two those very same images I will be striving to bring to mind, to never forget.
The last few days I have been carefully reading through every single card, email, and comment that I have received from everyone Patrick knew. Reading each one is sincerely uplifting. So many of you care so deeply. It means the world to me. I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to be able to lean back on this tightly woven spirit of friendship, concern, and support.
If anyone has good memories to share–anything even little, please add them to the comments! I really want to know how Pat was everywhere, with everyone.