My mourning has become a self-indulgent luxury. Finding time to mourn when so much is going on seems selfish. Last week, for the first time, I was able to consciously put myself in denial mode. For these reasons, I have not contributed much to this site for the last several days. I apologize to all the faithful visitors and supporters!

Except for a few relapses here and there, I was able to push the pain away and concentrate on some of the more practical matters I had been unable to fully address–taking showers, getting kids to bed in a more expected manner, putting a bit more emphasis on daily homeschooling routines with the kids, beginning to make a dent in the piles and piles of financial and legal paperwork, laundry, and clutter.

Now that I have put myself in denial mode, I’m terrified of feeling the pain again. I haven’t looked at Pat’s pictures or listened to the music I put on this site. I compare the way I feel in denial mode to the way I feel when I have the stomach flu. I simply dread and fight the feeling of throwing up, even though I know it’s basically inevitable and will even make me feel better for awhile.

Pat died 3 months ago. Rereading that last sentence has me hyperventilating. I have designated this afternoon for mourning. Daniel and Joey are at swim practice, Laura is with her grandma, Tommy is with a cousin, and my dad is feeling well today. The piles and dust can sit for a while more. Dinner will be leftovers again.

I have started by revisiting this site, turning on the music, and writing. Next, I am going to go through stacks of pictures to find ones of my beautiful Patrick. I will scan them and include them on this site. The pictures of him by himself are hard to look at. The pictures of him with me are harder. The pictures of him as a loving father to his 4 kids make me want to die.

I grieve for him. I grieve for my loss. I grieve for my 4 kids’ everlasting loss.

It’s uncanny how immediately I can go into full-force pain mode. I need to throw up.

My kids have survived so valiantly for 3 months now. Don’t they get a reward now? Can’t we please have Pat back now?!! Have we suffered enough yet?!

This Post Has 1,301 Comments

  1. Mary

    Hi Nancy,
    As I was driving home, I don’t know why but it just suddenly hit me like I was socked in the stomach – I felt a sharp stabbing pain that Pat is not here. I had the exact SAME thought – I screamed (I was alone in the car), “Pat! You have been gone long enough now! Can’t you come back to us now? We have all suffered enough and we need you back now!”

    Then I get onto this site and see that you had just posted those same thoughts today. I thought that was interesting.

    Pat is here with us somehow, some way, I just don’t know how to see him or hear him. I miss him so much. I was thinking about how he came with me to Ted’s swim team banquets and swim meets and how much I’m going to miss him since the swim season starts again soon. He really cared about me and my boys and we miss him so incredibly. Nowhere NEAR the amount you miss him, and I can’t even imagine how much you hurt. I miss him so so much!

    How can such an incredible, wonderful, beautiful human being just disappear? How can he NOT be here right now? It just does not make any sense. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of never seeing him again.

    I love you.

  2. Paul_Jenny

    Hi Nancy, we are here, and we keep you and the children close to our hearts. You are often in our thoughts and prayers. We love you.

    Paul and Jenny

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