A tough one.

Today has been a horrible struggle for me personally. The gamut of emotions I've experienced in the last 48 hours is crazy. I'm ready for the good days to start out numbering the ones that are so hard and challenging. I've met another mom in my same scenario with 2 young kids. She's 8 months in to widowhood and shared with me recently that they're all starting to experience more good days. For her personally, months 3-6 were hardest. So does that mean it's the same for me? These months will be the hardest? We're nearing the 5 month mark already. How is that possible when I vividly relive him constantly it feels like?

I'm 33. I'm a smart person. I have my stuff together - most of the time. I've proactively been seeing a therapist since shortly after Danny's diagnosis. I'm a nurse. I deal with the stages of grief in caring for others. I just never thought I would be dealing with my OWN stages of grief. What I'm learning is that a person doesn't necessarily travel linearly from one stage to the next. Nope. Sometimes, you're "lucky" enough to get them all in one day. And about the time you think you're through one stage and ready to conquer the next a previously worked through stage reappears. Yeah. Welcome to the world of Addie's crazy emotions and trying to maintain control over them -- which today has been impossible.

Sunday we had a great day as a family. I blogged about how super awesome my kids were and about the great weekend we'd had together. We went to Build-a-Bear and got Avery's voice box in his horse fixed so that Daddy's voice sounded like it did for Aidan. Not a big deal right? Wrong. As I'm listening to the "surgeon" push the voice box repeatedly, I'm reliving the day that Danny and I worked to get them recorded. I'd waited too long to ask him to do them. But how do you approach someone who is actively dying about recording their voice so their kids can remember them? What a cruel in your face reminder! There's no happy in having to try to explain it and record it. Danny worked so so hard that day. His memory was short circuiting horribly. The first box took us about 30 attempts alone. He was getting frustrated but stuck with it. We eventually got all 4 of them accomplished. Thankfully the kids were preoccupied with things to see in the store because I was just sort of there. Standing in silence. Walking down memory lane. Trying to keep it together.

Monday was a pretty alright day for everyone. Kids seemed happy. They had a sitter while I worked. We snuggled before bed and I tucked them all in. I was lucky enough to catch up with my bestie via Facetime that night for a while. In conversation, she reminded me that Danny and I's wedding anniversary is(was) this coming Sunday. Ugh. Gut punch city. Goes without saying sleep was evasive that night.

Tuesday was the presentation in Danny's honor. That plaque is super cool. The kids absolutely loved seeing their dad's name on something that shines like it does. It's an incredible honor. It also wreaked complete havoc on my emotions. And once again a walk down memory lane. From the first time we met. Being dating co-workers (a no-no I realize). Being his partner on some calls I was thankful to have a big guy to be the heavy and some other calls I wanted to kick him in the shin for not deflecting the patients hitting on me. To being a student in his class and observing his passion for helping others learn. He took so much pride in all he did. Being a paramedic was his heart unquestionably. We had a good number of years being on the same team, not just in marriage but at work too.

And then came today. Sitting through that graduation was t-o-u-g-h! It's funny to me how things you don't think will really bother you have the potential to end up really bothering you. Today for sure. I couldn't help but to feel some anger at Danny for leaving us and forcing us to face these milestones on our own. (This is the first time I would ever say I actually felt anger towards Danny. Before it's always been directed elsewhere.) I kept thinking to myself, "you should be here today, but you're not!" Immediately after the anger comes the guilt. In no way would Danny have EVER chosen to leave his family. We were his pride and joy. He didn't choose cancer. The unbiased beast claims victims at will. I haven't been able to shake the emotions all day. I try to go about life and keeping routine for the kids but randomly I find myself crying today. My kids have suffered for it. We've all struggled today. My reactions to them haven't been that of a rockstar mom by any means. And when they were supposed to be napping today, they were crying, because they too miss their dad. Today the void he's left feels like a dark abyss. How do I keep it together for the kids when I can't keep it together for me?

 Lots of praying today. Lots of pasting on the smile and acting like everything is okay when in reality it's exactly the opposite. Thankfully, today is drawing to an end. Now that the kids are sleeping, my tears can flow freely. Tomorrow is a new day. And just like we do every day, we'll keep putting one foot in front of the other. Because there is no other option. Life goes on even when we hold on.