Where Have You Been?

Things have been busy. I've needed you.
As the song on my playlist says, "Where have you been, my long lost friend?...Come and sit for a while...I've missed your smile. Time can't erase a lover's embrace. Don't you hear it calling?...A new day dawning you were longing to find? Love's taken you far away from my heart, and I've been here all alone. Have your eyes failed to find what took you from mine? A vision that's faded with time....Is there a way to make you stay? Darlin', don't turn away. Don't doubt your heart. Stay."

I can only hope that you have stayed.
I can imagine you pullin' for me as I'm trying to do this all by myself.
I imagine you had a little something to do with an incident last week I refer to as the miracle from Michael.
I had to go to the bank. As I went to put Andi in the car, I put a folder on top of my car. Unfortunately after packing us all in, I forgot to grab that folder off the car roof before I drove off.
When I realized what I'd done, I'd been gone for a good hour. I had no idea what location it could have been where the folder flew off. But I heard your voice of persistence inside of me....To not give up and to go find it. So I did. And somehow I did find it....The folder, the papers, the business cards, the notebook, all strewn across a hill, in trees, with tire marks on them, on sidewalks, in gutters. The thing is, those papers were three months of work. Your death certificates, the probate papers, mortgage documents, realtor information, city records, cemetery documents, headstone papers, financial information, the endless phone numbers of important people (attorneys, realtors, investigating officers, friends, your co-workers, etc. etc.)
It would have absolutely devasted me to lose all that.
Thanks for reminding me to do whatever it was I could to find those papers. That's what I did and how grateful I am.
And I know, I know...I need back-ups of these. Your voice is always with me, remember.

Andi's been growing and developing so much. I hope you hear her sweet voice and newly formed words. She loves that she can say words now. But everything she says is, "Mama! Mama!..." and then she'll blurt out name of the object she's pointing at. She's so smart. I feel like Forrest Gump telling his buried Jenny that Forrest Jr. is "so smart, Jenny." It's true, Michael, our girl is so smart. And I say that with emotion because I know it's all from you.

She and I went to the Davis football game last week. It reminds me of when you'd take her to all those Davis wrestling meets. Trying to keep up the Davis pride, ya know. I've been taking her to a playgroup once a week in our ward. She has a lot of fun. I finally took her back to our Ogden house--The first time since your death. I was really afraid to do so, because anytime we'd drive anywhere near the house, she'd cry, "Home! Home! Mama, home!" Literally, she would cry. But when we actually went there, she was happy like I thought she'd be and she just played with her old toys and did her old tricks. And when it was time to go, she was ready to go "home." That made my heart ache, but I know calling another place besides "2361 Custer Avenue" Home is the next painful step I must take. It reminds me of all those desperate moments these past months, yelling questions to my dad like, "How am I supposed to make a home where he isn't?! Home is where he is!" And then I'd have to take a break from looking at houses for another while before I could face that reality again.
You truly are my home.

I also took Andi to Boondocks a couple of weeks ago. You would have been so proud of her. You remember the last time we went and how you had to help her up all those ladders and slides? She was up all of them, all by herself. Totally unafraid. Bones and McCall came that night. Bones hasn't surprised me in showing true friendship towards us. Towards you. He has such a good heart. You know, going through all this really reveals a lot about the people around you. My grief counselor calls it "the thirds." The top third of people are those you can count on to share the emotion with...Who will sympathize deeply and show true respect for your grief. Bones is totally there. One thing he said that night I can't forget is that you're up there with our first baby. Gotta' think we're both doing our part to build up our family for the eternity we'll eventually share.

Andi's started to sing to songs we listen to in the car. She sings the words so well and dances as she does so. Oh, it's so cute. There's one song that goes, "me, me, me!" and she says it perfectly as she does a little jig.

So yeah...I finally joined a "loss of spouse" support group. I keep waiting for them to join at the hands in a circle and to chant, "Single Parents Alone Together! Single Parents Alone Together!" (Gotta' love "About A Boy"...a movie we loved together.) Anyway, as stupid and hard as it is, it's nice being around people who understand. That is, if you think it's nice to sit around and cry and be totally depressed with totally depressing people. :) But right now I guess that's my idea of nice.

Last week in the group, we were to pick a porcelain "heart" from a bag. Each was decorated differently. We were to choose one that helped explain us, our spouse, and/or our experiences the past while. I chose this bright green heart with an impression of a leaf on it. How could it have been more appropriate? I told them about how green was the color of your office--the color of your hero, "The Hulk." I told them about the beautiful leaves on our wonderful trees in our yard...How we loved those trees together. How I look at them constantly as I pack up our house. It's as if those trees are as sad as I am to leave.

Help me be the female version of "The Hulk." You were totally the Hulk, Babe. I need to keep that part of you alive in me....The passion, anger, intensity, ambition, drive.

Experience is teaching me that with each day, I must experience every emotion that comes along with it. I have to let the emotion flood me or I cannot move on. Sometimes that means locking myself in room and screaming, yelling, and crying myself to pieces until I feel purged. Then I can somehow take the next step I need to take....Even if I do it with bloodshot eyes and mascara lines smeared across my face.

I love you. I worry about you. I know you, and I imagine you've fought against this new reality. I ask of you the one thing I know you're asking of me: To continue forward, to love God, to work hard--to work as if we're doing everything for the day of our glorious reunion. Do me honor and I promise you I'm doing everything I can to do the same.