According to my Facebook, 2 years ago today Bob and I had a date night. Even if I didn’t post where we went, I would have known. We went to our favorite place, Tequilas. I know exactly what we had to drink and eat, it never really changed. Bob would venture out and try different things, but mine pretty much always stayed the same. I’m assuming that was our last normal date night.
December is a busy month anyway with Christmas but I was also in my best friends wedding that month. Bob didn’t go to the wedding because he stayed home with the boys. He also worked nights so that had to be our last one.
Trying to go back 2 years and remember what all happened that month is hard and trying to remember that exact night is even harder. I know what we ordered but what was our conversation like? I’m sure he talked about work because he actually enjoyed his job and liked coming home and talking about it. I’m sure we talked about our crazy boys. And I’m sure he asked me how I was feeling. He always wanted to know how I was doing with my health and he knew him working nights brought new challenges and he knew that my pain was worse in the winter. How was he feeling? He wasn’t having symptoms yet but the cancer was already there and we didn’t know it. How is that possible? How did we sit there and talk and eat like normal and not know he had cancer? It wasn’t until over a week later that he first had any sort of symptom. Everything in our lives was perfect 2 years ago today. I’m thankful for this reminder in a way because I do know that night was perfect. The “dates” I remember after that consisted of doctor appointments, chemo and watching The Walking Dead together while he was staying in the hospital. Even though those dates weren’t what I would call perfect, I would give anything to have one more of those with him.
This was one of our Walking Dead “dates” in the hospital. September 30, 2015 to be exact. We were so tired, it was 11 at night and it was such a long day but we couldn’t stop binge watching our show. He hated kissing photos so he always made stupid faces, lol. He held my hand that entire night. Seeing these does make me sad knowing he was gone less than a month later but I can’t help but smile when I look at them.
The face of grief…
Sitting here writing about this hurts so bad. Just one little thing and it triggers all these emotions and the tears just won’t stop. I look like a blubbering idiot and I’m a complete mess. It’s sad when you go into your room to write and be alone and your kids can hear you crying. They came in to check on me and see if I was okay. They are freaking 3 and 5 years old, they don’t deserve this! If only you could see my face right now, then you could see the face of grief. But you won’t see that, unfortunately my boys see it from time to time. You won’t see it, Bob was the only one to see the real me, to know the real me, to love the real me. I’ve become so good at hiding it, it’s scary sometimes. The one good thing that having Lupus has given me, the ability to hide how I’m really feeling. Honestly, it’s probably not good but since I don’t like people seeing me like this, it works for me. What you might see when you see me is a fake smile, maybe once in a while a real one, you’ll see exhaustion and me just being run down but you won’t see everything. The ones who will see the real me are other widows and widowers because they completely understand. Even if the situation isn’t the same, they get it. I actually have had some real smiles lately so that has been nice. I love being able to get out of the house and get together with my friends and hang out. Also getting to see how some of my friends interact with my boys is awesome. They need that just as much as I do.
If you’ve actually read this whole thing, I appreciate you. Sorry for being a Debbie downer at times.