Letter #8
Dear Bill,
2 years.
It has been 2 years since you were here with us. It feels like much longer than that. I feel like I have lived a thousand lives since I last saw you. I have died a thousand deaths.
I hate that you are dead. We all miss you so much. But I am also very happy in my new life. I saw someone today who I haven't seen in several months, so I was updating her on things and she commented, "Isn't it so fucking crazy how all this has happened?" Yes. It is exactly that. Every day I am still in disbelief that this is my life. That this happened to you. Finding love after being widowed means that one lives in a state of constant duality, missing the person and the life that was, but also so thankful for what is. David and his kids have been such an incredible blessing to our lives, and I am so in love with him and I cannot believe that I am getting a second chance at all of this. At times I catch myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, which I know I shouldn't do but I can't help myself. It's hard not to feel like it might just all get taken away again.
I am a different person than I was when you were here. I was shattered when you died and I put all of those pieces back together a little differently. In some ways I think I might be better, which both excites me and also makes me feel terribly guilty. It crushes me to think that maybe I didn't give you the best version of me. Thank you so much for showing me how to love like this, and for giving me the gift of knowing you would want me to share it with someone else.
We had a really great summer, albeit busy, with trips and camps and Dave moving in. As soon as school let out, Dave and I took all 6 kids on an 8 day RV trip through the southwest and we all had so much fun. If 8 people can live in an RV for 8 days together, we can pretty much get through anything, right? I sent the boys back to Iowa for a week to stay with our parents over the 4th of July. They had a fantastic time, and so did all the grandparents. I missed them terribly, but I got all my items checked off my "to-do" list, and I didn't spend the week telling people to get out of my kitchen and stop eating snacks, so it felt like a win. I can't decide if I should feel like a total boss, or a coward for shipping them off for the week without me, but I am certain I would not have been able to tolerate the pain of being back there for that long.
The kids have adjusted beautifully to our new and ever evolving life. The move-in went without issue and so far everyone seems happy. There may be bumps down the road, but we will handle them as they come. Quite honestly, we have all been through worse.
You will be happy to know that the rice cooker that I thought was a completely ridiculous buy and waste of space, and consequently was one of the first items to go after you died, has now been replaced with the rice cooker that David had at his house. I can almost hear you laughing.
The kids start back to school next week. Owen is going to kindergarten this year, and I am not quite sure who is more excited, him or me. Blake is going to middle school this year and I can hardly believe it. I went to buy his school supplies the other day and had to buy him a scientific calculator. So there I was, in the middle of Staples, crying over calculators. You would have relished in this little activity, scrutinizing over the different features and functions of all of them and ultimately knowing just the right one for him. I grabbed the one that said "middle school math," and got the heck out of there as fast as I could. Hopefully it does what he needs it to do, and that he actually understands how to use it, unlike his mother.
I wish I could tell you all of this in person, and I hope to hell you can see all of the beauty that has come into our lives since you left. I hope you are proud of us. And I hope that you can feel how much we love you and try to honor you every day.
We love you forever,
Bri
2 years.
It has been 2 years since you were here with us. It feels like much longer than that. I feel like I have lived a thousand lives since I last saw you. I have died a thousand deaths.
I hate that you are dead. We all miss you so much. But I am also very happy in my new life. I saw someone today who I haven't seen in several months, so I was updating her on things and she commented, "Isn't it so fucking crazy how all this has happened?" Yes. It is exactly that. Every day I am still in disbelief that this is my life. That this happened to you. Finding love after being widowed means that one lives in a state of constant duality, missing the person and the life that was, but also so thankful for what is. David and his kids have been such an incredible blessing to our lives, and I am so in love with him and I cannot believe that I am getting a second chance at all of this. At times I catch myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, which I know I shouldn't do but I can't help myself. It's hard not to feel like it might just all get taken away again.
I am a different person than I was when you were here. I was shattered when you died and I put all of those pieces back together a little differently. In some ways I think I might be better, which both excites me and also makes me feel terribly guilty. It crushes me to think that maybe I didn't give you the best version of me. Thank you so much for showing me how to love like this, and for giving me the gift of knowing you would want me to share it with someone else.
We had a really great summer, albeit busy, with trips and camps and Dave moving in. As soon as school let out, Dave and I took all 6 kids on an 8 day RV trip through the southwest and we all had so much fun. If 8 people can live in an RV for 8 days together, we can pretty much get through anything, right? I sent the boys back to Iowa for a week to stay with our parents over the 4th of July. They had a fantastic time, and so did all the grandparents. I missed them terribly, but I got all my items checked off my "to-do" list, and I didn't spend the week telling people to get out of my kitchen and stop eating snacks, so it felt like a win. I can't decide if I should feel like a total boss, or a coward for shipping them off for the week without me, but I am certain I would not have been able to tolerate the pain of being back there for that long.
The kids have adjusted beautifully to our new and ever evolving life. The move-in went without issue and so far everyone seems happy. There may be bumps down the road, but we will handle them as they come. Quite honestly, we have all been through worse.
You will be happy to know that the rice cooker that I thought was a completely ridiculous buy and waste of space, and consequently was one of the first items to go after you died, has now been replaced with the rice cooker that David had at his house. I can almost hear you laughing.
The kids start back to school next week. Owen is going to kindergarten this year, and I am not quite sure who is more excited, him or me. Blake is going to middle school this year and I can hardly believe it. I went to buy his school supplies the other day and had to buy him a scientific calculator. So there I was, in the middle of Staples, crying over calculators. You would have relished in this little activity, scrutinizing over the different features and functions of all of them and ultimately knowing just the right one for him. I grabbed the one that said "middle school math," and got the heck out of there as fast as I could. Hopefully it does what he needs it to do, and that he actually understands how to use it, unlike his mother.
I wish I could tell you all of this in person, and I hope to hell you can see all of the beauty that has come into our lives since you left. I hope you are proud of us. And I hope that you can feel how much we love you and try to honor you every day.
We love you forever,
Bri
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