Brandon has yet to have a weekend pass without someone visiting. He's been so happy to see friends and family and really good for them to see Brandon. For me, the amount of people submitting visiting applications has brought me to tears of gratitude every time.
I have had so many reasons and experiences that have made the days living without him here bearable. Some of them are so tender to me, I would rather keep it to myself or maybe don't feel as though I have the right words to adequately convey them. I am doing as well as I can be without Brandon here with me, and I am proud of that because it is the hardest thing I have ever done. I am still smiling and can even make a joke at our own expense although I probably make a few people cringe.. but it is what it is!
My kids continue to blow me away with their resilience. Although they miss him terribly, they know him and they know he'd really struggle if they were. I have said it before, but it feels to me as if there is this blanket of comfort that envelops us making everything feel as though everything is alright, and that it really will be. Maybe this is what it looks like to be so far in denial I don't even know, but I feel it and it's holding us together.
When we go see him, we can bring in food and whatever snacks or treats we want as long as they are unopened and with a receipt. I usually grab him a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit from McDonald's for breakfast as I get there at 9:00. I also have lunch for us for us as well. Brandon loves this steak bacon blue cheese salad from a restaurant we always go to and it's easy to grab and take with me. Subway, and his favorite sandwich from Heidi's Deli are also easy to take to him. Visiting is open from 9-3:30 so depending on the weather and what kids are with me, we stay as long as possible.
Visiting is what I live for these days, seeing him is like Christmas morning every weekend. Knowing I have to leave without him is like getting the wind knocked out of me every time yet, how full my heart is and the laughing and teasing, it's worth hurting for over the next few hours.
I tell my friends they better take good care of their husbands and love on them more since I can't. Of course I say it with a smile but it's true. I know there isn't anyone who has the perfect marriage and there is always life that gets in the way of appreciating and taking care of each other as we should. But as I think about where I am at right now, there is still so many people I know and love going through much harder, unfair, and more devastating trials than mine. One of my dearest friends lost her brother unexpectedly and it has rocked me. I can't stop thinking about it and how would I go on. Why her and not me, why do unfair things happen, why doesn't this happen to the guy who abuses his kids? It has consumed me.
I have thought about all those times I would get frustrated with Brandon for leaving his shoes at the end of our bed and most mornings they would greet me as I tripped over them. Let's say that I would laugh about 10% of the time and would get mad the other 90%. I laugh as I wish I could trip over them, but sadly they are put away and haven't moved in 92 days.
At some point after I came home from Greeley without Brandon, someone in my family, I think it was his mom, Louise; she handed me a clear, sealed bag with all his personal belongings he had on him. His watch, his wallet, a pack of gum, a half dozen gum wrappers, a pen, his business card, sunglasses and his wedding ring. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the end of my bed when it was handed to me, it took me a minute to realize what it was. I stared at it. I thought, this is what would happen if he had died and whoever collected it was the last person with him. I don't know how long I sat there and stared, I've been told I sat in my room for two hours until we finally told the kids what had happened.
I can only remember bits and pieces of it which is probably for the best. I know my brother-in-law Lane, had his arm around me, probably more like holding me up as my kids were told what had happened and why their dad wasn't with us. I remember my youngest brother, Bouk being the one who broke the news and lost it at some point as he spoke. My other brother Sam and Jason were standing next to him. I remember looking at my dad who had tears streaming down his face and just looking at his grand kids. I remember Louise sitting by Jack and Elizabeth and Navy in the arms of my sister-in-law, Hailey. My older brother Peter on the couch holding Maggie. I can't remember where anyone else was, my Mom, Caytee, Alex, Jimmy, McKelle, Tim, Diana, Bevin, Sara or what they were doing. I can't even remember who else was there but for some reason, there are nights I lay in bed trying to remember it all because it bothers me that I can't.
I relive that day in my head over and over. It's like I need to know exactly where everyone was, what I said to them, they said to me, the last thing I said to Brandon, who was the last one that hugged him, all these things that would not change one thing that happened that day. As I type this, it's crossed my mind that maybe I do this because I am still trying to figure out where it went so wrong. That wasn't was supposed to happen so maybe if I can pinpoint every detail it would somehow make this better or at least make sense?
I know that's not rational, but I am certain I am not the only one who has had these weird thoughts and ideas when the lives that we know are suddenly yanked away and a new one is staring at us. I will never say I don't have a pity party some days, but I pull right out of it when I look around and see how much I have to be living for, grateful for. It can always be harder, it could always be worse. I promise you I would rather go through the public scrutiny, gossip, loss of some friends I thought were solid, my kids not being invited to things like they were before, the questions, the rumors, and the heartache for myself, my kids and everyone who loves Brandon again rather than picking out his casket.
Six days later, on January 30th, there was box addressed to me in Brandon's handwriting in my mailbox. The return address said Weld County Jail. I felt a lump in my throat so big I thought I was going to choke. I took it to my room where I could open it without the kids around, I was afraid of them seeing me break down. When I finally found the courage to open it, it was so much work to get open that I had almost lost it by the time I was ready to open it! I took the lid off to find a big black garbage bag stuffed in it. I pulled it out and just as it was fully out of the box, out dropped his dress shoes, socks, dress shirt, and his gray suit. All balled up together and now on my floor. I immediately grabbed his suit and shirt and just held it against my face, I was so happy there was a faint smell of his cologne and it still smelled like him. I rummaged through the pockets with hope of finding a note from him that he had managed to write me....nothing.
My poor Mom, she was staying with me and trying to help me with the kids and the day to day stuff. She had already tried to wash my sheets on my bed and I had told her no, I didn't want them washed just yet. I had already started to sleep on his side of his bed, just holding onto anything that was Brandon. So when the suit showed up, all wrinkled and in a ball, I laid it nicely on the oversized chair in my bedroom and told my Mom I would drop it off at the dry cleaners. I did drop it off, just last week.
Perhaps I felt the need to say all of this because there is always something good in even the hardest of circumstances. That's not to say it's easy and obvious to see or acknowledge, but it is there. It takes time and a lot of healing but I have seen people do it in much more tragic of situations than mine. Maybe getting lost in helping someone is really what will help, maybe standing up for someone, stopping rumors or judgment of another will. I don't know but I do know there are people who have
come out of the woodwork and have been heaven sent angels to me, my kids and to Brandon. A note, an email, a text, dropping something off, inviting my kids, all of these things have made a difference. I may not have responded to all of them but it helped me and it meant something to me.
I am certainly not the first, nor the last person to deal with something hard. Mine just happens to be public and while that has brought it's own tough things, going through something privately is sometimes much worse. Life can be so so hard and having people stand by you is sometimes the only thing to hold onto. In my case, much more bearable. Maybe just giving someone the benefit of the doubt if they are acting funny, just doing something as simple as inviting them to do something even if they don't accept, just ask. It makes a difference and it matters.
There is so many things we cannot control, how we treat people and how we talk about them, how we treat their kids, we have control of that. It doesn't have to be a scandal, a tragedy or anything life altering to cause us to be kind and gracious to each other. I have had it both ways and the sweet is sweeter and the sting is deeper when you are going through something. You never know when you will need the same outpouring of love and you will never, ever regret giving it. Trying to convince everyone you're life is perfect has got to be exhausting and frankly, miserable. In the end, don't you just want to be happy yourself and for others, and comfort and be comforted when it's not?
I hope at the very least, being separated from Brandon will make me appreciate everything about him, even those size 15 shoes being left right where I will trip on them. How I look forward to the day my toe hurts again because that means he is home and what a lucky, blessed girl I will be.
Now go kiss your spouse, do it for me! xoxo Sallie
Thank you for sharing! Love you Sallie!
ReplyDeleteGreat reminder for us all! Keep posting and keep holding on to every moment you get!! Love to you all!
ReplyDelete❤️
ReplyDelete