As I write, I am sitting on an airplane headed to Disneyland. Yes, I did just go with Olivia. But this trip is adults only with my mom, aunt, and cousin. I am eternally grateful for these women. That they recognize the importance of having rest. They see the need for me to be away from my kids and rest and relax. I am also incredibly grateful for the community I have at home taking care of my babies. Specifically Matt’s parents, Val and Larry. Without them, I don’t know that I would be comfortable leaving.
Mom guilt is a serious thing and it weighs heavy on me while I’m away. Especially going to Disneyland of all places. But I know this time away will make me appreciate and love my kids more than I already do. And lately, I have been feeling the need for a break. My kids haven’t necessarily been behaving badly. They are my heart. My life. But it does get tiring. Really, really tiring. I haven’t even taken off yet and I already miss them.
I have mentioned before the reasons for writing my blog. It’s cathartic and therapeutic for me. It forces me to be intentional with my thoughts during the month and truly focus on ways I am struggling, growing, hurting, and healing. Some months I find myself celebrating victories. Other months I find myself wallowing in more pain than I can even articulate. I would say this last month has been a big mixture of both.
When I moved into our house, everything got put in a place. Now that I have been settled in the house for over a year now, I am finding that stuff isn’t organized to my liking. The towels may be in the linen closet but they aren’t in an order the way I prefer. The games and craft items are upstairs where I want, but not at all organized. Slowly but surely I am finding time to really put things away the way I want. Most recently, my coat closet. This was a catchall for all things coats, vacuums, and random items. Also in this closet was a box of Matt’s coats that was appropriately labeled “Matt’s hall coats.” When I was cleaning things out, I decided that this box would be a good baby step.
I have not yet touched any of Matt’s items. I still have everything that ever belonged to him. All shirts, pants, socks, and even underwear. Nothing has been gone through. If you don’t know this about Matt, he had a lot of stuff. He, surprisingly, liked shopping. He would buy a sweatshirt and like it so much and later go back and buy it in two or three different colors. The task of going through Matt’s possessions is not only hard emotionally, it is also very overwhelming. How in the world will I ever decide what to do with all of it? The coats were no exception. In this box were roughly 18 coats. Some are still packed away in other boxes. Those 18 didn’t include coats he wore for snowmobiling or hunting. They didn’t include suit coats.
Opening this box of coats was painful. I looked at all of them carefully. I went through all the pockets to see if he left anything in them. I laughed when I didn’t find anything. How was there not one receipt or wrapper in any of the pockets? I also laughed at the similarities between so many of the coats. I could hear our (loving) disagreements when we would be shopping. “Matt, don’t you have a coat just like that at home?” “Well, this one has a hood” or “this one is grey.” Laying them all out just made me smile because of the way his thought process was when buying all these coats. The heartbreaking part of it all was how much life was left in the coats. I cried thinking how similar this is to Matt himself. So new. So much life left. Hardly worn.
What I decided to do with Matt’s coats was see if his best friend, Eli, wanted to go through them. I was hopeful that he would say yes because I wanted to see them worn more. I wasn’t sure if this would be a painful or comforting piece of Matt to have. I took the box to Eli’s and left them on his porch. When I drove home, I sobbed the entire way. I never dreamed that letting go of coats would be so painful. I just kept thinking “this isn’t right. This isn’t something that I should have to do.” Eli appreciated being thought of and found use for some of Matt’s coats which has made my heart really happy.
As a freelance sign language interpreter, one of the many things I’ve always loved about my job is the flexibility. I love that I can pick and choose when and where I want to work. But work isn’t something I have done since September 2015. Prior to Matt’s passing, I worked on occasion. Matt was always very encouraging of the career I chose. He always praised me and said how cool my job is. He also saw how becoming a mom fulfilled me and how it’s what I was born to do. Matt never pressured me to work but encouraged me to keep up on my career because he could tell I love it so much. When Matt was in the hospital, I was fearful of how being a stay-at-home mom would change. I thought losing him would mean working full time and putting my kids in daycare. I wasn’t sure how I would juggle it all while working. What a blessing to find out that I didn’t have to work. Because in all honesty, going back to work caused me a lot of anxiety.
I take my job really seriously. I want to be seen as a professional and remain composed in all situations. Freelancing also means that my job changes every time I go to work. I could be working in a school setting one day and the next be in a medical setting. I also feared being asked by clients or people at my appointment about my personal life. These conversations happen all the time. And if tears come, I am not afraid of them. I had anxiety wondering how I would compose myself if the tears came while working. This long break from work also had me concerned that I would forget my second language. I haven’t attended workshops or been involved with the Deaf community in a very long time. I didn’t want to show up to a job and find myself struggling to interpret well.
The agency I work for is owned by someone very dear to my heart. Kari hired me right out of college. She has always kept me as busy as I wanted to be and always gave me the confidence to do jobs that I was unsure of. She appreciated me. She saw the value of family and made sure that I knew it was important to always keep family first. Kari has been in my life for a long time. Behind me and supporting me through so much. When Matt passed it was no surprise that she told me not to worry about work until I was ready.
Kari recently emailed me about a job and wanted to know if I would accept it. When I say “job”, I mean a short appointment with a far drive. This appointment was with a client whom I have known for many years. Someone who has followed my journey, supported, and prayed for me through everything. Someone whom I am comfortable with even if I were to happen to break down in tears. So, I took the job. This was such a huge step for me in my grieving process. It was ripping the band-aid off my biggest anxiety wound. I was incredibly proud of myself for taking this step. And I was extremely grateful to Kari and the client for their patience for me to get to this point.
I think the importance of both these milestones is taking time for reflecting on sadness. While going through Matt's coats and driving to work, I kept reminding myself "it is ok to be sad." It is such a simple reminder that life is sad sometimes. And allowing myself to feel those emotions is vital to healing. I can be really sad that Matt isn't here to share my victory of taking a job. And I can be really sad that I have to go through his possessions. Allowing the tears allows my heart to heal. My heart will never, ever be the same as it used to be. My heart will get put back together with a hole in it. Taking steps by taking jobs and going through Matt's stuff will only help me heal in a new way.
