Instincts

It's amazing what your mind and body will do to try and protect you from pain.  When the shock and sadness is almost too much to bear, your brain kicks in and says "Woahhh there! I've gotta do a little sheltering or this girls gonna crack down the middle." Because there really are times when it feels like my body will just betray me, and my knees might go a little weak, or my head gets dizzy. There are times when I truly feel like I'm going to die because my heart is shattered into a million and two pieces. That's when I rely on my brain to help out and shelter me from some of the pain.  I've never understood how people can "block out" certain parts of their lives that were traumatic.  I was always so skeptical....how could you not remember a whole chunk of your life?! Yea, ok. Sure. But I completely get it now. People tell me things that happened after Pete's accident, that I truly don't remember. It's so weird. It's like theres this fuzzy part in my brain where the really difficult parts should be. But my brain is protecting me from them, so I can't access those memories. I guess I should be thankful for that. Right?

And there are times when I'm literally waging war on my instincts....fighting a battle inside my body to overcome very powerful instincts telling me to make my world as small as possible.  "Do you want to get hurt again?! Yea, I didn't think so. Ok, I'll tell you what to do. Push everyone away. Get rid of those friends, don't let your family in. If you push them away now, you and Stella won't get hurt later on down the road. I'm serious, listen to me. I'm your instincts, I know what's best." But in my heart I know that's not the path to take.  Pushing my friends and family away will only make it more difficult when I come out of this "coma" that I'm in.  This horrible existense that is my life right now. 

So I continue to wage this war, fight this battle. And I hope I win, or else my instincts are gonna have me and Stel alone, sad, pathetic for the rest of our lives. And I can't do that to us. To Pete. We were so happy, so loving, so excited about life. I've got to get back there.  I'm determined to. For Pete.

A moment of clarity?

I took Stella to Pete's grave today.  It was so gorgeous out, with a sweet gentle breeze just when you needed it.  I've never really been the kind of person to sit and "talk" at someone's grave, but with Pete it's different.  I could probably sit and talk to him for hours.  There's so much to tell him.  Even though I know he's with us and sees everything, I had to tell him about his sweet girl. How Stella is now grabbing her toys.  How happy she is.  The way she smiles and laughs when she sees me first thing in the morning. How she still loves to listen to goodnight stories, especially "Guess How Much I Love You" (even though I don't read it the way Daddy did). Had to tell him that I've had a couple "good" days where I didn't break down every 5 minutes.

 I sat and talked to him like he was right there in front of me.  I thanked him for sending his message through Ferris; told him how much it meant to me. After a while I told him that I needed another sign, another glimmer of him.  I told him that those little bits of him are the only thing that help me through my days.  I immediately felt a sense of peace.  It was the calmest, most peaceful feeling I've had since after his viewing (he gave me the same sense of calm and strength that I needed to make it through his funeral).  I had (as a good friend coined it) a moment of clarity.  I realized that I can't continue looking for happiness in my future.  I can't continue to be afraid of having bad days. I can't keep wondering if I'm going to have the happy ending I knew I would have with Pete.  I realized that every morning I need to aim to be happy for just that day.  Not tomorrow or the next day.  I need to live in the present, and try to be happy for one day.  One day doesn't seem so tough, right? I can do one day.  Who knows....maybe one day will eventually turn into a lifetime.

A sign

So I'm a few days late in writing about this, but I took a few days for some relaxing on the Beach.  I definitely needed it, it did my soul good . :-)

We all know that Pete and Ferris had a special connection.  He wasn't just a typical "uncle" to her....he was so much more.  She absolutely loved him, and he was absolutely in love with her too.  He got such a kick out of her, that it's no wonder my first significant "sign" was sent by him through his little buddy, Ferris.

Sunday was a horrible day.  I was overwhelmed with grief, hurt, sadness, loss. I felt like I would never see another happy day.  Laughing was impossible. I was miserable.  I begged Pete to come to me. To show me that he was with me, that he was there to give me strength. Nothing happened.  My sadness grew and intensified.  I kept begging him to show me that he was there.

We spent the night at Erin's house so in the morning we could get an early start on our little beach getaway.  Mom, Erin, me, and the babies were in the play room. Ferris was in the family room with Chuck.  She was watching a movie and suddenly bolted off the couch and grabbed her cell (a phone that Uncle Pete gave her to play with). She picks up the phone and says, "Pete!!" "OK!" "Caitie? Mama? Gigi?" and runs into the playroom with the phone to her ear.  I asked her, "Who are you talking to?" "Pete!" she says. Teasing her, I said, "Why is Uncle Pete calling so late? What does he want?" She looked at us, and said in the sweetest voice tinged with regret, "Pete sorry! Pete Sorry! Pete Sorry!"

Ferris is only 2, she doesn't understand the word "sorry".  She has never said the word before, and hasn't said it since.  There isn't a doubt in my mind that Pete was telling me that he was sorry that he had to leave.  And I know that's true, because Pete would NEVER leave his family.  Stella and I were everything to him.  We made him so happy.  NO WAY would he leave if there was even the slightest chance that he could stay. 

So that was my first sign, and it was a doozy.  Even after he's gone, he's still trying to make me feel good.  God I love that man.

Life goes on?

Everywhere around me life is moving right along. The sun hasn't stopped setting.  The birds haven't stopped singing.  The flowers haven't stopped blooming.  Stella hasn't stopped growing.  My friends and family have picked back up on their daily routines.  But what about me? I'm stuck.  I'm in limbo.  My heart is shattered and I'm in the most intense grief I've ever felt in my life, yet my heart yearns to be mended and to find happiness. I wanna be out of limbo.  I wanna be happy.  But happiness seems so far off in the distance, that I can't even begin to make out its shape. Is there happiness out there for me again? Or am I doomed to walk around in this strange limbo for the rest of my life?

Acceptance

Acceptance....seems like an easy enough word.  Seems like when someone dies, the natural thing to do is to "accept" that they're no longer with us and that's that. Then why is it so difficult for me to accept that Pete was killed. He won't be home waiting for me after a long day of shopping. He won't walk up the back walk, sit on the steps to take off his boots and come inside after a long day at work.  He's not just outside fiddling around in the garage.  He's not upstairs in his office working on a set of plans.  He's not out back working on the chicken coop. He's not sitting on the couch playing with Stel.  He's not in the shower. He's not taking a nap with Stella sleeping on his chest. He's not he's not he's not!!!!! I could go on and on about the places "he's not". Yet I can't fully accept that he's actually not here.  If I could only accept that he's not coming home....I might be able to start my road to recovery.  But I haven't accepted it.  Not sure when I will. There's still a twinge of hope that it's all a bad dream, and that he is all those places that he's actually not.

Acceptance is an obstacle that I need to overcome. But it doesn't seem like I'm overcoming anything soon.

Friends

Funny thing about friends...they're there for you even when you don't want it. When you feel like you're in the depths of hell, like you're hanging on by your fingernails....they swoop in and make you smile.  Today was the worst day I've had all week. I think it finally hit me that Pete will not be walking through that door again. That life without him is going to become my norm. I was adament that I didn't want anyone coming over. Did they listen? Nope. And what happened after lots of hysterical crying....a little smile. Thanks guys. Love you <3

11 weeks

Stella is 11 weeks old today. 
11 weeks ago at this very minute, Pete and I were about to welcome her into the world.  We were so happy.  We were so in love.  We were so excited about our future as a family.
Did I think that it would all be cut short in 9 1/2 weeks? Hell no. Never crossed my mind. Sure, I knew that things could happen having lost 2 dads. But not Pete, not MY Pete. He was invincible. Strong. Healthy. Safe. We were on top of the world.
Fast forward 11 weeks from that blissfully happy day. I'm sitting here numb, sick with grief. Heartbroken. Shattered. Stunned. How the hell could this have happened? It's not supposed to be like this. Not Pete. Not Caitie and Pete. Not to sweet Stella. She needs her Daddy. I need her Daddy.
Where is the fairness? How do some people seem to walk through life without seeming to suffer any grief, while others have so much devastation????
11 weeks ago, this is the LAST thing I would have expected to be going through.