I woke up this morning with the sun shining bright through my blinds. My 3 year old wrapped up in a comfy ball to my right, still getting in his beauty sleep. I get up, grab my phone and head to the bathroom where I can comfortably watch my sleeping angel and catch up on my morning news. Just another day.
He wakes up, runs to meet me in the washroom, gives me the biggest hug as he comfortably snuggles in my lap. His first words of the day come out, “mommy I farted.” As I feel a tremble against my legs. I chuckle, of course, because his humor makes my morning that much better. Just another day.
We stay in bed a bit watching learning shows and I get us ready for the day. Me in my workout gear and him in his sweatpants and Star Wars shirt. We put on his brand new Northface jacket and go back and forth about wearing a hat for the day. He wins and I throw his hood over his head. It’s a beautiful and sunny but cool fall morning. Just another day.
In the car on the way to daycare he says, “Mommy I have to pee” as I chastise myself for not putting him on the toilet before we left. We make it to the daycare just in time, after telling him to “hold it in” 20 different funny ways in what seemed like miles but was only a few blocks. We run in and pass him along to his teacher as I relay his emergency and she continues the run to the closest toilet. Just another day.
I take a short ride for my first trip back to the gym in weeks, a new location that just opened up that was pleasantly clean, small and quiet. Get in my cardio on the stairs for 15 minutes of my interval routine training and head to the pulley machine to work my upper body. I’m feeling good and send my husband a text about how good it feels to be back in the gym after too many tortas and tacos screwed up my tummy in Mexico. We go back and forth with adoration and love. Asking about doctors appointments and sending a reminder to him for me to call my doc for blood work. We’re getting older now, health has to be a priority. Just another day.
I need a nail appointment and check my calendar to see how many weeks it’s been. They look like crap and my nail guy is not there tomorrow. I gotta get in. It’s October 5th. My heart drops and my breathing starts to heighten. I feel a strong pressure on my chest and my eyes droop and welt with the feeling of heat from what I know need to be tears to feel better. I feel pain around my heart my mind takes me to 2008. A beautiful and sunny but cool fall morning, just like today. I take a strong breathe in and pull down my calendar. It’s three weeks tomorrow. I probably would have held off another week but today I need a mani and pedi. Today everything changes. It’s not just another day. It’s THAT day.
It’s been so many years now that there have been October 5th days that have passed without me noticing. Where my routine stays normal and these beautiful days are just another day. When I do realize it passed, I pain and feel selfish for not remembering. How dare I live on without acknowledging his death, not realizing then that I just did myself a solid. Trauma is unique, it has individual traits that are so distinct in nature that it appears impossible to understand. There’s no words for it and even though I suffer every day, I understand that I can never judge a persons trauma based on my own. I can’t tell a person how to feel about their history but I can offer knowledge on how to accept it.
I text Toddie and tell him what day it is. “Wow. 12 years. You should go to the cemetery. Take Frank “ My days at the cemetery are always serene, a moment for myself to be in solitude to talk to Alex and my cousin Mike. The first anniversary of his death I went with Frank and a friend to visit his grave and was bombarded with friends and foe for a look at my child. At that moment I knew I never wanted to put my son through that scrutiny again, so I replied “I’ll probably go tomorrow. Today is usually a lot of people.”
Toddie knows that today is a hard one for me and my heart can’t help but feel for him. To know your wife pains for a man in a way that you could never understand. He accepts me and has heard my sighs and wiped my tears on many occasions. He’s held me so tight my pain subsides and I’m able to sleep at night, even if it’s for a short period. He has encouraged me over the years even when I tell him how I wish I didn’t feel anymore. “You loved him momma. Your heart should hurt. He was a big part of your life.” How do I even deserve him? How is my life so incredibly blessed that I am able to have him by my side reminding me of the amazing love that still exists on earth? I don’t get it. I still don’t understand how he could love me so hard the last 11 years of my life and understand my pain better than ANYONE offered me this day 12 years ago.
My trauma brings me guilt in many ways, a feeling I felt automatically from people I thought loved me. I was mourning a loss most people didn’t care about and STILL don’t care about. How could I feel pain for a man that dodged his parental responsibilities? We weren’t together, he talked shit about you. Are you stupid? You must be a dumb bitch to feel for him. People hated him, he did bad things. He deserved it in their eyes. Another 2 gang bangers dead and it was just another fucking day.
I’ve felt selfish these last few years, to be in a situation in which my child has been able to be raised by an exemplary father just a shy 8 months after losing his own. I’ve heard and experienced horror stories of “baby daddy” drama within my circle. I didn’t have to “deal” with that because he was at peace and I selfishly didn’t have the problems of child custody court or worrying about his whereabouts. I was “lucky” because he wasn’t around anymore. My amazing life was the product of the loss of a 22 year old kid who had no opportunity to grow up and learn from his mistakes. I still live with the guilt of living, a lifelong shame I may never be able to shake.
Today isn’t just another day. It’s a day to remember and reflect. To cry and giggle. To hug my boys a little harder. To listen to Tupac and Kanye West and remember your retarded love for The Who. To appreciate the life I have because I need to live to make sure my kids never have to endure the lack of love you experienced in your short time of life. To support them in ways to make them feel comfortable coming to mom, even when they push my last buttons. To remember our love, our friendship and our connection, whether anyone else understands or not. Most of all, to appreciate my love, my friendship and the incredible connection I have now.
Today is a reminder for me that I am different. I do struggle in different ways than others. My trauma is alive but it is no longer consuming me. I just have some not so easy days. Today, is just another not so easy day.
God loves you and so do I.
-XO