Today I am feeling broken and hurt and defeated.
The phone rang at 7:30 am. Who on earth calls that early in the morning? You know it can't possibly be a good phone call. It was my Aunt Patti calling on behalf of my Dad's other sister, Terri, for my dad. There was a freak accident at my uncle's work and he was crushed between the trailer that carried the logs he was to transport and the truck he drove.
My dad goes to tell my mom and I sneak back into the bedroom I'm sharing with my boys during our vacation in Oregon. I sit in the quiet. What just happened? I can't even start to register what's happened until my kids start waking up. I don't know what to do. My brain is mush. Just go through the motions. Breakfast. Waffles. Waffles are easy. I start making breakfast and when the first waffles burn and stick to the waffle iron, I want to give up, but the kids have to eat. We all make it through the burnt waffles without saying much when I hear a loud thud and a scream from my oldest but still quite young 6 year old daughter.
I run to her side and scoop her up into my lap when moments later her foot starts gushing blood. I cry out for a paper towel and the 8 year old returns with an entire roll and a terrified look on his face. After everyone calms down, my mother tries to convince me that she can just superglue the wound together and it'll be fine. My gut says go to the doctor. Fortunately for us, our old pediatrician fits us in.
We spend the rest of the morning at the doctors while my brave little Tatum endures five stitches to her pinky toe. The very first stitches of any of my babies... The first of what I'm sure will be plenty more to come.
And now... Now is when I finally start to breath. The reality of what happened this morning at 7:30am is just starting to set in and I'm drowning. It's getting harder to breath and all of the memories have started to flood in.
When he let me, and only me, drive his brand new Convertible when I was 17.
When he went completely out of his way to get me a job as a landscaper at his company.
When he still loved me when I quit because I hated it.
Super Bowl Sunday at his house.
When he let me bring my friends to swim at his pool whenever I wanted.
When I went off to college and he drove all the way up to see me and take me out to dinner.
When he gave me the email addresses of everyone he knew in LA so I would have connections when I decided I wanted to be a movie star.
And the pain that's eating me alive because I hadn't seen him in 9 years.
He's never met my children.
He never will.