Last night, the older kids slept in our bed with me because they didn’t want me to be alone. I’m glad to be home with them, but it breaks my heart that you aren’t here. I keep coming into the bedroom to ask you if you need anything, only to be met with nothingness. The pain doesn’t stop, and the tears don’t stop. I need you.
Today, I sat with your mom and dad to discuss finances and planning. It was very productive but also a massive kick in the pants. You were so much better at this type of stuff. You had systems and were organized. I’m a mess. I’m a therapist’s wet dream. I’ll get the older kids set up with a therapist this week. They are very resilient, but the cracks are starting to show now that I’m home.
I miss you, baby. I miss you so much. I miss your eye-rolls at my corny dad jokes. I miss your comforting hand when the kids would rile me up. I miss your kisses. I miss your singing. My heart is in so much pain. I don’t know how to do this without you.
How do I stop the violent panic attacks and tearful breakdowns? You were always my support system. I miss you.