Letter to my husband
This August is the sixth anniversary of my husband’s death. Needless to say, every year it evokes bitter-sweet memories. Watching our children grow also stirs up challenging emotions… As I work through all of this, I’d like to share some of my journey, not only for the benefit of my own healing, but also in the hopes that someone who has travelled a similar road will find release and comfort in my story.
After all, none of us walk alone.
Letter to my husband
If we could sit next to each other once more, I think we would laugh about our children and how they have each grown into a vivid blend of the two of us.
If we could sit next to each other once more, we would laugh together over their quirks and decide where each personality traits come from - you or me.
If we could sit next to each other once more, I would shed tears about how I wish it could have been. I would tell you all the things I’ve done and all the memories I’ve had to make without you here.
If we could sit next to each other once more, I would breathe you in. I would thread my fingers through yours and just rest my head on your chest to listen to your heart beating.
It’s been six years and I can assure you that every single day I’ve thought of how life could’ve, would’ve, should’ve been if you were still here with us.
And when I think how it could have been I have to remind myself that it isn’t, and that it never will be what it should have been for us as a family of five. As a husband and wife with three kids. As a parenting team. As a mom and dad for our three kids. I would have “father’s details” to write on school forms. I would have a next of kin which I lived with. I would have had so much that I don’t have now.
I look at Savannah in the rear view mirror while I drive. How she sings like no one’s listening and how she dances like no one’s watching. I see her when she hits a beat and she throws her dance moves out at the exact time she wanted and I can see just how thrilled she is with herself. It’s in these unframed moments I picture what life could have been with you at the steering wheel. Me looking over at you and both of us thinking, “Are you checking this kid out?!” This kid we were given to bring up and this kid that is a mix of both you and I. We would laugh remembering the exact conversation we had about Savannah when she was just three, knowing that she would be the one we were waiting for to get ready. How she was so sassy and all about high heels and make up and we just knew she would be the one that was about that life.
I look at Taylor-Reece and I know you would say how much of me you see in her! She adores all things fluffy and can never walk past a pet shop without having just a quick look. It reminds me of all those occasions we would walk past any shop that resembles a pet shop or animals of any kind and how you used to hold my hand tighter as we walked past hoping I wouldn’t beg to take a few minutes to look inside. You only got to know baby Taylor-Reece and I believe you would have just been so amused at watching her grow and be the person she is today. And although she has so much of me in her, she has your brilliant mind that can so easily absorb and your never-ending perseverance too.
I would tell you how funny Matthew is and how much of you I see in him, to the point that I’m not sure he has anything of me. It makes me laugh most days and other days I realise how tough it’s going to be raising a Franscois… I would tell you how your mom and I joke about it now being my turn to raise a Franscois, and how frustratingly amazing it is going to be. With his teasing and playful spirit, he brings so much joy to the places he goes.
I would tell you that although you never even got the chance to meet him, he is pretty much all you! He is hope and laughter. He is curious and teachable. He is a light and smiles to everyone he meets. And everything he adores is so true to you.
If we could sit next to each other once more, I would thank you for the gift that our children are to me. After all, they are YOU!
