Tuesday, Peter and I had planned a date day. He'd taken the day off Monday to visit with out of town family, and decided to do Tuesday as well to hang out with me. After my whirlwind trip to TN, I was looking forward to the down time. We switched the day for the kids with my in-laws from Wednesday to Tuesday, and they even offered to keep them for dinner so that we could have a rare dinner out! Woo Hoo. Of course, then word came that a family from church has been hit in such an awful way: a father of three young kids and husband to woman who is a staple in our old parish for all the work she does, dead. A heart attack, at work... Gone... His family broken, anguished. Peter and I spent the morning at church and then went out to breakfast, where I couldnt help by tear up over the memories that young family will miss. Alone, this would be awful, but combined wit last weekend... It's gut-wrenching.
Fourteen years with Peter isn't enough. I dont know that 1400 would be. I love him. He's the other part of my very soul. He's the father of my children... My children... How would I- could I- even begin to tell them that their father wasnt coming home? No more snuggles... No more kisses... No more hugs. That he wouldnt be there to throw them up in the skylight to chase the moonlight across the sky. That the days of walking hand in hand to the playground are over. No father-son barbershop visits, no father-daughter dances. No breakfast-for-dinner that he makes them (MUCH to their delight) when I'm teaching evening yoga.
We bury our parents, that is the way it should be, but not when we are children and, truly, are we ever not children? I'm not ready... I cant imagine saying goodbye to my parents or even my surviving grandmother. I'm still too young for that... The pain of even thinking about it hurts.
After lunch, we checked the closest IMAX theater for the showtimes for the latest installment of Batman. We get the times and grab the $10 off coupon that I had, and head out. We discuss the fact that we're about to spend 3 hours of our date day in a movie theater, park, and walk to the doors.
And someone pressed the 'pause' button. Well, I pressed it, figurtively speaking, of course.
I couldnt go in. We stood outside the large doors and I just couldnt go inside. I wanted to; I thought Peter really REALLYwanted to see it in the theater and, truth be told, when we saw the previews for it months ago, I was pretty excited too! Finally, Peter made the executive decision to get back in the car and leave. As we were walking towards our car, I stopped. "I'm scared."
And that was it, the truth. I was scared.
Going to the movies used to be fun. It used to be an escape. Now, it's another what might happen. Like driving a car... flying in a plane... hell, walking down street. It might be a way that I break my promise. Mommy's always come back. Daddy's always come back.
But they dont. They dont always come back. My friend, B... our churchmate, S.... These parents arent coming back to tuck their kids in at night or to kiss their spouses for one more anniversary. They'll see each other again but probably not today. Probably not when they desperatey want one more hug at night or someone to help them buy a wedding dress or pat them on the back after a job well done.
Mommies and Daddies always come back.
I'm scared. I'm scared it could be me.
Or, worse, Peter.
I'm scared that one day, one of us wont come back. I know it's possible... likely... actually, going to happen. We all die, after all. But I'm scared it will come too soon. Forever isnt enough, but tomorrow? Next year? Twenty years from now? Too soon... All too soon...
Then there's that fear. That awful, nauseating fear. I dont want to lie to my children. I dont want them to grow up without one of us, due to illness or circumstance or anything else. We have to come back.
We just have to.