Every time I open the door to Prater Ellis' nursery, I have a tiny millisecond flashback to the morning that I found Daddy - most likely moments after suffering a heart attack as a result of his organs shutting down in the night. A movie scene plays quickly in my head: I open the door & glance at the wall where his headboard was positioned - I notice his body is stiff & yellow, his eyes as wide as they could possibly get, & his body cold to the touch. Every single time I open the door - my heart skips a beat & I have to catch my breath.
It is such a ridiculously bitter-sweet moment. I wish, oh gosh how I wish, that my sister, Aaron, & I didn't have this memory: Chels crawled in to bed with him & we're standing beside him, squalling & screaming promises that we'll take care of each other, for him to not worry about us, & that we love him all while waiting on the ambulance to arrive to guarantee that he isn't in any pain as his precious life comes to an end.
But here's the "sweet".
Because of that moment, I count my blessings more than I count my misfortunes during the day, every day; I know all too well that life really can change in an instant.
Because of that moment, I hold Prater a little tighter when she cries for me; forever thankful that He makes "beauty for ashes" & that her lungs are healthy enough to scream when they want or need to.
Because of that moment, I don't worry about my sister nearly as much as I sometimes feel like I should; I was frozen in the front yard, afraid that I would be alone in the ambulance if he were to die on the way to the hospital - only one person could ride along & without hesitation, she jumped in - she's probably the strongest woman I know.
Because of that moment, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that I do not ever want to experience anything in this life without Aaron; he stood behind me, with his hand on my shoulder while I buried my head into Daddy's freckled arm, for hours, waiting & praying for the nightmare to end... & when it did, he leaned over & whispered in my ear that it was over, so over.
Just some things that have been weighing heavily on my heart for the past few weeks... Sometimes I feel like, for weeks, I need to write before I eventually do... It takes a lot out of me, I usually wind up squalling at my keyboard & exhausted, but I ALWAYS feel better after. Relieved even, as if I've been carrying the words around as a burden for weeks & getting to 'unload' here gives me renewed strength.
Renewed strength to know that even though I struggle daily with the balance of being happy with my new life while mourning my old life that he would tickle me silly (his preferred way of torture) for not enjoying every single moment of this new life...
I just miss him. It's been a year & 2 months now & I just miss him. I know some people probably grow tired of me talking about the whole ordeal or him or how much I miss him... But I guess another lesson I have learned in all of this is that, as a society, we are so bombarded with tragedies that we've become desensitized to those who continue to grieve their losses long after the hoopla of the visitation & the funeral. I want to challenge myself to be more sensitive to individuals' grieving processes, no matter the amount of time or relationship.
Every other day, while flipping through the mail as I walk back to the house from the mailbox, I come across his name & feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I hear sad news about old family friends & the first thing I think of is "Don't forget to tell Daddy about that." Momma asks Prater Ellis if she's heard from her Daddy & I automatically think, "I haven't talked to Daddy today, I need to call him real quick." I hear Aaron opening & closing his chest-of-drawers (we are using Daddy's old bedroom suite now), flash back to living at home & think "Daddy's up, maybe he'll fix me some breakfast."
I'm not sure when it will all end, if ever. On one hand, I would like to open Prater Ellis' nursery door without thinking of his death... But then again, there cannot be death without life & if that helps me to hold his life & hers so precious & dear & memorable, so be it.
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