I’m trying to keep us steady in this new normal…this Clayton’s normal…and there are some moments where I feel like we are OK, we three.
We joke around. We talk about our day. We read and laugh and play. We do chores. We have a routine that ensures we joke and laugh and read and clean and play….….and I am the supreme leader with whom resistance is futile.
Wake UP sleepyhead. Eat your breakfast. Dishes in the sink. Get dressed. Dirty clothes in the hamper. Brush your teeth. Do your hair. Wash your face. Put your lunch in your bag. Make sure you’ve got your homework and your hat. Get in the car. NOW! Walk to class. Say “Goodbye Mummy, I love you”. Do your school work. Eat the lunch I made for you. No you cannot have tuckshop. Meet me at 3pm. Get in the car. Lunch box on the counter when you get home. Do your homework. Play outside. Come in when it’s dark. Have a bath. Eat your dinner. Tidy up your things. Brush your teeth. Read to me. Go to bed. I love you, goodnight.
That’s it. That’s our typical day: rigid, ordered, routine.
Sometimes I feel so bad about having to keep such a tight rein on the kids, but other times I can see the pay-offs:
We eat and we sleep well.
We wear clean clothes and eat healthy food from clean plates.
Sometimes we do something interesting and fun….
… like wake up early to watch the planets align.
… like soccer training.
…like fishing and riding scooters and eating ice-creams at the beach.
But it’s all a pale comparison of the life we were supposed to have: the life with a husband and father in it. The life where the burden of being responsible for small people was shared between two. The life where the workload was halved and the love doubled. The life where fun was spontaneous and the routine less rigid.
…and I mourn the loss of that life as an additional loss to the loss of my husband.
Today's post is written by Amanda, who shares her perspective on the love of her life and her widowed journey, with us from her home in Australia. Thank you Amanda for this peek into your heart.