It’s been almost two months that Aaron has been gone. Feels more like six…but who’s really counting at this point?
I’m amazed how I can be with a large group of people I know and love, and yet experience such a deep void. Something’s missing. Someone isn’t here. The kids haven’t disappeared, have they? Even though I’m adjusted to flying solo with the kids, I still intuitively look for Aaron. I still secretly hope he’ll just show up.
We had a movie night tonight and it was awesome. Friends came and set it up…we had an ice cream sundae bar…we watched Tangled. (Well, some people watched it…not really my kids.) I looked around and it was such a beautiful thing. Parents were sitting with their kids on the ground watching a movie and eating ice cream. My heart ached. I wish Aaron was here.
I see daddies holding their kiddos on their laps eating popcorn. I wish Sam had that tonight. My heart aches.
I’m grateful for the ache. It lets me know that I haven’t just adjusted to a new normal and created a world where we don’t need Aaron. We do. Sam reminds me all the time, in his two year old way, that he thinks about daddy a lot. On the way to the store today, he told me daddy wants a brownie. Funny? Yes. This kid is so intuitive and very aware of what’s going on. He tells me he’s going to the airport to fly to Bahrain every day. I honestly didn’t think he’d have much clue that daddy was gone this year. I was definitely wrong.
I’m grateful his heart aches too…it’s evidence of a huge relational void…It speaks volumes to the quality of daddy Sam and Gwen truly have.
And so while we can’t give you breakfast in bed, or let you have a fishing day to yourself, or make you biscuits and juice in the morning, I hope you know how much we’d love to be with you today. We love you Aaron. Our kids have been showered with the incredible gift of calling you Daddy. I’m so grateful.