My Dear Husband,
It has been a month now since I heard your voice.
A month since you told me for the last time that you love me.
A month... it feels like 2 days and it feels like 2 years. I miss you so much... so, so very much.
The children mostly just play and are generally happy, although they are both showing their grief in their own ways. Samuel has stopped asking me if you're going to get all better, but when his sensitive little heart gets hurt, he still cries for you. Amelia tells me often that she's sad that you died. She is afraid that I will die too and asks me lots of what-if questions.
I wish you were here to help me navigate grieving children. I wish you were here to help me with my own grieving heart.
It's hard for me to get out of bed in the morning. It's hard for me to do the tasks that need to be done each day. I want to stay in bed and cry all day, but the needs of the children keep me going.
I have this scream that is caught in my throat. Sometimes I'm afraid that it will come out. Other times I imagine standing on a mountain top and letting it out. I feel like if I started screaming I'd never stop. Well, until I lost my voice.
I want to scream because my heart hurts so much. Because I'm so angry that you died. Because I'm so confused and lost and alone.
I don't want to move on.
All I can think about are the plans we had for this year. We were moving back to Guyana with your plane. We were going to build a house. Get a dog. Adopt a child. Our family was going to be full and happy and blessed... but so far... I'm not feeling very blessed...
A lady from the counseling department at the clinic came by to talk to me yesterday when I had the kids in for an appointment. She said that the first time she met me she was struck by my strong faith... And she said that she knew that strong faith would carry me through this. But I don't feel like I have strong faith... I wish you were here to pray with me. I always feel stronger when you are at my side. How can I be strong without you?...
I am so thankful that you showed me what love looks like. I'm thankful that you never gave up on me. That you never stopped loving me.
You used to annoy me. LOL. I can remember getting so frustrated because you did things the "wrong" way. All of that died with you though. I can't think of a single fault you had. In my mind, you'll always be the perfect husband, perfect papa, perfect Captain.
You never got to see Chelan in the Spring. It's beautiful here. The hills are all green and wildflowers grow along the banks of the river and lake. The seaplane is making regular flights. We always stop to watch him take off or land, and we think of you. That was something you were really looking forward to - getting your seaplane rating. I wish you could have taken at least one flight...
I wish a lot of things...
I'm so glad that we have the hope of heaven. The hope of seeing you again. The hope of a world without cancer. I feel more impatient than ever for the resurrection.
There aren't enough words for me to tell you how much I love you, or how much I miss you. Sometimes I wonder if my heart is too broken to ever heal again.
I know it's silly to write you, and that you resting peacefully, and that you can't read this, but I just have to much I want to talk to you about. So I'll just be silly and pretend I can talk to you a while longer.
I'll love you forever.
-Cas
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It has been a month now since I heard your voice.
A month since you told me for the last time that you love me.
A month... it feels like 2 days and it feels like 2 years. I miss you so much... so, so very much.
The children mostly just play and are generally happy, although they are both showing their grief in their own ways. Samuel has stopped asking me if you're going to get all better, but when his sensitive little heart gets hurt, he still cries for you. Amelia tells me often that she's sad that you died. She is afraid that I will die too and asks me lots of what-if questions.
I wish you were here to help me navigate grieving children. I wish you were here to help me with my own grieving heart.
It's hard for me to get out of bed in the morning. It's hard for me to do the tasks that need to be done each day. I want to stay in bed and cry all day, but the needs of the children keep me going.
I have this scream that is caught in my throat. Sometimes I'm afraid that it will come out. Other times I imagine standing on a mountain top and letting it out. I feel like if I started screaming I'd never stop. Well, until I lost my voice.
I want to scream because my heart hurts so much. Because I'm so angry that you died. Because I'm so confused and lost and alone.
I don't want to move on.
All I can think about are the plans we had for this year. We were moving back to Guyana with your plane. We were going to build a house. Get a dog. Adopt a child. Our family was going to be full and happy and blessed... but so far... I'm not feeling very blessed...
A lady from the counseling department at the clinic came by to talk to me yesterday when I had the kids in for an appointment. She said that the first time she met me she was struck by my strong faith... And she said that she knew that strong faith would carry me through this. But I don't feel like I have strong faith... I wish you were here to pray with me. I always feel stronger when you are at my side. How can I be strong without you?...
I am so thankful that you showed me what love looks like. I'm thankful that you never gave up on me. That you never stopped loving me.
You used to annoy me. LOL. I can remember getting so frustrated because you did things the "wrong" way. All of that died with you though. I can't think of a single fault you had. In my mind, you'll always be the perfect husband, perfect papa, perfect Captain.
You never got to see Chelan in the Spring. It's beautiful here. The hills are all green and wildflowers grow along the banks of the river and lake. The seaplane is making regular flights. We always stop to watch him take off or land, and we think of you. That was something you were really looking forward to - getting your seaplane rating. I wish you could have taken at least one flight...
I wish a lot of things...
I'm so glad that we have the hope of heaven. The hope of seeing you again. The hope of a world without cancer. I feel more impatient than ever for the resurrection.
There aren't enough words for me to tell you how much I love you, or how much I miss you. Sometimes I wonder if my heart is too broken to ever heal again.
I know it's silly to write you, and that you resting peacefully, and that you can't read this, but I just have to much I want to talk to you about. So I'll just be silly and pretend I can talk to you a while longer.
I'll love you forever.
-Cas