I don’t talk about our boys in great detail because I want to respect their privacy. This blog initially started as an outlet for me when I was overwhelmed, over-stimulated, and not sleeping to release the thoughts that kept me up at night. To my surprise, people are reading my words. I realize now that one day, my boys will read them, too.
I love the thought of that. Realistically, it is likely that over time their memories of their Daddy will fade. Something I live by… ‘people may not remember what you say, but they will always remember how you make them feel.’ The boys have that. They have the feeling and energy of love, fun, and happiness to remember their short time with their Daddy. They will also have my words to describe exactly who he was to me and so many others. I hope I can do him justice by describing the glow that was Matt Moxley.
Regarding the boys’ grief, my cousin described it best- I have to compartmentalize each boy because developmentally they are so different. Truthfully, it’s gotten harder as time moves on. I am filled to emotional capacity in each space while also trying to navigate my pain, self-care, and healing. Though I’ve made progress, I am still easily overwhelmed and over-stimulated, and have a hard time sleeping. Normal things that might seem little to others can feel really big to me.
‘… just in case you die, Mama.’
‘Can we go to the store and buy a new Daddy?’
‘I don’t have a Daddy anymore.’
‘Since we don’t have a Daddy, can you just marry a new one?’
‘I want another brother.’
‘There’s an ambulance, someone died.’
‘What’s going to happen to us if you die, Mom?’
‘(Son’s friend didn’t show up) …did he die?’
‘Seeing you sad makes us sad.’
‘Talking about Daddy makes me sad.’
‘Let me see Daddy’s ashes.’
‘Who’s going to do ‘Dad’ things with us?’
This past week alone on two separate occasions, I had to peel my youngest and middle off of me when I was leaving. ‘Don’t go, Mama.’ ‘I want to come with you.’ ‘I want to be with you.’ ‘I want to go home.’ Sobbing, crying, clinging to me. I don’t know if my birthday, being the first birthday since his passing, was a trigger for them, but something changed. My youngest was thrashing tonight.. kicking, screaming, telling me no, being nasty. He’s almost 3 and hasn’t had terrible two’s. His heart, smile, and personality are pure gold. I put him to bed as he was screaming and went outside and sobbed. My heart breaks for their little broken hearts. My heart breaks for my own broken heart, if that’s possible.
I dried my tears, went back in, and held him as we sniffled together. As I said in an earlier blog, when you act out, it’s often when you need the most love. He went to sleep calmly after our snuggle sesh. I hugged the older boys a bit longer than usual before I tucked them in, and tomorrow we start all over again.
This. Is. Hard. My strength is tested every minute of every day. I miss my husband. I miss being held at night or being tucked in or the feeling of knowing he was in the next room. On days like today, I cry when I need to, dig a little deeper, and hope for a better tomorrow.
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