"This is going to be harder than you know," a friend warned me Saturday morning, regarding the nine months of seperation we're heading for fast. She's pardoned from a beheading only because I know that A) it's the truth, and B) she'll be there for me, front and center when things are indeed harder than I've ever known them to be. Last night we had our first rough taste of things to come. During the Super Bowl, a commercial for the new Transformers movie came on. Bug was immediately excited and making plans, he and futureSquid and popcorn and candy, and then I saw the numbers that made my heart sink:
7.1.11
Ugly numbers, breaking promises to my little boy before he can even get them fully imagined out. I wasn't sure what to do really, but I knew that saying nothing would feel like a lie to me now, and a lie to Bug later. He was already in my lap due to goofiness, but I was grateful for the timing.
"Bug, Daddy won't be here for that."
The sis-in-law turned her head, and I knew she was probably teary. I looked at futureSquid, but he kept his eyes fixed on the tv screen in a way that I understood was intentional. Bug curled up into my lap further in a way that I knew meant he was about to cry himself. For the first time in years, I literally rocked with him while his shoulders shook. I don't think I've ever felt so sad up to this point in our journey. After being calmed down with a promise to take a trip to see Dad at school with the Transformers in hand, the moment was diffused and Bug was back to bouncing around the room. But futureSquid and I exchanged looks, both worried. I couldn't help asking myself, the question I've heard from others, in so many words: what have we gotten into? Is wherever this leads worth the sadness, the missed birthdays, holidays, and the unexpected moments? It sure wasn't feeling like it when my Bug was sitting there in my lap. That was last night, and it didn't leave my mind all morning. Then futureSquid called me to tell me about something an older, wiser, and brutally honest relative from "my side" had said to him as he left his house. He thanked Branden for being himself and doing what he believed would be best the four of us, and not letting anyone's opinions sway him. I think we both needed that so much. Will he miss some things? He will, no doubt, and it will hurt. A lot. But was my husband brave enough to break out of his comfort zone to better himself and our family, to live up to God's full potential for him? He was, and I think that in doing that he is teaching our family the most amazing lesson. As much as we're losing, I believe that much we will also be gaining. As my dear friend said, it's going to be harder than we know, but it can also be more fulfilling, exciting, and strengthening than we know, if we'll only open ourselves up to it. I'm sure we will have a few more movies to watch at A school, or emailed pictures where real life should be, and I'll for sure have to think on my toes in a year full of consolation prizes, but I'm also thinking it may be a relatively small price to pay for our children to hear from their father to follow their hearts, to go for what they want, and to know it's coming from experience- not regret.
This quote has been on my mind for a while: "It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -as quoted by Roosevelt
ReplyDeleteI don't think this is anywhere near a mistake... I think its your finest hour... and that thought is only sweetened by knowing that your place will never be with those who never dared at all. I love you, Tasha