5 years
5 years. I asked my therapist why this one seems so big. She said, "because it is." Today one of my kids said, "I wonder if he'd even recognize me - so much has changed - I've changed. My hair, my life, my voice . . ." I couldn't answer, because I often wonder the same thing. I wonder if he'd even know who I was - if any of the life we shared matters to him at all now - if wherever he is is so big and beautiful and important that he's forgotten us completely. So I just say, "I know he'd be so proud of you - of all of you." "Mom," there was a pause. "He'd be proud of you too. You kept us safe, you held everything together and protected us from the worst of it." The last part isn't true - there's no way to protect a child from watching cancer devour their dad. Still, it it is exactly the type of thing he'd say and I dissolve into grateful tears. It's like that time he put the kids in charge...
