I had enough in me to milk the cow today. To mix up some pancake batter for the kids for breakfast. To make some school related phone calls and to fill out yet more papers for school.
We are nervous about the beginning of school. Happy and excited but nervous. Today was open house for the elementary kids. We went to meet Nora and Rose's teachers. They seem great. I truly believe that we are making the right decision for the kids' education right now, but it surprises me how grieved I am to send them off.
I took the kids to see a matinee early this afternoon since it became apparent I had absolutely nothing left to give anyone. We went to see the new Nanny McPhee movie. Loved the first one. The second one isn't nearly as great. Maybe it was my mood. Too tired and sad.
I realized I was in trouble when I began to weep through the previews. Was thankful for the dark because I sobbed through most of the movie.
Everything hurt me.
I do miss Philip a lot. But grief is weird. At times I feel like I am still recuperating from an operation that took off a leg and an arm. It just hurts. I find I especially hurt when we have to do new things, like fill out papers and have to write in "deceased" where I would have previously filled in Philip's name. Even if Philip were still alive, I probably would have put the kids into public school this year due to the busy bakery schedule. But having him gone makes it even harder.
Sometimes I get a lot of very positive feedback from people who think that if I bake a lot of bread and milk a cow I must be very strong. But if they saw me, on days like today, where I wish I could stay in bed because I can't talk, can't cook, can't even walk out to the barn, they might think differently.
I hope the kids find something to eat. I put on some pasta to boil. Warmed up leftover chili from 7 days ago for my supper. Didn't even want to eat, but did so, anyway. I hope Patrick will milk for me tonight because I want to take an ibuprofen and wash my face and go to bed. It is so pretty outside, looking out my window. Things are cooling off and the sky has a definite hue. A cast to the sky that makes me think we are much closer to fall than we were a week ago. But I am not eager to go sit out there.
I hope I can survive this big shift in our family dynamic. You would think I would be reading with the girls right now, since I am already missing them, but I don't have it in me.
Please don't worry too much about me over here. Thankfully, in the morning I will have to get up and milk Coco, get dressed and go to the schools for yet MORE paperwork, buy the remaining school supplies and then figure out what the kids are going to do for lunch on their first day of school. But I have this feeling that it is important for someone out there to know that it is very normal for grief to ebb and flow and occasionally pound like a big nor'easter, sending wave after wave of pain onto the shore.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for thou are with me..."