Okay. I need to write.
I don't know if anyone will ever read this or not but I don't really care.
My. Heart. Hurts.
It's Father’s Day 2016.
I'm SUPPOSED to be posting about the amazing Dad my kids have.
I'm SUPPOSED to have some creative gift to present him that he wouldn't really need but that he would ooh and ahh over just because it features his kids’ pictures.
I'm SUPPOSED to be fixing him his favorite after church snack and spending time with him watching the sun set from our patio.
I'm SUPPOSED to be celebrating my husband’s superb fathering today.
I'm NOT supposed to be here. In the cemetery. By my husband’s grave. Not yet. Not now.
It's just isn't SUPPOSED to look this way.
A little plane is buzzing the cemetery.
It's a gorgeous evening for flying.
Who knows? Maybe that pilot is one we know.
On this most gorgeous of evenings, we should be walking together...watching the hobby pilots out for their weekend joy rides.
Instead, I sit here alone. Crying. Wondering just how I can POSSIBLY come close to making up for the hole he left behind. The cataclysmic void looms before me until I can see nothing else.
My kids need him.
Luanna needs him to guide her through this pitfall-laden dating game she's in.
Esther needs him to nurture her interest in the geeky side of the world.
Julianna needs him to build her confidence in her reading skills and find her place in the family.
Karson needs him to show what the life of a true and Godly gentleman looks like.
Let's face it. I need him.
I need him.
I hate parenting solo.
And before you go all “you're not alone! God is a father to the fatherless and a husband to the widow” on me, please remember that I believe that with all my heart.
But emotions don't always follow. (Please – NO disrespect is meant by this. At ALL. God has taken very VERY good care of us. I am blessed.)
But God doesn't fix my stubbornly cranky computers or put the Holiness Music station back online. God doesn't mow my yard or order rock for my newest landscape project. God has yet to go grocery shopping for me or call the plumber when that plugged toilet is beyond my handy-man skills.
Which plumber do I call? What should the weekly grocery budget be?
I feel alone...
...Guilty for detracting from everyone else's Father's Day happiness, and so alone.
God isn't here mediating squabbles between littles nor telling the teens how much money they can spend when they hit the mall. God isn't here to back me up when I lay down rules that kiddos don't really like.
So I feel alone.
When my oldest does what is super normal for college aged girls and gets a guy friend, God isn't here to remind her how to behave and dress and respect herself and teach her how guys see gals...
It's just me.
And moms aren't nearly as scary as dads.
So I feel alone.
I don't know how to plan a vacation very well! I'm not good at those sorts of things!
I have no idea how to go about choosing plants and designs and rocks for the landscaping.
I am not bold enough to help Luanna find one more part time job for the summer…
I feel so alone.
Then my daughter gets super stressed because her guy will be basically out of touch for a few days because of a friend’s wedding. Oh dear. Oh my. The tragedy.
I want to cry.
I feel so alone.
I Have. No. Best. Friend. Anymore.
No one checking in with me to see how I’m really doing.
No one to say I looked really nice today.
No one to comment on my favorite perfume.
No one to help me iron out the quirks in my stab at a new blogger template.
No one to hold me close when I'm hurting so deeply words can't express it.
No one to rub the spasm out of my shoulder.
No one to text that their favorite coffee is on sale this week.
No one to tell when I discover something has changed in our community.
No one to make sure I get home safely from my evening’s two mile walk home from the cemetery….
.....no one except my kids.
Karson volunteered to rub my shoulders and put lotion on my feet tonight.
Luanna waited around upstairs until I made it home from the walk.
Julie filled out her Sunday School Father’s Day card project with a sweet message for me.
Esther made me laugh again with her amazingly clever and spontaneous sense of humor.
And they saved me some pizza.
Tonight my kids unknowingly reminded me that they care about me.
They have no idea what it means to me.
Their love might not look like Michael’s love for me, but it's real all the same.
And as they grow and change and meet new challenges, they will miss their father in various ways. Today might have been a molehill and there may still be grief mountains ahead for them. Maybe when those moments come, I'll be ready to show them how much I care for them.
I'll never ever be their dad or even anything like him.
But I can be a loving mom.
And I don't have to feel quite so lonely any more.