“You Seem to Be Doing Ok”

Oh, Do I?

I’m not sure if it’s because we live in the age of oversharing on social media, and I haven’t posted a video of myself ugly crying in a fetal position, but I promise you, the people who are hurting the most from my wife’s death are her husband and sons.

I wrote in a previous article that since the early morning that she died, life has felt like one big dream; like I’m floating through life, going through the motions, and slightly out of phase with reality.

I realized today though that this is not the dream. This is reality. The past 7 years of being married to her (and the year and a half before that of being friends/engaged), that has been the dream. Everything that happened after that conversation I had with her, telling her how I felt about her, and that my intention would be to marry her, that was when the dream started. My life drastically changed when we began our courtship.

What has kept this dream from turning into a complete nightmare has been our two boys that she left me with. I do not have the luxury of shutting all the way down. I have to be there for them, grieve with them, and also give them space to feel and express what they’re feeling; after all, we both are in pain, but I don’t know what it’s like to lose my mom at such a young age. A couple of nights ago, my 6 year-old was writing on a piece of paper. He wrote “dear mom” on top, then proceeded to write all of our names; “Daddy. Ezra. Judah.” My 4 year-old has finally connected his emotions to what is happening and has been crying at different times saying “I’m crying because I miss Mommy.”

I do need to make sure I take time for myself, and at the same time, I need to be there for them. That’s the new balance, which is kind of the old balance, but more crucial now.

I guarantee you, as much as you may be hurting from Olga’s passing, however well you knew her, the boys and I are hurting a lot more. We are confronted with how to live our lives without her every minute of every day. These past few nights, I’ve dreamt about being back at the hospital, but she made it through. I’ve dreamt about how our lives would be a few years down the road if we made it out of the hospital together. I’ve dreamt about passionately kissing her and holding her tightly at the bottom of the stairs of the house we bought together.

You know what the worst part has been? The moments when I forget she’s gone. The few seconds in the morning when I wake up and turn over to pull her close so she stays in bed for a few more minutes; the few seconds after I put the boys to bed and walk into our room expecting her to be sitting on the bed working.

What Uncle Phil’s mother Hattie said on the 90s sitcom, Fresh Prince of Bel Air is actually very accurate. On the show, her husband had died not too long ago, and she was talking to her son, whom she affectionately called ‘Zeke’ about how much she missed her husband. She said she felt angry because she believed him when he told her he’d never leave her. Then she said something that rings so true in this season my life:

"One morning last month I woke up early, walked downstairs singing, got a big breakfast on the stove, and suddenly I realized I was the only one there to eat it. Remembering is easy, Zeke, it's the times that I forget he's gone that I can't stand."

And that is precisely it, isn’t it? Those few moments of peace are nice, but not worth the realization that follows in my opinion.

My writing will continue, especially after the memorials are all done (South Africa this Sunday, Jan 26 and Charlotte, NC on March 13), and the boys and I begin our adventures. Since I began opening up about this, my subscribership has spiked among both free and paid subscribers. Though that is nice to have, I would trade it all away in a heartbeat to have her back in my arms and with our sons.

The reality is that I cannot.

All I can do is talk to the boys about her, share memories with my family and friends, write about her, cry randomly throughout these next days, weeks, months… and try to move forward as best as I can.

I am a widower and a single father now. I need to fully accept that. Me and the boys’ lives match the backstories of the shows I used to watch as a kid, like Smart Guy and Full House. It’s weird.

So yes, though I am doing much better than I would be if I didn’t have my family surrounding me, I am not ok, and won’t be for a while.

As we were saying goodbye to our Israeli family before heading to South Africa, my wife and my dear friend’s mother gave me a hug and said “praying for you and your heart; and that God can get it beating again.”

That’s it right there.

That is 100% it.