I have to believe Curtis would want me to keep praising, even when the grief is so overwhelming, I can hardly breathe. At times, I feel like I don't know what I believe. I have tried so hard to turn to my faith, but I am finding it more and more difficult. None of this makes sense. It doesn't make sense in my mind or my heart. So, I listen to this song. A song we listened to when he was alive. I would turn it on when something would happen and I was hurting. Honestly, it was usually after a fight or after something happened in our lives that felt impossible. I would blast it in the car or in the living room and sing it at the top of my lungs and at the time, I would raise my hands and praise God with all my heart, knowing He would bring us through whatever fire we were walking through. Curtis would sit there or stand there with me and just watch, feeling what I was feeling, but he wasn't the type to sing at the top of his lungs or raise his hands. Then, at the end of the song, there would be a moment of relief. It was never awkward or weird, just a single moment of silence. Curtis was amazing like that. Then, he would always say he loved me. He would wait for a moment and inevitably, he would say he didn't care for that one line in the song...the "hurts like hell" line, but he understood the sentiment.
Ironically, that is the line that speaks to me the most right now (sorry, Mom and Dad). This pain is so great, I can only equate it to something as great as living in hell. My life right now is a living nightmare. In the end, I imagine that Curtis would want me to continue singing God's praises and keep my eyes focused on Him. This is the hardest thing I have ever done. When I sing it right now, I feel alone. When I would sing it before, I felt like I knew God would bring us through the fire, but I don't have the confidence now. My faith has been shaken and when I cry out to God, I feel He doesn't answer.
The hardest thing one can do is sing God's praises, even when it hurts. I'm not sure I can do it anymore. I don't have the words, I don't have the strength. I am alone. I don't know that I have the faith. I desperately want to be that strong person who turned toward her faith and made it through, but I don't think I can make it through this.
But I will still play this song. I will still sing it. I will still raise my hands and I will still hope for my faith to return. I will still hope to live through this and if I don't, I will still hope to be accepted into the Father's arms.
I traveled this week for the first time since Curtis passed. It was an excruciating week. Tonight, I will go home and it will be the first time I will not send him my itinerary. We will not see each other. He will not be waiting at my house and we will not pick up my girls. We will not have dinner together and we will not play on the PS4 later. It will not be a normal Friday night. We will not tuck in the girls. He will not go down to the living room and wait for me while I sing them the normal lullaby. I won't walk into the living room and hear him say, "I love hearing you sing to them." We will not sit on the couch and watch TV. He will not run his fingers through my hair. We will not stay up too late and whisper, as to not wake up the girls upstairs. I will not walk him to the door and he will not kiss me goodnight.
That part of my life is over. It is a mere memory. Years of Friday nights exist only in my dreams now.
I just want one more moment. One moment to tell him goodbye. To make sure he knows I love him. To kiss him one last time. To hold his warm hand in mine and make sure he knows I will be okay.
But I don't know if I will be okay without him. I don't know if I can take another step forward. For three weeks, I have put one foot in front of another and my broken heart has trudged through the muck of every day. The finality of his death is setting in and I am just left with this emptiness. This horrible sense of loss and grief. I don't know how to look forward and I don't want to. Not yet. I want to go back to January 25th. To when I could change things.
So, I sit here, on the plane from Cincinnati to Dallas, and try to hide my tears because I dread walking into my house. It will be cold and dark and there will be no Curtis. That house will never be the same to me. The home I was starting to build there will never truly feel like home. That house feels empty. My heart feels empty. I know now no one will ever love me the way he did. I was so blessed to have him. He was a gift. A gift I will treasure in my memory forever. However long my forever lasts.
Simply put, I feel completely broken. I feel empty and no matter how hard I try to fill up my life with scripture, prayer, my kids, my friends, work, etc., I still have this gaping hole in my heart. I can't see how to move forward without him. I went back to traveling this week. He was my "home base" when I traveled. He was the one I would call to tell I was safely where I needed to be. He and I talked and texted literally 10+ times a day. We talked in the morning and at night. I had to break that routine on this trip. I got off the plane and actually went to call him and realized what a fool I was. His family actually turned off his phone two days after he passed, so I couldn't call his phone, even if I wanted to. I went to work today and with every text received, my heart skipped a beat. I kept thinking it would be him. Of course, again, I was a fool. It will never be him texting or calling again.
I had an anxiety attack in the airport yesterday. I pulled myself together in the restroom. I made it through the longest day today at work and then broke down in the car after work. I am not sleeping still. The depth of the grief and the physical pain I feel in my chest is unbearable. I can't fathom how his girls feel, if I am feeling this way. I want to take their pain away and know I can't. This is impossible for everyone.
There are not words in the English language to accurately describe how much I miss him. A piece of me died with him and it will never be recovered. I will never, ever be the same person I was three weeks ago.
I would give anything to hear his voice again. To hear him answer my phone call with a simple, "Hi." Anything for a few sentences or a simple goodbye and I love you.
His ringtone for me was My Girl. He was so funny about it and so proud of it in so many ways. I used to tease him about it and, admittedly, roll my eyes. He used to tell me he chose My Girl because it perfectly described how he felt. The man knew how to love me.
