Laundry days and little things

Will my heart always ache at the absence of you? Will I always be sad when I remember you? You who brought me more joy than any other human? (Until we brought our little humans into the world. They give you a run for your money in the joy department.) But you, you were the lifter of my head, the one who made me laugh, the one who celebrated my goofiness and my sober depth. How could you bring me so much pain in your passing? I hope it isn't always this way. I do remember you often with joy. I find the corners of my mouth upturned often at the thought of you. But always with it, deep pain. Like my knee injury. I can't run without the ache, and the feel that it will buckle again. The rest of my life is a LONG time to have to think of my greatest joy with pain. 

Oh why is there grief? Why must all love end, in grief? Sooner or later. This ache-beyond-words does not leave many of us out. Unless, like you, we leave too soon to feel it. I don't think you've had to mourn anyone's loss like this. Most of your grandparents still live, (along with one whose mind has left long ago, and you hoped for the shell of her body to be taken home sooner.) How could you have gone first? We always each said we had dibs on leaving first; neither of us thought we could bear being here without the other. We thought we were theorizing on a time 50 years in our futures. You won that one. 

This ache of missing permeates everything. Like a bad case of the flu, no part of the body or soul is spared. The ache is felt everywhere. 

I've wondered often these last few weeks if one can die from missing someone. That's hard to explain, because it's not a desire for death in the slightest, it's just a wonder if grief this deep just takes one out. And these thoughts aren't while wallowing in bed, in deep despair. They hit suddenly, while I've stepped out of the car to check the mail, while preparing lunch boxes, etc.  Yesterday I folded and put away laundry. This was always our task. Together we'd sit on the floor among a mountainous pile of clothes, watching The Amazing Race, or This is Us. The kids would wreck the nicely folded clothes, we'd laugh at them, and with each other. The worst part was putting it all away. Yesterday I got on the exercise bike between folding and putting away clothes. I'm out of shape, and panted for a moment afterwards carrying clothes upstairs. In a moment, I saw you playing baseball, so many times. You'd completed a run, and looked back at me, your tongue hanging out in a pant, that meant all at once, "I'm tired, and man, this is fun!" Those wide expressive eyes. That signature Trev pant with tongue out for just a moment. And in the middle of laundry delivery, I felt that weight where I wondered if I would die. I miss you. I miss your oddities and silly faces. Those tiny things that I don't think about, until I do. Those expressions I'll never see again. 

And don't worry. I have so much to live for. They have your chin, your jawline, and your deep eyes. Or maybe they have my eyes. They are ours. And they are my greatest joy to mother. To watch explore and grown and develop their own independence. Cora told me she loved me today as we were driving to preschool. I think it's the first time she's told me that, completely unprovoked. She'll be TWO this weekend.  I'll make whatever sacrifice I need to for their good health: physical, emotional, and spiritual. I will take care of Mama so that their hearts and bodies will be at peace and safe. I just wish, so desperately, that they were able to EXPERIENCE you loving them like you do. You were the best daddy. WE miss you. 

babies.