This week has basically boiled down to one thing - the kids want their Dad back.
Tears. Tantrums. Tears. Yelling. Kicking. Tears. Backchat. Biting. Tears. More yelling and ... more tears.
Every time, it all boils down to one reason: I want Daddy to come back.
Some of it is completely acceptable grieving behaviour.
Some of it is completely unacceptable - grieving or not.
All of it is completely overwhelming for the child involved.
And the mother trying to negotiate it all.
Because sometimes its just one of them losing their biscuits over it all.
Other times it’s all four of the kids. At once.
Which means that all five of us not dealing with any of it at all.
I just want Daddy to come back.
It manifests itself in random times and places - on the hockey field, playing with Lego (or not wanting to because that‘s what Daddy did with them), needing control over insanely small things and losing control over insanely small things.
And it can be day on day of this inability to deal with reality.
Or just 5 minutes of complete chaos.
Or one day can be chaos and the next day work like clockwork, and the following day even greater chaos... like this week.
Many people have told me that the 3-4 month post death is the hardest because this is ‘really real’, that this isn’t changing anytime soon, that despite the tears for weeks and weeks and the strong front and the everyday things, it isn’t changing.
And it’s shit.
And none of us want to deal with it.
But we don’t have a choice.
And some days, like this week, cuddles and love just aren’t enough. Because they don’t change anything. They don’t fix it. They can’t bring Daddy back.
These gorgeous loving, caring, intelligent children cry and stomp and get angry and upset and bewildered and frustrated and go quiet and scream and want cuddles and don’t want to be touched and want to do nothing and want to do all the things...And no matter what, nothing changes. It doesn’t bring Daddy back.
And that’s just shit. Because I can’t fix it.
No matter how many cuddles I give them.
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