What does a father say when his little boy is crying in bed and says, "I miss Mommy. I miss it when she used to sing songs and scratch my back." I wish I could bring her back, but I can't. I wish she were there scratching Dawson's back and singing to him, but she's not; and she never will be again. That is quite a hard thing for this father to handle. Right now I'm swallowing harder than I ever have before. But I did sing (badly I might add) and scratched his back. Fortunately, he smiled and rolled over just like he used to do for her. David said, "Dad, do you want me to talk to him?" He's such a good big brother, but I fear he's trying to be a bit too brave.
This week seems like our long crawl back into reality. It stings quite a bit. Yesterday, I visited a friend in the hospital (oh how I hate that place). I went because I love him and his wife, but the sound of those machines practically made me jump out of my skin. Tomorrow, we go on the walk in Wilmington to raise money to fight cancer. It's going to be gut wrenching, because Barbara won't be there. However, I look at it as an opportunity to raise money so we can hopefully one day find a stake to drive into the heart of that aweful disease. I hope I'm there when that happens, because I'm going to twist that stake over and over again.
The boys have started acting out. When I ask them why, they say I don't know, and while they might not, I do. I realize you can't blame everything on them losing their mother, but it is a factor. Some of it has to do with me too. I'm not there enough and it shows in their behavior. Often, it feels like a daily struggle. Should I just quit school and spend every second with them? On the other hand, Barbara and I (mainly Barbara) sacrificed so much so that I could finish. How would that honor her? I feel like I'm in a race against time.
While I go through all this, it so nice to have a Savior to hold your hand. Thank God He knows the way. He gets me through it mostly by little graces - a hug from a friend, a meal, a slap on the back, a friend who looks at me and genuinely asks, "How are you?" It's times like these I whisper a quiet prayer and say, "Thank you so much, Lord." I don't know what I would do with out Him and the people He sends my way.