We stay up each night to put Richie's parents to bed. Morning and nights are just too hard. So we try to be with them. But it's been so many nights of being up late tucking my in-laws into bed and then getting up early with the kids. And the sleep in between that is far from restful.
Suffice it to say, I was cranky this morning. Beyond tired. Annoyed at Bar for screaming at me at 7a. Sad. Confused. Lost. I stubbed my toe. Both girls in my bed I fell back to sleep. Richie took them downstairs for breakfast at some point and I woke up alone at 9a. I jumped out of bed feeling guilty and a load of things to take care of before people show up heavy on my shoulders and I realize I've broken my toe when I stubbed it earlier.
The only other time in my life I've broken a toe was in this house. It was in a very similar fashion. It was my oldest niece's baby naming ceremony/party. She was the first granddaughter to be born and my in-laws were very excited. They threw a huge party with a band and everything.
Jonny and I were horsing around. I'm not even sure the exact context, but he was chasing me through the house and my uncoordinated self kicked a moulding in my haste to egg him on. After a couple glasses of wine I didn't really feel too much. We ate, drank, danced, went to sleep. The next morning I woke up in incredible throbbing pain. I looked down and my foot was half black it was so bruised. The emergency room told us there was not much to do. So I lived with it.
Presumably this time I'm in the same boat. The fracture feel much less severe than that, but the pain is much greater.
Funny how the world has a way of bringing you memories when you need them. Through the last couple days, my only real fear has been getting farther from this with time. Dealing with this is impossible, but I find that the end of things is even tougher for me.
When they removed the ventilator and we all went in to see him I couldn't leave. Even after the whole family left the room. And then after Richie convinced me to walk away felt a magnetism to the room and I sat outside for a long while. That evening when it was time to leave the hospital I broke down. I couldn't get myself to leave. And at the burial...it was impossible to walk away.
I realized that doing all the things that needed to get done were doable somehow for me. It is the ending of each task that I can't seem to get through.
But the thing is I know he is with us. His energy, his spirit, his life. I have to believe that the world has a purpose for us all. And in that way, the world will take care of those of us who need to be ok with that. This broken toe is a physical, throbbing reminder of how silly him and I were. Of the part of me that he brought out. A childish, fun, giddy me. He will always be that part of me I guess.