Tuesday Talk: Remembering When

Warning: Tears may be jerked and curse words to be read

Since I was old enough to understand what death was, I feared my father would die.

Why?

This would leave me alone.

He is the only person I have ever had in my life who I knew beyond a doubt loved me unconditionally. He didn't want to leave me, he provided for me, he listened to me. He wanted me.

When I met Mr. Realife, it took me a while realize I had another man in my life who loved me without conditions. The familiar sense of security flooded my soul when I was with him.

So did another feeling.

The fear he would die.

With Professional Counseling as my profession, I get all the reasons I fear the death of those I love the most. Yet, as a vulnerable human being, those feelings are not easily controlled.

About 3 weeks ago I came across a blogger who's story has truly strengthened the relationship I have with Mr. Realife. Matt Logelin is a single father of a precious 15 month old baby girl, Madeline.

I read innocently, really. Thinking What a sweet father and Oh! Look at his photography! Being the sap I am for single fathers, as was mine, I kept reading. and reading. and reading. My heart grew heavier and heavier, but I kept reading.

He was married to a woman who was clearly a shining light. Blond. Blue eyed. Beautiful. From the inside, out. Matt and Liz dated since high school and were married 3 years when they found out they were pregnant with Madeline. Life was perfect. The day of Madeline's birth came and all were happy. Liz needed to stay in bed for 24 hours due to some medical issues and when that waiting period was up, she went to see her daughter for the first time. She got out of bed, walked to the door, felt light headed and collapsed. You can read what happened here.

I sat and read about my greatest fear happening to someone else.

What the fuck.

Not only did he lose the love of his life, but he now has a daughter to raise all. by. himself. He had to go on. He didn't get the luxury of taking time off to mourn. He had a brand new baby to feed, clothe, love.

I said all of that to say this:

So often we go through our days thinking about everything that doesn't really matter.

We remember how our husband wasn't very loving this morning or remembering that our wife wasn't thoughtful enough to remember to pack our favorite snack. We remember how our husband always wants to watch his shows instead of ours or how our wife seems to always be blogging instead of paying attention to us. We remember how our husband doesn't bring us flowers or our wife doesn't keep the dishes clean. We remember how our husband leaves his underwear everywhere but the laundry basket and how our wife is always late because she has to fix her coffee.

We remember all the shit that doesn't matter.

On the other hand, while I haven't experienced this loss, I bet that all that 'shit' above, is the stuff we'll miss the most when they're gone.

I would do anything to see her dishes in the sink.

If only I had his underwear to pick up.

To hear the sound of his shows playing in the background would ease my pain.

I wish she were sitting next to me blogging away about our lives.

You know, I would bring him flowers if he were here.

Who cares if we are late, I just want to watch her making coffee one more time.

I don't encourage anyone to sit around and fear their spouse might be gone tomorrow.

But I do encourage you to think beyond your own nose today. I know Matt's story has changed the way I remember Mr. Realife. His story has strengthened my love for him. His story has opened my eyes to what matters and what doesn't. His story has inspired me to be a better wife and to be grateful for every moment I have with him.

Today. Remember the small things. Remember the way he smiles at you. Remember the way she laughs at your jokes. Remember the way they order their food, ask you how your day was or get excited over nothing. Remember their thoughtfulness, remember their idiosyncrasies, remember their noises. Remember the color of their eyes, the smell of their body, the sound of their voice. Remember what matters.

Everyday. Remember when.