Dear Mark,

As I sit here on the back deck of a house you’re never seen, in a neighbourhood you’ve never been, living a life so far removed from what we once knew, I wonder how I got here almost every day. You would have been celebrating your 38th birthday today and I find it hard to believe it’s been nearly two and a half years since you’ve been gone.

I think you would be relieved to know that my life here is one that has evolved into something familiar, something with predictable patterns in the everyday. The kids are settled in as though they were here always, a little bitter sweet for me. At the same time, there has been nothing predictable about the direction my life has taken. I still manage to be surprised when things don’t turn out as I’d hoped they would. It’s almost silly in a way, considering my life has been nothing but unpredictable. Let’s face it, it’s not like 90 percent of women are faced with the same circumstances I am, so why should I expect that to be the case now? Maybe wishful thinking…maybe hopeful…maybe foolish. It’s hard to say.

Every now and then I get bogged down with this train of thought. Why you? Why me? Why our kids? How is it that our children have to grow up without you as their Dad? No matter how accepting or how open minded an individual can be, it still defies any possible sense. Put simply, it’s unfair. You would think that living with this reality for this length of time might soften this question. And it has to some degree, but there are times when I surrender to this feeling of injustice. The only way to describe it is… I just break. I break, I cry, I collect myself and I dig. I dig deep for a reason to appreciate my life when yours was cut so short.

You affect me everyday even though I can’t feel your presence anymore. As time passes and my life changes, I know that I am responsible now for teaching our children the things that we set out to do together when we chose to become parents 7 years ago. This responsibility overwhelms me when I remember how easily these things came to you. I feel your absence the most when our kids struggle with missing you in these moments. When a hug or a simple squeeze from you would easily squash their child hood tears.

I know that with time, these moments will change. It is something that I look forward to and dread in the same instant. I look forward to a time when Audrey’s sadness isn’t so raw because time will have passed, but it makes me ache to think she’ll have trouble remembering you. Noah is already caught between these two worlds and thankfully, his innocence has some protective qualities to it.

When I think about your birthday tonight, I don’t think about all that never came to be for you, your life seemed so full and complete already. Your smile and attitude was that of a person fulfilled and content with your life at any given moment. A quality I think we all strive for each day.


I do however think about how our lives continue to unfold, day by day, hour by hour. Whether we have been propelling it along with goodwill or not, each day unravels itself into the next . Did we smile at the girl who handed us our coffee this morning? Did we tell the person in our life how much we love them? Are we patient with the ones we love? You did this and it came so naturally. This is what I remember about you tonight on your birthday. Not what you would have become had you had the chance to turn 38, what you were and always will be.


all my love,
Leslie

When I'm...35

As I sit here on the eve of my birthday with the kids tucked in and their very first downtown fireworks under their belt, I think about the year that has passed and all that has happened. Birthdays always seem to have that affect on me, as I’m sure they do for most people, it’s a day to take stock and step back. I try to rewind my life to when I was young and think back to what I thought I’d be doing when I was this age. Where did I think I would be way back then? And, have any of those ideas ever come to be as I hit these milestones in life?

One thing is certain, I never ever thought I’d be a widowed single mother of two small children starting over at the age of 35. I can’t really say what I had in mind years and years ago when I pictured my future, but this most certainly was not it.

This year, this birthday has been on my mind since I realized the dates a few months ago. As I enter this new year in my life, I will have caught up to Mark in age. By the end of this month I will be older than him and this just makes no sense at all. A minor detail to most anyone else but it’s a bit of a stumbling block for my brain. It’s as though the rules have been changed on me without any warning.

When I think about Mark and the fact that he died so young, I can’t help but wonder about his last year of life. If he had known that 35 was going to be it, I wonder if he would have done anything different? Would he have made different choices? Would be have taken more risks or less? Would he have been more impatient or just the opposite? When our days are numbered why do we behave differently?

I remember asking Mark one day in January if he knew he had seven days left, what would he do? Little did we know at the time, he had less than thirty. We sat for a long time and to my surprise, he didn’t have a “bucket list” type answer like I thought he might. At first he said nothing, he said he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to do. I think by then the disease had taken a lot of his energy and drive away. But then he said simply, he’d kiss our kids, read them a story and then watch me fall asleep so he could remember us… I cried.

So now I sit here in my 35th year thinking about that conversation. Wondering how to pull it together in spite of everything and gain that sense of appreciation that comes with a time line…

Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, one day older and one day wiser it will come more easily to me.