How is it already March? Spring Don't Mean A Thing

    I was on the phone with a sister who is dealing with a similar loss. I kept screaming, "How is it March? How is it already March of 2023?" Time is mean. And yes, I'm still screaming. How is it spring? How did we already have our first Wheeler Kid birthday of the year?  Where is Pat? How can we do this, another year without our person?

    I'm not ready for spring.  I drove past two home improvement stores, and they had all of the fresh, new, vibrant florals out on display. But there is no way any beautiful flowers will come from this. I'm not ready for spring. I vividly remember the pain and shock of our first spring after losing our person.  It was volatile, gut wrenching, and downright terrible.  

    How are we doing? For me, there are still daily breakdowns, gut punches of "reality", and just times when I laugh because I can't understand how this was really the move. How was THIS what God had next for us? As for my beautiful, brave, kind children-they're doing their best.  Although they still have meltdowns where they scream shout and cry; they are less frequent.  But, instead there are constant mood and behavior changes that highlight the sheer horror of being a grieving, solo parent.

    I can tell when they're sad or struggling because they will become argumentative, impatient, easily distracted, unmotivated and anxious.  So then, I have to put on my therapy mom hat and decide whether to cuddle, comfort or correct in those moments. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Making parenting decisions on my own, without Patrick has truly been one of the worst parts of this whole thing.  I was never meant to do this alone.

    We talk about Patrick every day, all day. I don't think that will change; I hope it doesn't.  I played a video the other day and his voice coming from the speakers of the laptop just...overwhelmed me. Because why is he not here? Everyone needs Patrick's voice, encouragement, laugh, and perspective.  I'm grateful for all of the people who call or text just to tell me a story about him, or to simply say, "I miss Pat, and I hate this."  It's been 15 month to the day that we rushed him to the hospital and the daily check-ins, meals, gifts, and gift cards have continued to come in.  Although we hate this situation, the outpouring of love is absolutely beautiful. 

    So I think, for me, my struggle is "how?" How do we keep pushing? What does this actually look like. As my 6 year old screamed a few weeks ago, "Why did you do this to US, God? Why Us?" I felt that in my soul. We're taking it day by day, moment by moment.  Trying to do things that work for us. Slowing down in some spaces, rediscovering and embracing others. 

I've been posting daily updates on Instagram, you can follow us @servingwith7.

39: Getting Ahead of Pat's Birthday(edited)

I remember it clearly. I was sitting alone downstairs on our gray sofa one night, getting ready to head up to bed. As the YouTube video I was watching ended, the "watch next" suggestion was a preview of  a newsstory: "Chadwick Boseman Dead at age 43." I froze. I was stunned. My eyes were glued to the thumbnail. I didn't want to press play. I couldn't understand what I was reading. I didn't know Mr. Boseman, but like most of us I was a fan.  I appreciated his acting skills and his remarkable ability to bring to life one of my family's favorite superheroes, Black Panther.  Watching him on screen, full of life and vibrance and now gone at thirty-nine years old was unsettling to say the least. 

    Patrick was usually pretty chill about his birthday.  The only time it became a really big deal was in 2018 when we hoped that Benjamin would be born on his birthday but instead, he was born the day before.  On October 17, 2021, less than two months before his passing, Patrick turned 39. Thirty-nine isn't really an eventful age. Perhaps some may celebrate it as the last year of their thirties. But I can't imagine that anyone would think of it as their last year of life on this earth.

     I remember sensing that Patrick needed some encouragement. So, I reached out to some friends and family and asked them to send messages so that I could print them out and present Patrick with a box full of blessings & uplifting notes.  I noticed that as he opened each of them, he smiled.  Reading how much he meant to so many was good for his soul. " Ironically, several weeks later I would be creating another box of blessings for us, his bereaved family, full of notes of encouragement and stories of appreciation for his life.

Yesterday, we all sat down as a family and watched the new trailer for Black Panther 2. When it was over, we all cheered.  Patrick was a huge marvel fan, and the Black Panther movies took it to a new level! As we sat there processing all of the possibilities of the sequel's plot, we realized how hard this must have been for the cast since Chadwick is no longer with us.  So, the tears they cried on screen, were probably real and their hearts must have been heavy as they walked out this reality in real life and in the storyline.  Patrick is not here to enjoy this movie with us.  We can all hear his cheers and excitement in our heads.  His passion and enthusiasm for things came from pure places of appreciation.  Just watching his over-the-top reaction to things was a thrill in itself.  I miss his reactions; We all do. 

I didn't think age thirty-nine would be this significant; Patrick's last year on this side, and my first year as a widow. There, I typed it. I still can't believe it. 

*The Kids named our Black Van "Tchalla" and would do this Wakanda tribute as they entered*