My father in law is here. I still call him that even though, in the eyes of the law, he and I are no longer related. But since I feed, clothe, educate and raise his granddaughters, a visit is still warranted. He was at a convention for fly fishermen over the weekend. He builds custom fly rods. He’s pretty good at it too. It takes him the better part of a month just to make one. I don’t have that kind of concentration.
The house got hot today but I’m too cheap to turn on the AC. Once it’s on, it’s on for the season and I’m really enjoying not paying for heat or AC (those, what 3 months of the year where that’s possible). So the girls and I spent the better part of the afternoon in the basement. I should be going through all my junk, er, stored and unused items for the garage sale to end all garage sales. Instead I made pajama shorts for Ella. She has some ready-to-wear rib knit tank tops that are supposed to be undershirts but she refuses to layer in the cold weather so they were a waste of space until now. I matched 2 of them to some cute knits in my stash and, voila! Instant PJs.
I seem to always find something else to do. I really, really need to sort through all that stuff. The baby gear is a no brainer as are some of the not used small appliances. There are totes and totes of Stephen’s high school things. Random room decorations. Dishes. Anyway, his dad and I are going through some of those things tomorrow afternoon. And I don’t know if I’m ready. He said that he’ll take back whatever I don’t want. I wish I could keep it all and go through it on a rainy afternoon while I’m alone. But I don’t think my heart will be able to take it. I don’t even know how much I’ll be able to go through tomorrow.
It’s been a year since he started chemo. It’s been almost 8 months since he died. I’m starting to get the “you never know what will happen down the road…you might get to have another baby…you might not be a single parent forever…we just have to get you out there and who knows what will happen…” I was wondering when that line of reasoning would start. I can’t fathom dating. I can’t fathom being emotionally attached to anyone. I still can’t fathom that Stephen is gone most days. And maybe I will. Someday. But I don’t think so. Not until the girls are considerably older if I had to guess. I would be nice to have someone care for me and take care of me for once.
This turned into a pity party and I’m sorry about that. I’d like to blame it on the lack of sleep or the lack of meds but I don’t think that’s it. I want someone to finish my sentences again. I want someone to know what kind of salad dressing I take and how I like my iced tea. I want someone to walk by and grab my ass while I’m cooking dinner or doing the dishes. I want someone to tell me that I look hot even in track shorts and a tshirt. I want my husband back.