His headstone is still there. I checked this morning. I'm not sure why, but something in my heart isn't computing that this is permanent.
Then we came home and an overwhelming feeling of needing to run set in. Luckily my husband and kids were willing participants. Escaping reality is a journey that we attempt every chance we get. So we piled into the car, picked up a ridiculous amount of fast food and iced coffee, and headed towards the city.
We ended up popping in on my husband's 87 year old grandmother for an hour, then to the cemetery where my father in law is buried. To put this into perspective, we have visited his grave once in 18 years.
We were completely unprepared, so after locating the site (which if you have been to a Catholic Chicago cemetery you can imagine that feat after many years! ) we made a quick run to the drugstore for a prayer candle and flag. It felt like such a simple and easy task. As a family, we laughed as we cleared of the headstone and my husband battled an ant hill. We stood arms around eachother as we have become so accustomed to doing this past year. A long link of arms holding eachother up even if someone is about to fall.
Eventually we drove home to tackle dinner. The kids started a pot of sauce while we ran to pick up 2 benches that I had made from parts of Christian's crib. Again, we were brought to tears seeing new life in something as simple as wood. The use of his crib may have transformed, but the hope and promise he filled our hearts with was still there.
You see, or reality is completely shifted. We spend much of our time thinking we are hiding from it, but actually learning to live in it. Yes, I meant IN it, not WITH it. With it would imply we are able to be seperated from it. It's as if we are learning to live IN a different atmosphere that leaves us gaping for air. As we relearn to breathe, we learn to force ourselves to attempt calmness.
Arms around eachother, one day at a time. We will #doitforcj
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