Why I am Sad

Okay, mostly I try and focus on the good...the triumphs and successe amidst the chaos and trials. And mostly, my life is good. A little stressful, but good nonetheless.

But today was...hard.

It all started out when I went out to do yardwork. I had to cut down some monster thistles (who apparently were not told I was wearing gardening gloves and they should not hurt me...ouch), trim bushes, spray weeds, turn dead weeds into the soil, sweep the concrete parking pad thing in front of my front door and then hose it down. Although I don't mind it, all I could think about was how inside, waiting for me, were dirty bathrooms, dirty dishes and dirty laundry. And although my kids help when they can (or when I force them), ultimately, the responsibility is mine. All of it. Every last thing. From bills, to making money, to buying, preparing and cleaning up the food, to baths, to reading books to little ears, to homework, to mowing, and even prayers and Family Home Evening. If I don't do it or force.. er, I mean, ask...one of my kids to do it, there is no one else to ask. And I am tired. And suddenly, I wished I had someone else to divide to load with.

Then, I got a message on my phone from a friend who I gave Dave's old number and phone to. Now its been 3 1/2 years, but for some reason, whenever the voice mail goes into..."Your message from (fill in name here...usually with the person's voice)"...on my phone, it always leaves Dave's name in his own voice.

Usually, it makes me smile.

Today, it just made me cry.

Why? Because its unfair. Its unfair that the person who loved me, the person who I found out out after he died told all the people he had known all of his life that I was the woman he always dreamed of and wanted and adored...was inflicted with a mental illness everyone misdiagnosed and nobody knew how to treat. It left his life...and mine...in a constant state of chaos and disruption that only ended when Heavenly Father had decided we had both had enough. And I cried because now...now I have enough knowledge that I could have told someone what he had, and gotten the right treatments and the right medications, and we could have been normal. He could have been the man he wanted to be so badly, but was kept from being by his burden. I know he is that man now, unhindered by his body. But I can't see him, or feel him...and neither can my children.

And then I volunteered to watch my sisters kids so she and her husband could go on a much needed date. I also watched another friend's son so she and her husband, who had been gone all week, could have a few hours alone to talk and hold hands. I'm not sad that I did it. Helping any couple build that relationship that is foundational to every family is a privilege. I am sad, because I do not know if they will ever have the chance to return the favor (which I am sure, both of them would).

And I am sad because I hear my 7 year old son ask me; "Mommy, I want a new daddy. Can we get a new daddy now?" as he super glues himself to every man that walks through our door because he craves that male influence. I watch my 9 year old daughter on the verge of puberty struggle with how she sees herself because her main source of self esteem as a little girl can only whisper his feelings to her in her dreams that she will not even remember in the morning. I know my father was a central figure to my own feelings of self worth, and studies show that a young woman's relationship with her father has more effect on her esteem for herself then almost any other factor. I see my oldest son struggle with issues with his dad, and fight to be the example of a righteous priesthood holder in our home, when he has no constant example...someone with whom he has regular daily contact to show him how to become a good man, a righteous husband and loving father. I see a little girl, who treasures a picture of her in her father's arms, and then asks over and over again to watch snippets of a video we happened to take 2 months before he died where here dad was holding her and kissing her...and then she wants to know what its like to have a dad. Simply because she can't remember, because she was so little. These are all gaps I cannot fill. No matter how much time I spend on my knees, how many books I read about child development, or how perfect of a mother I am (which I'm not)...I will never, ever be a father. I know the Lord will support me, and fill in the gaps. But it will never be as good as if there were two. That is the way it was meant to be, the way our Heavenly Father set it up to be because it is, quite simply, the better way for children to be raised and for individuals to grow and learn.

And I am sad because although I have made peace with the past, I want to look forward to the future. I want to press on, and move on. I want my family to be "whole" again. And it would appear that the Lord has no intention of granting that petition. No matter the words from my mouth or floating toward heaven in the quiet pleas of my children...the answer for now is no.

I don't understand why.

And that is why I am sad.