Losing Him, Raising Them

I have an anniversary in a few months. But not the good kind.

This June will mark 20 years since my doorbell rang and my world ended.

Twenty. YEARS.

That's a lot of time - far more time than I was gifted to have Lou in my life. Just over nine years as his wife and eleven years total.

The widow side of that is complex and I've dedicated much time and effort to unpacking it.

What I speak less often about, though, is the part about raising four boys without their dad.

At first it was just too hard to talk about. I physically could not get through even a few sentences without coming undone.

Then I was so busy trying to take care of four boys, the house, too many pets, the bills, a murder trial, recovering from the murder trial, multiple injuries and some illnesses, debilitating relationships , a full time job, and a revolving door of people who just couldn't resist using me as a whipping post for their own pain.

And at first the actual work involved raising them was manageable. I'm really good at being silly and making fun moments and being a rock star to young kids.

Even through the loneliness.

There is a special kind of lonely attached to being the only parent. Forget about the actual help - juggling baby bags, bottles, diapers, mowing the lawn, driving to practices, meeting with teachers, doctor appointments, etc.

All of that is very hard to do alone.

But worse than that is the absolute silence where there used to be and should still be their father.

No one else ever looked at or loved my kids the way their dad did. No one else ever had my back and threw themselves into their love and well-being like their dad did. My kids were never a priority- a mission, a mini-me, a "I can't wait to get home and play with them," a special smile at mom over their birthday cake candles, to anyone else.

Everyone else who has loved on my kids has had their own kids to love on more. Their own lives to prioritize first. And they deserve to do that. It's just hard to remind yourself of that when you're so lost.

Snow days in New York used to be so special and fun. Lou was a teacher, so he'd get those too. And we'd spend the bonus day together, bundling kids up to play in the snow, watching movies, and sneaking in some alone time when they napped.

Snow days after losing him were extra lonely. Now I was all alone to run all that for the kids. The layer of silence as the snow fell seemed extra loud in my heart.

And beyond their younger years, as they evolved into pre-teens and teenagers, I was in way over my head. The instinct to mother them, to protect them from pain, was not what they needed. They needed someone to push them and lead them and show them how to be men.

The rest of the world was busy with their kids and their lives. I watched my kids being left behind, and it sucked.

The desperation to fill that role for them was a major factor in me getting into the relationship that at first seemed like an answer to my prayers, and then like an extra layer of hell. The year or so they had of that man to teach them sports and music and shaving and light up my life came at the very high cost of four more years of, well, not good things..

Would my kids have had to overcome so much, teach themselves so much, if their dad was here. Absolutely not. Would my youngest be living as a trans woman today? These are the questions that still wake me at night.

One of my sons is getting married next fall.

I am so excited for him even as a piece of my heart is breaking all over again as well. His dad should be here. He should have has dad to plan with him, introduce his fiance to, to dance with him, to dance with her.

But he won't. So I'll focus on my blessings that day, celebrate with the people who do genuinely love and care for us, and get through the sting like I always do.

Why am I sharing this here? Isn't this supposed to be a positive, informational place? What does this have to do with you?

Fair enough. But life isn't always a positive feeling experience, even if we learn how to spin it so. And if you have not raised kids alone, you probably know someone who is, or has. Or you will know someone, one day. Or, God forbid, maybe you will experience it yourself. Even if your kids are grown, maybe with kids of their own, you'll feel that sting as milestones pass without the person you love being there. So maybe this will pop into your mind when you see or talk with someone who had to be a parent all by themselves, and the things they do or don't do, that may seem selfish or high maintenance to you will suddenly make more sense now.

Maybe you'll see yourself in this and know you’re not crazy.

And that is what it's all about :)