I can't speak about father's day. I can't. Not out loud.
I can't talk about M. coming home from work on Thursday and sobbing. Not anywhere but here.
Out of nowhere, huge, wet tears rolled down his face and into hands that couldn't contain them and soaked his shirt. That expression of frustration, helplessness, pain - how long has he been holding that in? What in the hell triggered this? Who or what unleashed this? My brain demands to know, to deliver vengeance on the offending item or offender, but I know better than to ask. Because I won't get an answer. And I'm pretty sure I already know.
Things have been better since Thursday. There have been multiple distractions. People to entertain and things to do. But today is quiet. And that always makes me a bit nervous.
We are at his parent's house. With his dad and 2 of the three dogs. His mom and dog #3 are away. The boys are reading the Sunday papers, watching the W.orld C.up - it could be any other Sunday.
But its not.
The hallmark words haven't been uttered. They probably won't be. M. is not the kind that finds comfort in the assurance that he is, indeed, a father. That makes it worse. That he will make a wonderful father....worse yet. This essay in the online NY Times wishing for a daughter #2....for M. made it all much, much worse. His isolation now becomes palpable.
One of the dogs is freaking the f*ck out right now. She can't understand where her sister is or where she went. She can't possibly comprehend that her playmate is having a lovely time visiting M.'s sister and her family. She can't understand that her longing will go away in a few days. All she knows right now is the absence. That something isn't quite right and she doesn't know why and she can't do anything about it.
I look at M. right now and that's what I see. That all he sees and feels these days is the Absence.
Only this one will not be resolved.
This weekend hasn't been bad, its just been tenuous. M. will pull himself out of the funk. He always does. And for once, I think the prospect of Monday could make things better. Because then it won't be today, and we'll have a 364 day reprieve.
My heart is breaking for both of you. I'm so sorry for how difficult today is, especially for him.
@bbw - Yes. I am so sorry. Hugs to you today as well. Stay strong. Just a few more hours in the day.
@LJ - thanks so much, friend.
Thinking of you guys...
There are similar emotions under the surface but making their presence know here, too.
thinking of you and M., too.
(((hugs))) - so sorry you're both feeling this yuckiness. Hope it will be better Monday :) It's just not fair...
I hate this day more and more every year- so sorry that M is feeling it, too. Almost through it.
I think people forget the impact our losses have on men. thinking of you both today.
It's so hard to see your man suffer, especially when it's so seldom that they show it. I'm so glad FD is over, it couldn't end soon enough. Since my Dad's death I have no-one to buy a card for anymore, that's something that only other people can do now.
I hate that on top of all of our heartbreak and suffering we watch our best friends suffer too. Sort of wishing there was a holiday free island we could escape to some months. xo
I'm so so sorry...many, many hugs to you and M.
No words, just hugs. xoxo
The hallmark words haven't been uttered. They probably won't be. M. is not the kind that finds comfort in the assurance that he is, indeed, a father. That makes it worse. That he will make a wonderful father....worse yet.
I get this. This is my DH too. I'm so sorry. I suppose, at least, I'm glad that the words weren't uttered. Sometimes avoidence really is best.
Here's hoping today is better.
I don't even know what to say. My heart breaks for both of you.
My husband is similar. He really seems to prefer not to talk about it. The most I get out of him is a snippet of a sentence that he's hurting. It's so hard to watch him suffering even though I know he'll get past it and be upbeat again. Hang in there!
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