Two Weeks

And the way it should have been…

We’ve been talking about Chad a lot during our trip.
The girls are asking very open and honest questions – and I am being as open, honest and age-appropriate as I can be.
Some questions I’ve anticipated.
Some I have not…and those really throw me for a loop.
All part of the process, I know.
They are such strong little souls and I am extremely proud of them; they are handling all of this so well.

We’re getting lots of sun, snuggles and laughter.
And a whole lot of time to reconnect with each other and figure out where to go from here.
We’re getting a game plan together, so to speak.
And I couldn’t ask for more, at this particular moment.

It has been extremely difficult to roam around here, seeing families with a mom and a dad.
The girls are taking it in stride though, talking about how much Daddy would have liked it here, and what his favorite thing to do would be. And I always tell them little stories from our honeymoon close to this place; how much fun we had and what his favorite things to do were. They really like that – hearing stories about Chad.

When we go to dinner/breakfast/lunch every day, the hostess always assumes we need a table for four people. I hate correcting them; but no – it’s just the three of us. One of my girls will usually say something about Chad being in Heaven…but many of the natives here don’t understand our Southern sweetness accents, so I just smile and nod my head. Just three, please.

Today marks two weeks since Chad left us.
It doesn’t seem fair that life goes on.

It’s not that it hurts any less or that we miss him any less.
We just have to keep on living.
Nothing else in this world stopped the moment his life did; and I so wished that it would.

Just stop.
To give me time to think.
To cry.
To sleep.
To breathe.
To mourn.
To hug these little girls so tight.
To figure out what to do next.

But nothing stopped.
It just kept going.

And as unfair as it is that he’s not here to share this phenomenal vacation with the three of us, I know he is here.
He would want to be here, if he could be.
He’s watching over us; keeping us safe; dotting the sky with beautiful stars for us at night.

It’s not necessarily enough at times, but it will do.

We miss him so very much.