Just a Week

Posted on | March 9, 2012 | 5 Comments

Last night, I lay awake long after midnight.  I tossed and turned, courtesy of an over-active brain and too much Mucinex D, and I thought about everything that has changed over the last week… things she will never really know about.  I watched J’s chest rise and fall with each sleepy breath and wondered if somewhere in Charlotte, someone was watching her daughter’s chest rise and fall.  I wondered if someone was counting the curls on her head and wondering how many of them were new; how many had sprouted over the last week… how many had Jen already missed.

It seems strange that she’s gone, seems impossible that she isn’t just a phone call away, ready to chastise me for a care package or lift me up when I’m struggling.  At least ten times a day, I pick up my phone to text or call her and then have that sharp sinking feeling that comes with realizing she isn’t there.  Last night, as I tossed and turned, I briefly talked with her husband, offering up useless words of grief and love and insufficiency.  He told me that nothing was like losing a wife… not losing a grandparent, or an aunt or uncle… all things he’d been through before.  And I remembered that once, not so long ago, I wrote that divorce was like losing a spouse to death.

Only it isn’t.

And so I tossed and turned and thought of a motherless girl and a widowed husband, a mother without a daughter, a father without a little girl.  I tossed and turned and ached for the loss of my friend and the gaping hole that can’t be filled… the space on the side of the bed, the seat at the table, the words, the names: “Mommy,” “Daughter,” “Wife”, “Friend.”


I can’t believe how much she has missed in just a week.

I can’t believe how much she is missed in just a week.


5 Responses to “Just a Week”

  1. TheNextMartha
    March 9th, 2012 @ 9:15 am

    I’m sorry. It’s just heartbreaking.

  2. Krista {Not Mommy of the Year}
    March 9th, 2012 @ 9:41 am

    I’m so sorry. I wish there were words that could make it better.

  3. StartinOverWonderful
    March 9th, 2012 @ 10:12 am

    It will get better. It will. You will always miss her but the pain of it won’t be killing your insides, as I am sure it is right now, forever. And she is watching over you, and her daughter, so she isn’t “missing” anything in a sense.

  4. Jennifer Williams
    March 9th, 2012 @ 10:40 am

    When my Dad passed away I was completely devastated. Actually that probably isn’t a strong enough word, but I looked at my stepmother and I was glad I was not her. I had lost my dad, but she had lost her everything. I still had David beside me holding me up, but she was alone. Sure I was there and my brother and her brothers and sisters, but that is not the same.

  5. MaconMom
    March 9th, 2012 @ 11:28 am

    There are no words. I am so very sorry for all of you.

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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