Counter Balance

As in life, Jeff's death effects many people.  Even people who never knew him.

See, Jeff was many things but he was also my counter balance.  When I'd go crazy-type-A-tiger- mom-bitch-from-hell Jeff had a way of calming me down, looking at things from his side and generally kept me from leaping before I thought things through.

Jeff was the most tolerant person I have ever met.  Go figure I married him.

So I had a upset with my son's school and as waited 3 hours for a call back from the school principal I literally had this thought: I feel sorry for them.  When Jeff died, they lost the reasonable parent.

Now, I can be reasonable.  (Ok, who just spit their drink all over their computer monitor?)  However, I am not reasonable when it comes to my children and certainly not when it comes to their education.  And I honestly don't give a flying you-know-what if that gives me some type of parenting "label".  I am going to do what I think will help my child even if I look bad in the process.

Thankfully, it worked out with no bloodshed.  I got a call back and instantly was granted what I wanted.  I am very happy with this, I really didn't want to pitch a fit, complain, and do all the nasty stuff just to get my way in the end. 

But it also left me with the reminder that I am on my own.  I am the one to fight the battles.  I am the one to take charge and make decisions for my children without that secondary parental input.  I have no counter balance.  I can go nuts and skew things any which way I choose and that is frightening. 

I remember the day Jeff went back to work after J1 was born and I was feeling: "What?  You are leaving me alone?  I don't know what I am doing!  This is a human being, I cannot be left here alone with him."  And yet, he has done it again.  Jeff has left, I am alone and I don't know what I am doing. 

Nothing makes you feel more insecure than to become a parent.  I constantly feel like a failure and not only when I screw up horrifically by forgetting to be the tooth fairy.  I feel like I have failed my children when I feed them a hotdog for dinner three nights in a row.  Or, I don't take them outside to play because I need to start laundry/cook dinner/clean up a mess.  How about when I have finally had enough of the fighting and crying and I scream at them?  And don't even get me started on missing school events because I am working.  Yeah, I feel great then.

Grief isn't a process or a journey like the books and DVDs like to tell you.  Grief is an invasive weed that sprouts up in your beautiful garden and cannot be destroyed.  Even if you pull one, others lay dormant under the soil to pop up again in random places.  My grief for the past 18 months has left me with a number of problems I need to correct now.  But even as I work to fix one I am still finding more areas where I come up lacking.  Not the least of which, is my balance.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife