Life Resumes

Most everybody is gone today, there are only two more people aside from myself and the children in our house. I think, after the influx of money that has come in the last week, that we can hold on here in this apartment through at least the end of the year, and perhaps until spring. I'm starting to think about the future, and what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Ironically enough, I had already started the process of enrolling at the University of Cincinnati part time this fall, so at this point it's simply a matter of stepping up the process and getting more serious about it. For now, I'm trying to get through a day at a time. I was holding up really well until after the funeral on Thursday. The troups started to depart, and the house started to get really quiet. I know for the last week I have been avoiding the truth of what has happened to our little family, but the denial has allowed me to function at a reasonably normal level. The grief that I'm left with now is a dull, omnipresent ache inside my chest. My heart feels constricted, like there are some crucial parts of it missing, and if I could only see my husband smile one more time that maybe it could be relieved. I'm still in shock at the quickness of it all. On Friday morning, Ammon called me out of the blue and asked the kids and I to drive the 30 minutes to his work and have lunch with him. I will always be grateful that I took the opportunity, and bundled all three kids into the car and made the drive to see him for that brief time. As it turns out, when he got home from work on that last day, things were so hectic with getting ready for his parents to be here that I barely got to see him at all. I had dressed Brooklyn in one of our favorite onesies that day, and had thought of a cute blog post centered around it. I wanted to get a picture of her in the onesie, so when Ammon got home and picked her up, I had him hold her up so I could get a picture of the shirt. I wish with every fiber of my being that I had aimed the camera just a little bit differently, and captured more than his arms in the picture. I wish I had just one more shot of his huge smile, and the sparkle in his eyes as he held his only daughter for the last time.


I miss Ammon.