Lost

I can't think of a title for this blog post. Since I last wrote, I have been busy with various family activities, and with dealing with the children. It's the week of the 4th of July, and I'm struggling a lot with the approaching holiday. The 4th of July has been one of my favorite holidays in recent years, mostly because it immediately follows the anniversary of my marriage to Ammon. In years past, we have celebrated both holiday's with a gusto, which I wrote about here, here and here. I remember distinctly how I felt writing this post--so full of love and blessings that I thought possibly that the warm feeling in my heart would break loose and consume me if I wasn't careful. I remember feeling so grateful for our simple, beautiful life. Today, I'm struggling greatly with those memories. They should bring me great peace, and someday, maybe they will. Today, however, they just make me ache for all that has been lost. I know that the roller coaster of grief is unpredictable and lengthy, and no matter how much I long to pass the ride over, it simply isn't an option. I wish that I could simply skip over all the firsts that this year will hold. In quick succession over the next few months I will experience my first anniversary, birthday, and Jeremy's first day of school without Ammon. All these milestones--and he's not here to experience them. On Saturday I was grateful to be able to attend the baptism of my nephew, who is in the states for a visit between his father's assignments overseas with the state department. I was sitting in the room waiting for the baptism to start, feeling slightly lonely, when I looked over and witnessed the time honored tradition of the father and the boy who is being baptized being photographed in their white clothes. The look on Ammon's brother James--a huge grin, pride evident in every line of his face-- complete undid me. Not wanting to ruin what should have been a special day for Nicholas, I had to leave the room. In the foyer, I cried bitter tears. Everywhere I turn, it seems, I am reminded of something else that is missing from my life. I long to find love again. I want the deep, abiding affection that I shared with Ammon, and I won't settle for anything short of that. Everybody tells me that I shouldn't be thinking of dating this early out, and maybe they're right. Part of me is bitter, and wonders who are they to offer advice to me? Who are they, who get to go home every night and share a bed with their spouse, who never have to feel alone, to give me advice about my love life? Who are they, who have never walked even a moment in my shoe, let alone stared down the rest of their life with sadness in their hearts and an ache in their chest? I long to hold Ammon in my arms, to cradle his head in my lap and run my fingers lovingly through his hair. Being robbed of that right--it makes me sad in a way I can't even articulate. Everybody keeps asking me what I'm planning for the 4th of July. In all honestly, I wish it would go away. I want to crawl into bed and come out on the 5th of July, and forget that this week ever happened.

I miss Ammon.