The boys and I were able to go "home" this weekend and spend time with Dad, Karri, Lindsey and families. Dylan and Ky have grown a foot since Christmas I'm sure... and Baby Owen... man we love Baby Owen!
Going home now is especially bittersweet. I feel comfortable there like I do no other place, I know the sounds and smells of that house. I know where everything goes. I can sleep there like it's going out of style. But it's different now.
This was the first time I had been there since the chaos of the funeral and the holidays. During those times, there was so much to do, and so little time to get it done. This time, we had no agenda, no place we had to be... we just were "there."
And more than ever I realized that Mom wasn't ever going to be there again, and it still just blows my mind.
When she would go to bed during one of our visits, she always told Keegers and Suttie to make sure that they came upstairs to wake her up in the morning. Sometimes they would, sometimes they wouldn't. On the mornings that they didn't, she would creep down the stairs, get on all fours, crawl around the corner into the living room, and scare them. They LOVED it. SHE loved it. It was one of their "things." She wasn't there to do that this time.
I'm in a state of "waiting" the whole time I'm there. I'm waiting to hear her open the door, I'm waiting to hear her call the boys, I'm waiting for it to be normal again.
It's never going to be normal again. Seeing my dad doing the dishes is not normal. Hearing him talk about doing the laundry is not normal. Teaching him how to use a crockpot is not normal.
I guess I need to stop waiting for things to be normal again. I need to start finding the "new" normal.
I don't know how to do that. I don't WANT to do that. But just like Dad is learning all these things, I guess I'm going to have to start to try to learn something new myself.
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