54. When John first died, I kept repeating the number 54. That was how many years I had to go to keep the kids healthy, moderately happy, and have them graduate high school. How did I get 54 years?
54 years to keep the kids healthy, moderately happy, and have them graduate high school.
Eliza was 9 years old and had 9 years left before she turned 18.
Henry was 6 years old and had 12 years before he turned 18.
Molly was three and had 15 years before she was 18.
Greta, only being 8 months, had 18 years left before she was an adult.
I counted Eliza’s 9, Henry’s 12, Molly’s 15 and Greta’s 18 to get to 54. I could have easily just said 18 years, but then I wouldn’t see progress as quickly. Now on each of the kid’s birthdays, my number decreases. Almost a sense of accomplishment that they have made it alive to another birthday.
It’s a weird place to be, somewhere between not wanting to wish the time away and wanting to savor every moment, but also struggling every single day.
I figured, if I could get them to 18, they would hopefully have developed enough common sense and know-how to be a successful adult. Am I under the illusion that my job is done when Greta turns 18? Nope, but the year she goes to college I’m planning a really long vacation.
Tomorrow is Henry’s 8th birthday. He has always been such a sensitive soul. We’ve joked since he was born that he was an old man in a little kid’s body. He is the first to wake up every morning and has started the habit of coming into my bed for snuggles before anyone else wakes up. He’s learned that bedtime is a disaster and he’s third on the list to get the snuggles.
My number now? 47. Eliza-8 Henry-10 (tomorrow) Molly-13 and Greta-16.
My number now? 47.
This means, so far, John has missed 7 of the kid’s birthdays. 2 of mine and 1 of his. He missed all of Greta’s with the exception of the day she was born.
The days are long but the years are quick. The quote that says something to the effect of “the messiest part of your story becomes your strongest testimony” keeps appearing. These years are messy, really messy. I hope that we will come out stronger on the other side, but still wish that this wasn’t our story. I have learned a lot, but it is messy. It’s not the childhood that I thought I would give my kids.
The picture is from my 20 something birthday when my Dad picked up party hats and left them on the porch when we weren’t home. So crazy to believe that this was in the same lifetime as today.
In the Blink of a Fly is led by Leah Fullenkamp. Leah is the mother of four young children. Their lives were tragically altered after a crash caused by distracted driving killed her husband and her children’s father. This website is the tale of them learning to live again and serves as a passion project to help prevent distracted driving and this tragedy from happening to someone else.