Chances Are ...

"we'll find a new equation"

This is how I feel today ...

I thought I had this perfected. Sean left again today. Why does it always seem to knock me off my feet? How many times I have done this? How many times have I changed the equation so that things will work a little smoother?

Goodbye's aren't easy. There's no perfecting it. I have come to this conclusion just today. It's impossible. I had it all worked out .. in my mind. The kids have school. I will make them say their goodbye's as they walk out the door. Easy right? That way .. they would have the cold walk to the bus stop and then on to school to distract them.

The more I do this .. the less it seems so simple. Nothing about this is simple. Nothing.

This goodbye was just as painful as taking them to the airport to do it. What's sad is that I have had all these different ways to practice my theories. Snow falls in the winter. Tears falls when you say goodbye. Fact. There's no way around it.

So the boys eyes were filled with tears. What's hardest on me is watching how excruciatingly painful this process is for them. They don't want to cry. They try their best to hold it in. They can't help it. There's nothing I can do to prevent the pain. As a mother it kills me. I can not fix it.. I can not kiss it and make it all better.

Time is my friend. Time is my enemy.

How long can I do this? How long can I hold on to hopes and dreams and make believe?

He's gone.

Again.

For me ... it's like I can breathe again ... and at the same time - I can't breathe. How do I balance this?

The first week is awkward. Everyone getting used to having a 'stranger' in the house. There's a 'stranger' in my bed. I can't sleep. Our tempers and irritations and frustrations have a short fuse. Who tells who what to do .. who listens to who? Feelings get hurt. Time has made everyone forget how to do the dance of life as a family. We fumble and fall and roll our eyes.

The second week gets a little better. Trying to re-adjust .. trying to fall into the rhythm of that dance. Trying to get on a new schedule .. figuring out how everyone fits into that schedule. Hesitations ... not wanting to fail but not wanting to let go of independence at the same time. Hugs come easier.

The third week .. we're there. We fought our way out of the suffocating bag. The flow has been established. Everyone magically remembers their parts. Memorizes it. Breathing becomes regular. Smiles start to appear. Laughter comes easy.

Then, just as quickly as it started .. it's over. Here comes that familiar dreaded feeling. It's never seems to be the same pain either. I didn't know pain had levels or tiers to it .. but it does. Maybe it's called stages and we are all in different stages in our pain.

Will we make it? Will we come out scarred so badly that we no longer recognize each other? What happens if at one point we don't ever make it to that week 2 or week 3. What if we get stuck in week 1 because we have completely forgotten how to move forward?

One of the most painful things Eli has ever said to me was about three months ago. He said "mom, I am forgetting what dad looks like".

During a primary lesson almost two years ago .. Jackson asked his teacher "do you think Heavenly Father misses us as much as I miss my dad?".

I will just call myself fortunate that Hayley is a teenage girl. What does this mean in this equation? She's not as devastated to say goodbye. At her age .. she just equates Sean being here as one more parent telling her what she can and can't do. She's not shy about telling us both how we ruin her life. A kiss on the cheek and she's out the door smiling this morning.

Life will get back to normal. Basketball, school, appointments, daily life. It'll kick in quick. I know this. And besides .. what choice do we have?

But for today... I don't want to dance.

"chances are only what we make them ..."