March 23rd, 2012
On March 17, 2012, when I decided to return home with the boys, I drove down the street. Both boys then exclaimed, "Home, hoooomeee," and right before I turned into the driveway, Christopher "Baby," I said, "Mommy." The most challenging moment of my life. The moment that I knew I was truly alone.
Today is March 23, 2012, the day after Mimie's burial, and I realize it's the first day of the rest of our lives without her. I revolved around her for fourteen years in good and bad times. I'm new to this world; I would say I have been born again. Faced with a harsh reality that I have to try and begin anew. I am taken aback by this travesty.
The day after, I buried my boy's mom, and my wife seemed as if I was babysitting and she would be home in a moment. She won't be, and this is all too real. It is game on.
In the last seven days or 168 hours, I only slept for about 18 total hours. What a nightmare this has been. I sure wish I was dreaming. I woke up to the alarm she set on her iPhone this morning. It is an alarm to remind her to take Nico to school.
I was in a deep sleep before it went off. The deepest sleep I had seen in my lifetime. I was sad to be woken because it was the nicest sleep since this ordeal started. Deep sleep is the only rest and peace you will find when confronted with an untimely death.
When I woke to the alarm, I felt the pain of my new reality. I felt the pain of their new reality. Hopefully, I'll understand the mistakes that made her death come to fruition.
"Baby Christopher" was up first, and I opened his bedroom door and said what Mimie would say every time she saw them first thing in the morning, "Hi!. Good morning." Then Nico was greeted by mommies saying. Nico wet the bed. He had little swimmer diapers on. Ironically, diapers were specifically made for the pool.
They both had milk. Nico toast. Baby Special K cereal with me. Nico said, "Mama," when he saw her picture hanging in the house hallway. My new life sucks.
It's going to be complicated. It would get more challenging than I ever could imagine. I genuinely feel like I am living a new life. But I was pulled in while kicking and screaming. I want my old life back. Now I see why newborns cry when they leave the sanctity of their mother's womb.
This is my new reality. This is my new life. I have been born again.
454 words
Christopher Fusaro is the author of Captain Imperfecto.
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