Well, what can I say?
WEDNESDAY, February 3 – Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fucking hell!
Diary of a Widower
Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons
Archive for the month “February, 2013”
So near and yet, so far
TUESDAY, February 2 – So near and yet so far. Solitude, loss, the gaping hole. I wander the streets of Amsterdam in the rain without a clue where I’m heading, looking for her, getting drenched in the process. Where are you?
I have to run the whole show on my own: organize everything, deal with the snags, make the decisions. E’s arrival was meant to be an extra pair of hands but today I feel as if I’ve gained a daughter. She doesn’t have a clue. I have to explain everything, step by step, with the patience of a saint which I sometimes find difficult to muster.
Now the moment has come to entrust the children to her care. She will be taking over part of my role, which means she’ll be responsible for their well-being while I’m at work and that will be more often and for longer periods than at present. She’ll pick them up from school and I won’t be there. For three months I was their sole guardian, and now there is also our au pair.
It feels unnatural – as if I’m the only person the kids can (or should) trust or fall back on. It seems there’s no alternative. That’s the way it is. It only serves to increase, retroactively, the immense admiration I had and still have for Jennifer as a mother. She was a fantastic Mom and the tears come when I think about the cruel termination of that role.
So tired. So far away and yet so near.
Four, and still only three
MONDAY, February 1, 2010 – It wasn’t really necessary, but I did it anyway. I wrote my eldest a little note and left it at his bedside. ‘Dear Sander, No matter how helpful it is that E has come to live with us, never forget that it’s still the three of us.’ He understood, and had already figured that out. But it was good to hear it coming from me.
E’s first day was heartwarming, comical, and endearing. Still, it also felt strange: suddenly there were four of us. She quickly settled in, going around barefoot, putting on her own favorite CDs, occasionally dancing to the music. Oddly enough, her voice has the same intonation as the boys.
We talked about her background, her interests, her idiosyncrasies, her preferences. She doesn’t drink, but occasionally uses marijuana and loves to party. Welcome to Amsterdam. I made it clear that that’s okay, as long as she does it all in her own time and isn’t stoned when she’s supposed to be taking care of the boys. Otherwise she can do whatever she wants to do. No need for me to hold her hand.
In any case, it’s still just the three of us.
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Diary of a Widower 