Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Just say it, that you miss her

MONDAY, October 18 – It’s the beginning of National Donor Week and donating came up as a  subject  at the dinner table. C’s daughters listened in fascination to Sander and Eamonn who took turns explaining just what happened to the body of their mother such as, which people were given new organs. The girls were impressed and so was I; especially, by the calm way in which they explained everything.

Then, Eamonn asked if he could be excused from the table. Sure, but remember to take your plate into the kitchen. Eamonn headed straight for my bedroom. I went after him. He was already lying on the bed, staring out the window. I asked him what was wrong.

‘Why did you start talking about organ donation?

‘Me? I got the impression that the two of you thought it felt good to talk about it.’

That much was true, but it also upset him. The conversation at the table had brought back visions of the hospital, of Jennifer in her coffin with the bandage on her forehead from the accident and the scar on her breast from the organ-removal.

‘And all of that this week, Papa. Don’t you understand?  This week?’

I understood all too well. However, there was something else that he had to understand:  I still miss Mom, every single day and yet she was able to do something fantastic after her death. Also, that I love him. And Mom, and Sander, and the dog and the cat, and C and her daughters. This week was going to be tough; but, together, we’d manage to get through it.

I heard myself talking, and I realized that it had been a while since I had last said to him or to myself that I still miss Jennifer, every single day.  I thought it so much I’d come to think it went without saying and so that’s  why I was saying it now. Eamonn said he was glad to hear me say so and gave me a big hug. And for me, for me it felt good to say so out loud.

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