Still Sad

I pride myself on being a strong, independent, take charge kind of woman. I like to do things for myself, and I relish accomplishing a big job that others might need help with. One of my constant refrains is, "I've got it." Whether "it" is 10 bags of groceries, tiling a floor, organizing a trip, cleaning up a mess or lifting something twice the size of me . . . I've got it, I don't need help, just back off! I don't even like for other people to make me a sandwich or fix me a drink.

My mom is exactly the same way, so I'm sure some of my quirks are either genetic or learned. (By the way, her favorite phrase is also, "I've got it!" AND just recently, she hung an entire kitchen's worth of cabinets by herself AND she also doesn't like for other people to make her a sandwich or fix her a drink--although she will let me on occasion.)

And I think this attitude of strength is precisely why I am having such a hard time since Steve passed away. I cannot stand to feel down about things, and even at the hardest times in my life, my attitude has been that I just need to get up and keep going. It is who I am.

But this loss still hits me right in the gut. I am so, so sad about all of the things my girls will miss out on. Yesterday, Lorelei learned how to really throw a ball. For such a little thing, she has a pretty decent arm--Steve would be so proud of her, with her little red pony tail and purple golf ball that she learned to fling across the room. If he could see her, he'd stop what he was doing to play "pitch" for as long as she wanted to.

And Caitlyn, oh Caitlyn. Not a day goes by that she doesn't talk about her PawPaw. We were in the car today, and all of a sudden she asked me if I remembered riding in the boat last summer with PawPaw. "Uncle Joey was surfing, and he was so silly! And PawPaw let me push the button that made a beep, and I loved that, " she practically squealed from the back seat. "I wish PawPaw could be there at the lake this summer. I'm so sad I can't see him anymore."

And me. I prize logic and reason above many other things in this world, and Steve pretty much epitomized the meanings of those words. Which is why, anytime I bought a car, took a job or faced a frustrating circumstance, I sought his advice. I deal with a fair bit of crazy that stems from Jason's ex-wife and her family, and for the past couple of summers, I've been in Houston when some situation arises that sends Nutty up to a whole new level. And every time, when I was irritated over the utter lack of both logic and reason, Steve was there to talk to. I miss that. And frankly, with a new ridiculous issue cropping up, I'm a little pissed that life must constantly prove over and over again that it isn't fair. I've lost a steady, strong source of calm and fairness, but the never-ending babble of illogical fallacies and hubris continues?? Thanks, universe.

I guess I really thought by this point in the game, I'd be able to go a day without being reminded of this empty spot in my heart. I never thought I'd still be tearing up when I hear a song that reminds me of Steve. I sure didn't think I'd be in a spot where my 3 year old would feel the need to tell me that it's ok because PawPaw will always love me.

I just never thought I'd still be so sad. I guess maybe I just never thought about how easy it is to be strong when you have such amazing people standing beside you in your life. I can't imagine how much more terrible I'd be at this whole process without my mom, my girlies and Jason!