This Time Last Year

Every day when I wake up one of my first thoughts is: This Time Last Year. I look at Laura's phone every morning and check her On This Day on Facebook but mostly I look on her calendar. She always documented what she or we were doing, our plans, how she felt and what treatments she was on, especially since she was first diagnosed. On this day last year we were informed by our oncologist that she now had months, possibly weeks, left. It is a day I'll never forget no matter how much my mind constantly tries to erase the details.

It's been a hard year. I'm under no illusions that the years to come will be hard too. But soon we will come to the end of this year. This Time Last Year will literally be a thing of the past. Any other variations of reflecting on the last year in the future will still happen but with possibly less regret, sadness and loss. However, I'm not sure if it will be by much less. 

Throughout the last year people always ask me how I am and I always say I'm okay. I'm not lying, I am okay. But I'm most likely okay in that moment because asking me if I'm okay makes me feel okay. But there are many times when I'm not okay. At first I couldn't say it, "I'm not okay." The words would stick in my throat. To say anything otherwise seemed to be counterproductive, like admitting weakness, like saying I couldn't cope. Here it is, I am not okay. Every day is a struggle. But a struggle to varying degrees. Sometimes those struggles have pushed me to the very limit and even though I have been to such limits, it is still difficult to ask for help and it's difficult to accept help. I have no idea why. It's the way I'm wired. This isn't to anyone's detriment. It's not me being so stubborn that I'd risk the kids or my own welfare. I know in myself if it all became too much that I would ask. It's just that in those moments I'm too busy trying to work it out that picking the phone up would be the last thing on my mind. I know that when friends read this they will urge me not to hesitate. Don't worry I won't. I don't know what my coping mechanism is. I don't know if it works. I don't know what works. I don't know how it works. It does seem to work. I'm pretty much day to day and for the last year this is exactly how it has been.

The irony is that I talk about being glad that the kids aren't bottling up things too much but I do. I feel I have too. Not many will understand this: I don't mind anyone giving me advice and I really appreciate it but there's a strong possibility I'm not going to take it. Taking "time for myself" isn't happening and when I do, in what ever form it takes, I more often than not, feel guilty for sitting on my ass. The house work can wait. Yes, so I've got twice as much to do tomorrow. I'm eating and drinking, so yes, I'm looking after myself. This may sound wholly ungrateful. It's not. I will never be able to express how grateful I am that people actually care to offer advice, message me and offer help but this is how I feel and this is who I am. The daily challenges of being a grieving single parent range from the seemingly mundane to the earth shattering. Everyday I'm learning to adapt, everyday I'm having to learn, everyday I'm trying to be both of us. Big and small, they are all challenges. All equally exhausting mentally and physically. I simply get through them. I'm not expecting an award. I'm not the only one going through this. Again, it's how I'm wired but asking me if I'm okay actually makes me feel okay. So thank you.

While the last year has been difficult to reflect on, it is equally as hard to look to the future. The future scares me. I feel that it's best not to. Every so often I afford myself a little glimpse; I imagine the kids growing, how we will deal with the challenges and how we will cope. But then I close it down. It's simply too overwhelming.

This time last year, when we were given the news, Laura told me I had to be prepared. She told me I could do it, that I'll find a way. Despite how daunting it seemed at the time, here we are.

I just want to put it out there. To say it out loud. I struggled this last year. I'll most likely struggle next year and the year after too. Some will do it differently. Some would have done it differently. I'm doing it, I'm coping, just like she said I would. Not solely because she had faith in me but because I have to. It's a struggle but I'm finding a way to get through to this time next year and all those other years.