She did it.
I did it.
We did it.
On September 19, Mags found out she made the basketball cheer squad. We were so happy for her and she was so excited. I picked her up from school and took a picture of her holding the note that said she’d made it and texted it to Tom. He was anxiously waiting and we couldn’t even think of delaying the good news for another second.
It was such a great night. We were so happy.
September 24th was the first official cheer practice. It was a Tuesday. Tom was so excited for her and wanted to be the one to pick her up. He also was going to run by the grocery store to get s’mores ingredients and get Filippo’s pizza for dinner. (I just realized I haven’t had Filippo’s since.) Anyway, he did all that and they were both beaming when they got home. They had a thing. They were two peas in a pod. They were perfect together, bringing out the best in each other in every interaction.
We had an awesome meal together. Had a great talk at the dinner table. We’d had a fire pit installed out back and they had just finished it that afternoon. We couldn’t wait to light a fire and make s’mores!
Sitting around the fire, Mags practiced some cheers and Tom shouted out the cheers he remembered from high school. The dog was at his feet of course, her favorite place to be. Alex and I just sat back and laughed at both of them goofing off. The weather was perfect. The stars were out. The s’mores were yummy.
It. Was. Wonderful.
That was the last night they saw him.
It was a wonderful night.
The next time we were together as a family, we were one person short and I was telling them the worst news of our lives. Can you even imagine that?
180 in a blink of an eye.
Maggie missed two or three practices, a couple immediately after and one for the funeral. The cheer squad came to the visitation and it was surreal to see all of these precious, innocent girls comfort my daughter and be there for her. All of them a little less innocent and a little more wise than when they came in.
Although, we were just a mess, she was eager to get back with the squad. She looked forward to being with the girls and she didn’t want to let them down by being behind on the cheers and stunts. She loved it and it was a distraction from the shit show that was going on at home.
She did it.
Flash forward-
She was doing great, thriving even. But that’s where my part starts. It was the night of the first game. I told her that I’d be there, but I might be a little late as I knew I was going to have to talk myself into it.
As the start time got closer and closer, I got more and more scared. I wanted to be there for her, But I was going to have to walk into the gym ALONE! (I’m naturally shy and always made Tom walk into parties, events and games first). I wasn’t sure if I could do it and I talked myself out if it. I decided I was just going to tell Maggie, that I thought she wanted a game under her belt before I came to watch one.
But guess what? When one parent dies, you don’t get off that easily. She called me during a break. She asked where I was and seemed very nervous. I realized that I totally fucked up. My kids need to know what I’m doing and where I am at ALL times now. I can’t flake or chicken out. They lost a parent already. They’re worried they might lose another one. They wonder if I’m alive when I’m not where I should be when I should be. I pretended that I was running an errand first and then be right there.
But I had to walk in alone.
I had to walk in alone and feel like everyone knows that I am the one whose husband just died. That I am the one whose kids are suddenly fatherless. I know it’s my own imagination and time didn’t stop, the gym didn’t go silent, no one pointed.
But I felt so insecure.
I felt like that for the first couple of games. My Aunt who lives across the street from the school showed up to every home game so I didn’t have to be alone. I didn’t want to make eye contact with the other parents. I found it difficult to look up from the ground. I wanted to get in and out ASAP.
I did it, though.
Eventually, when I began to let my guard down, I realized who was sitting around me. A bunch of really nice moms, who knew what we’d gone through, had the grace to not judge me on what surely seemed to be me being stuck up, but was really me grieving publicly and learning how to be only me (instead of Tom and me.)
They made me laugh. We watched our girls laugh.
I’m not sure if the cheer squad girls and their Moms will ever understand this time in our lives and their impact on it. Or how we will also remember them when we reflect back on the worst part of our life. Or how important it was for Maggie to know that she had girls depending on her. And the other Moms watching out for her and bringing her food for away games when I forgot to. For giving her a ride when she needed it. For me to see everyone’s smiles when finally I was brave enough to look up from the ground.
It has been super hard, but they were a bright light when I was ready to be brave enough to see it.
We did it.
