I'm trying to get a lot done this morning so I don't come home to a nightmare on Thursday night. This morning, I need to finish folding a mountain of laundry; pack for Nelson, the boys, myself; run to the pharmacy and pick up some razors; shower and get dressed; declutter for the cleaning people, who come tomorrow; pack up a day care bag with diapers and spare clothes for the boys; and get everyone dress and fed.
My friend Shannon has a daycare near the funeral home and she's agreed to take my boys for a couple of days. I'm really thankful that they will be going with someone I know and trust, but the thing is I don't leave my boys. I'm worried. I'm worried about MW's separation anxiety; I'm worried Oscar's going to forget to use the potty; I'm worried I'll have a panic attack while we are driving away.
Normally I'd be talking myself down from this ledge, but not today. Today I'm going to let myself think about it all morning so I don't have to think about why we are leaving the boys. I'm not good at this. I'm not good at being strong for people. I don't quite know how I'm going to look at Nelson's dad, and his cousin, and his uncle and not simply go to pieces. Their loss is so great it makes my own feel tiny and insignificant.
So, this morning I will keep myself busy. I will do laundry and fix breakfast and pack clothes and worry about my boys. My grief and my anxiety will take a back burner to the everyday living that goes on around here.