How many more times am I supposed to say goodbye to my 35 year old spouse? What if I don't want to? What if I'm still in shock and disbelief over his death? What if I'm convinced that it wasn't his time to go?
While I don't have the answers to any of these questions, what I do know for sure, is that I have very large shoes to fill. I have a toddler who tells me every week, "I want to be you, when I grow up maamaa". His undying confidence in me, gives me the strength to hold back my tears and numb the pain.
I'm no longer filled with a roaring, flammable rage of grief, it has been replaced with a quiet melancholic acceptance. I comprehend and understand that my husband is never coming back home. No one will call me "poopie", ever again. And I am just maamaa. I don't need to be Baba. I am enough for my child.
That being said, can Riaan and I truly move on from poopie's death? Probably not. School forms and college applications, will constantly remind us, that we had a poopie and a Baba in our lives, who passed away abruptly.
If there's anything to learn from his short yet memorable time on Earth, it is to prioritise yourself, ALWAYS. Nothing and no one who hampers your peace of mind is worth it. And if you want to redecorate your balcony or buy a new coffee table, just do it. Don't talk about it senselessly for six months until you die.
Did he live life on his own terms? I really dont know.
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