I made it through going to the mortuary, signing the paperwork to have my Daddy cremated, I made it through going to the police station to get a copy of the note he left me (I hadn't read it), I've somehow made it through 3 nights, but the one thing I just can't handle....is facing my kids. Todd came to get them about 3 hours after the police came. He came as soon as we were able to get a hold of him. He was such a great support that day, and continues to be nothing but amazing.
My heart is racing at even thinking about having to tell them that their Papa, the one they have lived with for the last 3 years is dead. My Daddy and my children were SOOO close. Normally they beat me inside everyday so they can run up and say hi and give hugs and kisses to Papa. But for whatever reason they didn't on Wednesday. I run that thought through my head often. Why on this one day did I decided not to get the mail, so I beat the kids inside. If I would have gotten the mail like I did EVERY other day. They would have gone inside, seen Papa wasn't in his chair and gone to look for him in his room, and then outside. If his car wasn't there, outside would of been the first place they would of gone. Right out to their new bikes and their big backyard full of goodies. Something stopped us both. I am thankful for whatever that is. The only thing that could make any of this any worse is if I knew anyone else had to share the burden of seeing what I saw. Especially my kiddos!!
I have all these pamphlets telling me what to say and how to say it. But I just can't find the strength to tell them yet.