Sometimes grief manifests in boredom. Its funny because when I had Mark by my side I think I was either okay with being bored, or he made things more fun. Today I got home from work, Amaya had already baked dinner in the oven (she is a good egg) so we sat down and ate. I had the normal battle with Hezekiah about whether or not he was going to eat his food. When we finished dinner it seemed like sitting in the house would only bring boredom. Its cold, rainy and gloomy out right now, but we put on our rainboots and jackets and decided to take the quarter mile walk to the gas station. The kids were all for the little trip, the dog on the other hand refused. I think he might end up being a freeze-baby. If you have ever walked anywhere with a two year old you know that it is quite difficult to keep a good pace. Samara walked quite slowly, but is way too independent to be carried. All in all it probably took 15 minutes to walk there. By then I was cold, so I chose hot chocolate. Hezekiah and Samara needed a cup for each of them as well. Its funny, we had hot chocolate at home, and if we hadn't taken the chilly walk to the gas station we wouldn't have wanted or needed it. But, for some reason I just felt like we should do something today. Its important to me that we spend time together as a family, and it doesn't have to be fancy, so a walk to the gas station it was.
If Mark were here, I know I wouldn't have been able to convince him to go out in the rain on a walk. Honestly he probably wouldn't have even gone out in the rain if we were driving to the gas station. Mark was funny that way, weather was such a make or break for him. He would however have asked me to get him something. I would have happily come home with a root beer and a iced honey bun. I miss asking him what he wanted me to pick up for him on my way home or when I stopped somewhere. I miss handing him his snacks, or asking the kiddos to do it, and getting my reward of a kiss. I think most people assume when you experience a loss that you feel it most in the big moments, and maybe those moments will be hard, but man the little things can be the toughest. It has been almost eight months since Mark asked me to watch whatever crazy kill he did on the video game, or needed me to make him a cup of coffee. Eight months since he got up from the dinner table and said "thanks for dinner babe" or came out of the bathroom dancing some silly dance.
Maybe tomorrow my grief will manifest differently, maybe it will be tears, or maybe laughter. It can all change in a moment.