A common end to an uncommon summer

We ended the summer the way we always do: at the Shawano county fair. In some respects, today was like any of the previous Labor Days. The girls rode rides, we looked at the big tractors, and watched the demolition derby. The rest of the weekend was filled with swimming in the Red river and walking the woods. Looking at us you probably wouldn't have guessed that anything was wrong. The girls seemed happy and I didn't have any breakdowns.

But this summer was very different since Jen's no longer here with us. It was a season of pain and change.  It was anything but normal for 99% of it.  The girls were gone for several weeks at a time.

There were stretches where I had no idea what to do with myself. Or more exactly: I had plenty of plans but when the time came I drifted like a boat without a keel or rudder.  I would come home from work, say “I’m too tired to start _x_” and flop down on the couch.  The next thing I know it’s 2:00am and the alarm is going to go off in 4 hours. There was no one there to call out the bad behavior or to say “snap out of it!”  So I did nothing other than feed (poorly) and bathe myself, and get to work.

Looking back on this summer, I'm amazed we got through it. I vividly remember not being able to sleep for days straight because I didn't know how I was going to have someone watching the kids all summer. I was so anxious, and I didn't know how we were going to make it through all the events and festivals as a family without losing the “traditions” we had established.

Keeping these “traditions” is probably the single greatest source of my anxiety.  If you haven’t noticed, I’m completely a creature of habit and forecasting.  My very nature sees a void, creates a structure, and determines milestones.  The fact that I've lost my wife and life is fundamentally changed doesn't seem to make a difference.  There’s still a part of me that wants to keep everything the same.  Something that, above all, wants to keep it all the same for the kids… Stupid really… now that I sit an examine it.

So here I am, 1am the morning of day 1 of the school year, and I can’t sleep.  A big, fat, plump school year sits before us.  Full of potential.  Full of potential issues.  What happens? Who knows?  Will we make it thought? Of course we will.  I just need to approach it like the unscripted adventure it is.