Three Minus One

How do you tell a two-year-old that his daddy isn't coming home anymore? I vividly recall the day that my 33-year-old husband, Tom, was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia ~ November 6, 2009. That terrible, unforgettable evening, after a long, 14 hour stay in the hospital, I returned to our home and awoke our sleeping 13-month-old son, Jack, from his crib, in the wee hours of the morning, just to hold him. While we sat and rocked in the comfort of his rocking chair, he slept soundly and I cried. I cried at the thought that this day might come. I cried at the idea of a home without the familiar and reassuring love of a husband and father and I cried at the reality of the journey we embarked upon that day...our lives would never, ever be the same. It has been one month since we said goodbye to daddy. Four weeks, five days, one hour and 23 minutes to be precise. It seems, at once, a brief moment and a painful eternity. I think the worst part of this is having to replay this painful reality over and over, every day for Jack, the Eternal Optimist. For every sound and logical reason I give for why daddy is not coming home, Jack has an affirmative retort. If I say, "Daddy was very sick and his body stopped working" Jack will reply, "We will get him a NEW one!" If I say, "Daddy is not coming home anymore" He exclaims, "We will wait for him..." It breaks my heart and yet, to have faith like that of a child is so precious. Yes, Jack, we WILL wait for him. We will see him again. For now, sweet boy, it's just you and me.