Splintered Heart

April 2016

Today was Ellie's first birthday. And instead of having a party, thrown by her dad and me, her grandparents showering her with love and gifts, we were moving.

This was the second time his presence had been felt harsher than any other time. The first had been my birthday, a widow at a quarter of a century old, the first I'd celebrated without him in fifteen years. He was in every single one of my birthday memories. Somehow over the years I'd forgotten all the earlier ones that didn't have him. Ellie would never have him in one of her's. He hadn't even been gone two months and we'd both already had first milestones without him.

Brandon and and I hadn't gotten around to getting life insurance before the accident. It was something we kept putting off because we were young. Why would we need it? I didn't think we would. Neither did he. Until I did. I hadn't worked since half way through my pregnancy, nearly a year and a half ago. The money we'd managed to save was dwindling slowly and I had to unload our home in the Spring Court neighborhood of town because I couldn't afford the mortgage.

Spring Court wasn't the most affluent neighborhood in town, but it was better than Chase Park where we were moving. Thankfully it was a small town with only two elementary schools, which meant Ellie's education wouldn't have to suffer because of our poor planning. Although even if she did well in school, there was no way I'd ever be able to afford to pay for her college education. Not as a single mother.

One problem at a time.

That's was my therapist's advice.

One day.

If one day was too much, one hour.

If an hour was too much, one minute.

And if even one single minute was too much, one second.

In the nearly two months since Brandon had passed I'd progressed to the one minute stage. But for awhile I'd lived second to second, only being able to concentrate on taking my next breath. And sometimes that still felt like too much. In those moments I'd clung to my daughter, the only piece of him I had left.

His parents hadn't contacted me since the funeral. My calls and texts had all gone unanswered. His mother had promised to contact me when they had grieved properly, whatever that meant. It was as if they thought there was an expiration date to the grieving period, as if it wasn't something we'd all be doing for the rest of our lives.

"Ma-ma," Ellie said, pulling my thoughts back to the present. I had her on a blanket in the yard while I sat on the steps watching her.

"What is it, sweet girl?" Ma-ma was the only word she could really say. She cooed and gurgled at me, playing with the toy in her hand while we watched the movers bring our boxes into the new house.

Thankfully I'd been able to find a rent to own. An unemployed young widow wasn't a great bet for a loan advisor. Thankfully, I had a job interview tomorrow with a marketing company. Unfortunately, I barely had any experience. The last eighteen months without work hadn't been great career wise. But Brandon and I hadn't wanted Ellie to go to daycare at such a young age.

I always pictured myself as one of those women who wouldn't let myself stop my career because of my child, but I didn't regret it for a second. The one thing I'd learned is that women have to stop judging other women. You want to work? Do it. You want your husband to stay home with your babies while you do it? Even better. They go to daycare? Great. Do the best you can with what you have and don't let anyone else make unnecessary, rude and unhelpful comments about your life.

"Ma'am," the man in charge of the moving company said.

"Yes?"

"We're all done. The boxes and furniture are in the rooms you designated."