IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, you might notice that there are bags under my eyes today, a byproduct of not sleeping much/well last night. Batdad came into our room last night and somewhat tearfully confessed that he needed a hug after Mustache left last night. I stayed up later than I “should” have comforting him.
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I’d tell you that I don’t care that I got too little sleep. I’ll do it again every night for the next four months if necessary.
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I’d tell you that I spent time thinking of ways I might convince Mustache to stay, and that I know that despite my desperation, I still know that he’s leaving anyway. The idea is hard for me to wrap my mind around because I’m sad about the whole thing.
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I’d confess that I’m worried about my kids and how they’ll deal with Mustache being gone. So much changes with children in in such a short time. Though I feel like maybe I should be worried about Batdad more (it’s his best friend, after all), or Little Miss (she already has separation issues), it’s actually Little Man that I’m concerned about the most. He’s changed so much just in the last week, I can’t even imagine how different he will be in four months. Will he remember Mustache the next time he sees him? I want to say that the answer is yes, but I truly do not know.
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I’d tell you that I’m sad that Mustache is running from a broken heart, because I honestly think that’s what this is about. I understand it, completely, but I’m worried that this will not help and it will be a catalyst for something worse.
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I’d tell you that I’m worried about Mustache and what he will do without us to support him and distract him from his thoughts and our home cooked meals made in our tiny kitchen together. What will he do without our nightly Netflix marathons? What will he do without the kids jumping on him and being excited for him to read them books, or play with them?
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I’d admit that I’ve been choking back tears since I woke up this morning. That I’m only a couple hours into my work day and I’m not sure how I’ll manage to make it through a whole shift. That I just want this damn phone to stop ringing so that I can crawl under my desk and pretend like none of this is happening.
IF WE WERE HAVING COFFEE, I might cry a little and tell you how this sadness is like a heavy weight on my chest and keeping my composure is like a ball of string in my throat, and how I’m not sure what I just wrote or how I wrote that much, but that I don’t want to edit it or even read it again. Today is not that kind of day, but let’s have coffee again tomorrow and I’ll let you know if it’s any better.