Evening time, 5:30 pm my favorite time of day. I would wait for the telephone to ring. We would share little things throughout our
days. Shawn tells me of his travels,
what he saw, the crazy drivers, what type of load he was carrying, his next
stop. I tell him about the children,
funny things they did, my attempts at trying to keep the house in order, what
we were eating for dinner. It was all small
talk with each of saying a number of times, "I love You". Friday night, sometimes the middle of the
night, Shawn, my husband would be home.
It was so delightful to feel his cold body next to mine. "Kirsten", he would say, "I
love you". 
Weekend time was nice, crazy and unfamiliar to most
people. Catching up on bills, special
purchases and decisions that need to be made together. Sunday evening was a passionate time, knowing
that Monday morning, Shawn would be back to work and back in his truck going
across the country, not to be seen for another five days.
Single parenting, while married, has its
challenges. My children are easy,
Karolyn, age 4, a red head bundle of activity, speaking at the age of two with
words and sentences that I did not understand where she would learn such an
advanced vocabulary. Karter, 18 months, all
boy pretty much sums up his behavior. He
studies his toys, his surroundings and finds new ways to meander through them. The little pony that has sounds and can be
ridden, is only fun for Karter when the horse is tipped over and crawling
through and over.
Was is a big word in my vocabulary. Everything seems to be was. The phone calls-was. Making love, being married, children having a father, all was.
That night, the phone did not ring, my heart
sank. So many reasons that he did not
call, none of them calmed me. The call
that did come, was a call that made my heart ache, tears flowing for days and
trying to explain away the mystery.
Obstacles each day to deal with and the details of death.
Shawn was dead, dead in his truck from carbon
monoxide poisoning. Gone, never to be seen again, no more 5:30 pm phone
calls. No more sharing my heart with
someone I knew cared about all the little details of my life.
The struggles of life as a widow at the age of 24
can be staggering, people stare when they learn, friends do not know what to
say, and family attempts to love that do not compare to the love of a man and
women relationship.
It has been one year, my children continue to grow
in who they are. I have found a church and a community, friends that
are willing to walk with me on this journey of life. Adult
conversation is my most treasured conversation. So much of life still seems distant and
unattainable. Patience and perseverance are my two daily reminders.
