Almost every night that I make dinner, which let’s face it, is a rarity these days, I set the table for 4. 4 napkins, 4 forks, 4 knives, 4 plates. It’s a habit. One that I can’t shake. And every time I realize I’ve set the table for 4, again, I heart aches just a little bit harder.

Dinner time is one of the most difficult times of my day. We used to make family dinner a priority. It’s where we would catch each other up on our days, say a family prayer, share a few laughs and yes, consistently correct the barbaric eating habits on display at any given minute. Sometimes the kids needed correcting, too! The point is, we made it a habit, to sit down together as many nights as we could, and share more than just a meal.

And now, it’s just the 3 of us. Mama, Jack and Colt – the dynamic trio. Dinner is quiet. We try to converse but it’s not the same. Sometimes we watch The Lego Batman Movie a. because it’s awesome and 2. just to fill the silence (and disgusting sound of chewing). If we have something to focus on, then we don’t focus on the seat that is set but empty.

There are a lot of little things, that we so often took for granted, that are daily reminders of what we lost. Every morning, getting Jack to school, Colt always got to stay home with daddy. Now he can’t. Daddy was always willing to jump into an X-box game with Jack, and actually loved it. Me, not so much. But now it’s my job. Because daddy can’t. I can’t watch anything scary anymore because Ash isn’t here to reassure me that there’s not a zombie hiding in the corner of the room just waiting for my leg to kick out of the covers so that he can sink his teeth into my flesh. He’s not here to help coach Jack’s baseball team this season. For the first time since Jack’s first year of baseball. He’s not here to hop on the tractor with Colt and mow even though the grass hasn’t started growing yet. I just saw a meme that said T-Pain was only 22 when he rhymed mansion with Wiscansin, one of our most favorite lyrics ever. And I can’t share it with him.

We were watching a movie the other night – How to Train Your Dragon 2. My boys are obsessed with How To Train Your Dragon. At the end of the movie, the father of the main character dies. My poor Colt, with all his feelings and all his emotions, completely lost it. Huge, crocodile tear sobs emitted from my poor baby. It was all too real for him. Something that most 5 year olds probably wouldn’t even grasp or understand, was all too familiar for my innocent boy. Both boys. Even Jack teared up. Because they lost their dad, too. They know that pain. They know it all too well.

I often wonder if I am enough for those 2 amazing boys. Why is this the life chosen for them? How is it fair? Yes, I know fairness has nothing to do with it. Life isn’t fair. People have suffered far worse things. But still. How is it fair? Why them? Why us? Will this pain that they are going through, the loss of their father, will it strengthen them? Will it motivate them to really live, to really love and to really thrive. Or will it do just the opposite? Will they let it cripple them and use it as a crutch for mediocrity? Will they turn to the wrong people and make the wrong choices? Am I strong enough to lead them down the right path?

I wonder when you get used to your husband and father being gone. I wonder if you ever do. I wonder if you eventually stop getting out 4 plates at dinner time when there are only 3 of you around to eat.

As my mother always likes to remind me, time will tell. I am going to choose to believe that this pain, this hurt, this awful, wretched, FUBAR bull shit they are having to navigate through is only going to lead them to greatness. Besides, Ash wouldn’t have it any other way.