I’m going to toot my own horn for a minute. Don’t worry, it’s not something I do often (unless of course I’ve been sipping on the Tito’s for a while and I promise I haven’t been this morning), but today I feel like it. So I am.

We were dealt a life changing hand September 2018, obviously, or I wouldn’t be writing this. I would say for the first 2 weeks, I was a crumbling mess of tears, nerves and anxiety. But then I put my girl panties on (literally because eating was my coping mechanism and I needed the big girl ones to fit around my fat ass), raised my tits up (thank you Mrs. Maisel) and I dealt with it. I found my inner strength (and maybe Xanax) and we continued to live. We lived the shit out of the last year.

Ash and Jack went to a World Series game in LA thanks to some very dear friends. Jack got to play baseball with Duke’s baseball team. Some of Ash’s best friends from high school came to see us. We went to Jamaica for Christmas. We took Colt to Target for hours one day and let him shop the hell out of it. Ash even bought him some random junk, which was very unlike him! We sold a business. We went to Houston, Ft. Worth, Salado and Austin, TX. Both boys rode a horse. Ash shot guns at cacti. We played countless rounds of family golf! Ash and I went to Durango, CO where we took very short hikes and cried too many tears. We went to another World Series game thanks to an awesome brother in law (and our very favorite Washington Nationals won the whole thing! Like, whoa! Divine intervention. Me thinks so!).

You get the point. We lived. We held our heads high. We did not break down in public. To look at us, you would never know what we were living with day in and day out. Even our closest friends were always shocked when Ash couldn’t come some place, or didn’t feel well or found out he threw up several times a day every day but still pushed through and LIVED. He is for sure my hero (that wasn’t always true and those that know me, know why, how, when, etc.). He was so brave through this fight though.

But guess what? So was I. (Told you I was going to toot my own horn.) Some days were worse than others but for the most part, I was dressed, my makeup was done, my hair looked decent and I was mostly friendly (other than at preschool, something about chipper, bright eyed and bushy-tailed preschool moms made me want to crawl in a hole and never come out, sorry ladies!) I went out with friends, I laughed, I made inappropriate jokes about our situation, took my kids to do fun things, took care of Ash. I can’t take all the credit of course. We have one hell of a support system around here, family, friends and even strangers. But dammit, I was strong. I am strong.

Now you’re wondering where the hell are you going with this, Kellie?!?

So here goes. Saturday, you heard about Saturday. I was an angry elf. And then I was a teary elf. I got the sympathy cards. I had the breakdown. I ended up letting the boys sleep in my bed (not my favorite thing in the whole wide world if you wanted to know.) I stayed up too late bingeing The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (best show ever, go watch it!). At one point, I needed to take a trip to the little girls room, somebody (ie the young boys that I don’t necessarily want sleeping in my bed) used the last of the toilet paper so I opened the cabinet above the toilet to find some more. Nothing strange there, except that it was. My husband’s side still had all his things. Deodorant, cologne that he never wore, some medications, shaving cream, razors, all the normal things a man would have for the bathroom.

And I just lost it. Out of nowhere. Unexpectedly. I crumpled to the floor in a heap and just sobbed. And I thought of all the reasons I was angry at him. He left me. He left the boys. He left the dogs. We had a rule, no more children than there are adults and now there’s only 1 adult, 2 children and 2 dogs. He broke the rule. And I am so mad. He never cleaned up his messes. He was always critical. He never liked my ideas. Until he did, because my ideas are mostly awesome! (haha!). He didn’t clean the garage. He left me in this house where now 2 Jones men have died. And I wanted to write it all down. I wanted to write him a letter and give him a piece of my mind. Tell him all the ways he’s pissed me off. But I couldn’t do that, could I? Because he left me. And our boys. And I know it wasn’t his choice but it doesn’t stop the anger. Or the unexpected breakdowns. Like opening the bathroom cabinet.

Yesterday I started cleaning out the garage. My dad’s boss let me borrow his dump trailer. My husband is a bit of a pack rat. He never throws anything away. Why throw it away when we can just lose it in a heaping pile of other junky shit in the garage. So it was a big task. My brother and mother helped because they are angels on Earth! But I found something again. Another letter. (also $25 in Canadian money so I’m probably a little rich now). It was a letter from Ash and my boys for Mother’s Day and it was just thanking me. Thanking me for “all you do for us everyday: laundry, dinner, groceries, special sandwiches!, coffee, paying all our bills on time so we don’t go to jail!!!!, letting us know when we need to go sit on the stairs, keeping our daily schedule intact, always showing us love and patience (okay that isn’t even possible) – but you are always there when we need you, when no one else will do.” It goes on to say other many nice things, and while it brought tears to my eyes (Ash didn’t do nice, really – unfortunate that my love language is words of affirmation. His wasn’t! Makes me laugh now – we somehow made it work, though), it also dissipated some of my anger with him. Had he been given a choice, he never would have chosen cancer and living our entire life in one year and leaving when everything was so good. The last sentence of this letter that I found is “God put us together for a reason and he made you a mother for a reason.”

I sure wish I knew the reason why He didn’t keep us together for longer. More unexpected breakdowns are in my future, but for the most part (other than in writing), you won’t see them. You will see me smile and laugh and make inappropriate jokes.