I know it seemed weird to some people that I was taking pictures. You're supposed to take pictures at happy events, right? But I guess that's just my way of giving, of contributing, and of preserving a moment in time that someday the family might want to remember. I asked Kevin beforehand if he wanted me to get pictures of people and the flowers and such, and he said that would be nice. At first I was somewhat timid because I didn't want to intrude on people's privacy, but after awhile I figured that we would never get this day back and it was better to have too much than not enough. As Kevin said, "just take them and we can always delete them later..." I won't share them here because it's not my place, but there are some wonderful images of people talking and sharing support, some darling pictures of the kids, and tender moments at the graveside.
One thing I was able to do for the funeral was prepare a collection of images from Zoe's life. It was such an honor to do that, to give everyone a visual reminder of the full life that Zoe lived. Kevin's sisters did a wonderful job designing the table, using several of Zoe's Willow Tree sculptures. Many people commented that their favorite image was from Zoe's baptism day, before she and Kevin were a couple, when Kevin was a missionary in England. To see them both in white and think of the eternal nature of their relationship was a great comfort.
Now that the funeral is over, we all face the difficult task of adjusting to a new normal, without Zoe. It just seems so unreal sometimes. It's been hard not to be melancholy and I find that I just don't want to be alone. I need to be around other people who love Zoe, or I just want to sleep.
Dan is coming home from mud school in Houston in 7 days. I'm so anxious not to be alone anymore, yet I'm having mixed emotions about how our future is going to proceed. Mud school seemed manageable because it was a specific amount of time with an end in sight. We were anticipating that Dan was going to have a consistent schedule of two weeks on, two weeks off at a site only 3 hours away. But currently the natural gas rigs in Pinedale are pretty much tapped out, so there's no work there. Dan will likely have to work out of the Casper office and will probably be on a rig in northern Colorado. Not exactly within driving distance for a day trip. And they're short-handed on mud engineers, so Dan will likely have to work much longer than 2 weeks at a time until Halliburton gets more mud engineers trained.
It's so disappointing to get to the end of this big challenge and realize that it's probably not going to improve a lot in terms of our time together as a family. While I have learned a lot about my capacity to handle day-to-day life on my own, and felt empowered by my relative success, we are not a whole family like this:
(Photo taken at Zoe's funeral. Her favorite color was blue.)
I'm ready to feel whole again. And my heart aches for Kevin because he's feeling that emotion exponentially. Zoe's death has brought an insecurity, an uncertainty to all of us. We're not sure what to do with ourselves. I'm not sure I can have confidence in the future right now. My whole world could be ripped away at any moment. I have faith that God can make all things whole, but it's so hard abiding. A strange combination of worry and indifference cloud my mind right now. I'm afraid to feel too deeply, to need too desperately. I hope this soon passes so that I can be a proper wife and mother to the family I adore.
