a concerned daughter

Ashlee made a surprise visit to see me this past weekend. She’s now twenty-one and currently in her third year of college. I hadn’t expected to see her, so I was completely caught off guard. 

“Mom?” I heard her shout from just inside the front door. 

I was on the second floor in the loft reading a book. “Ashlee?” Dropping my book, I headed for the stairs. She met me halfway. 

“What are you doing here, honey? Is something wrong at school?” I asked inquisitively as she stepped up on the landing. 

She pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. “I was so worried about you,” she sighed with relief. “I tried calling you all week and you weren’t answering your phone!” 

I realized I must have forgotten to charge it and the battery had gone dead. Admittedly, I haven’t been staying on top of things like I used to. I apologized for freaking her out. 

We sat down in the two large brown leather chairs in the loft where she decided it was time to have a heart-to-heart discussion with me. 

“Daddy died three years ago this week. You haven’t been the same since he died, mom. I can’t get you to come to visit me at school. All your friends say they haven’t been able to get in touch with you. Chad says he hasn’t seen or heard from you since the funeral. You won’t even answer the door when people stop by. WHEN was the last time you were out of this house?” She seemed genuinely concerned.  

Depression is fierce. It’s not something I’ve handled well. I find I have been completely numb emotionally and unable to even attempt to deal with anyone or anything. I honestly feel when Nick died, I died too. Only…I’m still physically here for some unknown reason and I’ve become a recluse. 

“I’m so sorry to have worried you, Ashlee. I honestly didn’t mean for you to get all worked up and fly home to check on me. I promise you I will be better at making sure my phone is always charged from now on. I feel terrible for frightening you. I am sorry!” 

 She stood up and paced back and forth momentarily. Then she knelt in front of me. 

“Mom, I have my own apartment this year and I’d really like it if you would go back to school with me even for just a week. I think you need to get out of this house for a while. Being in the same place every day where daddy died can’t be good for you.” 

As hard as this is to write, part of me never wants to leave this house ever again. It almost feels like a betrayal if I walk out the front door. While I love my daughter, I don’t feel it would be fair to her to have to deal with me daily as I currently am. 

“I just need some time, honey. Your daddy dying like he did is not something one gets over easily. I need you to understand I must deal with this in my own time and in my own way, okay? I don’t want you to worry about me.” I feigned a smile. 

 She stayed the weekend but made me promise I would do another  thing for her…write at least once a week on this blog so she has some sense that I am okay.