My husband booked a trip to Jamaica that is quickly approaching. The trip was a complete shock to say the least. It was booked at 3 in the morning during a manic phase that left him with no sleep for roughly 4 days.
At first, I was furious. He’d used savings that was earmarked for summer that would afford me to stay at work 3 days a week. I had looked forward to spending extra lazy summer days with all three of my kids before classes start again in August. Somehow, we’ve made it work and we are going to Jamaica.
Our trip is quickly approaching and I’m finding myself getting excited. Alone with my husband for a week in Jamiaca. I’m also finding myself a little scared and have my fingers crossed he can keep it together.
I’ve been trying to be proactive and force him up and out of bed. This morning after I got the kids off to school I thought we might take a drive and find him some new tank tops for the trip. Surprisingly, the excursion was a complete success on his end. The trip home he decided to take the scenic route and drive along the river home.
Along the river is The Hospital. I actively avoid driving by the ominous building. I will go out of my way to avoid dredging up feelings of complete and utter despair. I try to forget sitting in the parking lot the first time I’d checked him in. Not being able to drive because the tears came so fast and heavy and my body was racked with sobs. I don’t want to remember. But it’s something I can’t forget.
Today, as we drove by. I smiled. We weren’t turning into the parking lot. My husband was next to me and our four year old was singing in the back seat. And I’m going to Jamaica.