Irish fables and songs all reveal the hardship and struggles of life, and sometimes are without a happy ending. My life is similar to those songs and tales. The past few months have been a void, a life of nothingness but merely my being here or there. My names is Katylin and I'm 25 years old. My husband of three years was killed in a car accident last February, when our daughter was only 11 weeks old. He was returning home from a difficult day of work after putting in a few extra hours. With a struggling economy I was temporarily out of work due to layoffs. As a result my husband started picking up extra hours until I was able to gain employment.
I have yet to completely forgive myself...for not having a job... for not being good enough. Neither have I completely forgiven my deceased husband for leaving us... for working so many hours...for not being here for us...for leaving us alone in the world. And yet we do not get to choose our fate; it is thrown upon us whether we are ready or not. Within a few hours my life had completely changed. I went from being a strong and confident woman and wife, who was still learning all the nuances of being a first time mother. To being a lost and frail being that was left without direction, a best friend, and a father for my daughter. I had to put aside my fears and life to cling to the one thing my husband had left behind for me... my daughter. And yet, I was not always strong enough to do so.
B.T.A., as I would start referring to my life "Before The Accident", I was a marketing analyst for a Fortune 500 company, an independent and confident woman, who went from day to day confident that each even would have a happy ending. Even after I was laid-off, I was certain that new job possibilities and career challenges were on the horizon awaiting me. I was always optimistic and eager for new challenges in which I might prove myself and my skills. I was never one to shrink back into the shadows and wait for an optimal outcome. I was always sure that because I was a good person, good things would happen. And on that dreary wintery morning I was again sitting on the couch with my laptop and hot cocoa scanning the classifieds for my newest employment opportunity. My daughter, Ashlyn, was by my side sleeping contently in the infant swing after just devouring her breakfast. We had spent the past few weeks together since my unemployment and we were starting to get used to each other. I was finally learning her cries, decifering her demands, and becoming confident in my own maternal skills.
My parents were never really the maternal sort and spent most of their time focusing on their careers rather than their family. My sister and I were taught to go to college and suceed in life by succeeding in our job and other acomplishments. Marriage and family were never really on my "to do list". However, in college, plans changed for me when I met Colin. He was funny, kind, and had a way of making me feel special. And he wanted to spend his life with me and to raise a family together. We were married in May, and after about two years of marriage, we finally decided to try and start having a family. Colin came from a different family dynamic than I. His mother was a stay-at-home mom who raised 4 boys while his father worked as a mechanic in town. While his mother was wonderful, my upbringing made me turn my nose up at the thought of my college education and talents being wasted as I spent my days changing diapers, cooking, and cleaning as I remained at home. Colin understood this about me and he always praised my talents and assured me that I was strong and independent enough to be a working mother. Knowing that he didn't expect me to be like his mother, but to just be me helped calm many of my fears during my pregnancy. He was my rock and the stronghold that I could depend upon for raising a family. And after the accident, that rock, that stronghold, shattered. How could I be a good mother without him? Was I strong enough to do this alone? The man who was to be the support system of our family now remained only in pictures for her to remember him by.
After Colin's funeral, many months passed in a haze. I dropped Ashlyn off at my mother-in-laws house in the morning, I went to work, I picked Ashlyn up, made supper, and prepared us for bed. I clung to my schedule and a grueling workload to keep me from feeling... to keep me going... to keep me from breaking down. I took a job at a bank where I spent most of my days adding to my current workload and trying to drown myself in reports and numbers. The hardest part of the week was the weekend when I was left alone with Ashlyn. Her smiling face tugged at my heart. And her father's eyes reflected back at me through her. I wanted to love her more, to cling to her, but I feared that if I did... I would shatter. And several Saturday nights I spent in tears- knowing that I needed to give my daughter more, to show more love to my daughter, to wrap her in my arms and never let her go or worry, but all the while knowing that if I did I would turn into a hormonal nightmare and perhaps would not be capable of surviving this. And I needed to survive. Not just for me... but for my daughter. I needed to be strong. This would be my reason for moving to Ireland. But Ireland would give me reason to live again.
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