Trust is a thing that is inherent in babies. Just watch, the little boogers will topple off the top of anything, surprised at the results. We adults patiently teach them caution and catch them when we can.

Things change around trust as we get older. There are a lot of reasons to the why of that, as innocence fades, but there are some things that we hold true. Until the moment even those fundamental things shift in a blink of an eye. The things I held true were that my husband Jesse, who I knew in my heart and soul to be one of the kindest, most generous people I knew, would be an amazing father. And he was. But then his brain broke into a million pieces and he shot and killed our four-year-old daughter Maribella, then himself. I found them.

Everything in that moment that I had held true, all aspects of the word trust, trust in things, trust in people, hell, even at that moment trust in gravity were gone. How could I trust again?

We humans are funny creatures. There is an inherent survival thing that kicks in on levels that you are not always aware of. When you survive a tragedy, your flight or fight mechanism kicks into overdrive, and depending on a lot of variables, stays there to a certain degree. I can only speak for myself and what I have observed over the past five years. There are things that make sense, like, I try to avoid places that I may run into little girls that look like Bells. Then there are things that don’t make sense that I do, like check a restaurant menu before I go. I “think” my mind is concerned I will never eat again? Who the hell knows.

I have very slowly learned, yes, learned, to trust again. Gravity does indeed work everyday, though I do test it occasionally. I don’t look at fathers with their children anymore and wonder if they would/were going to do what Jesse did. I am learning to trust my kid with decisions, though he still says I nag him, aka, yes mom, I ate vegetables today. I learned to trust enough to let love into my heart again and found an amazing man whom I am humbled to call my husband. I think one of the few things I am still learning though is having trust in the peaceful moments that life graces me with.

Let me unpack that a bit. Well, not too much, it is one of those makes sense things. When Jesse and Bella died, life was not peaceful before it, in fact, it was super stressful as we were trying to get him better on so many levels. There were moments of peace though, often when we were together as a family, doing the simple things that most of us take for granted in the day to day. When I found them that night though, any concept of peace in my body, mind, and soul were shattered. Shattered does not really do it justice? The earth below me cracked, creating both a chasm both in it and my heart, which I have been holding since. People say it gets better, that it heals. It doesn’t. It changes, but heal? That is a stretch. I did not think about being “peaceful” much after that, it was all about survival. I found “peace” per say in long runs, there was a point where my mind had to shut off and I had to focus on being present in my body, the endorphins coursing through giving me a moment of refocus. I treasured those times. Eventually, there were moments of laughter, which were precious. At some point, I was somewhere, I forget, probably in Bend with my family, where I was sitting on a bridge over the ditch, watching the water go by, the pines above swaying and swooshing in the wind, and I had a moment of peace. It was transitory, but it was there. I began to have those moments periodically, but I have to admit, after a tragedy like I had, I doubted them often, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had come to peace, ha, I didn’t even plan that, anyways, I had come to peace with the fact that I was not, and would not ever be “normal” or react like a normal person would to things in life. I had a new normal. When I met F though, he cracked open an area within me eventually that allowed more and more of those moments of peace and joy to creep in, and, most importantly, I started having moments where I did not doubt them, where I embraced them. We had a day like that Saturday, like all day. Grateful does not capture what those days mean to me now.

And, I still struggle. I think that is part of the new normal. A part that no one should have to get used to. But who said life was fair, right? I will continue to embrace those peaceful and joyful moments much like a baby exploring the world for the first time, with wonder, along with the appreciation that someone who has lost so very much has for the little things.