'Til Death Do Us Part

Two days ago I celebrated the anniversary of your death... Today I celebrate the anniversary of our marriage, tomorrow your service.  When you lose someone, you have those times... A time of year, a holiday, a particular season that is hard.  For me... this is the week.  We were married on Memorial Day, May 31st, 2010.  You were killed the day after Memorial Day, May 29th, 2012.  Your funeral was June 1st.  The magnolia trees are blooming, school is ending, the boys are thick into Lacrosse...All of this brings memories even closer to the surface.  The air smells different, its beautiful outside, the pool opens.  This time of year will always bring tears for me... But the trees have bloomed, the grass is green and the sun is shining.... and with that, the promise of life moving forward.  Happy Anniversary my Love!  <3

The anniversary

I never seem to be at a loss for words.... but tonight I am.  Almost exactly one year ago, my life changed forever.  My heart broke, my world came crashing down and there I stood with a baby in my arms wondering what tomorrow would hold, how would I survive.  So I started out simply... One step at a time, one breath at a time, one day at a time.  Now, it has been a year.  I'm done with the firsts... the first summer, Charlee's first birthday, the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, your "first" birthday, my "first" birthday... and the list goes on.  The funny thing is... It isn't the big landmarks that are the hardest.  The hardest part of all of this are the things that catch you off guard.  You see, its the little things.  It's the couple holding hands, the motorcycle that pulls up beside you on a beautiful day, the man with his baby girl, a simple song, a simple smell, a man helping his elderly wife out of the car.  It is these simple moments that bring the most tears.  I know there are many more tears to come...that while my heart is healing, it aches everyday.  I love you my dear, my sweet, strong and amazing husband.  I will always love you and hold you close to my heart. While my heart is broken, I know it will heal... and in that scar, you will forever live.  

What's next?

So, after the shock, you wonder... "what do I do next?"  I even remember asking the officer that came to the door... "What do I do now?"  This plays out in a few ways depending on whether things were sudden or more gradual.  If you're like me, it was sudden and out of the blue.  If you're like me, you are fortunate enough to have never dealt with much death/dying in your family, so you truly have no idea.  So those around you help... contact a funeral home, make plans, discuss options, scheduling and the list goes on.  And then it all quiets down, you look around and think wow... He's never coming home.  You look at the front door that he's never going to walk through again, the couch he'll never sit on... His side of the bed.

Those with young children still living at home may have more of a focus...You may not be sure what to do with your own heart, your own feelings, your own tears... but you know exactly what to do with those of your children...You listen, you nurture, you dry their tears and hug their necks.  It's hard sometimes though.  There are times when you just need a break.  You just want to sit down, bury your head in your hands and cry... but you're trying to remember Algebra, sign homework sheets, wake up at 2 am for a crying baby and send in teacher appreciation gifts.  

If you've had children, do you remember during your pregnancy when you felt the need to have the house perfect, clothes folded and in their place, cabinets cleaned out, garage clean, old toys donated (and the list goes on)?  Well, I seemed to do that first. It felt like a version of "nesting."  It seemed to occupy my scattered mind.  We had planned to paint and decorate the kids rooms... suddenly that was a huge priority.  I needed pictures hung, things cleaned... (I appreciated all those first responders who cleaned that first week :)... and I didn't want to leave my home.  I still struggle a little with that one.  I am safe here...at least I FEEL safe here.  I feel my husband here and I feel less "watched" here.  So as for me, I spent the first couple of months trying to figure out "what next."  I floated aimlessly some days. I made many lists so I wouldn't forget what to do, who to pick up or what I was going to the grocery store for.  After several U-turns to return home for my wallet, the diaper bag or my phone, my children began to giggle and ask every time we got in the car:  "Mom!  Wait!  Do you have your phone, your wallet, your keys?"  They would often grab the baby's diaper bag and yell "I've got the bag, don't forget the baby!"

So I slowly reviewed things, eliminated bills I didn't need, tried to make changes that made life simpler.  Gradually things seemed to be a little more under control, minus all the crazy mishaps we've discussed before of course.  Slowly, I began to see life moving forward... Began to see that the impossible was becoming possible.

Still, a year later, I find myself wondering "what next?"  At first it was just survival....many days, it still is.  However, there seems to be a little more focus amidst the chaos that was and still is my life.   I have many people to thank for that...my "first responders", my co-workers, my family... but mostly...my children.  It is they who have pulled from me, a strength from within...The strength to move forward...The strength to love despite the pain...The strength to heal.  

Goodnight my friends.  

It'll be OK

When you become a widow, there seems to be this rule of nature that makes things go wrong around you.  They are mostly trivial things, but you are in a fragile state and it makes them seem almost catastrophic.  One book I read briefly said at least 3 things will break, need fixing or just plain go wrong shortly after life tries to settle back into your "new normal."  I should have read that BEFORE all the stuff started happening around me... It might have made me laugh and maybe saved me a few tears.  A storm hit, lots of lightening and suddenly 1/4 of my house was out of electricity... this had happened before, J and I had figured it out together previously.  So, when it happened, I immediately grabbed my cell and actually made it all the way to tapping his name on the favorite contact list before I remembered... he wasn't going to answer.  My poor friend who actually received my distress call as I was trying to figure out how to get the garage doors open in time to go pick up my children... Not sure he could even understand a word I said.  It all worked out... and now I know.  The theme for me was electricity.  There were at least 4 more events which then lead me to throw the book I read that said "THREE things will go wrong" against the wall.  But... it all works out.  And I think those things happen for a couple of reasons.  1.  You learn to ask for help... you learn that its ok to call one of those people who said "Hey, if you need anything call me."  That they won't find you weak or incapable.  2.  You learn that it will be O.K.

Where I would like to differ from the "self help books for widows"... is that it really doesn't stop there.  You slowly realize how many little things the two of you did as a team.  You realize how as a team you made life run a little smoother.  While because I was in a marriage before that wasn't quite what I wanted, I DID appreciate a lot of the little things he did, once he was gone it was like WOW... How can I do this on my own again??  Simple things... he'd often notice when my truck was low on gas and run up to the gas station to fill it up... he would swap cars with me and get my oil changed... he kept the propane tanks full so we never ran out... he organized maintenance guys like the exterminator, the HVAC guy, the heating and oil guy, kept the mowers running, cleaned the toilets, did the dishes when I cooked, watered the indoor plants, fed the dog.... and the list goes on.  There were ways that I differ from other widows... I did the financial work, paid the bills, I make my own money, I organized our schedule... that helped decrease the stress...I didn't have to worry about how to support the kids, pay the mortgage, figure out the bills that were due.  I can't imagine how hard that would be... your mind isn't exactly thinking straight (not sure mine is yet) and I am thankful that stress was avoided.  But the gist of it all is... for the young widow with children, the burden increases.  Like I've said before, it keeps you busy, less time to sit and wonder "why me?"... but I do believe it makes the process slower.  There are things I read in books or online that others experience a few weeks after their spouse's death that took me months to encounter.  At first I struggled with that... Then I looked around at my kids, my house, my life and I realized... screw the books, I'm doing OK.

So... what should come from this post for other widows, or simply people learning to live without another... It's ok to ask for help, support, comfort.  I still struggle with this one sometimes, but I'm trying.  Also... perspective... The AC/heat going out for the 3rd time... It's fixable... and it will be OK. Finally, we all do this at a different pace and as long as we continue to put one foot in front of the other, continue to love our children, our family, and look for our new normal... we're doing OK.  As one of my partners said to me shortly after J was killed... "left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot... breathe in, breath out... repeat."

Goodnight all....

For my Friend

So tonight my post is not about me... not about MY loss... but another's.  I am a widow... and now... she is too.  While my heart is in pain, and the hole is there... I have started to heal.  My scar has begun to strengthen, hers... to form.  It is amazing to me how loss can be so different, yet so similar.  I had a very short time with my love... her, a lifetime.  Me... a small child.  Her...a grown child, a grandchild...SO many memories.  The comfort of a presence, a soulmate that has been so close to your heart, that like your wedding ring... you no longer notice that it is there... only that it is gone.  We are different, yet the same. We are two sides of the same coin.  For me... so sudden...no chance to say Good-Bye, yet there was no suffering.  For her... the pain of watching the one you love so dearly struggle and fight for one more day... not wanting to say Good-Bye, but knowing it is near.  I ask tonight that you pray for her and her family.  I will tell you my friend, that God has a new angel, and you, a new Guardian.  Please know that soon you will find your "new normal."  Reach out to those around you, feel his strength within... you will survive.  Much love to you and yours.  

A spark

We started as a spark... A physical attraction.  You had this confidence, this air about you, and this armor that you wore around your heart.  You'd been loved, left, hurt and you weren't going to let it happen again.  But we both felt it, wanted it... we tried to walk away, but couldn't.

Then I found that chink, that hole in your amor and worked my way in... and you let me in.  But we struggled.  I'd never let someone take care of me.  You'd never let someone truly love you.... and you were scared to let me.  But we made it.  I showed you what true love meant...That it didn't leave when times got tough... it held you, waited for you, loved you.  You showed me it was ok to ask for help, to let another's love care for me, cradle me... Now, you are gone.

Now I am wearing that armor, that smile I must wear, the tears I must hide.  I play the strong widow taking care of my family.  What choice do I have?  For me, there is no other choice.  I will not let my children down.  I will not forget to love them, play with them, read to them, cherish them, cheer for them or stand behind them while I wallow in the grief and self pity of love lost.  

Sometimes I think being busy makes it better, easier... As everyone says... "At least you have the kids.  At least you have sweet Charlee."  And yes, they are right.  But I've come to realize that it makes the process just a little bit slower, a little bit longer... and I continue to hide behind that armor.  I pray every day that it's strength will hold me up, when before... that was you.  I believe it is still you.... YOUR armor that you left behind to protect me, our family, our baby girl.  You are OUR guardian angel, YOUR strength... OUR love.  

Each day is a struggle, full of challenges, frustrations, sadness and loneliness.  Yet each day brings it's rewards, its triumphs... I made it.  I got up, got dressed, got 4 children off to school, myself through work, cared for my patients, homework done, played with toys, got to practice on time, counted toes, children fed, bath time done, necks hugged, lips kissed, 4 children tucked in... and then I miss you the most.  How can our home feel so empty yet still be so full.  I wonder... but it always comes back to you... YOU are missing.  I lay down alone, often reaching for you, still, one year later.  I dream about you often... OUR dreams... OUR future.  Then the day starts again... and I survive.  I WILL survive...for you... for me... for the kids.

I know this storm will pass, but that this pain will not go away.  I know it will fade.  I know that my heart, while scarred, will heal.  I know that out of sadness, I will find happiness again... Until then... Goodnight my love.  

Numb

There's a numbness that comes with something so tragic.  An invisible shield that seems to blanket your mind, your heart.  You hear things, you see things.... You watch the clouds move across the sky, the sun rise, the sun set, the trees sway with the breeze, birds chirp in the distance, cars drive by, people come, people go... and all the while you wonder..."How can all of this keep moving when MY world has come crashing down?"  You hear people talk, you see them touch you, they help you stand up... but you don't FEEL any of it.  You plan a service, but you weren't ready.  HELL... you just got married and you thought you'd be celebrating your second anniversary in 2 days.  The writing started then...a story, the story of us.  The pain started then... and so did the healing.    

The beginning

I started this blog because the writing I've done over the last year has helped me survive...It has helped me move forward, get up every day, take care of my kids, function in life.  It helps me get things off my chest, express my feelings, but most importantly, cope with my new normal.  Perhaps there is someone out there who might read this... who might find their day a little easier knowing they aren't alone.  Knowing that what they feel or felt or might feel... is ok.  That "Life Ain't Always Beautiful... but its a beautiful ride."  

A little background.  I am a widow.  My husband was killed May 29, 2012 in a motorcycle accident that still remains a mystery.  It was a second marriage for both of us... We brought to each other passion, love, 4 children... me (3... two boys and a girl)... him (1.. a boy).  We loved our chaos.  Boys:  13, 11, 7 when we married.. and a sweet girl 9.  We wanted a child together and on 11/3/11 had a sweet angel we named Charlee Elizabeth.  Her name is important because she carries her daddy's first name (His name was Charles), and my middle name.  Little did I know how glad I would be that she would carry his name both first and last... the same as her Grandfather.  It's funny how life works sometimes.   Her Daddy died when she was just 7 months old.  

I will never forget that night.  The kiss before he left that beautiful May night for a ride on his bike, his willingness to help with the kids... yet I told him to take a ride.  His last texts... "I love my life"... my response:  ":) good!!  Be safe! Because those of us IN your life love you."  Him:  "Trust... I love all of you too."   I had never gone to bed without him... especially on nights he rode his bike.  That night God, or whomever you believe in, took care of me.  Charlee woke up, I nursed her, then laid down to wait for him to come home.  I fell asleep (I can't imagine my worry had I not) only to be jolted awake by a firm knock at my door.  I was confused and thought for sure I'd locked him out, thought briefly about being angry when I saw that it was 12:55 and he had said he was coming home at 10:00... And then I saw the officer through my front door.  With my daughter in my arms, I answered that door as I felt my heart start to pound.  Something was wrong.  And then I knew... "I'm sorry to wake you ma'am... but how do you know ((this man))?"...  "ummm... he's my husband."... "I'm sorry ma'am, he's passed away."  The rest is a blur... yet so clear.  And the nightmare began.  I've posted many poems and thoughts and things to Facebook... but I thought I'd start a blog... for me... and maybe for someone else who might find reassurance or strength.  I live this night over and over and over.... I often wish I could simply rewind.  Tell him ... "Don't go"... "take someone to practice"... "mow the lawn"..."stay with me"... Please... I miss you!!