Saturday, July 10, 2010


"I don't understand what's happened to me?"

"It's huge. You've finely embraced the life you hadn't planned on."

This quote from a movie just keeps echoing in my brain.

I've noticed that, with quotes and words...they have a way of sticking to the sides of your mind during different parts of our life.

Some temporarily to help you get through the day or empower you to march on, others to bring you comfort in knowing that your pain has been felt by another, and in this case, to remind me that as much as i may have never fathomed it....I'm embracing this life I have.

The funny thing is...I don't understand it either.

I guess it's like most things in my life since Michael was killed...out of nowhere, it just happened.

I guess the only way to describe it is like being in line for a REALLY scary rollercoaster. One that you didn't want to ride but got pulled into line for. Plus on top of's a really looonnnggg line, so any hesitation and fear you have in actually getting on is enhanced by the fact that you must now wait, watch, and either walk through the other coaster-goers (head down of course) back to the entrance you came in through, or stay in line, hope for the best, and take the exit you were made to take. If you decide the latter route, I (at least) am one of those folks that has to ask everyone around me if they have been on this ride before; "Is it scary?", "How many times have you been on it?", "It's not that bad? Are you sure?" and of course, as the questions take place you hear screaming from those who have already met their fate with the metal mammoth. Then I get jumpy like, 'I'm going to do this, woo...yeah!", while secretly hoping that I can play the "I really have to go to the restroom" card.

But then it happens! You look up and the wait is over and you are asked to take your seats (hopefully you'll be sat next to one of the new friends you've made in line). The bars go down and before you can even anticipate anything, your zooming off.

That's how life's been after Michael's death. Lots of fear, having to ask others who have been on this ride before, or on for the first time, how they feel about it, and before you know it you're going full speed ahead, with plenty of loops and turns thrown in.

I guess the important thing to do when the ride finally takes off is to put your arms up, keep your eyes open, scream as loud as you can, and when it concludes, if given the chance, get back in line and ride it all over again.

Embrace the life you hadn't planned on.


  1. Nicely Written, Use your friends and family to guide you on this scary ride called life.

  2. This week marks one year since the passing of my husband. As I read the entry, I can relate and agree with your description of the roller coaster ride of emotions.
    I have spent the year going through the motions and facing the hardships that have come about as a result of his death.
    Am I embracing life? No, I am merely reacting to my new reality with hopes that one day, I can embrace life again. Hopefully with a smile versus tears.

  3. Thank you! I needed this post today! This is going to be my new mantra.

  4. Your post is appropriate for the experience I just had tonight after 9 months grief.
    It is funny just got home from going to a friend's wedding alone as Ms. instead of Mrs. I really was worried that I would cry and feel sad, but you know what happened? Instead I found myself having a great time. I thought about my husband during this time, but for the first time I did not feel like there was something missing. I actually felt beautiful and alive instead of old, overweight and ugly. I did not feel guilty, because lately I can hear my husband in my head saying "I just want you to be happy."

  5. Three years next week since Greg was killed. Am taking baby steps toward living this new life-had a little happy hour for the all the friends who have supported me, let my daughter go away for three weeks, and am trying to make decisions based on this new life. I am coming to believe letting go of the old life doesn't mean letting go of Greg.
    Am I embracing the life I didn't plan, ask for or particularly want? Maybe so. Maybe so.