Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Maggie's Angel Day v2.0


Maggie and I loved to travel and we made a great travel team. One of our favorite activities was hangin’ with the locals in local restaurants and pubs. I was the shy one. She, however, met no one but friends. One evening, somewhere in Greece, Spain, Italy, Mexico, New Orleans or somewhere else, we were chatting it up with one of the locals. “What do you think about all the tourists?” I asked.

He thought for a second and then, no doubt influenced by beer-flavored truth serum, answered “People come here to have a good time. They leave their homes and jobs to experience a different world - our world. They pretend, just for a little bit, that this place is their home. They eat, drink, dance and celebrate how great it is to be here and pretend that they understand our lives. Eventually, the hangover kicks in and their plane takes off. Back they go to their real life. I’m thrilled that they are able to visit and see what our life is like. I’m happy that they want to come, too. But one thing they don’t really seem to understand is that they are just visitors here. They can leave. We stay. This IS our home. Yeah, they come here to escape but I LIVE here.”

“I live here.” What a perfect description of Wednesday, May 4, 2011.

May 4th was the second anniversary of Maggie’s Angel Day. On that day, people posted on my Facebook page thoughtful comments. People posted on my blog more of the same. Some people even sent me cards and text messages, all sweet and supportive. But what they don’t realize is that to me, May 4th is just another day. Of course I miss my baby but that’s no different than it was on May 3rd. Sure, I’m sad. But heck, I was just as sad May 2nd and May 1st - no less and no more. May 4th was just another day that I missed my baby something fierce. Yes, I suppose it’s good in some ways that on May 4th so many people were thinking of and missing Maggie. But they don’t really seem to understand. While they are just visitors, this is my life. I live here. To me, May 4th was just another day.

Whereas on May 4th, people think back to parties, dinners and happy hours Maggie attended, I go to sleep in an empty bed every night. Whereas people think back on how much fun it was to talk to her on the phone, I miss the other half of my brain. Dinner parties with Maggie were loads of fun; I eat dinner alone almost every night. Happy hours, dinners, parties, dancing – all great weekend memories people share, the absence of which is noted but not life-changing. But every Saturday and Sunday morning when I wake up in a big empty bed, the reality is all too… ever present. I live here. This is my home.

May 4th will always be a day for people to remember to be sad that Maggie isn’t here anymore. I suppose in some ways I look forward to when May 4th will be a reminder for me to remember her (although it’s hard to fathom such a thing right now.) Perhaps May 4th will become more significant as my daily emotional noise lessens. As the little reminders, the firsts, the lasts, and the landmines fade from daily to rarely, maybe one day I’ll forget to remember. Then May 4th will remind me, you know, in case I forgot.

(Oh, man. Please give me the strength to forgive myself the day I forget to remember. And someone please remind me why it’s ok that I forgot.)

The hardest thing for me on Maggie’s Angel Day was watching other people be sad. It just hurts to watch people suffer. I once told my (and Maggie’s) friend Martha about watching an older man grieve over Maggie’s death. It curled the edges of my heart watching him, his face wracked with hard emotions while trying to contain and control the wild forces that were tearing him apart. It hurt me badly to witness such pain and know there was little I could do to extinguish that fire. Martha responded “Now you better understand how we’ve all felt watching you over the last few years.” Humbling.

Yes, Maggie’s Angel Day was quite a day. But for me, it was a day of watching people reflect and hurt. My increased suffering was because I hurt watching so many other people be sad, not because my sorrow for the loss of my sweet wife was any more intense. I wanted to hold them and comfort them all. I couldn’t. But, thankfully, they were just visiting and, after the very long, very difficult day came to a close, they all went back to their homes and families and friends.

I live here. Here, Wednesday was just another day.

13 comments:

  1. Love this post. So, so true. We live here...

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  2. I really like this post. I remember so well the day my husband died so suddenly and the following days of so many well wishers wracked with their own pain of loss. But all too soon, they returned to their lives but for my children and I.....we continue to live here!

    Thank you so much for a super post.

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  3. You could not have said it any better, not at all. Thanks...very much.

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  4. Thank you for this . . .
    ~C~

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  5. Thank you so much for expressing so clearly what we are all going through. We live here every day and will continue to do so for the rest of our lives.

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  6. 5/4/2011 would have been my 20th anniversary with my husband. I was waiting for the ton of bricks that I expected to feel on that day. It didn't come and you captured why. I live here.

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  7. So true and very well said.

    Words can't explain what we feel everyday, and so I usually don't bother trying to explain it to friends and family. It truly is unimaginable until you're living it - every day.

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  8. This is a brilliant analogy. Tomorrow will be 19 months for me. I wish those who have not experienced this could understand that "I live here." Not for a day, week or month, but for the duration, and the struggle it takes every day to keep moving. I function and take care of my responsibilities, but like you, I take note daily of the empty bed, chair, life. One of the best things about this community is hearing from people who are in love with their spouse, think about them all of the time, and honor them with all of their heart. Because for those who have not walked this walk, I should be "moving on." They ask why I am not traveling, socializing more, etc. and it makes me feel so isolated that they cannot connect with me. I feel connection here, and for that I thank all of you, bloggers and responders alike. I feel like a fish out of water out there in the world, because my husband is still very much on my mind and in my heart every day and night, with memories both good (long marriage) and bad (long illness). Although I am legally/technically single, I still feel very much married. All of you get it. Beautiful post, I'm sure your angel is never far from you.

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  9. I love this post! I think it is so hard that those closet to you really even do not understand. But it is so true, they do not live it!

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  10. Exactly how I felt when I hit the 2 yr anniversary of my love a few months back. You couldn't have described it any better. Thank you for sharing this.

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  11. Thank you for a post that is so true and so well said. It is "my daily" life that has now changed forever. All the others have gone back to their lives and I still miss my husband and I still think of him first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. I think of him constantly not just on a special date. He is still a part of my every fiber. For "Anonymous" who is at 19 months tomorrow, I am at 20 months and feel exactly the way you do. Your words are as if I wrote them myself - our community of those that "get it" helps me in so many ways. Hugs to all.

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  12. I have never been moved to respond to any of the blog posts prior to this one (though I do read each and every one). I am 5 years along this terrible, heart breaking journey and you have described my life perfectly. Thank you so very much for putting my feelings into words, which I have not been able to do.

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  13. What a great read! And, so true, you express so well in words what I feel. It's difficult to live "here" but I'm so thankful that it's "here" that brings us all together! It takes my widowed friends to make me feel like "here" is such a normal place to be.

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