Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Life Does NOT Look ......

                                                                   source

...... the way I expected it to look ...... 6 years ago.

Six years ago he was still alive.
Although for only 14 more days,  unbeknownst to any of us.

Over the years, I remember looking at people I knew, who had lost their spouse, and wondering, "What were they thinking 24 hours before?"  Seriously.  I thought that.  I wondered.
I don't know why.
But I did.

And then it happened to me.
Suddenly.
Unexpectedly.
Horrifically.
Horribly.
Cruelly.

And I knew that other people were thinking, "What was she thinking about ...... the day before?"
Well, I'll tell you.
I was thinking, "Thank You, God.  All of the kids are now home."  The last one had arrived Saturday night.  She experienced a few hours with Jim on Sunday, before his aorta tore in the middle of the night on Sunday/Monday.
I was thinking, "I can't believe that Dan Fogelberg died today."  If you had read my blog back then, you would've seen that post.  The last post I wrote before Jim died.
I was thinking,"My Christmas shopping is done!  Now I can sit back and enjoy the time with my kids and the holidays."

That's the kind of thing I was thinking ..... only hours before my life went to hell.
Those are some of the thoughts I had ...... in my innocence, in my naivety, in my "before".

And now?  What are my thoughts now?
First and foremost ...... my life does NOT look at all like I expected it to look.

Oh, I had thoughts of living in NYC.  Jim and I had discussed the idea ...... a bit.  He thought it was a great idea.
And then he died.

So I had thought of us living here.
But I'd never thought of just me living here.
Me and two daughters.
With one son wanting to move here and my third daughter wanting to join us.

I pictured the two of us living in TX, where all of our friends were.
But I knew that we'd have to move in the next couple of years.  His job would have required that.  But we both figured that we would ultimately move back to TX one day.

It's funny (not ha-ha) how fast life can change.
One day you think you know how everything is, and will be, going.
You think you finally have a handle on things.
And then one day, you wake up to find that you don't.
And that you really never did.

So my life doesn't look like I thought it would.
But that doesn't mean that it's horrible.
It was.  For a very long time.
I don't like thinking about that time.

But slowly, sometimes at almost a snail's pace, things changed.  I changed.
I knew that I had a choice to make.
Finally.
Before that point I had no strength to make a choice.  Any choice.
But one day ...... one day, I did.
I had to choose to either ...... die ...... or live.
I knew what Jim would want me to choose.  And by then, I knew what I wanted to choose.
Life.
I was done with Death.  He had taken over too much of my life.  He had moved in and taken ownership over too many things.
It was time to kick him the hell out.
And so I did.

I never pictured losing the friends I lost.
Or gaining the amazing friends I've gained.

It didn't happen over night.  Nothing along this path does, with the exception of the actual death that starts us here.
It's a very long, very dark, very painful and very cold valley.  We all have to walk through it.  At our own pace.

I made it through that valley.  And now I can say that life doesn't look the way I expected it to when I went in.
I never thought I'd be happy again.
I never thought I"d enjoy life again.
I never thought my heart would stop feeling painfully broken.
I never thought I'd really want to live again.
I was wrong.
Thankfully.

I never thought I'd be a person who could offer hope to anyone else.
Seriously.
But here I am.
And that's why I write.
The only reason I write.

No, life doesn't look the way I thought it would ...... 6 years ago.
But that doesn't mean it's not good.
Finally.


21 comments:

  1. offering hope is an amazing gift. One of which I am most thankful for, every day.

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  2. Janine, you never cease to amaze me with your honesty and your inspiration. My husband died suddenly as well and the day before he died, I felt very much like you. Everything in life seemed perfect and then instantly my world became a horrible place. After 3.5 years, I still teeter back and forth wanting to live yet wanting to die, experiencing happiness but still sadness, wanting my old life back but coming to embrace my new life. As you explained it so eloquently, it just takes very small steps.....

    Thank you for continuing to provide HOPE!!!!

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    1. Anon - Thank you so much for commenting. And for letting me know that you connect with me. That helps me just as much, if not more, than my writing helps you.
      Keep walking.
      :)

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  3. Janine,

    Your words so reasonated with me, as is often the case. Thank you so much for sharing...and please know that you always make me feel that I am not alone and inspire me to keep the faith and to hold on to hope! All the best to you!

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    1. Thank you, Carolyn. I appreciate your kind words. I'm so glad that I can help you feel not alone ...... you guys certainly do that for me!
      :)

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  4. I hate to admit this but I had to open a new tab and search on Dan Fogelberg. I totally missed that he had died.

    The day before Laura died was a time of concern, confusion, and hope. The doctors were still saying that she would recover. Laura was in critical care for 20 days.

    The day before her accident we decided that with the unusually warm temps we would take a motorcycle ride. We were still very happy with the move we had made 9 months before and were looking forward to experiencing everything this town and the wonderful weather.

    Thanks for the positive experience. It's only 19 months on for me, but things are better. Probably the biggest difference between today and 20 months ago, for me, is that I'm no longer looking at early retirement. Why bother if there isn't my wonderful partner to share it with?

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    1. Paul,
      I'm so sorry that your Laura died, giving you a reason to be here. But I'm glad that you did find us. And it's ok that you didn't know about Dan Fogelberg. Sometimes those things just slip right by us. :)
      And I get your change of mind regarding early retirement. Very much.
      Maybe you'll feel differently ...... again. Things are better for you at 20 months. That's pretty huge. You never know what 36 months will bring.
      :)

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  5. Thank you - 2 months ago today that he dies. 24 hours before we knew it was coming just not when and he was already unconscious. I am just at the start of the journey.
    "I never thought I'd be happy again.
    I never thought I"d enjoy life again.
    I never thought my heart would stop feeling painfully broken.
    I never thought I'd really want to live again."

    Yes, that's exactly where I am right now. I hope I am wrong too. x

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    1. Dear flobiano,
      I know where you are. Two months out and seeing nothing in front of you. I'm so very sorry. But I'm glad that you've been able to find us so soon. I know you'll be able to relate to many of the writers here, and even more commenters. We're here for you.
      And ...... I think you are wrong, thankfully. You won't be in this place forever. I wish I could tell you how long it will take, but it will take as long as it takes for you. But you will feel differently and the pain won't be as crippling as it is now.
      I promise.
      Hugs to you.

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  6. I still dont remember a damn thing about the 24 hours before Dons sudden death. I dont know why. I dont remember what we said to each other, what we did, nothing. Its like we just went to sleep that night, and then I woke up, he was gone to work, and had died already (collapsed at work). I really wish I could recall sommething - anything - about those final days, but I cant.
    You DO give me hope, Janine. Im very slowly, VERY Slowly, starting to get somewhere in the vicinity of where you are, emotionally. There are pieces of it, and its forming. Slowly. But when I think to myself about where I want to be and how I want to feel one day, I think "I want to be where Janine is at." It seems like a healthy, happy place. Love you friend.

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    1. Thank you, Kelley. Very much.
      You will get here. And I'm glad that I'll be here to see that happen.
      Love you.

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  7. Thank you for this post. I am slowly trying to climb out of the grief pit, slipping, sliding and clawing my way out. Some days I can see the sun, other days it's blood, sweat and tears as I get kicked back to the bottom of the pit. His angel anniversary is the 17th which will make it 2 years. Your post gives me some hope as I continue the climb!

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    1. B -
      Thank you for taking the time to comment, and to share your experience with us. It does take a lot of clawing to get out. And it's exhausting. No wonder we sometimes make two steps forward, only to fall 5 steps backwards the next day. But that, too, is part of being in the "club" that we're in.
      Your day is the 17th, mine is the 18th.
      I'll be thinking of you on yours.
      Keep climbing. It's so very worth it.
      :)

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  8. I remember exactly the 24, 48, 96 hours before he did. I replay them all the time in my head. My biggest regret: Monday night I kept telling myself to stay awake for when he got home. I could stay up and greet him. At 12:30 am I went to bed, 1 am he got home, he got up and left for work at 5:30 am. I saw him for 10 minutes on Tuesday before he walked out the door and I never saw him alive again. I should've stayed awake.

    Whether you see it or not, you give us all hope. That you can be happy, with yourself, with how things are going, with life. May not be what we all pictured, but there is still happiness out there.

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    1. Thanks, Beth.
      I hope that you can soon let go of the "should've". Of all of them. We all do that and we all beat ourselves up for what was left undone, or for what was done.
      You love him and he knew that and probably never, ever questioned that. Just as you know that he loved you.
      You just lived. And that's ok.
      Thank you for your kind words, my friend.
      You're so right ...... it's not at all what any of us pictured, but there is happiness.
      Love you. :)

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  9. I remember exactly the 24, 48, 96 hours before he did. I replay them all the time in my head. My biggest regret: Monday night I kept telling myself to stay awake for when he got home. I could stay up and greet him. At 12:30 am I went to bed, 1 am he got home, he got up and left for work at 5:30 am. I saw him for 10 minutes on Tuesday before he walked out the door and I never saw him alive again. I should've stayed awake.

    Whether you see it or not, you give us all hope. That you can be happy, with yourself, with how things are going, with life. May not be what we all pictured, but there is still happiness out there.

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  10. Heading into year 4, and yes, things have evened out a bit. But every year at this time, in the months prior to his death date, I go into this funk. I know it is coming, and I try so hard not to go there, but the dates of tests and scans and unanswered questions always haunt me, every year. As you count the days to his date of death, how or what do you do in these next couple of weeks to keep yourself focused on living? Everyone is so into this Christmas season, and I am still so out of it. Trying to open my heart up to life again, but I guess it's not quite ready. Hoping that someday comes. Thanks, Janine, for telling it like it is, you do give us hope.

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    1. Cathy,
      You do exactly what most of us do. Our bodies seem to keep track of the dates much better than our minds do. And try as we might, we still go there.
      This is the very first year that I haven't been knocked over by the end of Thanksgiving day. For me it always starts that day. But here it is December 5th and I'm still standing.
      Of course, I have no idea what the next few weeks will bring, but even if I do start feeling that same old grief during the "death march", at least I made it this far this year. And I'll have hope that next year will be even better.
      :)

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  11. it has not even been 3 weeks, since my husband,s passing, i am already so tired of feeling so overwhelmingly sad. today is our son;s 30th birthday, but i have hope. i am grteful for finding this blog and with hope i shall prevail

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  12. I am so grateful my daughter suggested I look at this blog. I didn't even know what a blog was. It has been 4 years and with the holidays approaching I am once again feeling bad and lonely. You can feel that way even with a lot of people around you. I am still trying to find my way, whatever that means. My Charlie died in the month of March and the first Easter I ran away so I wouldn't have to "deal" with a family gathering. I was so lonely and cried the whole weekend. I was wishing I was sitting at that table with others who were there for me. As Christmas comes closer, I try to remember the past and present and how my life has changed. One step at a time.........

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