Expect the Unexpected

Megan had not only given me permission to "move on" again once she was gone, she had outright demanded it, years before she died.  She refused to take my heart with her, leaving a hole in me that could never be filled.  This is why, in the deepest pit of my soul, I believe she has brought someone new into my life in the best way possible: unexpectedly.

By random occurrence, I have met a new woman.  I wasn't out looking for a date, or even looking at women as something desirable or needed, when she just happened to sit down next to me at a bar where I was hanging out with some mutual friends.  I was completely numb at the time, with no desire to interact with anyone, so I was just gritting my teeth and trying to act "normal" by making small talk.

Then she sat down.  Damn.

We exchanged a few cordial "get to know the basics" questions, and immediately became fast friends.  Although completely platonic, I was blindsided by a connection that I had never expected to occur.  Suddenly, I was transported back to December 10th, 2002, when I walked into a Kay-Bee toy store, met Megan, and unexpectedly, my whole journey began over a cash register, pudding cups, and Van Wilder in her mother's basement.

Since that time, this new woman and I have talked every day, sometimes for hours on end.  The connection we found at that bar has only grown, without any signs of slowing.  I am again faced with a question that is confusing to me, albeit in a newly pleasant way, and that is "what would Megan think?"

Our relationship has matured, and we have committed to each other.  She gets me, my story, and understands it all, just as I get her, and her story.  We know for a fact that Megan is a part of this relationship, and we BOTH cherish her and wish she was here.  A better person could not have found me.  She has encouraged me to love Megan even more, and I do.

I am truly and deeply happy, for the first time in well over a year.  Though Megan died only four short months ago, she was "dying" long before that, so my happiness was put on hold when it began, and obliterated when she died.  She knew this.  It's why we had the final  "talk" in June, when she was admitted for her last 6 month stay.

I am truly sympathetic to all widows that did not have this "luxury" of knowing their dead partner's wishes before they died.  Though incredibly hard to swallow at the time, Megan said these exact words to me as she lay dying in a hospital bed in Cleveland:

"Don't you dare sit around by yourself if I die.  You need someone else.  Now go get me some broccoli and cheese soup downstairs"

That was Megan.  Frank, to the point, then shifting gears into bossing me around.  She was a goddamned master of living in the moment, influencing the future, and always being right.  That is why I don't feel guilty in the slightest about being happy with a wonderful woman other than my wife.  It is a powerful reality of my heart, and my mind.  Of course, I am still a logical, cynical person at my core, and I know that opening myself up to this could result in a crash of epic proportions.  I am still completely terrified of that happening, because it's been over a decade since I took this kind of risk.

I still reflect upon the absence of Megan every day, but there has been somewhat of a shift in that perspective.  I've gone past the "acceptance" stage of losing her.  She's dead.  No sugar coating it.  What I pine for the most about her is our friendship.  It isn't the affection, her sharp wit, her motherly instincts, and her uncanny ability to be strong in the face of death.  It is her friendship that I miss right now.  I want her to appear, when I am with this new woman, smile, give me a high five, and say "about damn time, idiot, she's magnificent"

How strange is that?  To know that I am falling for another woman, and to want my dead wife to be not only pleased about it but present to witness what is happening?  Honestly, given some of the signs I've seen since meeting this new woman, I'm positive that it was Megan that made sure I was sitting at that bar, and that there was a seat left open beside me.  She expected it, she wanted it, and she made it happen.

I love Megan even more for bringing someone new into my life at just the right, unexpected time, and that is key.  12 years ago, Megan and I crashed into each other like a freight train, and though I'm now left without her in the physical world, she continues to surprise me in whatever ethereal world she exists in now.  I am still putting blind faith into everything about her, and expecting the unexpected.

There is so much more for me to say about all of this.  For now, I am content in the belief that Megan has my back, and she's going to make sure I'm happy.  I just wish she was here to share it with.  I miss my best friend and partner-in-crime, poking fun at me, but also being happy for me.

Birthdays & Beginnings

Today was my fiance's birthday. The third year without him here. You always think it's going to get easier. And you never really have any clue how it's going to hit you. That's no mystery to me. I've been dealing with the milestone of my mom's birthday for over 20 years now since she died... and some years are just harder than others, for no real reason at all. I gave up long ago trying to understand the "why" of all this.

I feel like this 3rd birthday has been even harder than the 2nd without him. Maybe this is because it is the same amount of birthdays I shared WITH him... we only had 3 short years together. As I'm writing this, I'm thinking it has a lot to do with it. This officially kicks off the first of many milestones this year that are going to be even harder than last year, for that one reason. By June, I will officially be entering into having lived more time after his death than I actually had with him. It's heartbreaking, even now just thinking of it. And it's weighed so heavily on my heart today that I've scarcely even had words.

There were some highlights to the day. My mother-in-law and I went to get pedicures in the morning. Cute toes always make a day better. We did a little shopping and then had a blast out on the ranch ridiculously exploding a pink pony piñata - because sometimes you just need to blow some shit up. I will admit, that felt crazy good. And afterwards, my in-laws and I went out for a really nice dinner. There was a lot of good in the day actually, I have to admit that.

But still... under the surface has been that feeling of the lurking 3 year mark. And that's not the only new thing that's entering into my life right now either. Simultaneous to this whole 3 year milestone, I have also met someone.... new.

There has been wonder and joy and excitement again with this new person. And warmth and support and understanding. It has been so beautiful. He cracked a beer at midnight with me last night - just to celebrate Drew's birthday. He gets me. And I have laughed more in a few short months than I think I had in the entire past 2 1/2 years.

But there also days when I've just had to run off, and create distance from this new person, because being vulnerable feels too hard. And moments when I've been paralyzed by the fear that I will let this person matter so much, and then he will die too. There have been times when I've wanted nothing more than to fall into this new man's arms... And times when I have wanted nothing more than to fall into the arms of my fiancé again - not this new person - because that is truly where I feel the most safe. All of this, the great stuff and the hard stuff, its a lot to take in. To put it plainly, goddamn, this shit is just terrifying.

One of the worst aspects: I hate knowing that - for the rest of my life - I am going to have this fear of the person I am with dying on me. I really, really hate this. I miss the innocence of believing blindly that the odds were in my favor. Now, I know different... and I wish I didn't. I wish none of us did.

This post is really sort of a rambling mess, I didn't plan what to talk about or think through this at all. It's just whatever is going on in my head right now. I am confused, and a bit scared right now. About life. About death. About what lies ahead.

In a few months, I will be exactly as far away from his death as I was the day I met him... and I think this realization has been bubbling up under the surface for a while now. Well, I know it has, I've feared it since he first died. I still cannot even fathom hitting this landline of a mark in June. I cannot even fathom how difficult a time it is going to be... and how much I may regress back into my grief - which makes me want to distance and turn off from the world and be alone. And then I think of this new person, and how much I'd like him to keep being here, but also how scary it is to bring someone else into my world at a time when I may really need a lot of space. I'm confused, and sad tonight. And all I really want is to talk to my best friend, to tell him Happy Birthday, to talk about this new man with him, and to express how scary this year's milestones are going to be. God, why can't we just pick up the phone and call each other?

A Powerful Destruction

Before I get into my post for this week, I just wanted to mention how EXCITED I am to be attending Camp Widow in Tampa this coming week! I mention it because last year, I attended but did not mention here - and it turned out there were a few readers who had no idea I was coming. For anyone out there who is, I am so looking forward to meeting you at camp!

I know many of you read my first post of the year - about the first man I've been romantic with since my fiancé died… and how, after a night of fooling around he took off and never called or texted me again. Days, then weeks go by, and I hear nothing. I don't need to explain how traumatic that was - you can read all of that here. Instead I wanted to share an update on the whole thing… one I am very glad for. And very proud of myself for.

After a few weeks of having no contact, I decided I had some things to say. So I wrote him a brief but to-the-point letter and sent it off this past week. Was it risky? Absolutely. Was I terrified? Beyond imagine. But sometimes you just have do the damn thing, even if it scares you.

There was no guarantee at all that this would end well. That I would even get any response at all from this person. But that no longer mattered. It was now about standing up for myself, respecting myself, an saying what needs saying without giving a shit what the outcome was. After all, if my fiancé is no longer here to defend my honor, then it is up to me to do it. No one treats me that way. Furthermore, I needed to leave the situation in a way that respects myself and the other person. Not because they deserve it, but because I deserve to walk away knowing I did the right thing.

I cannot express the anxiety of hitting send on that letter. But I did it. And I felt a huge weight off my shoulders as soon as I did. Amazing how quickly it can shift things inside of you when you speak your truth. That in itself was good. And then to my surprise, a few hours later, he actually responded...

It took me probably an hour to even open up his response. I was so nervous of what was on the other side. But finally, with the support of one of my girlfriends who was visiting for the weekend, I opened it. It was the best possible response I could have gotten. He was kind and respectful. Full of remorse and regret. Deeply apologetic. It showed me how broken he is - with his own set of problems that made him panic and run. In the end, he wasn't using me. It wasn't just a game. He just freaked out and handled it badly. We both agreed it went farther than we meant for it to at the time, and he was incredibly stupid, but we wish the very best for each other. Look at that. Resolve. Which never would have happened had I not risked approaching him and saying my piece. God damn, I am proud of myself.

Although this situation made me feel incredibly weak and hurt initially, it has come to bring much the opposite now because of how I chose to handle it. It has reminded me of a few really important lessons too. The old me likely never would have stood up to defend myself. And she certainly would not have done it with such incredible tact and grace. My words were not angry or overly emotional, but instead were bold, confident, firmly grounded in myself and unafraid. It quite surprised me at how powerful I could be. And that part of it had nothing to do with the other person at all. Even if I had gotten no response, I will would have been able to feel powerful for standing up for myself.

It seems, as widowed folks, that we feel pain and weakness so much for so long that we do not realize all along, we are becoming more POWERFUL. It's something I lose sight of ALL the time. But all of the fighting we have to do to survive creates an incredible force inside us - even if it's hard for us to see. It is oftentimes a new painful event that had the ability to allow us to choose our power and thus see it more clearly.

It's a force that can only come from the ashes of devastation… for it is precisely because we have to fight so hard to survive that we become so powerful. You don't spend every day of your life for years crawling through the broken shards of yourself without becoming more battle-hardened and more firmly grounded in who you are. You don't endure years of being broken open by a thousand smaller losses and come out with a heart that is weaker. Even if you feel weak, your power is there... in the choices you make. Hopefully, eventually, when those new experiences come, we are able to make the choices that reinforce how powerful we are… even if it scares the shit out of us to do it.

The Long Pause

Another week has passed, and I've had some more time to reflect back on the NYE experience I had with a guy. It was the first person I became physical with since my fiancé. You'll recall, he had less than admirable intentions with me - which he hid well. Intentions which I found out after several dates and a lot of letting my guard down. Intentions Infound out after we messed around NYE and he left and never called. Yeah. That.

After a week or so of beating myself up and feeling stupid over the situation, a lot of things have started to make sense. This is stuff I wanted to talk about here because I had no clue to expect it going in... And who knows, maybe it'll help someone else on their road.

I kept questioning how I got so quickly attached to this person. It's not like me. I kept wondering how I could still want to even know this guy after what he did to me.. Yet there it was, this insanely strong yearning. And not just a yearning for any person, but for him. How could you create that strong of a bond in just a few weeks? I've always taken my time to know people and never rushed things like this before... So I had to keep asking... Why?

After endless hours of talking with friends and my counselor and writing out my feelings, I finally realized, this has everything to do with my fiance's death being sudden. When he died - it was as if someone just pushed pause on our relationship and our life. And apparently, in a way, all this time that part of me has just been on pause. Unbeknownst to me. Great. More things to be blindsided by!

During this whole first encounter with someone new, what I didn't realize, is that this part of me seemed to think we were just pushing play again. As if we could just start up where things paused two and a half years ago. 

Even though I logically know this doesn't work, it wasn't the logical part of me. It was the part of me that still doesn't understand what happened to my best friend. The part that still has dreams trying to create reasons for where he is. 

It is that part of me that got incredibly confused by feeling those old familiar feelings... And seemed to think we could just automatically be back where we were - in something deep and beautiful, committed and trusting - even though it was with the wrong person. A person I didn't know very well yet and who was - as it turns out - entirely unworthy of me.

There were some very similar qualities about this guy and my fiance too. (Well, the good qualities he had anyway). And I think those similarities only served to confuse me more. 

I've spent time this week being loving to myself - trying to feel through the new wave of grief as I now realize: The pain of loss was never about losing this new guy, but of being reminded of the one I really lost on a deeper level. Being reminded of his good qualities by seeing them in another. Being reminded of the loss of his affection and his encouragement and the way he used to make me laugh. It was never really about this other person at all. Lesson learned.

Even if it was all wrong, there were genuine moments in it for me that helped me. And there was the smallest of glimpses of how good it will feel to let someone new in. And also a reminder to continue to be very careful with my heart and who I open it to. To wait for one who does have the right intentions and who is worthy of me. One who will be willing to sit with me as I navigate these new and confusing layers of grief that a new relationship will bring. It's not this guy, but for the first time in a more tangible way, I have proof that I can open my heart to someone new and allow love in - and that it can feel good. And that it doesn't change my love for Drew or his place in my heart. And that is huge.

Neighbors of the Heart

It's been a few weeks since I shared about going on my first date with someone since my fiancé died. I have been through every wave of emotion imaginable since then. I have cried buckets of tears for how much this experience has made me miss my fiancé. For how much all of this is bringing up old familiar memories and joys I shared with him those years ago. For how much it makes me miss the safety and rock solid trust that I had with him. I have felt paralyzed by the fear of being vulnerable with another man in ANY way. Of allowing any man into that space in my world again - the space where I cry, the space of allowing myself to be comforted. The space my fiancé has held so powerfully in my heart all these years. His space.

I have also felt joy, and butterflies in my stomach, and a giddiness that has been so delightful. I have felt excited by the idea that someone is thinking of me in this light. And I have enjoyed thinking of them in this light too. So all of this, both extremes, have been rushing through me at the speed of light.

I honestly did not expect things to go anywhere after that lunch date. I thought I wasn't ready… not even for the slightest romantic experience. I thought he would fade out of the picture pretty quickly. But since that first date, to my surprise, we've talked pretty much daily. And despite the fact that his presence has triggered a tsunami of emotions in me, I have still found myself feeling open to it. There is something so strangely comfortable about him - it's felt very quickly like old friends. In some unexplainable way, I feel like he's here for a reason.

Last night, we went on a second date - a dinner date. And I cannot remember the last time someone made me laugh so much. Well, that's not true. I can precisely remember… because it was my fiancé - every day together. He lived to make me laugh. It's one of the things I miss the most about him. It has been two and a half years now since someone has made me laugh like that. Since anyone has even cared about making me laugh. So last night felt so beautiful. More than words can say. To have someone care about making me laugh… especially when they know I've had a really hard week with the holidays. How often really does anyone do that for us? Not often at all.

There was another moment that meant even more to me though. More than he'll ever know. It was when we walked back to his truck after dinner. "This is SO WEIRD… because I miss someone else" I said, starting to get visibly upset. He hugged me tightly and said, "I know, and you'll always miss him". My heart nearly burst with those words and I held onto him with everything I had for a few minutes.

Maybe it was just a second date, and maybe I have no idea if this even goes anywhere at all… but in that moment, he gave me a priceless gift. He gave me a small glimpse into what it means to meet a person who is accepting of who I am and respectful of this person's place in my heart forever. He gave me hope I can all find someone who makes sure to let me know there is more than enough room for me to love my fiancé forever.

For almost three years now I have had NO idea how on earth a new man could possibly fit into my world. "I'm too complex. My life is too complicated. Who is going to want to deal with all of this?" I have said many times. "How could any of that possibly work? How could it not just feel like a battle trying to be won in my heart? How could there be room for two people in my heart?" countless other times.

This experience over the past few weeks has made me realize, yes, I am complex and so is my life. But that complexity does not mean I am a burden. In fact it very well may be the opposite… because this complicated life has also made me more lovable, more open, more compassionate, more accepting, and more beautiful. And there are people out there who are looking for that kind of complex beauty in another soul, and who will appreciate it in me.

This experience has also taught me that when new people come into our lives, it doesn't mean that there is less space in our hearts for the person we lost and still love. I have always feared that. But I'm discovering it's not true. Our hearts grow when we let in new people - be it friends or more - and there becomes an entirely new piece of heart created there just for them. They never replace any part of us that loves the one we've lost. They live instead as neighbors of the heart, alongside each other, strengthening and healing our heart in a way we never imagined possible - and doing so together.

Or...You Could be Nun!

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I have a strange (and very strong) reaction to something people say to me. I'm curious about why I have this reaction and if I write about it, I'll most likely reveal to myself where it's coming from. (I love how writing is like a Ouija board to my innermost feelings.)

I've heard just about everyone I know tell me that they're sure I'll find true love again. My reaction to those words is so multilayered that I'll have to deconstruct the response to it before I can even begin to reveal the reason behind it.

Everyone from widowed friends to therapists have said "You'll find love again". When they do, my heart speeds up uncomfortably, my chest tightens and emotions come crashing in from several directions at once.

First, I hear cynical me say "Mmmhmmm....sure I will." with plenty of sarcasm. When Dave was sick, I tried to tell myself that just because he was sick, he wasn't going to die on me. I told myself that lightning couldn't possibly strike me three times. I tried to comfort myself with those proclamations (which were really heartfelt prayers) and he still died. So when I hear someone (even myself) say "You'll find love again", I scoff a little. "Sure!", I hear the cynical part of me say, "I'll believe it when I see it". The fearful part of me chimes in with "Let's not get our hopes up. Can you really be that lucky twice?".

Never say never has become my new belief system. Life is so precarious and you can't begin to predict what will happen, so don't tell me about outcomes as though they are going to happen. Might happen would be more realistic. As in "Dave might die now. He might die later. No one knows." Or "You might find true love again, or you might not. No one knows for sure."

The next thing I feel is fear. "You'll find love again" brings up thoughts of losing another love. Cynical me says "Sign up for potential widowhood again? No thank you. Just barely surviving this one. I'm good for the rest of my life being free of more of this." My heart can't take more pain. Even simple rejection right now is too much for this broken, patched-together, quivering little shattered heart of mine. A part of me is worried that every cough, sniffle and fever will send me into "he's going to die" mode and I simply don't want to feel that kind of fear again.

Then there's a part of me that thinks that the whole idea is ridiculous. Love someone again? Widowhood has left me bone-tired. It's a daily struggle to love myself. It's actually a moment-to-moment struggle if I'm honest. It's still hard to imagine working full time again, sleeping well, feeling at peace with my life, not being chased by fear at every moment. This road is long and often dark and scary. When will I once again be on solid footing enough to offer my best self to someone else? Right now it feels like it will take forever.

Then, down very deep, there's this primal part of me that responds with a quivering chin, brimming eyes and a heart afraid to hope that says "Do you really think so?". For so long I believed that Dave magically loved me despite my many faults and I was always a little surprised that he didn't hightail it out of there when I acted like an asshole (read: human). It was hard for me to believe that I was finally loved the way that man loved me. If I'm completely honest, I guess a part of me thinks that I'll never be loved like that again because I don't deserve it. Therapy and lots of soul-searching is helping me see that that's a story I tell myself, not the truth, but it lingers anyway.

You'll find love again. Such a hopeful, terrifying, bold statement. Seems so simple, doesn't it? I'm relatively young, not hideous, smart, adventurous and talented. Why wouldn't I find love again? Right? Turns out (as we widowed people know) It's not that simple at all. It's an emotional minefield.

Everyday, though, I see couples walking down the street, arms around each other or holding hands or sharing a meal and I feel something so primal and so deeply ingrained that I can't label it well. It's simply a longing. A longing for the feeling of someone else who fits with you so perfectly, that you can't believe you ever lived without them. Physical closeness. Flirting. Romance. Love. I'm wired to want it, but I'm terrified of it. I think about it all the time, but I'm not ready for it yet. I'm lonely, but the cure for my loneliness isn't a relationship.

One big conundrum.

So, if you tell me I'll find love again, you might see me avoid eye contact, change the subject, roll my eyes, or burst into tears depending on the day or what part of my brain is in charge at that moment.

 What do I want to hear instead? I have no idea. Maybe humor would help. How 'bout "Get comfortable with owning a lot of cats" or "Spinsters are pretty cool, too!" or "I hear being a nun is AWESOME!"

At least we'll both get a laugh out of it.