The Laundry Epiphany

source

A few weeks ago as I was doing laundry, I noticed that I had already done a few loads of dark laundry, and still had more to go. My first thought was "that's weird, I don't ever remember washing this many dark clothes before."

For whatever reason, this thought took me by surprise. It may seem obvious to some of you, because we have 7 people in our house now, so of course I would be doing more laundry. But that wasn't the realization. It was because most of Steve's laundry is dark - he prefers darker colors. And I realized that for some reason, I was surprised that it wasn't like Jeremy's. And my subconscious automatically went to "before" meaning before Jeremy died. 

What's weird is that I rarely compare Steve to Jeremy. They have a lot of similar qualities - mostly the good ones - which is why I love them both so. But they are very different. Whenever those thoughts come in my head, I try to be gracious to myself and to Steve to remember that not only is he different, but so am I. But, I'm human and I love two men both at the same time so I'm not so naive to think that those thoughts wouldn't creep in once in awhile. 

Jeremy didn't do it that way. What would he say in this situation? Steve handled this so much better than Jeremy would have. Jer would have handled this better. Jeremy would have known what do about this problem. Jeremy would remember this reference. Steve hasn't figured this part out yet. Jeremy never figured that out. I wish Steve and I could have share this memory, too. I wish Jeremy wasn't missing this.

The truth is, these kinds of thoughts can plague widow(er)s in new relationships. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that I'm ok with wrestling with these things. Maybe it's because I won't ever apologize for loving and continuing to love Jeremy. Maybe it's because I won't apologize for loving Steve as much. Maybe it's because Steve is great about talking through these things with me without feeling threatened. Either way, these fleeting thoughts remind me that I have lived two separate lives that continue to overlap in my heart. And that's ok.

Today, as I was folding laundry, I remembered that thought from a few weeks ago and smiled. The bottom line is that I miss doing laundry for Jeremy and grieved a weird, tiny piece of my life that maybe I hadn't before. And I smiled because I was thankful to be able to do laundry for Steve, whether it was dark, light, or pink and polka dotted (ok, that might not be so great!). It's ok that it looks different. It should. They're both equally important and meaningful. One does not negate the other.

Sometimes all it takes is a silly moment of folding the laundry to change your world.

What hurts the most

source

The lyrics to the Rascal Flatts song were bouncing around in my head as I sat down to type out this post....

This past weekend, I spent some time in Canada visiting with Jeremy's family. I always look forward to spending my time with them, not only because I love them so much and they don't even know how incredible they are, but also because they keep me close to Jeremy. What I didn't expect was how emotional the trip would be for me. 

I grieved a lot this trip. Steve came with me and we were able to talk about wedding stuff and they allowed me time for my heart to be happy and share good news, but I still ached and I know they did too. It's hard to move forward without feeling like I'm letting pieces of my past go. I want to take it all with me.

I took Steve to Jer's grandparents house. He hadn't been there yet, so we went over for dinner. And suddenly, the hole felt bigger and the knot in my throat grew tighter - the entire time we were there. We had a lovely visit, but I walked around the house looking at all the pictures of Jeremy, wondering why this wave of grief was following me around. Then, we sat down to dinner and ate Jer's favorite dinner EVER (grandma's lasagna) and talked about all of the things he loved to eat at their house and I heard the heartbreak in grandma's voice as she told me she couldn't keep chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar anymore, and I suddenly knew. I felt closest to Jeremy there at his grandparents house - it was one of his favorite places to be. We spent a week there every Christmas, we traveled there many times throughout the year, I had listened to countless recalled memories from Jer about growing up there, and I knew that such a big piece of his life and his heart were there. I hadn't spent a whole lot of time there since he died, so I guess I had never taken it all in. Even through their joy for Steve and me, I felt their heartache for their oldest grandson. My heart was so heavy for them. And I felt myself lose Jeremy all over again. I lost my future of making more memories with him in that house.

What hurt the most....was being so close...

So close to Jeremy I could almost see him. Standing in the door frame, sitting on the floor wrestling with the kids, sitting at the table licking the blueberry pie plate clean. I can feel him there in his pictures, like they were just taken yesterday. I heard him laughing, felt him breathing there. 

I realized that the places I feel Jeremy closest are also the places I grieve hardest. I felt similar when I took Steve to Jeremy's grave for the first time the following day. Knowing he's there is so overwhelming for me to face sometimes. Feeling close to Jeremy means so much to me, but it lingers for days and sits in my heart.

I know that so much of my day to day looks different than it did before Jeremy died. In a new house, driving a new car - they're not places that Jeremy touched or made a mark in so they don't have that affect on me. But when I go back to those places where I feel him most, something comes over me. 

I was thankful for the sweet man by my side who held my hand while I cried out and grieved the other man that I love. His tender heart held mine as he thanked me for sharing pieces of Jeremy with him, and understood that no matter how much I love him or am thankful for his presence in my life, sometimes.....this grief thing just really hurts. 

Would Our Spouses Be Happy .....

 picture from here

..... to know that we're in a relationship with someone?  Would they be happy to know that we might even love someone else?

A friend asked me today how it's possible to reconcile the love of two men ..... one very much alive, the other .... very much dead.

I told her that I'm not sure how it's possible, but it is.  And that's a fact.
I consider it to be the way a pregnant woman feels when expecting her second (or later) child.  You wonder how in the the world you are going to be able to love this next child as much as you love your first.  And you doubt that it's possible.  But then ..... the moment that second (or later) child arrives .... you wonder what in the world you were thinking?!  You hold that baby and forget any doubt that you ever had.  The second that child arrives your heart grows bigger.  Big enough to hold another person.

It's the same when you fall in love.  At first, you can NOT imagine ever loving another person the way you loved your spouse.  You know that it's not possible to love another man/woman .... ever.  In fact, you find that thought appalling.  You still feel married.  There is no room in your heart for another love.  And there never will be.

But then one day, when you least expect it ..... you meet someone.  Someone who is special enough to catch your attention.
And you feel a strange sensation in your heart.  Like it beats a little faster.  Or skips one or two beats.
You decide that you'd like to know more about this person.  And he/she feels the same way about you.
Then one day, one day that seems no different than any other day ...... you realize something.
You realize that your heart has somehow grown a bit larger.  And you never saw it coming.
You didn't really feel it happening.  You just wake up one day and know that something feels "different".
Your heart now holds love for two people.  And it's nothing short of a miracle.  And 100% possible.

And I'm here to prove it.
Jim is in my heart.
Jim will always be in my heart.
Always.
Forever.

And yet my heart has grown larger.  And now holds love for another man.
A man who is different from Jim.
A man who knows he's not in a competition with Jim.
A man who is secure in the knowledge that I love Jim, will always love Jim ..... and now I love him.  I love him as much as I loved Jim.
And that is truly a miracle.

What would Jim think of this?
What DOES Jim think of this?
I think he's thrilled.
I believe that he's as happy with this new love as I am.
I know that in Jim's heart ..... after God ..... I was number one.
Just as he was in mine.

He wanted me to be happy.
He wanted me to feel loved.
And secure.
And special.

Just as I would want him to feel.

People who have not been widowed don't get it.
Just one more thing they don't get.
I'm glad that they don't.
I hope they never need to.

But the rest of us ..... we're learning things we never wanted to know.
Like it's possible to love another person .... and not feel guilty or disloyal to our spouse.
At least I hope that you're all learning that.  Or will learn it.
Because true love wants only the best for its love.
Always.

I know that Jim wanted nothing but the best for me.
And he would love the man who loves me the way he did.
A man who puts me first.
A man who loves me unconditionally.

Yes, there have been times when I've wondered if it's worth it to love another man ..... and risk losing another one.
Is it worth giving my heart away again ..... perhaps to lose it all over again?
There have been days when I've thought, "No.  Don't love another man ..... you'll never survive that kind of loss again."

But I know that Jim would not want that for me.
He wouldn't want me to guard my heart so tightly that I never feel love again.
He wouldn't want me to be afraid to give my heart away ..... to feel too fragile to love and be loved.

And truthfully, I don't want that for me, either.
If I had my life and love to live all over again with Jim, knowing that I would lose him as tragically and as early as I did ..... I would still choose to love him all over again.
His love was worth the grief.

All love is worth the grief.
Being loved, feeling loved, giving love ..... is worth the risk.
Jim would think so.
And I've learned to agree with him.

are you ready for this?

Photo from here...

One of the questions I've asked myself frequently since Jeff's death is "Am I ready and do I want to date?"

Aside from the need for physical contact, I can't say that in the first year I was at all ready for "dating". Last year, my second year of widowhood, I thought I was. With trepidation and large amount of humility, I took a look at online dating.

I "chatted" with a couple of men. I was embarrassed by this and certainly didn't divulged to many of my friends that I was looking to date....especially via an online dating service. I felt that if these people were indeed single, there was probably a very good reason for it and they were most likely society's dregs.

Despite these prejudices, I agreed to one date after many emails and a couple of evenings of instant messaging one eligible bachelor. I felt I was ready to know more about this single father who lived aboard a boat with his young son. I was sure there was some flaw within him that rendered him "broken" but I thought I might as well get my feet wet without any strings attached.

After gearing myself up and looking fabulous (if I do say so myself), I sheepishly left my children with the babysitter. I felt terribly guilty. I almost turned back a few times as thoughts of "Am I really ready for this??? I can't believe I am paying a babysitter to be with my children when I am going out with some man....not their father. What must she think?" and "How can I still love Jeff if I am going to meet another man for a date?" and "What would my family say?....What would JEFF'S family say?"
I told myself I was ready for this. That it was time to reach out and feel cared for again. That Jeff would not mind one bit and that probably our families would celebrate that I was trying to keep living.

As I sat across from this man, this relative stranger, I heard myself telling him about my life thus far and vaguely listened to his tale of what brought him to this place. He was kind and funny. I grew more comfortable as the evening progressed. After dinner, dessert and coffee, he walked me to my car.

I felt almost nauseous, however, when we arrived at my car and he asked, "Can I ask you a question?" Thoughts of "Oh my God. He's going to ask me to kiss him. I don't think I can. What the hell? Maybe it won't be so bad. This is awful. Why have I done this?" sprinted through my addled brain.

Instead, with a smirk, he asked, "Do you think it's a good idea to show your date a picture of your husband the first time you meet?"

I am sure I turned purple with embarrassment as I thought of how this must seem. That I was pining for my husband.....And then I realized. I was. I had just shown a man that I was hoping to "date" a picture of the love of my life and extolled all my beloved's virtues all night. I was far from ready.

I thanked my date for his company, dinner and the lesson. Until I am ready to share a meal with another man without whipping out Jeff's portrait or talking endlessly about him, I am not ready. Like the other singles out there on the online dating services have a very good reason for being single...I'm messed up too.

But this year, my third, I think is the year. I no longer only talk about Jeff and his death. I am sure I am a much better listener and make far better company than I have in the last couple of years. And I can imagine myself sharing the company of another man without guilt.

But, maybe, just in case, I'll remove his picture from my wallet before any date just to make sure I am not tempted.....

Value Added

I said good bye to this guy a few days ago. Actually what I said was, “Let's just call this what it seems to have turned into, a friendship.…”

I did it in an an email cause I tried to break it off once before over the phone and I moronically then asked him if he wanted a second chance (I KNOW!!! I KNOW…not my finest moment in the newly learning-to-date world.)

I hit send, then slammed my fist into the table.

Then my head.

And then the stupid fucking tears started

I was so mad at thim.

Why did he not see my value?

Why did he keep stringing me along?

And then I went “Huh.”

as I lifted my head and swiped

at my tears with my hand.

I see my value.

That’s why I sent the email.

I see that as much as a cliché as it is, life is to short to be treated poorly or to try to GET anyone to like me.

And I see that in letting him go

Another will come. I can feel him coming now, like a tug in my gut.

In letting this one go, I opened the door for another one to enter.

I got into my car whistling.

There is beauty in Art’s death.

The beauty is that I am here

Alone, without him

And I see

I

have

value

And the value feels added, like something I didn’t have before.

In this new life, I realize now, it wasn’t having Art that gave me value (like I had thought).

It was who he loved that gave me value.

And he loved me.

All my opinionated, brilliant, sometime off the wall ideas.

He loved my hearty laugh and hated the way I would interrupt him.

He loved how quick I was and how much I appreciated his amazing brilliance.

He loved how when we argued and we would switch sides.

He hated my ability to chill him with just one look

And he loved the way I kissed.

But it was not his love that made me valuable.

It was his acceptance of me that made me see my value.

And now it wasn’t until he was gone,

that I really saw how much he loved me.

Anyway, I’m in my car singing after the head banging and the crying.

And I’m singing loudly and quite well, thank you very much,

Because in his death I discovered my value.

And it feels like value added.