Saturday, July 2, 2011


Maximus and I take walks at night.

I love looking up and feeling like I'm in a planetarium. For some reason, it's also a moment I feel closest to Michael...and now Charlie.

A couple of nights ago, as we were headed down Haleys Way Drive, with the song of a neighbors chimes blowing in the wind, I felt the need to note an overwhelming realization that brushed through my hair with the passing wind, and a realization that also brushed through my heart.

I have it all.

Yes,the love of my life is not here physically, and his death tore me down like a bulldozer...but I got back up, and with that I saw and cherished everything else I still have before me.

In my lifetime and in my life now, I have the knowledge that I met my soul mate and found the truest of loves, I have found friends that will never leave my side and help me through the toughest of times, I have found my passion and am able to do it everyday, I have a roof over my head and adventure in my heart to exit it when the time strikes, I have our furbabies, who show me unconditional love, and I have my future...a privilege many have cut too short.

Simply put, I have all I could ask for, and I am not only content with it, I'm in love with it...and life proves it's perseverance...and I prove my worth...and I smile...and my heart smiles with me.

"You can have it all. You just can't have it all at once."

Oprah Winfrey


  1. I'm so glad to see you post this. I lost my husband 18 months ago, just before my 39th birthday, and I was so sure that my life was over, that there was no point, that the rest of my life was going to be a struggle without joy or happiness. How could I be happy when the love of my life, the other half of my soul, my best friend, was gone?

    I've found that's not the case. There are moments (and they're coming more often now, and even running into each other and lasting longer) where I'm actually content with my life as it is now. Is it the same? No. Would I rather it was like it used to be? Without a doubt. But I feel like I can not only survive in my new reality, but I can thrive in it. I can be happy. I can be content. And there is guilt about feeling that way sometimes... so reading that I'm not alone is incredibly helpful.

  2. Bless you for pointing out to me that it is all here, I only have to look around me to note the love that surrounds me.

  3. Lori from San DiegoJuly 2, 2011 at 12:07 PM

    I am in awe. I don't know how you do it. It's been 15 months and I am still fairly frozen. I make it through each day, but barely. Thank you for your inspiration.

  4. I loved reading your post today... it put into words what my heart has been slowly bringing into reality. My husband passed away quickly three years ago and my life changed in moments. I refer to it now as a "major script change" in my life... just to be able to say that shows the distance that I have come on my grief journey. I too feel as though I'm walking through each day with half of me missing. Some days I miss my husband so much that I think I can't breathe but I take that next breath and embrace the next moment. I've been hit by so many waves but the important thing is... I keep getting up. I have three grown children, two grandchildren with two more on the way, a job that is my passion and a life that I know my husband would want me to live. It's taken a long time to come to this point but I am growing confident with myself and I truly believe that it what I need to do to be successul in living this new chapter in my life. There is much to cherish in my former life but much to look forward to now.... It does help so much to share with others who are walking the same path. It is an inspiration... thank you for providing that for all of us with your post!

  5. Like a line from one of my favorite songs, "You find what you look for" If we look for the blessings, even in the darkest of times, we will find them. It just sometimes takes a lot more effort! I have been so blessed since Cesar's death. I still miss him everyday and I am pretty sure that will be the case until my time here on earth is done, but I am also able to see all of the wonderful blessings in my life and all of the growth that I have experienced since his death. I'm proud of the person I have become!

  6. I am so glad that so many people can move forward in their lives. However I am one of those people who don't have a family for support and just one friend whom i don't want to overwhelm with my grief. I've put so much effort into being positive and moving forward but it's just not happening. Guess I just don't have what it takes. My beloved husband died 8 months ago after 38 years together and I cannot see any life ahead of me.

  7. Dear Anonymous, I am sorry that you are making your way through this loss without the support of family. At eight months away from this devastating loss, it is SO normal to not be able to see a life ahead of you. I don't know any widowed person who hasn't struggled to find the desire to put their life back together. Because we so often only want what we HAD. We didn't choose to leave. What you hear in this post, and I would bet in many of the comments above, is the voice of someone who has made it past the point where you are now. Getting there takes time, and it also takes allowing yourself to feel how you do right now. This doesn't mean you don't have what it takes, it just means you aren't there yet. I hope you come back here again and will see that we all have our ups and downs, but we travel the windy road together.

  8. Anon before Michele,
    Please be patient, kind and loving to yourself. At 8 months out you have more grief ahead of you, but you will become stronger each day to carry it easier. It never goes away, you just learn to sling it onto your back and move forward.
    This sucks.
    It sucks BIG time.
    At 8 months NO ONE can choose to be happy.
    At 8 months NO ONE can decide to not grieve anymore.
    At 8 months NO ONE can choose to see and focus on only one's blessings.
    I, of course, could be totally wrong on this, but I cannot imagine anyone having any of these abilities at 8 months.
    It took me a full 2 years to feel "happiness" again. Not that I didn't have it here and there before that. But it wasn't a mostly constant, as it was "before".
    You are on a hard, hard path. In fact, "hard" is hysterically funny, because it's universes beyond "hard".
    But, you aren't alone. Really.
    We are here. But I know that having us floating around here in cyber space is not what you need. You need someone present with you, next to you, just holding you strongly while you cry or sleep or just sit. I wish I could be that person for you. But please know that I am here and you can contact me ANY time. I even give my cell # to others here so that they'll at least have a voice to hear, or an ear to listen.
    We are all here.
    All together.
    All in grief.
    All in different stages.
    And yet, the same.
    And though you are not known "personally" .... I love you.
    And will be keeping you in my thoughts, prayers and heart.

  9. And Taryn,
    I agree with Michele. I love this post and I LOVE how it shows the miles you've made it down this road.

  10. I had the first Anon post in this thread. At 8 months after losing my husband, I was still contemplating suicide on pretty much a daily basis.

    So no, it's not unusual to be in such a dark place that you can't envision ever finding a way out. Unfortunately the only way "out" is "through".

    One thing I found that was incredibly helpful was sessions with a grief counselor. You may want to see if there is one you can speak with - for me it was helpful to have someone that I could talk to without feeling like I was "being a burden" on them. After all, it was her job and I was paying her. She helped me with some really dark days, and helped me work through several issues that I wasn't sure how to articulate, let alone address.

    I don't know if it helps, or if it's an option, but it's something I experienced and wanted to share.

  11. Tayrn, - Bless you for this post.

    For you see I am sitting in the lakehouse that my husband envisioned his whole life. His someday retirement dream. It is perfect.
    The sun is setting.
    The lake is beautiful and calm.
    My children and grandchildren left after a very busy and happy weekend.

    However, once they left and I sat in the screened in porch watching the sun, I started to cry.
    Because I have everything we ever dreamed we could have.
    But my great love is not here to share it.
    He died just a year after this place was finished. He wanted a place his family could come and share and love and talk and make memories. He wanted to boat and teach his grandchildren to water ski and fish and spend late nights roasting marshmellows.

    I couldn't help but feel this incredible juxtaposition of deep gratefulness and love for him and his dream and the loss so big I have never been able to take it all in at once without finding myself on my knees.

    But that quote - "you can't have it all at once".

    Thank you for the beautiful reminder - I am grateful for what I had most of all and what I still have.