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?

The First Date.

SO. After two and a half years… it finally happened.

I had my first date this week.

I can't even tell you how this happened. I had no idea this person would be interested and I've never much been interested in him either. It sort of came out of the blue… no real warning, no time for planning how I want to feel about this step. Just… bam, there it is, you're going on a date today.

I haven't even been able to really be friends with men since my fiancé died. It has just felt so weird. But lately, I've found myself feeling more comfortable being around men again. In fact, wanting to be around them. Maybe not romantically per say, but just, be around them. Building friendships with new men actually feels okay right now. Which is a HUGE deal. I used to have plenty of guy friends before, and I miss spending time around that male energy. I really do. So when someone offered to take me to lunch, somehow it didn't feel so awful. Instead of the "HELL NO!" I expected to hear from inside me, there was instead this sort of heavy sigh, which seemed to say "I'm so tired of pushing that away. Yes, please, take me out. I just want to feel what it feels like to be taken to lunch again".

HUGE. super freaking huge. I don't know when this change happened. But somewhere in the past several months I gather it has been growing. My counselor asked a month or two ago how I felt now about the idea of dating and instead of the immediate "nope" I've had for two and a half years… my answer was a very thoughtful "I don't know". That in itself is a big shift. And an unexpected one.

So… the date. It wasn't anything fancy - just a casual friend who recently said he was interested to know me more and offered to take me out for lunch. It felt easy and nonthreatening. He is enough of a friend to already know my story and of my fiancé - so that also made it a little easier, too.

I did plenty of freaking out about it beforehand of course. Because that's what I do now, about anything new since he died. "WHY did I say yes to that?! I'm no where near dating people - what am I doing?!" But then there was the other side of me… the side that is just… just so tired. Tired of being alone. Tired of NO ONE taking me ANYWHERE for two and a half years. Tired of not letting men in at all. And so I suppose that side won. And I decided to just let it be lunch. Like it was. And let it be about getting to know a friend on a little deeper level. Which it was. I decided not to let it mean all these other things. For today, no, I am just going to let a nice guy take me out. I am not going to give a shit what it means or where it goes or doesn't go or whether I'm ready or not ready… I'm just going to enjoy lunch dammit.

And you know what? I did. It was great. We had a really fun time - and the world didn't end afterwards. I realized something while there that surprised me. My whole experience of a date is completely different now than before I met Drew. And it is because I am different now. When I met Drew, I still had a lot of things I was working through in my life. Things that he helped me to heal in our time together. And now, I discovered on that date that all those demons I used to have when I first met Drew weren't in the way anymore. It was a beautiful thing.

I also realized that, because he died, my whole way of knowing people is different. I feel deeply honored when I sit down with anyone and we share our stories - both the good and the bad - with each other now. Sitting across the table from this guy last week was no different. I felt honored to have that exchange. Because time and people are so much more precious to me now than ever before.

It didn't feel wrong. And I didn't feel guilty. And I didn't even have the total nervous breakdown I thought I would have as I drove home. Actually, the opposite.

I just felt proud. I felt proud that I went on a date. I looked that enormous fear right in the face and I just said "Yep, I'm doin it". And I know you all know how totally perplexing and horrifying the idea of the first date is. God I was terrified, but a bigger part of me wanted to face it than was scared of it. And so I guess that is how it happens… when our desire to face our fears finally grows bigger than our fear of them.

Of course the whole thing has still wreaked havoc on my mind and emotions now the rest of the week after. I don't wanna paint a picture that this experience was all roses. Hell no. It triggered all sorts of shit. There are just places in my heart I don't go anymore… and one of those is into how it felt to have a man's attention. Most of the time, I don't even remember what it's like to have someone anymore. That sounds sad probably to some people, but it works for me, for right now. And I've gotten pretty used to it and okay with it.

And now, suddenly the week's events have brought it all flooding back. I remembered all the little things; date nights, learning about a new person, the butterflies and the excitement of the new beginning. And then later, the romantic stuff… movies together, back rubs, flowers, fancy home-cooked dinners, dancing, staying up all night talking and laughing harder than ever together… and just the way it FEELS when you have the attention of someone in that way. I really didn't need to feel all of that universe. Thanks.

I immediately found myself just wishing to skip past all the "getting to know each other"-ness because what I really miss is the deep stuff… the stuff two or three years in when you first learn how to really work well together and become totally cohesive. The total and complete trust. God I miss that. And all the little romantic things too of course… but really, most of all, the trust. It takes SO LONG to build a deep level of trust for me. It took 8 months for Drew to even convince me to go on a date, and by then we were best friends. A guy's gotta pass a LOT of tests to make it into my heart. It feels like climbing five mountains just to think about doing it all over again with someone new. And of course, immediately, I would really rather just have HIM. The person I already chose and wanted forever. UGH.

So there it is. The good and the bad of that whole experience. Honestly, the date couldn't have possibly gone better. And I am very glad I did it. He was polite and respectful, funny, smart, and we enjoyed each other's company. Most of all, I felt like Drew would have been really happy with our date and this fellow treated me. I think that's what made it feel the most okay… that he would have approved.

Despite that, I don't really expect any more to come of it. I don't think I am anywhere near being able to actually date someone new again, and so I'm quite happy for us to end up with this one date, and a new friendship. I think it was the best way for a first date to happen really - with no real expectations of anything more to come of it and a desire to be friends. Dipping a toe in the water. Baby steps - that's how we do things in this after life, after all, isn't it?

What is a Partner?

As an artist, I believe that every piece I create is coming through me from some other source and meant for one person out there. I've come to believe this because of it happening to me with many of my photographs and written pieces. Someone will come forward to share how important my image was to them, and how perfectly it aligned with something in their world, and I will know instantly that it found its home.

Nothing made me more certain of this idea than finding this painting last weekend. My girlfriend and I went to a local art festival, and as we walked into this woman's booth, my friend gasped and called my attention. As I looked up, I was speechless. There on the walls of her booth hung an almost exact painting of MY photo of my fiancé and I. And I knew instantly - I was the person she made that for, even though she did not know me at all.

Of course I bought it. And as I was paying her, I looked up the photo on my phone. I told her the story of my fiancé passing and then showed her the image - and she was as blown away as I was. We both teared up a little. I've had it resting on my writing desk since I came home… and it lights me up inside to look at. Not only because of the photo it represents, but also of the story this photo reminds me of...

A week before Drew and I began dating, we took a trip down to Padre Island together. We were best friends back then, just on the cusp of something more. One night, we went out to the beach to do some stargazing. There was a moment we both stood facing the blackness of the ocean, side by side. We joked about how scary the water looked at night, and how there could be a giant sea monster five feet from us and we wouldn't even know it. And then we just stood there beside each other in this incredibly strong, powerful, safe silence. And in that moment of quiet, with a vast blackness stretched out for miles before us, I knew for certain this is what I wanted. Someone to stand strong next to me. Not in front of me. Not behind me. Not leaning against me. But standing solid in his own power next to me. Ready to take on all the vast unknowns of life with me… even when it looks like something dangerous could be lurking just feet away. Someone on his own journey, who wants to stand next to me on my journey.

There was a serious change in me that night in understanding exactly what a partner is. We'd not yet made love, or kissed, or even held hands. But I didn't seem to need any of that to understand what I truly wanted was standing right next to me and had been all along. The rest… the romance, the intimacy, it all unfolded beautifully as the result of beginning from a place of such profound trust.

This painting reminds me of that night. It reminds me of the moment in my life when I finally understood what a partner should be. And it reminds me of the man who taught me this lesson - a man of integrity who - for the next three years of our lives together - always had my back. A man I trusted more deeply than I even knew was possible. He gave me more than just his love, he gave me a lesson that I take with me for the rest of my life. This painting reminds me never to forget that lesson; that - when the day comes to choose another partner - I will not accept anything less than the one who will stand beside me - both in the light and in the dark.

Where We Began

A big hello to everyone here at Soaring Spirits and Widow's Voice on my debut post. I'm incredibly honored and humbled to have been asked to join this team. I hope that we can help each other to feel heard, honored, and loved for exactly where we are in these years of tears. I've been a writer all my life in some form, but this is the first time I've ever written anywhere but my own pages. It means a great deal to me. So I thank you for reading! With that said, I will begin...

Last year, I was supposed to be standing at the altar – marrying my best friend. Instead, I was standing at that altar trying to tell a church full of loved ones who this man was in my life and what he had meant to me. Striving to articulate the sheer magnitude of this person was like trying to hold the all the world's oceans in my hands – an impossible task to ever fully contain him... and not something a twenty-nine year old woman should ever be faced with, or anyone for that matter. But there we were.

Drew and I met in Dallas in the fall of 2008. He was in flight school working toward his dream to be a commercial helicopter pilot. I was a web designer at the headquarters for a global fashion company. He was analytical, I was creative. He liked guns, flying, beer and war movies. I liked art, beauty, nature, writing… I was terrified of guns and hated war movies. On the surface, it sure seemed like we couldn't be more different, but underneath all that we shared deep passion and curiosity for life and a seriously goofy sense of humor. We both loved to learn, laugh and explore almost anything. I'd say that's a pretty good basis for the start of something awesome.

We became best friends over the course of the next year and in June of 2009, we started dating. As it turns out, all those differences are incredibly fun when you have two really curious people who love to explore anything new. He taught me how to shoot guns, build fires, and fly planes on the simulator. I taught him about design and how to look for beauty and art in everything around you. He introduced me to delicious dark beers and aerodynamics, to camping and Texas country music, and I took him to art museums and festivals and exposed him to incredible art he'd have never otherwise seen. There was skydiving, parasailing, hot air ballooning, race car driving and so much more. I was his first flight student – letting him practice his lesson plans each night with me while he worked toward his flight instructor certification. And of course.. he took me up for a few helicopter rides. These are by far some of the most special memories – watching him in his element – living his passion and sharing it with me. The war movies though… I never got on board there!

It wasn't always clear skies of course, but for 3 years, we built something strong and good together. There was always, above all else, an unspoken agreement from the beginning that we would be kind with each other's hearts. Neither of us had had a particularly sugar-coated life thus far, so we had our insecurities and issues. But somehow together, we never clashed. Instead we learned how to help each other to become more aware, heal some of the past, and choose new and better ways to cope with life's challenges. I have often said that it was as if I could see the little boy in him, the one that was good and pure and hadn't been hurt or made insecure by the world yet... and he could see that little girl in me, too. It was as though we grabbed the very core of each other and pulled it right to the surface where it could breathe. Together, we were more who we were always supposed to have been.  

It's amazing to look back and see how much impact just one person could have on my life in just three short years together. On any given day, I can look at myself and see a whole list of things about me that feel as though they've always been there... but they haven't. They were the things he brought out, the things he exposed me to and shared with me and taught me, the parts of myself that he saw and encouraged that no one ever had before. I cannot hardly imagine who I was before I met him. Before beer and western boots. Before a passion for flight, which he passed on to me. Before the camera he got me on my 27th birthday – and my love affair with photography that is still going strong today. Who was I then? Surely me, but so much more myself because of him. 

And then of course, it all ended. And everything… as you well know, changed. I changed. And that part, my newfound friends, is a story for next week.