Bookends and New Friends

“Oh, hey! Did I tell you that our interior decorator finally died of lung cancer?”

The off-hand declarative struck my heart ice cold.

“Was she married?” I asked.

“Yes, I think so” came the reply - innocent because he was oblivious.

The enormity of the moment was sweetly coated with blessed ignorance. “Of course she died – she had cancer. It couldn’t have been a surprise. And sure she had a husband.” (None of these things were actually said, but these are the things that the innocent say. Heck, these are the things I said before I was less… innocent.)

“Can you connect me with her husband?”

Right now, somewhere in Austin, there’s a man sitting by himself who has no idea how he’s going to live another day without the sweet touch of his wife.  All-too-fresh and tender last-moments coat the inside of his eyelids. Somewhere in Austin, he’s wandering around a suddenly quiet house, picking up the shoes she last wore, smelling them and then putting them down; picking up the glass she last drank from; looking at her toothbrush, hat and socks she was wearing just days ago and wondering what the hell just happened. Somewhere in Austin, there’s a man drowning and Austin is oblivious.

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Saturday I’m attending (yet another) wedding but this one is very special. One of Maggie’s closest girlfriends (and for the last three years, one of mine) is getting married. He’s a nice guy and they are going to have a wonderful, long life together. Maggie never met him but I’m positive she would approve. Walking down that isle, she’ll wear not only a fancy white dress and big grin but also the ring that Maggie wore every day after our wedding day as her “something borrowed.” It’s the closest thing she’ll have to Maggie’s blessing. I’m truly happy for her. That night, the whole world will celebrate the joining of these two lives.

So there it is – Saturday night, one couple is committing to walk forever together while one man can’t grasp why his wife is never, ever coming home.

We, the ones who read with this blog, are truly gifted because of our shared experience and loss. We know all too well what the bookends of a relationship look like. In contrast, most people only know what it looks like when the books fall chaotically off the shelf. Our experience is our gift and our curse. Experience has made us rich but at an unbelievable price.

Riches are worth nothing if they are stuck in a mattress (or in my case, on top of a mattress - unshaved, unshowered and crying.) We’ve all had this gift shoved down our throat. But it takes another kindred soul to point us the way and explain that it’s going to be ok; that this is a gift; and that we will survive. Camp Widow 2011 did that for me. Now I feel like it’s my job to make sure that other people see the gift they’ve been given underneath all the rubble, starting with a big ol’ dose of you-aren’t-alone.

Mr. Sleepless In Austin, I’m coming for you. I never wanted to meet you and I wish you and I had nothing in common, but that’s not where we are right now. Regardless, we have a lot to talk about, you and me. See you soon.

I'm Engaged!

I'm sure that's not what you were expecting from my second post as the newest widow to the scene! And while I will take plenty of time to talk about my journey through grief and the pieces of it I still face on a day to day bases, I want to also share the pieces of my life that are happening now. And to share a story of hope and healing.

I won't dive into everything on this one post, cause there's no way I'd be able to share all the ways God has been working this story into my life, or the way Steve (my fiance) has helped me discover a place I never thought I'd see again. You can read more about our journey on my personal blog but just know that there is so much purpose in our relationship and how our paths have crossed each others.

The second reason I wanted to share this news with y'all, besides just wanting you to get to know me, is to share the AMAZING way that Steve proposed to me, and the perfect way that it combined my past with my future.

First of all, I am very hard to surprise. Probably because I'm nosey. Steve totally threw me off and surprised me with this one, and had my closest friends all in on it. To throw me off, my best friend made up a story that she had a photo shoot in the morning, but her car broke down so she needed me to pick her up. So off I went to Stony Creek Metropark to pick her up. But when I found her, she asked me to get out of the car and take a walk with her. I thought Steve was driving that day to Michigan, not knowing he was already there, but as soon as I saw a red rose on my best friend's car, I knew. She handed me the rose, told me how much she loved me, took my arm, and started walking. We walked a 2 mile path - yes, crazy long! But every 200 yards or so I was met with another rose being held by some of the most important people in my life. People who have stood next to me while I suffocated in grief, people who clung to me when I fighting to find purpose in life, who watched me go through my darkest hours, and people who have supported my new relationship with Steve. And as each person gave me a rose, they also walked me down the path to the next person while reading a letter about what I meant to them. WOW. If the tears weren't flowing hard enough (thank GOODNESS it was sunny and I was wearing sunglasses!) I walked with my best friends, Steve's parents, my family, and finally...Jeremy's family.

When I saw Jeremy's mom and sister in the distance, my knees almost gave out. I know that not everyone has a great relationship with their in-laws, but I cannot find words to describe how grateful I am to have married into such a wonderful family. They are my family, and their support as they gave their daughter-in-law a blessing to marry another man other than their son spoke to my heart in ways that I can't explain. I know it can't be easy. I know it faces them with grief they probably weren't expecting - I know it has for me. But there they were, supporting me and rooting for my happiness.

It was the hardest I've cried in a really long time. But my tears turned to pure joy when I saw this adorable, handsome, very nervous, all dressed up and sweating in the heat, precious man waiting for me at the end of the long path. This man that loves me for all that comes with me, accepts and encourages my still very strong love for my dead husband, loves my children, loves God, and whose character makes me want to be better. This man who grabbed my heart very quickly and who has very carefully held all the broken pieces of it and continues to help me put it back together. But also a man I cherish for all he comes with, for all he's been through, and for all he has become because of it. This man whose daughters have taken over my heart.

Our engagement will be a very short one. But I'm so thankful our stories have come together in such a way that it can only be a testament to God's grace and love. I'm thankful to have found someone Jeremy would approve of (he and Steve were friends, in fact) and who has proven to be someone I can't wait to share life with. I feel very blessed to have found two such men in my lifetime.

Oh, and he gave me this!!!

How Boring!

from here  

Two women I had just been introduced to the other day began to discuss their Valentine's Days with their husbands. They both agreed that it had been like any other day for them. One said she couldn't even remember what she and her husband had done and the other said that they'd just ordered in and watched a movie. "How boring!" they both agreed.


 They didn't know I was recently widowed. For all I know, they probably assumed I was married, too.

I stood there, frozen, wanting to take them both by their collars and pull them close to cry "WHAT I WOULDN'T DO FOR ANOTHER BORING VALENTINE'S DAY WITH MY DAVE!!!!"


I wanted to do that, but not in anger. I know that before Dave died, I made comments like that all the time. I was always grateful for our love, but I would make lighthearted, "Oh, we've been married since the dawn of time," comments to get laughs, or to commiserate with other married people. These women  weren't bitterly complaining. They were just commenting on how humdrum their longtime marriages had become.


It wasn't anger I felt at all. It was urgency and envy so strong it made my knees almost buckle. I wanted them to know that what they think is a boring night at home is what I now long for every moment of every day. 


To settle in, with your love, on the couch at the end of a hard day and know that you have each other, even when the rest of the world feels out to get you? To feel THAT again? I'd do anything.

I wanted them to know how much they'd miss that boring life if it were torn from them. How they'd feel the loss of that like a black hole in their gut. That they'd wish they'd gotten a million more of those boring nights at home.


But in the end, I didn't say a word. I stood there, stiff and awkward, and waited it out, like you do a painful cramp or bout of nausea. I didn't cry. I didn't run for home. I just went on with the night.


It's getting easier to wait those moments out, but they still slice into my heart and turn my mind into a spinning mess.


On the other hand, I'm relieved that those two women didn't know I was widowed. If they did, they might have self-consciously censored what they said in my presence, or at the very least, worried about saying something that might upset me. I can always feel that kind of tension in people around me. That discomfort is very understandable, but also palpable and in turn makes me uncomfortable too.


There was something a little comforting about being treated like anyone else, even though I still felt so separate from "everyone else" that I felt like a visitor from a different planet.


We all take things for granted, I suppose. We can't live every moment of every day being aware that we and those we love could die at any moment. It's too intense. We take our health for granted until it fails us. We take our freedom for granted until it's taken from us. We take our loved ones for granted until they leave us. That's just human.


But, I suppose there will always be a part of me that wants to shake people who are loved by a spouse and say "DON'T TAKE A MOMENT FOR GRANTED!" After all, that everyday, ho-hum moment they take for granted might be their last together.


What an important lesson to learn. Can it only be learned the hard way?