Let the New Life Begin

So much has happened in such a small amount of time that my head is spinning even as I type.  I now live in downtown Austin with cars and people and dog walking and concrete which, for a country boy, is quite the change.  I have a new job that’s challenging, engaging and, quite frankly, fun.  Life is completely different than just a few weeks ago, let alone a month or a year ago.  So much has changed.  And I’m ok with all of it.  A new world of possibilities has appeared in front of me and I’m happy to be right where I am.  Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to say that.

Not for one second have I forgotten my past, my sweet wife, or my journey that brought me to where I am now.  Yet, despite the relevance and overwhelming daily influence of it all, oddly, I can’t recall the last time I brought up my experience in conversation.  I do use it as a little shit test when I’m faced with unpleasantries or difficult circumstances: Does what’s happening right now really mean diddly shit compared to watching my lovely wife slowly die?  Pretty much 100% of the time, the answer to that question is “No” which makes it really easy not to get over involved in things that would previously wrap me up into a tangle.  I guess that’s one of many consolation prizes – perspective.

It’s taken me a long time to get where I am right now.  I’ll never be the same as I was before and I can’t say I’m very happy about the journey.  But I’m happy that I’m here where I am right now starting over.  Let the new life begin.

A Week and Counting

Time marches on, and quickly!! It was only May when I got engaged, and the big day is coming up next week! I can hardly believe it. I make that statement with double meaning. I can hardly believe how quickly the time has passed since May, but it's more than that. I can hardly believe it.

I remember a time when I was convinced I'd never remarry. I loved Daniel more than anyone in the world (excluding Grayson :) and there was no way I would ever find someone like that again, much less allow them in. I wasn't even going to look. Dating? Maybe. I mean, I'm human so it wouldn't hurt to at least go out every once in a while, but long term? Forget it. Men are generally stupid and I'd already had the cream of the crop. Marriage? Forget about it. It would be a cold day in hell before that happened....well, it looks like the temps in Hades are dropping rapidly!

I think Carl slipped in when I had a rare moment of "guard down". I had decided I was interested in finding someone - I had arrived at the conclusion that I wanted someone in my life for real, not just a fun date. But, I had become the two date master. I could eliminate a guy in two dates (a couple of posers made it past my radar, but those are another story), and I had serious doubts that I'd find anyone 3rd date worthy.

Along came Carl. He charmed me with his easy humor, his fabulous smile, and his ability to talk to me about our bumpy past lives. He disarmed me completely and when I looked up...it was date 3, and we were booking a trip to New Orleans...and he hadn't even kissed me yet! Seriously? When did he slip me the love potion!?? Fast forward a year, and Carl, on one knee, blew me away. I still don't think I've recovered from that romantic moment :)

Almost two years later, we have bought a house, and the big day is coming up fast. I can hardly believe it! Who knew this was possible? I think several of my friends wondered if I'd go this route and had serious doubts - much as I did. I didn't, and still don't think that "moving forward" after Daniel means finding a man. "Moving forward" means finding yourself again and building a new life for yourself. I moved forward - and buckets of tears and a few years later, I found myself. A stronger, harder, more cynical version of me, and also a softer, more sensitive, and more loving me... but still me.

Who would have thought that new me would end up counting the days until her wedding? Certainly not ME! ;-) A week away and counting....I can hardly believe it!!

Open Wound

I wish I could report days of happiness and joy. But I can't.

I feel like I am walking around with an open wound. It's been like this throughout the whole holiday season. This year feels worst than the past two years. Why am I crying so much?

I suppose I can answer my own question.

Michael loved Christmas. He loved Christmas not because he had so many wonderful childhood memories, more because of all the magic and wonder it stood for. Michael always yearned for the good life. His life growing up was not easy. His mother worked two jobs to meet the needs of her two young boys. She was not a widow, but a woman forced to meet all of her children's needs due to a father who walked away.

I yearned to give Michael everything he wanted. He deserved it all. What did Michael want most? Me.

I gave Michael my heart completely. I held nothing back. I brought him into my life, into my home, into my family, then began planning for our life together. Just as those plans began to materialize Michael was diagnosed with cancer. It was a sobering wake up call. I learned that while my love would last the test of time, our time together would not.

I won't lie. I did my share of anticipatory grieving, yet I kept this in check. I would not be short changed out of any possible time of loving him, holding him and celebrating him. Take all of this...his love for Christmas, reminders everywhere I look and listen, and...tears. Lots of tears.

I'm a mess and I know it. I'm a mess and my boyfriend knows it. I'm a mess, and still, I am loved. I've decided not to run from it. I have never, ever, run from anything that appears scary or uncomfortable. I tend to be a "face it head on" type of guy. So if a song brings on emotion, I am allowing myself to sob as I sing. If my boyfriend's love and attention reminds me of what I lost, then the tears are again welcome.

I've decided to accept that I have this open wound. At the same time I have decided to accept that I have someone beside me willing, and wanting, to help me heal that wound. Abel is not expecting to completely fill the wound that I carry, and I don't necessarily want it completely filled. I think I want to feel both loved and fulfilled, yet with room to always acknowledge the place that only Michael occupies.

Open wound. Healing every day.

Flooding

Special thanks to guest blogger Matthew Croke for filling in while Kim is at Camp Widow...we appreciate you Matt!

I hate to think I need bad stuff to happen to put life in perspective.  Haven’t I already tortured myself enough, trying to understand painful life lessons after my wife’s passing?  After three years, haven’t I come out on the other side a better person?

On the three year anniversary of Lisa’s passing, my parent’s basement flooded due to record rainfall in Chicago.  The very same basement my three girls and I moved into a year ago, after we sold our house.

A basement, where I specifically did not clean up before the weekend, as I was going to give myself a break to focus on the emotions of her passing.  Thus, toys, books, and clothes that on Friday night were on the floor, by Saturday morning, floated around the basement, like lily pads on a pond.

I place three fans throughout the basement to dry the floor which just hours ago were inches deep in water.  More memories are taken away from me as an entire collection of children’s books are ruined, water pouring out of them like a soaked sponge, as I lift them from the bottom shelf to the garbage.  Lisa use to read these to our girls. 

Today it seems personal. How much more headache is life going to throw my way.  I thought I was getting better feeling the world is not picking on me.  Today I am being bullied.  I can feel the anger build in my stomach.

I take a break from clean-up and go upstairs to get a glass of water.  I drink it fast as if I can, as if I’m trying to douse the fire that is roaring in my belly.  My Mom calls from the living room, “Matt, the news is on and they are showing the flood.”  I walk in the room and the first image on TV I’m greeted with, is an older man on oxygen cleaning his basement which is damaged far greater than ours, “What can you do?  You gotta clean up and rebuild.” he says, his shirt as wet from his perspiration, as his pants are from the flood waters.

His words throw a blanket over my anger inferno.  “The world isn’t picking on me” I say to myself, “I am looking for a fight.  Everyone is hurting tonight in my area; I’ve just made a choice to make it all personal.”  This is not how I want to live.

I go back downstairs to throw more soggy furnishings in the garbage.  While I’m at it, I decide to do a little internal cleaning and throw away some soggy anger that needs to be put by the curbside also.  When the clean-up is done, both places will be a healthier environment to live in.

Stuck

I'm feeling indecisive these days. In fact, I wrote a very long post earlier this evening, then decided that it didn't adequately describe what I was feeling. I decided to leave it on my screen for awhile, then came back and hit delete.

There are so many times in my day to day life that I would love to have a do-over. I would love to just hit delete, then just start over fresh.

You know, I waste so much time in my day to day life. At work I'm productive, but then I come home, and often feel like whatever I do, or did, it was all just a waste. It's at that point that I wish I could just hit delete, and once again, start fresh.

I'm sad to report that these days, much of my free time still feels pointless. I often feel lost, or that I am just marking time. It's not that I want to be here, or in this state, it's just that I feel caught in some kind of thick mud. I can see all that life potentially has in store for me, but I don't really know how to get it anymore.

There is a duality in my desire for growth and change. I want desperately to be in a place of happiness. I want to have new people in my life, and I would love to see my home filled with weekend guests. Yet, what am I really doing to make this happen? Am I really ready for it, or am I simply not allowing it?

This weekend for example, I had most of the weekend to myself. My daughter had taken my youngest with her, so I was left to myself. This is something I used to cherish. Time alone. Well, it's something we used to cherish. Time alone, together. Now it seems that time alone is time to remember just how alone I am. It just serves to sadden me further.

And it's not like I am doing nothing about it. I am making a concerted effort to get out there now and then. I'm even going to the occasional restaurant, or club, by myself, in hopes of meeting someone. I'm not exactly sure what I will do if and when I do meet someone, but I know that I can't stay at home alone forever. I'm feeling like I need to meet someone new, who can rekindle those dormant feelings of excitement and passion. I don't necessarily mean sex, although it's not like I would turn that down at this point. What I really want, and need, is a reason to feel passionate about life again.

Last week my son and I were out having dinner. A song came on, and then I was taken away. I was taken to that dark and lonely place. When I was able to refocus I could see that my son recognized something in my face. I said sorry, and that I was having a Michael moment. He looked sad, and said "I know, I could tell." And I'm sorry to report that I'm sure I walk around most of my week with that same look.

Whose going to want to befriend me, or consider me for a date, with that look upon my face?

No big revelation here. Now grand ideas or plan. Just me, checking in about my current, and evolving, reality. I don't want to be stuck here. I don't want to be the sad guy forever. I want to know passion once again. I want to experience joy.

I'm going to keep at it. I hope you will too.

I'm Failing

I’m failing. No, not with mourning and recovery. That, my psychologist reassures me, I’m doing quite well with. In fact, he tells me that I’m doing extraordinarily well - best he's seen. (Read the next word in your best dripping sarcasm voice:) Yaaaay!

I’m failing at getting back into life. I’m just stuck and I don’t know how to get unstuck. Life isn’t really throwing me any easy lobs over the plate either. My latest biggest challenge is that I spend an unhealthy chunk of time alone and I’m not exactly sure how to fix that. My friends are all married with children (like I should be) so my running buddies are busy chasing kids. Gone are the days of single friends having BBQs or nights on the town. Now those same friends’ evenings are filled with sick kids, wife/husband date nights, or other family crises while my evenings are, well, less engaged. At least with my current set of friends, gone are my easy opportunities to jump back into life and be effortlessly carried away by all the camaraderie that is (or was) being young and single.

I’m failing to find my place in this world. I don’t belong downtown in the Mecca of the barfly; I’m not the right age or temperament or something. Likewise, I don’t belong in the divorce groups; I’m not divorced (and no, being widowed is NOT like your spouse leaving you and no, your divorce is NOT a tragedy.) I also don’t belong to the life-long singles, those who for some reason or another haven’t found true love; Maggie and I had true love in our hands, and it was ripped away from us both. So where do I belong?

I mentioned to a married-with-child friend of mine (and Maggie’s) the other day that I was going to learn to play volleyball. (My logic is charming in its simplicity: People play volley ball. I need to meet people. Therefore, I need to learn to play volleyball.) My friend, in her innocent ignorance, said “Go hang out with some friends at the local volley ball courts and meet new people.” Ah, said like that, it’s so simple.

People remember their single days as easy and filled with single friends (because everyone WAS single back then!) The idea of hanging out at a volley ball court with friends is easy to conceptualize because it was easy to materialize - just call six or seven of your (all single) friends and one or two, at least, would join in the fun. Game on! But what has changed out from under us that isn’t obvious is that all the single folks have been replaced by married folks and, at my age, most with children. Try calling six or seven of those same folks to suggest hanging out at a volley ball court one afternoon and see what responses you get now. But my friend, with her kind suggestion, just didn’t see how her simple plan was doomed or why I wasn’t already doing it. Then she labeled my disagreement a “negative attitude” and as me “not trying hard enough.” Crap.

I don’t have any answers. Likewise, I don’t have any interesting analogies to drive my point home this time around. I’m just frustrated.

But frustration leads to action. Action is movement and movement is good, even when it’s not in the right direction. I feel like I’m stuck out in a blizzard, with the snow waist-deep and the howling wind confusing my senses. My feet are numb and my face stings from the wind. It would be so easy to just sit down in the snow and give up. But I can’t. I will not. I don’t know the right way but I know what I won’t do and that’s quit. So I move on. I will keep my feet moving. Movement is good. (Damn, there goes my no-analogies moment!)

One day I’ll find my path. One day, in hindsight, I’ll be amazed at where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. My new single friends won’t believe the amazing stories I tell them about my travels. One day, I’ll see that what I thought was failing was just a redefinition of what it meant to be me.