The Good Times Are Better Forgotten

Source - a facebook friend

In two months and 8 days, I will be forced into the 3 year anniversary. I have been treading lightly, trying to come to terms with the 3 year, and well.. I haven’t accepted these terms.

I never signed on a dotted line. I never accepted “You are widowed, sign here”, some crappy contract I got stuck with. I didn't sign up for some service, that would throw me into the widowed club, yet, I’m stuck with it.

There are times (like today) that I think “Holy shit, I am widowed!” Then comes the “I didn't sign up for this shit, it was Seth’s decision to leave this world, not mine, he should have to live in this hell, NOT ME!!”

Yes, I’m a tad angry. Every year before the anniversary, I start falling into the anger stage... And it’s here, sitting next to me, slowly swirling my hair, and saying oh so softly “Let’s be angry, it will be fun!”

What the anger stage doesn't realize is I hate it. The anger stage scares the crap out of me every time. There is nothing worse than being stuck in this hell, and pissed off at the whole world around you.

I can finally see that every year I fall into the anger stage shortly before the anniversary.

Stupid anger and stupid widowhood.

Did I mention I’m a tad angry?

Yes, just a tad. My really angry posts don’t get posted here, because let’s just say, that are above and beyond R rated.

Lately I have been flooded with good memories of my life with Seth. Up until this point, I had very little good memories with Seth.. at least, I couldn't remember them because of my pain and widow brain. The memories are slowly starting to leak in.. and I’ll find myself smiling at myself at the most unacceptable times. Some days it’s almost easier to not remember the good times. Remembering the good times makes it hurt worse. Makes me miss him more. Slaps me with “look what you lost, ha!” And gives me a case of the “I wish.” I wish this wasn't my life. I wish this wasn't my husband’s life. I wish that tomorrow I will wake up and this will all be gone. I wish there was a magic pill to wipe away the pain and anguish.

So it’s almost easier to remember the bad times then it is to remember the good times.

The good times hurt.. hurt really bad. Looking back at the times gone by, leave me confused, hurt and feeling alone. I have been tip toeing into the past, for very short time spans, but trying to allow the good memories back into this poor brain of mine. (I’m starting to wonder when this brain of mine will have enough of my crap and leave me.)

I've been thinking about the upcoming 3 year anniversary and I am honestly really scared. I have realized with each anniversary, birthday and holiday, I step into the events in sheer fear..

Fear because I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.. and fear that there will be one last grief breakdown that I won’t be able to get up from. What if this is the one that makes me snap and I never recover?

I think because I have fallen into the deep hole of hell and depression before, I am afraid of going there again.. if I go there again, I doubt I will reemerge. I doubt I will recover.   

But I realized the fear of upcoming events, is actually a good thing.

That means I am fully aware how bad this is going to hurt. I am fully aware that I might need 4 days in bed, or a bottle of wine. I am fully aware that I am walking into a trap. And I am fully aware that the lining between life and that black hole of hell is really thin. One miss step and I could be in the hole.

It means, that I finally have self awareness. Awareness of what I’m walking into, and caring enough about myself to fear what this anniversary could bring.

I’m sure come the 3 year anniversary,  I will be able to give you a whole list of what I've learned.

But for now I have learned the good times hurt and it’s okay to care enough about myself to know (and be prepared) for what is coming up.

a blessing for all things

Photo from here.....

The unthankful heart discovers no mercies; but the thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings.

-- Henry Ward Beecher

I have found that at times, I am a whiny, ungrateful little sap. I moan at life's injustice and cry out at the lot I have been given. I beat my fists against fate and want to scream when I hear "It happened for a reason". What the hell reason could it be that I had to lose my love so early? What reason is there that my children have to go to bed without their daddy's furry kiss?

But this quote and a few others like it help me to remember that perhaps there isn't a "reason" but a blessing for all things.

I am not blessed that Jeff is gone. But I am stronger, more empathetic and kinder since losing such a huge piece of my heart and life. And I am thankful for this....

I am thankful for my community and friends who support me with their love and generosity, reminding me that I am not alone.

I am thankful for the other widows I know and continue to meet for although we are all broken, we all seem to share a wicked sense of humour and an understanding of the truly important things in life.

I am thankful for every day that I am able to spend holding our small children's hands for I could have been the one who died.

I am thankful for the love he gave me and memories I have stored in my heart available when I need him close. It is NOT the same as having him here, but I am thankful that I did for a time.

And I am thankful for the opportunity to learn, grow and become who I am.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!

strength

I have read a variety of quotes with a similar message. I think anyone who has dealt with trauma, loss or tragedy has come face-to-face with this choice. I also think that, at times, we have all chosen each one of the three options. I just hope that as we all get further from the moment that provoked this epiphany, we manage to choose to let this event strengthen us. To grow instead of be wilted. To swim, not sink. There is no need for one life to be wasted for the sole reason that one life was lost.

a choice

Photo from here....

I spend a lot of time loathing what has "become" of my life. Ruminating over the "before" and "after". Taking stock of the injustice of losing my beloved so early in my life. Wishing life now was different.

But when I imagine having a life that was so dramatically different and without the pain of Jeff's death and all the repercussions from his premature expiration date, I realize that I have erased him and all the good things as well. No memories of dancing slowly to Van Morrison in the wheel house of his boat to remember. No birth of our children to hold dear. No ripples of laughter shared when telling the stories of our life together.

And although it is and has been hard and painful, I realize that I would do it again. If I had the choice to go back knowing how soon it would all be over, I would still go back. I would relive every special, annoying, sweet, loving and funny moment if only I could spend it again....with full knowledge that he would be gone too soon.

I would choose him....and this life over and over again.....

kinship

Photo from here....

Nine months after Jeff died, my beloved grandfather joined him in the great fishing grounds in the sky. My grandmother was, understandably bereft. She asked me, "Does it ever begin to feel any better?" In that moment, I was struck by one thing. We were now not only linked by blood and family, but by the kinship of grieving our spouse.

Marriage always ends. Either by divorce or death. I am unaware of a "sister/brotherhood of divorcees" as, fortunately, I have not had to endure this. But I have definitely become part of the fraternity know as "widowed".

I am so very often struck by the kinship and kindness that runs through this group. The nods of understanding and the gentle acknowledgement of each other's pain. Whether 20 or 80, we understand. The details are always different, but the pain of loss is always the same.

Us widows? We have each other's backs. We stand up for each other. We support each other. And we assist each other.

If I have to be part of either group, although I hate what has brought me here, I am glad to share it all of you. Thank you for holding my hand, laughing with me through hysterics, helping me to jump my hurdles and lending an ear.

Let's all remember to be empathetic and sensitive to each other. Because at times, we are the only ones who understand. And I want each and everyone of you to know how much you are appreciated.

give me one reason

In any tragedy, early loss or hard lesson, we look for a reason behind it. The "why". Over the last three years I have searched for the explanation, or rationale, for Jeff's death and all the aftermath of his loss. Not the reason written on his autopsy certificate or the coroner's report. Something deeper. Something less concrete but still as real...and "good". I have searched for a sort of justification for his loss. Some signal that the repercussions for his death were not all negative and in vain. I have felt the flicker of atonement when an acquaintance had heard that Jeff's reluctance to go to the doctor resulted in his death and insisted her husband go to the doctor for a persistently bothersome throat...only to find out that he had cancer and possibly had a chance to catch it in time. I felt some sort of rationale - maybe Jeff saved someone else's daddy in a round about way. While signing a co-worker's life insurance papers as a witness after telling them of our life insurance debacle and how life would be so different for the kids and me if I didn't have to worry about money, I felt an acknowledgement for our loss. Someone wouldn't have to face widowhood with children and not know how they would provide for them financially. After singlehandedly installing six fence posts correctly in our backyard with only the help of a postpounder, a level and a ladder (plus an extremely zealous four-year old boy), I wondered over whether I would have not only been able to do this before Jeff's death and if I would have had the confidence to unquestioningly tackle the project alone. I certainly feel that will never be a good enough reason for losing my beloved...But there may be some other purpose behind his loss. A string of positive happens that would not have happened if I were able to hold him just a little longer. Hopefully, each loss of each of our spouses has caused some amount of positive to ripple through humanity. Because I need some amount of rationale. Some amount of explanation. Some amount of knowledge that my love's life did not go unnoticed.

Pretty Panty Problems

Photo from here...

There's an old adage that says that you should make sure that you are always wearing nice underpants in case you end up at the hospital and some health care worker witnesses the terrible state of your undergarments.
I remember this and other silly issues causing me concern at one point.
I could worry about this still...if I worked at it. But now, it is a choice.
I can care that someone believes that I am too old for my nose ring. I may occasionally wonder if I appear to be a socially responsible human. I might stress about the length of the lawn.
Since Jeff's death, I truly realize that "Life is short". All of us reading this blog are painfully aware. Our hearts ache and we may wonder 'why' this has happened. Why we have lost our loved ones.
But if we can look through the mesh of fear and sadness that our loss has created, we can see the gift that this loss has given us.
It's the gift of knowing what is important. Truly important.
It's not the whole-y undies that matter - it's the person that's wearing them. Their deeds, their heart, their memories. Well-loved and saggy, rainbow tie-dyed underpants can be replaced. The fabulous human who sports them cannot.
Although this lesson has come with a heartbreaking price, I am a kinder, better and more fun and confident person because of it....And if you look inside, I bet you are to. And I now feel that many of our everyday issues rank down there with pondering "pretty panty problems".


P.S. Nice undies!!!!