The Sun is Shining

With spring upon us I can't help but think of a blog I wrote over a year ago. At that point I was 10 months out from losing my soul mate, but all still rings true. This time 2 years ago Michael was home on R&R, it would be the last time we'd spend with each other, and most of it was spent at the river. I hope y'all enjoy it:

How is everyone? Today it is 90 degrees out, sunny and perfect. Today was also a day of further realization. I always connected memories of Michael with photos, places, physical things, etc.. I never had connected him with a hot sunny day in San Marcos, TX. I woke up and knew today would be a day where we would go swimming in his favorite river. A river where he grew up as a kid, a river we went tubing down, a river with memories that could fill a small book. The river where I spread his ashes, a wish he requested and one that is now written in my will for my resting place. Even though he’s probably in the Atlantic ocean by now :D

I remember how he would dive into this falls that I always thought would suck me under. He’d beg me to jump in and I always would. I’d sit on a tiny rock and he’d swim up to me all cold and wet and give me a kiss. Sometimes I’d lay in the sun and he’d jump on me all soaking. On this sun blazing day, I miss you Michael…but I love you even more because I can sit here and share the memories you left me, memories I will forever cherish.

So widows…..share your favorite memory, share that day that is tinged with sadness but filled with recollections of better days. It is one thing to wake up and feel as if it will never get better, but even better when you share it and embed it that deeper in your heart.

Line by line, moment by moment, special times are etched into our memories in the permanent ink of everlasting love in our relationships. -Gloria Gaither

Widows Loving Again

Dear Wonderful Widow.

What did it feel like the first time someone reassured you that you would find love again, that you would find another man, and that it was just a mater of time?

The first person who mentioned the possibility of a new love to me, well, I wanted to break her legs. Ok, maybe this is a little extreme, but it was only a few months after Mike died and to me the mere suggestion reflected a world of misunderstanding of what it had been for me to lose my husband.

I felt unacknowledged and dismissed; as if my marriage was just any marriage and that my pain was less that life altering. It was as if she was saying, he was just a man, your husband, and there are many more like him.

I know the suggestion was well meaning. She did not want to see me in such pain, and I don’t blame her.

What I wanted to say at the time but couldn’t, was that the pain I was in, was mine, all mine. It was what I had left, and I was not going to give it up without a fight and I was not going to toss it out for a man. Any man.

No, there could never be another Mike Elmhirst. Not because he was better than any other man or anyone else’s husband – just because he was Mike. And it was Mike that I missed, not just a husband, and not just being married.

As widows, we must be seen. We need our circumstances acknowledged. We need people to say something like, “You and your husband created something between the two of you that cannot be duplicated.” This is why our fellow widows are so helpful. They know this about us and about our marriages, our husbands and our children. It is why we write so much about our husbands…to be seen.

Yes, we might find a new relationship, and in fact many of us have. I have. When I say it isn’t the same as what I had with Mike, I mean that it is different. Not better and not worse, it is just different. It can’t be the same because he is not Mike and I am not the Mie I used to be. I have grown and changed. The experience of widowhood requires that we change.

Occasionally, on my website, I talk about dating again, for widows who are ready to explore new relationships. And invariably I get emails from new widows who are hurt at the suggestion. I understand this. It hurt me too, when I was a brand new widow.

But we are a community that is as diverse as any population. Some of us date within the first year of widowhood and some of us choose not to date at all. There is room for all of us in our community of widows.

New relationships happen for a widow when there is finally space in her heart to again give and receive. As hard as it is for a new widow to imagine, most in our community eventually get to the point where they enjoy the gift of a loving relationship again. But it takes time and work. A lot of time and a whole lot of work.

Warmly, Mie Elmhirst

I am not alone.

Confession: I am not fun when hungry. When my hunger sets in I get a headache, become weak, and I'm grumpy! I can't hide my hunger well, and David knew this better than anyone. The moment I became difficult he'd ask, "Have you eaten today?" "No." His action? Drop everything and get my wife some food! David always prevented my "hunger monster" from showing it's face. Thinking of this makes me smile, because I know no one takes better care of me than he does.

This week, I found myself... you guessed it... hungry! I had an hour before my appointment, I had just spent the last 20 minutes searching for parking and my headache started to kick in. My choices? Get food and take it back to my car (I've done this many times) or eat in the restaurant... alone. It was almost 15 months ago when the first thought of being the "lonely-looking lady, eating alone" entered my mind. I refused the thought then, but now? I was actually considering it! I've conquered grocery store shopping and cooking a meal for one... but eating out? Ugh. I could feel the lump in my throat swell, my headache grow, and my energy lessen. I have to eat. "Today's the day," I challenged myself.

While placing my order I began to create my plan of action- sit outside in the patio because there are less tables. Less tables meant less people. Less people meant less eyes which, of course, meant less staring. Finally, my food came and it was official... I began my first meal alone in public. All of a sudden, all eyes were on me! The spotlight was focused on me! And everyone waited for my next move ...or so I assumed.

What's better? To act as if you eat out alone all the time and it's no big thing ooor act as if at any moment your company is about to join you? I don't know. I'm pretty sure I did both. I pulled myself together and looked around. No one was watching. No one cared. I was sitting at a table for two and they didn't even blink an eye. Calmly, I began to eat my meal. "Why did you leave me here," I said to David. I tried to take each bite with purpose, hoping I would appear less insecure. I picked up my phone... checked my email... looked at my twitter account. Before I knew it... it was like my dad had let go of the bike before I had the chance to realized I was riding it on my own. I was doing it! Eating. Alone. I took a deep breath, "You're almost done."

(My phone rang) My eyes got big with excitement, "Woo-who! I'm being rescued!!...No. Nicole, don't answer. No cheating. You must do this alone."
(Voicemail) "Listening to the voicemail isn't cheating..." I convinced myself as I brought the phone to my ear.

"Nooo!" It was a new widow... one I had been worried about. Never having heard the voice of another widow before, I knew calling me was a challenge for her in itself. And I just let it ring! Before her voicemail could finish playing my phone died. "Crap!" I stuffed what I could in my mouth, left the rest behind and began a quick pace back to the car. I had to plug in my phone and at least tell her I'm out of battery before my appointment begins in 9 minutes!

As I hustled my way to the car, it hit me... As I faced my apprehension, a widow clear across the country was also overcoming hers. She made her first call to another widow. And I knew in that moment what David would say as he'd give me his patient smile, "Oh, My Love... but you are not alone." I closed my eyes briefly as if to inhale it all in... I am not alone.

I'm Sorry to Meet You ....

.... ummmm, what?  Doesn't that sound a bit rude?  I'm SORRY to meet you?  

     Well, one would assume that the above statement is very rude indeed ...... if one is a person who is not reading this blog because they are not on this "path".

For the women (and men) who read this blog because you are on this path, I am very, very sorry to meet you.

    Let me introduce myself ..... I am Janine Eggers and I have been walking this path for 15 months.  My husband, Jim, died suddenly and horrifically on December 18, 2007.  One week before Christmas.  Three weeks before his 48th birthday.  Five months before our 25th wedding anniversary.

    He woke up early on the morning of December 17th, with pain in his throat.  It turned out to be a tear in his aorta.  My children and I had about 7 hours with him before they took him into surgery that would "save his life" (80 - 90% chance ... or so I was told).  He never made it out.

    So now I walk this path.  Some people refer to it as a club, but I think the word "club" implies something a bit more .... fun.  Something you choose to join.  Something that makes you happy when new members join.

    This path .... not so much.  I hate it.  You hate it.  We did not choose to be here and we would give up everything we own, everyone we love, to get back off of it.

   So yes, I am sorry to meet you.  My heart breaks every single time I meet, or hear of, a new widow.

     I have 6 children who are learning to walk on their own path, too.  They seem to be doing much better than I am, but then .... they have suffered a different kind of loss, so it doesn't help to try to make comparisons.

     Our oldest three children are girls, 24, 21 & 21 (identical girls) and then we have 3 boys, 18, 16 and 14.

Yes, my hands have always been full ..... but in such a wonderful way.

     

      So now I walk this path.  And as horrible as it is ..... I have found some spots of light along the way.  And surprise, surprise ..... these spots of light are each one of you who are on it with me.  

     In the horribleness that is my life ..... I have seen good.  And the good happens whenever I "meet" one of you.  Yes, I'm sorry you have any reason to find this blog.  Yes, my heart breaks for the pain you now have ...... but after I get past that part .... I find amazement.

     I have met the most amazing people on this path.  And the thing I find the most amazing is how truly quickly and deeply we connect with one another.  My broken, grieving heart can instantly recognize another broken and grieving heart --- and they each reach out to the other. It's not something I have any control over ..... it's not a decision I make.  It just happens.  My heart leads the way.  

Grief has softened my heart and given it eyes and ears for other hearts in pain.

And I am amazed every single time it happens.  I am amazed at the depth of love I can feel for a complete stranger ....... just because she is grieving.  I want to reach out through my computer screen and hug that person .... long and hard.

I miss those hugs.

    So .... although I am so very sorry to meet you, I'm glad that we've met..  I'm looking forward to meeting new people, making new friends and sharing what I've learned on this path (as well as learning from each of you).

I am honored to be a writer on this blog.  I know, without a doubt, that my life has taken a new twist here in my "after" (I describe my life as "before" and "after").  I look forward to meeting more of you .... especially (and hopefully) at the conference in July in San Diego.

     Again .....  I would never, ever choose to be on this path .... if given the choice.  But it seems that it was not my choice to choose.  And so I put one foot in front of the other ..... sometimes it's 3 steps forwards, 5 steps back, but it is what it is.

And I am so grateful for the people I've met along the way.  People who let me know that I'm not crazy,  or ready to be placed in an institution.

I didn't get "the book" on how to deal with this, as none of you did.

And so we move forward, one step at a time ..... one breath at a time.

And if, in meeting you .... and seeing your light, God shows me just a wee bit of light in my life and in my circumstances..... then I am more grateful than words can say. 

So ..... even though I'm sorry to meet you ...... I'm glad that we've found each other.

Very, very glad.

Janine Eggers

Monday, Monday...

Yesterday was one of those days. The kind that finds you hitting the snooze button, feeling a bit under the weather, and wishing like crazy it wasn’t Monday morning. Regardless of my wish, the demands of life motivated me to drag my tired butt out of bed and get going. Money doesn’t make itself, and little boys don’t take themselves to school, these are facts.

One hour later, I dropped off my chatty little morning child safely at school. Hot coffee in hand, I headed for the toll road and the 30 minute commute to the office. Usually I chat with a friend on the way in (yes, recklessly talking on the phone while potentially endangering the lives of innocent people in their cars along side me. I know, I know, I shouldn't, but it’s still legal in Texas. :) This Monday morning, I just wasn’t in the mood. I listened to some music and tried to lift my spirits.

A song I’d never heard before came on, something about loving an old coffee shop and meeting someone there. For some reason, the song brought back a memory of Daniel, Grayson, and me walking to the Coffee Nut coffee shop in Buda, just a block from our house. Daniel and I are holding hands and Grayson is riding his little bike with the training wheels still on it. For just a flash I was there in that moment, feeling Daniel’s hand over mine, watching Grayson, so proud of himself on his big boy bike. It was a beautiful agonizing moment and it left me weak, crying, struggling to see the road as I drove myself into work.

So much for lifting my spirits! I needed some backup: I called my mom, cried on her shoulder, and we shared a laugh when I told her I was missing my husband and the PMS wasn’t helping the situation either. Sometimes the ability to laugh when it hurts can make all the difference. Thanks for laughing with me Mom! And the good news is: I survived. It is now Tuesday.

Happy Tuesday, I think it’s going to be a great day. - Michelle (dippel)

Team Dippel

When my husband received his third and final cancer diagnosis in the fall of 2005, he decided to formalize his support team and designed a T-shirt that he intended to make and pass out to his posse. His shirt read: “Team Dippel, Living to Fight - Fighting to Live” on the front and on the back it read: “Fight to be Cancer Free in 2006”. Unfortunately he died a week after he designed it and the shirt was never completed.

Part of the shirt idea lives on in the name Team Dippel. I adopted the name for our American Cancer Society Relay for Life (RFL) Team, which I formed in the spring of 2006. I had ball caps made for all of Team Dippel, and we wear them each year at RFL. Relay is coming up again in April, and we are fundraising like crazy. Our team is currently in 5th place, and I’m hoping we can maintain it. I can’t really speak for the other team members (sisters-in-law, cousins-in-law, brothers, parents, friends, nieces and nephews), but the RFL is an emotionally charged and bitter sweet event for me.

The first year, I was completely unprepared for the intensity of my emotions. As I watched the survivors take their honorary lap, I was struck by the unfairness of it all and wanted to cry out: “Why? Why these people and not him? Why isn’t he here holding my son’s hand and wearing his purple survivors t-shirt? Why?” I felt such raw and conflicting emotions at that moment: bitterness at our loss, happiness and awe for the survival of these other amazing people, guilt for feeling bitter, and also a terrible, terrible sadness.

We have done the relay event for three years now and are coming up on our fourth. I am still somewhat plagued by the same range of feelings although the bitterness has mellowed a bit. Why isn’t he here wearing his shirt? I think the why of it will follow me for the rest of my life, and that question will only be answered when I am no longer around to ask it. The RFL provides an outlet for me though. I feel less powerless in the face of a ruthless disease and feel like I am “Living to Fight” as Daniel had hoped to be. I am empowered by the possibility that I am making a small contribution that might change the path for someone else.

Who Am I?

Love vanquishes time. To lovers, a moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock. Across the barriers of time and the ultimate destiny, love persists, for the home of the beloved, absent or present, is always in the mind and heart. Absence does not diminish love.

--Mary Parrish

Who am I?

At 21, life threw a wrench into the mechanics of my life. I had found all the parts that made me me, all the parts that kept my heart racing, all the parts that made my dreams come true. But on May 21, 2007 a phone call would take it all away.

Michael had been killed by multiple roadside bombs while serving in Baghdad, Iraq.

My soul mate, biggest fan and partner in crime had been taken from me by the most simplest of actions...the push of a detonator button.

I was lost, I was confused, I was broken hearted, I was torn, but for some reason I was still breathing. At first this was something I despised, the inhale, the exhale. As time passed I realized that there was still his love throbbing through my veins, and for that simple reason I could not give up.

I've embraced life, and even though my grip is not always the tightest, I will never let go.

I am a survivor.
I am a wife.
I am Michael's Widow.....

And that is who I am.