The truth?

Have you ever had to lie to protect yourself? To protect what's left of you?

I thought I was ready to go back to work 3 months after David was killed. I have no particular logic as to why I thought it was time to mingle with the "others" but I assumed if I just refused eye contact I'd be OK.

In my line of work, you see the same people maybe once a month or once every few months, so there's plenty of small talk... "How's the family" "What are you up to" .... When I got to work, I realized no one knew. No one knew what I had just gone through only 3 short months ago, what I still go through every day. They had no idea nor did I think they cared that my soul mate was killed in Iraq.

I kept to myself. Sticking to the plan: NO EYE CONTACT. I had my cell phone in my hand at all times and the moment I felt a conversation heading my direction I used it. But, of course, this plan didn't work all day. An elderly gentleman began a polite conversation with me... He noticed my wedding ring and began the routine:

"Wow. You look so young... Are you really married?" (Blah Blah Blah)
"Yes, I am"

I knew it was coming... the dreaded questions... about David.

"What does you husband do?"
"He's in the military. Army."
"Oh! Where is stationed?"

...... I took a huge deep breath... this was it...

"He was killed in Iraq 3 months ago."

It surprised me how flat the words came out of my mouth. I said them fast, as if ripping a band aid off. But it didn't help, right at that moment I wanted to run away. Run home. Allow my bed to swallow me whole!

He began, "Well, your heart should be healed by now... You're so young... When do you think you'll start dating again?"

Oh, this poor unsuspecting man never saw me coming. I finished this conversation and I finished it well... giving him no chance to interrupt me, I told him exactly what I was thinking. When I walked away from the man (now 5 inches shorter) I felt like collapsing. I was exhausted! It took so much out of me, more than I thought remained, to fight... to defend my love. I realised I couldn't do this all day long.

So when the next innocent person began the routine conversation... "Are you married? What does your husband do? Where is he?".... I'd answer,

"He's in Iraq."

This seemed to go over better then telling the truth. So this is what I did instead. I lied. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't in denial about David... I knew very well that he was gone... not in Iraq. But I couldn't stand the comments, the casualness... the dismissal. I had to protect myself. There were those rare people I entrusted with the truth but I always chose who to tell my story to, our story, very carefully.

This week I found myself in a position to continue my lie or tell them the truth. I hadn't seen this group of people in about a year and last thing I told them was David "was in Iraq." I decided, whoever asked would get an honest answer. They asked. I casually briefed them on the past 15 months of my life. They nodded. Giving a "wow" every now and then. And it was over. Nothing special. No tears, no hugs, no "you poor thing..." I didn't feel particularly ecstatic about their emotionless reaction but... now they knew.

I began this journey scrambling for "support." I was unable to speak the truth, because at the end of the day I was left alone with my thoughts... with their piercing words... with my pain. Now... I can look to the east and west and see... another widow's journey... I could look in front of me and see those ahead in their walk... I could look in back of me, to see those entering the doors I've opened. This among other things gives me strength to tell undeserving ears the truth. Our story is mine to tell, and I reserve the right to withhold it if needed... but I'm less scared at this point to share it with those who can not relate.

The truth is: My gorgeous husband sacrificed his life to protect me and his men... He served this country. Our story? Ask me. I'm proud to share it.

The Inconsistency of Consistency ....

     If there's one thing you can count on while on this road through widowhood (and there's not much!) ..... it's how constantly inconsistent everything seems to be ....... especially, but not limited to, our emotions.

 

     I used to think I was crazy ..... early on the path.  I mean, after the first few months of black blurriness, I started to emerge once in a while.  And then I'd realize, at the end of a day, that that day had not been too bad.  If fact, I might have almost called it "good" if that word hadn't seemed so inappropriate!

     And then, wonder of wonders, the next day went by and it was almost "good".  Two days of almost "good"?  "Well," I'd think to myself, "I must be getting better!"

(ummmm ..... yes ..... like I had the flu or something ....... this was, remember, the "early days" on the path).

     And then I'd wake up the next day ....... and ...... WHAM!!!!  I'd be blindsided by a huge wave of grief that I never saw coming.  No reason.  No one to blame.  No finger to point.

It just hit.

And it hit hard.

And dropped me to my knees.

     And there I' be, soaking wet, coughing, choking on the salty water of grief, crying and wondering ..... "what the hell .....?   I thought I was doing better ........?"

     And that, my sisters on this path, is the one consistent thing I've found ...... you never know when the next wave will hit.

     Note that I didn't say "you never know IF the next wave will hit" ...... because it will. 

Sometimes we will be able to see the wave coming ..... we can expect it and watch it as it approaches, building in size as it gets closer and closer.  But on those occasions, when we know it's coming, we can prepare ourselves.  We can change our stance, planting our feet as firmly as we can in the shifting sand of the ocean.  We can bend our knees so that our strength is centered lower in our bodies and we can manage to stay upright as the wave crashes over us.  We might teeter a bit, but it's easier for us to keep our balance, shake off the water and stand back up.

     

     But when we're standing upright, unaware, looking back at the shore ...... dreaming of what was back on that shore ..... and we can't see that wave building and building and getting closer and closer ...... we are slammed to the bottom of the ocean floor when it hits.  And then we are drug out further with the pull of that wave.  

Yes, we kick at it, we struggle against it and we claw our way back up to the surface, our eyes stinging, our throat burning ...... but we do manage to stand back up.  It just takes a bit longer when we're hit unaware.

     I'm not saying that we should always be aware ..... always scanning the horizon for the next wave.  That's impossible.  

We can't do that.  We each have a life to live, we have responsibilities, we have others who need us.  We can't possibly be anticipating every wave.

    But we can give ourselves grace.  The grace to know, and accept, that these waves will hit and they will drag us down once in a while.  The grace to say ....."That's OK.   Just because I'm brought down by a wave does not mean that I am weak, or that I am crazy, or that I am not grieving well."

     These waves are normal ..... whatever that word now means.  They will come.  And we will fall.  

     But hopefully, they will start to come less often.  Hopefully there will be longer times of peaceful waters between the waves.

     And ..... hopefully ..... they won't always knock us down.  Shake us up, yes.  Upset the balance for a bit ..... yes.  But knock us flat?  Hopefully not.

Or at least ....... hopefully not as often.

So, if a wave should catch you unaware today, or next week ..... or even next year ..... please remember ...... to give yourself the precious gift of GRACE ...... and know, without a doubt, that you are "normal", you are not alone ...... and that the waters will become calm again.

Pennies from Heaven

Years ago I was walking with a friend and we came upon a dime lying on the ground. Seeming disappointed, she stooped to pick up the coin saying she thought it was a penny. When I asked why she wanted a penny, she looked up at me and said, "Don't you know the story of pennies from heaven?" After I told her that I'd heard the phrase, but didn't know the story, she explained that anytime you found a penny someone in heaven was thinking of you. I laughed aloud and said that Phil so enjoyed being different I wouldn't doubt he would drop a dime from heaven instead of a penny...just on principle. She stopped in her tracks, looked me in the eye, handed me the dime, and said "Then this must be for you."

That small exchange has given pennies a new meaning for me. From that day forward (ignoring Phil's need to be different) every time I found a penny I thought of him. And of course I began finding those copper pieces in odd places. I found one on my pillow on the anniversary of his death. Once while having a very difficult day I found one perfectly centered on the seat of my car. While opening my Christmas stocking at my parents house I found a lone penny at the bottom of my stocking. My penny discoveries have continued since that day, and they always make me smile. I don't really care if they are a "sign" or not...they remind me of Phil and that is enough.

But I do have to say that every now and then the placement of these shiny tokens is unnerving. There are moments in my life when I am desperate for a bit of reassurance from Phil. I want to know he is proud of me. I wonder whether or not he would approve of a decision I have struggled to make. Sometimes I just want to know he hasn't forgotten me. Is it possible for finding a coin to be the thing that says...yes, I am still here? Can randomly discovered one cent pieces confirm that a decision made is a good one? Would Phil really use a penny instead of a dime to send his love? As with all things widow, the answer lies somewhere between of course and who knows. No matter how badly I wish it or what I would give up to change it...Phil isn't coming home. And though I do believe he would be proud of me today, I also know that at the end of each day I have to find a way to be proud of myself. And then for my own confidence in the decisions I make to be enough.

All that said, I am currently in Australia for the first time. Taking this trip was a big decision, and some life changing possibilities are being explored here. When getting out of the shower on the first morning after my arrival, I looked over on the counter and found a lone penny. American currency on the counter in an Australian home? Yep, I think things are going to be okay.

Birthday Thoughts

Tomorrow is Daniel's 39th birthday. I haven't seen him since he was 35, and that thought surprises me in a way that seems ridiculous. I know he's been gone three and a half years, but not seeing him since he was 35? "Inconceiveable!" The passage of time is a mystery to me. There are moments when it seems like he just left, and others when it feels like a lifetime since we last talked. Time passes regardless, and it appears to pick up speed with each year.

To celebrate this year, Grayson and I loaded up on Friday and headed to the Texas coast. Daniel loved the ocean and would try to escape to Rockport whenever he could. We have really wonderful old friends who live there and they are always game to celebrate with us, whatever the occasion. My father-in-law and his wife joined us for dinner last night, and we ended up sitting around the table telling old stories on each other and on Daniel in particular. There were some really great ones, and a few tears of laughter shared in response. It is always a comfort to me to be surrounded by friends and family who can remember and smile. We didn't used to be able to do that, it was too painful for everyone. Now, as time passes like a speeding bullet, we find it easier and easier to remember and celebrate the joy he brought us and laugh out loud at the crazy things he did while he was here.

My husband, though with us for a shorter time than any of us planned, lived a fantastic life and was a wonderful man. As I reflect on his birthday and on the millions of happy memories of us I have recorded in my brain, I am so grateful that I was given the opportunity to share his life. What a gift he was to me!

Happy Birthday Daniel. I hope you are playing Heaven's Augusta tomorrow and drinking a Jack and Coke.

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.