Still A Toddler

Well, it's Sunday night, and I just realized I needed to get to writing my Monday post. I have kept very busy today with home improvement projects. And, because of Spring being at my door, I have been miserable with allergies. I seem to be popping Benadryl all day long, as if they were breath mints, which is likely why I have been so drowsy all day as well. Not the kind of day where I would be focused on what date it is.

So I sat down, opened this window to write, and realized it was March 13th. Now I'm not usually one to keep track of dates, which is why I only now realize it, but I have been a widower for exactly 18 months today. I suppose the other way of looking at it, is that Michael has been gone for exactly 18 months.

You know, some days it feels like I have lived without him for such a long time now. The days seem to last so long without him. Yet when I look at the number, I recognize that 18 months is not very long at all. What's 18 months when you expected to be together forever, or at least until you grew old together.

If I think of myself as a baby, or a toddler, I see that I am still in the infancy of grieving. It hasn't been so long since I found the use of my legs, and began walking on my own. I'm still unsure of what lies ahead, partly because at this age, I still don't have a real since of others. I see myself as the center of the universe, and everything, or everyone, else is clouded by my grief.

Sometimes I get a little ahead of myself, thinking I am further along than I actually am, and quickly find myself falling flat on my face. I may cry and cry, but for this toddler, there is no one there to pick me up. There is no one there to hold me close, and reassure me that everything is going to be alright. And because no one is there, I have learned to talk to myself, telling myself to get back up, and start walking forward all over again.

Some falls are little, and I am easier to accept that I will be alright. Other times the fall is harder, and may cause a cut or bruise, which are not so quick to heal, or to repair themselves. These are the times when I feel like I am walking around with an open wound for all to see. The sad thing is, not many people see past the band aid that I clumsily put on my skinned heart. They may notice that somewhere under that bandage is a hurt, but they must tell themselves that I am obviously being taken care of, otherwise I would be walking around bleeding. I always appreciate the rare person who stops me, and asks how I am doing, or inquires how my hurt feels today. I may not have sought the help, but when another person is willing to sit with me, and offers to lift the bandage, so as to clearly see my wound, that is when I know I will be alright again.

And as is the case with an 18 months old, bedtime is not the easiest process to get through either. First of all, I don't like having to sleep alone. I still want, and crave, that warm body next to mine. I still want the feel his heart pumping, or to have his arm pull me close if I need some added assurance. Then as I lay there, hoping that sleep will come soon, it hits me just like every other night, that that which is needed to pacify my agitated soul has been taken away.

I know that I'm supposed to be a big boy now when it comes to living with my grief. Yet, like a baby who is sung a lullaby each night before sleep, I was given a goodnight kiss, along with the words "I love you," before I closed my eyes each night. Now I must soothe myself. I still whisper gently to him each night, "I love you Michael," but now there is no response.

It's not so easy having to grow up and stand on my own two feet. Yet that is what I must do. If I do want something more out of this life, then I will have to walk the best way I can. I will have to assure myself, that if I keep walking, I might just come across something shiny and new.

One step at a time. Getting better and better with each step I take.

The Widow Card Part 2

I got a traffic ticket a few months ago.
Should have hopped out of the car immediately waving my
husband's death certificate. (There is a copy in my computer case, not sure why I leave it there or how it even got there)

Instead, I sat in the car, feeling guilty about even thinking about using
the widow card...
to get out of something that was rightfully my fault.

So I took the hit ($250),
opted for traffic school ($60 fee through town hall),
and registered for an on-line class ($20).

I had two months to do an 8 hour on line class.
I did it in 2 days...The last two days in between the morning routine,
work, car pool, dinner, homework and sleep.

On Februarly 16 at 11:00pm, I hit send.
Feeling all proud of my self.
I did it.
I, the raising-three-kids-money-making-holding-down-the-often-wobbly-unsteady-and-rightfully-insane-fort widow, will not get a point taken from her license
and will not see her insurance rate go up!

The next day I read the form more closely.
The company was supposed to report to the court BY February 16th! I should have had it done at least two days earlier!

I panicked. I cannot afford to have my insurance go up. I got on the phone.
"Please help me." I said "My husband died. I'm raising three kids on my own. I know I should have paid more attention, but it's hard to do right now. Is there anyway you can help me?" Desperation dripped from my mouth.

She was kind. She extended the date. She told me not to worry. She suggested I call back in week to make sure that the ticket was no longer on my record.

I hung up the phone, feeling a bit guilty. Can I still use the widow card? Do I have a right to slap it down? Was I really so busy I couldn't do the course? Is my life really that hectic.

Cause from where I sit, it is SOOOO much better than it was. Can I still be a card carrying member? I am functioning, I'm having fun, I'm learning how to handle all manner of crisis's without him.

When do I stop whipping it out?

I turned and said to my assistant,
"How long do you think I can use the widow card?"
She replied,
"How long will you grieve?"

Guilt gone.

The Weight of Wishing

Filling in for Taryn today with a repost from a year ago....

Every once in awhile I am able to see myself through another person's eyes; sort of like looking up and seeing an image in a mirror, and then realizing the face that is reflected there is yours. The observations from these unguarded moments usually provide some serious food for thought.

Recently I went to see the movie Brothers. I will leave out the movie review, but will tell you that I would probably not have watched this show had I not been with a friend who really wanted to see the film. Brief synopsis: An excellent family man who is in the military goes back for a second tour of duty and ends up being captured. His family thinks he is dead, and grieves his loss. He is then restored to them (this part really hurt...how many times have you wished your spouse's death was all a terrible mistake??) but has been altered due to the horrific experience of being held captive. Not a feel good movie by any stretch of the imagination.

There was a scene, however, that provided a glimpse into my life. At one point the bad boy character is trying to help his brother's widow "feel better." He plans a birthday party for her, complete with a cake baked by her two adorable girls. There are guests, decorations, gifts, candles, and of course everyone yells surprise as she walks in the door. Then the camera pans around the room and you see the exact same look on every face. Expectancy. Did it work? Is she happy? Will she stop wearing the look of death on her face? Have we communicated to her how much we love her? ARE WE ENOUGH? And that last one hit me right in the stomach. Because as widowed people we constantly carry around the weight of other's concerns, fears, sadness, and yes, their wishes for our ultimate happiness...as we are observed, discussed, fretted over, and advised by good meaning folks of all types.

The heroine in this scene looks a little dazed. She obviously understands the reaction that is expected from all the people surrounding her with loving birthday wishes, and yet grief is clearly present in the room. Her need to acknowledge her painful loss clashes with the needs of her loved ones to know that she will one day recover. These same people want to be reassured that they are enough to make her happy, that she will choose to live again because she wants to share her life with them too. As I watched this scene I felt the weight of the wishes that the people in my own life hold close to their hearts for me, and for my children. My shoulders felt heavy, and my heart ached, viscerally I experienced the feeling of being loaded down. The most difficult part was that the load was full of good things...wishes for happiness, wishes for wholeness, wishes for the ability to laugh freely, wishes for the unspoken lines of grief that mark my face to fade away, wishes for good things in our future, wishes for life to be a little kinder to our family, and wishes for the past to not always overshadow the future.

As I watched this actress play my part, I suddenly realized that I have carried the weight of all of the good wishes of my friends and family for over four years. I dragged them around with me even when I couldn't believe that any of them would ever come true. Each wish has been piled on top of the next, and I have been walking around like an overloaded juggler trying not to drop any one of the wonderful things that the amazing people in my life hope for me. The idea of putting them down and letting someone else carry the load for me never crossed my mind.

Seeing myself through the mirror of film, struggling to honor my loss and also to acknowledge the possibility of my future, made the weight of wishing shockingly clear. I wish I had known that my loving friends and family are free to wish as many good things for me as they can dream up, and I am free to be grateful for their kindness and allow them to carry the weight.

the best before date

Photo from here....

As a widow, when does our license to actively grieve expire? Is there a time limit to our sadness? An event that signals the end of our foray into melancholy remembering? An experience that renders the act of longing for our spouse void?

As I drag myself along this road of the widowed person, I know that I am not done. Almost three years and I am not finished. Not completed my grief. I don't know if I will ever be.

Is this longing sadness a luxury? Is it just there because I allow it to be? If I were someone else, or had someone else, would it be over?

I don't know. I do know that I miss him and grieve him everyday still. Even though I have physically moved, changed our lives monumentally and healed enormously....I am not done.

I don't know if this means that I am not ready for another love to enter my life. I don't know if this means that I am broken. I don't know if this means I am honest about my mourning.

I wonder if other people feel that I should be 'finished' by now. That the expiry date on my feelings of loss have long since passed.

I hope not....because I am still feeling them. Even if the expiry date has passed.

march.

three years ago,

my first march in

this house.

overwhelmed by circumstances,

unaware of what

i was in for.

liz

in her bed at

the hospital, madeline

still waiting

to arrive.

the flowers

blooming in

our yard...

grapefruit, lemon and

orange blossoms.

the yellow flowers

on the vine.

the jasmine bush and that

tree in the back

i thought was

dead, suddenly covered

in small, white flowers.

that scent,

like waking up in the

gardens at the

other huntington.

that scent,

you could smell it

a block away.

that scent,

it could cover up

the constant shit smell

of a leaking septic tank

(in my neighbor's yard, not mine, thankfully).

that scent,

it's back.

it reminds me

it's march.

that she never

got to take it all in,

and that i'll never

be who i was

back then.

Life is Messy ....

...... I originally wrote this post 4 months after Jim died ..... exactly one month before what would have been our 25th anniversary.  What. Would. Have. Been.
So very many "what would have beens' over the past 3 years.
Anyway, I was looking through some of my older posts and thought I'd share this one with you.



I have heard it said that if you just pray for God to be in control of your life, and then are willing to accept whatever He wills, things will be just fine.
 REALLY?!! 
You really think so? Some people make Christianity sound so easy and simple .... so neat and tidy. 
Well, I beg to differ. And I should know. When Christians make such trite (though well-meaning, I'm sure) statements, I want to ask "Really?! What the hell has ever happened in your life that would give you the experience to say that?" 
Because I think I can guarantee you that anyone who has had their life turned completely upside down, anyone who has had their life ripped out from underneath them, anyone who has been knocked to the ground --- no, knocked into a huge, bottomless pit, would never say something like that. 
There is nothing neat and tidy about life or about following Christ. And just because we daily TRY (I say "try" because if you've managed to succeed at this then you should definitely write a book to help out the rest of us) to turn everything over to God doesn't mean that everything will turn out "fine". 
Sometimes you can turn things over and still end up in a pit.


 I used to think otherwise .... "before". 
I thought my life was neat and tidy. It seemed to be, mostly (as neat and tidy as it can by with 6 kids). So I have probably said those trite things. And if any one of you have ever been on the receiving end of those words ...... I'm very sorry.I didn't know what I was talking about.
 I know that I have had a very blessed life ..... "before" and "after". 
I know that I am still being blessed. Jim was a wonderful husband, father and provider. He did a great job. 


There are many women in my shoes who aren't as well provided for. I thank God and Jim for that every day. I did lose my best friend and soul-mate and heart, but things could be so, so much worse. 
I say this so that you will know that I do see that side of my life. It isn't always as dark as it once was. 
Not always. 


I'm not sure why I wrote this post (heck, I'm mostly never sure why I write anything!). 
I guess it's just to say, please be careful when you speak. Especially when giving your views on God and life and "why". 
Sometimes we will never, ever know why.

Ever.

We Scare the Hell Out of People

Widowed people are scary. Who knew? I’ve noticed it in the past 5 years and it took me a while to figure it out. Our tragedy makes people uncomfortable in a way that is hard to describe unless you’ve experienced it. But it’s true. I think it is more than just not knowing what to say to us, or thinking we might cry suddenly. I think we scare people because we represent a reality no one wants to face. They want to pretend it won’t ever happen to them. If they can ignore or gloss over our situation, they don’t have to look death in the face. I mean think about it. There is a 50-50 chance a marriage will end in divorce. But, there is a 100 percent chance that if you don’t get divorced first, one of you will die. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT….

And yet…we don’t talk about it. Death is the elephant in the room. So sad it happened to Daniel, Michelle and Grayson (in head thought – OMG, so unlucky, thank God it didn’t happen to us)….and to that I say: “YET”. It hasn’t happened to you yet, but it will. We all die. When is the only unanswered question. I’m not trying to be dark and foreboding here. None of us make it out alive. I’ve had to face reality. Clearly I cannot pretend it won’t happen to me. Selfishly I hope that if I ever remarry I get to die first. Seriously. I don’t want to do this ever again. Fortunately for G and any future husband, the women in my family live forever, so it is likely that I’ll outlive any man I choose. Perhaps I should become a cougar to increase my chances of dying first? ;-) Just kidding!!

Sorry to get off topic – We represent the reality that no one wants to face – this could happen to them at anytime. We are living evidence of the shortness and unpredictability of life. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing though. I like to put a positive spin on this. I hope I am evidence in a positive way. I hope that people see us and are reminded that they should be living life to the fullest each day. I hope they hug each other tighter, say I love you more often and don’t put things off until tomorrow. I hope I scare them into not taking things for granted.

BOO! Now get out there and live your life. Who knows how much time you have?