Breaking

I've been traveling a ton the past week and in the midst of that, found myself looking through notebooks filled with quotes and thoughts that have inspired my being.

One in particular, stuck out this evening:

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding."

Whoa!

If that isn't poignant to the ebbs and flows of our lives as surviving spouses, then I don't know what is!?

SO many times I was consumed by the pain, that I put on blinders to the understanding and lessons they carried.

THe pain became a safe haven from the scary and sometimes amazing truths that awaited life after tragedy.

And to be honest, even 6 years later, I sometimes find myself paused on the pain and not pushing play to the teachings.

But that's life. Recognizing the pain. Releasing it. Realizing the jewels of wisdom it carries and carrying on.

Harsh at time to hear, but my reality.

A reality I come to terms with, celebrate and loving fight and release to daily.

Crumb of Cake

Call me crazy, but I'm starting to feel like maybe I'm a little bit crazy.
Is that crazy?

Is it Nuts-ville Crazytown that I feel like I am more in love with my husband now, than ever before? That I would rather have one-way conversations with his spirit or soul, than put any real efforts into possibly finding a new partner who I could actually speak to, human to human? Is it insane that looking at his picture on my nightstand before going to sleep, and saying out loud, in a faint whisper: "Goodnight BooBear - I love you" seems to make more sense to me than saying nothing at all? Seriously - level with me, people -  is it time for me to just go and get the straightjacket and try it on for size? Or is there a place that I can go to exist, where there isn't all this pressure to "move on" or "get myself out there again", and where having a continued relationship with my dead husband isn't universally frowned upon?

I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But is it? Is it?

This is the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with. This one. Not another one that I have to go find all over again at age 42. Not someone new that I would have to date, get to know, figure out, play the stupid games, live the "single" life, read their mind, know their heart, and trust with everything. If I already trust everything with the person that I already chose, why should that have to change? How can it? How can I just not be deeply and powerfully in love with my person anymore? How do I train myself to fall out of love with him? How? And if the answer is that I don't have to, and that I can still love him forever - then how do I go forward in my life having this all-encompassing love for a person who no longer walks the earth? My heart hurts with how much I love him, and with the reality that our time together here is gone. Four and a half years of marriage will just never be enough for me. Not ever.

Imagine being a baker, and spending 7 years of life creating the most delicious, incredible, perfect chocolate cake - that took you until you were 35 years old to get the recipe just right, and you were so proud of your cake and you just wanted to savor in it and taste it over and over and over until time ended - and one quarter of the way through your first, tiny bite of enjoying all your hard work and your creation, before your taste-buds could even react - a large and menacing hand snatches the cake away abruptly, and proceeds to smash it crumb bits, all over the floor. "But I only got one quarter of a bite!", you scream in protest. It's too late. Nobody cares. You only got a crumb of cake, and the rest was taken away for no reason at all. Time's up. (Leave it to the fat widow to come up with a cake analogy.)

I don't know how to do this. My heart is with my husband, and my husband is not here. And even though it is never fair or never enough, to have this new, other-wordly relationship with him - and it's not even close to the same thing as actually having him here with me - this is what we have now. We have this. And there is a very large part of me, that would rather have this with my husband, than have something unknown with anybody else.

My whole life, nobody was ever in love with me. Nobody ever returned my feelings back. Nobody ever protected me or made me feel safe or truly, deeply loved. Nobody. Not until I met Don. Not in high school, not in college, not after college - nowhere. Nobody. I dated a lot of idiots over those young years. I had boyfriends. Some were nice, some were not. But none of them were deeply, madly in love with me. When I finally, finally met my person - I was almost 29 years old. He was in Florida, I was in New Jersey. We bonded in a music chat room online, and became instant friends. And then more. He flew out to meet me, and then we were in love. I told him things about me that nobody else knew, or knows. I shared with him my soul and my fears and my heart. For 7 years, we dated long-distance, until he packed up his life and moved to New Jersey for me. Because he loved me deeply and madly. He supported me and cheered me on in my dreams. We were a team. Always a team.

Now he is gone. I know how to live without him. I'm learning, and it isn't easy, but I know I can do it, and I know I will be okay. I know how to live without him. But how do I love without him?

If I'm being totally honest, and I always am in my writing, I will say that I am terrified. I am scared to death of growing old all alone, and dying all alone. Even more, I am frightened beyond words that he was my only person. That for the rest of my years, nobody will ever love me in that beautiful, amazing, trust-you-with-my-life sort of way, ever again. I live in terror that I will be granted a long, healthy life - never being allowed another bite of that cake.

Goodbye for now

Bayor Matthias Cunningham arrived safely on November 23, and he's pretty much awesome in every way possible.

Two writers stepping down in one week?!?

First it was Melinda. Now, it's my turn.

This is very bittersweet for me. I am so incredibly thankful for the platform that Michele has given me to open up my heart and share my journey. I have learned so much just from watching my life unfold in my own words and processing through it, as well as reading alongside the rest of you the posts from the other great writers here.

But the time has come for me to pass the torch. I feel like my heart has been in a good place for a long time now, but there's something that always pulls me back here. Like I needed permission to still grieve and love Jeremy even when other things are going on in life. You all let me do that without question, without judgement, and with complete understanding. I know that there is truly no amount of happiness, success, or good things that can take away the dull ache I have in my heart from the irreplaceable void that Jer left there. He is my love forever, he holds a piece of my heart, my life, my children, and even my future until the day I'm done here. I know now that no one can take that away from me.

My goal has always been to use this outlet to somehow touch other lives who are walking the same horrible path. I pray that I've done that, even just once. But I know that it's time to step aside and let you connect with another writer who might have more to give.  Between the day to day craziness of settling in to our new community after a huge move, trying to keep up with a new house, new jobs, 4 kids with daily homework, a toddler who is more like a tornado...oh, and did I mention I had a baby last week?!? Yea- it gets a little nuts around here. This space has always been an escape and a place for me to regroup and take the time to dig through my own emotions I don't always understand during the week or to work through my grief I sometimes push aside on a daily basis, but I've come to a point where other things need my focus.

So, I babble just to really say thank you. Thank you for being such an encouragement to me. Thank you for honoring my love by allowing me to share pieces of him with you. Thank you for sharing pieces of your loves with me as well in comments, emails, etc. This community really is a special one, and you haven't seen the last of me - I hope to continue to be a guest writer here when needed.

I know that you all will be just as encouraging to our new writer. Amanda will be taking over my day, but we will have a new Tuesday writer....let me introduce Kerryl McGlennon:

Ian and I met on 11 June 2009 after first contact on an on-line dating site and I knew he was going to be the man I would marry the moment I laid eyes on him. Four months later he came to my office, handed me a cactus, and asked me to marry him (he apparently didn’t see the florist over the road – but did find a cactus!). We married on 4 June 2011, celebrating with our 4 month old son, family and friends.

In February 2012 he had heart surgery for a wonky heart-beat, and he got hit with the rarest complication which showed up on March 17, his 46th birthday. After a roller-coaster three months of battling infection and complications on the complication, he passed away on 14 June, ten days after our first wedding anniversary. We managed to fit a lot into three short years.

I’m now raising our son, who is apparently just like his father was as a child in both looks and temperament, and trying to instil in him what was important to Ian (while sometimes being rather miffed Ian got out of dealing with toddler tantrums). And in part of the soul searching aftermath, at 38 I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up, so am studying accounting part-time at university. Although I have to walk this road, I’m incredibly grateful that road is in the country I live in, and I’m walking it at this time in history.

Welcome to this incredible community, Kerryl. I'm sorry you have a reason to be a part of it, but we're so glad you're here.

Life Does NOT Look ......

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...... the way I expected it to look ...... 6 years ago.

Six years ago he was still alive.
Although for only 14 more days,  unbeknownst to any of us.

Over the years, I remember looking at people I knew, who had lost their spouse, and wondering, "What were they thinking 24 hours before?"  Seriously.  I thought that.  I wondered.
I don't know why.
But I did.

And then it happened to me.
Suddenly.
Unexpectedly.
Horrifically.
Horribly.
Cruelly.

And I knew that other people were thinking, "What was she thinking about ...... the day before?"
Well, I'll tell you.
I was thinking, "Thank You, God.  All of the kids are now home."  The last one had arrived Saturday night.  She experienced a few hours with Jim on Sunday, before his aorta tore in the middle of the night on Sunday/Monday.
I was thinking, "I can't believe that Dan Fogelberg died today."  If you had read my blog back then, you would've seen that post.  The last post I wrote before Jim died.
I was thinking,"My Christmas shopping is done!  Now I can sit back and enjoy the time with my kids and the holidays."

That's the kind of thing I was thinking ..... only hours before my life went to hell.
Those are some of the thoughts I had ...... in my innocence, in my naivety, in my "before".

And now?  What are my thoughts now?
First and foremost ...... my life does NOT look at all like I expected it to look.

Oh, I had thoughts of living in NYC.  Jim and I had discussed the idea ...... a bit.  He thought it was a great idea.
And then he died.

So I had thought of us living here.
But I'd never thought of just me living here.
Me and two daughters.
With one son wanting to move here and my third daughter wanting to join us.

I pictured the two of us living in TX, where all of our friends were.
But I knew that we'd have to move in the next couple of years.  His job would have required that.  But we both figured that we would ultimately move back to TX one day.

It's funny (not ha-ha) how fast life can change.
One day you think you know how everything is, and will be, going.
You think you finally have a handle on things.
And then one day, you wake up to find that you don't.
And that you really never did.

So my life doesn't look like I thought it would.
But that doesn't mean that it's horrible.
It was.  For a very long time.
I don't like thinking about that time.

But slowly, sometimes at almost a snail's pace, things changed.  I changed.
I knew that I had a choice to make.
Finally.
Before that point I had no strength to make a choice.  Any choice.
But one day ...... one day, I did.
I had to choose to either ...... die ...... or live.
I knew what Jim would want me to choose.  And by then, I knew what I wanted to choose.
Life.
I was done with Death.  He had taken over too much of my life.  He had moved in and taken ownership over too many things.
It was time to kick him the hell out.
And so I did.

I never pictured losing the friends I lost.
Or gaining the amazing friends I've gained.

It didn't happen over night.  Nothing along this path does, with the exception of the actual death that starts us here.
It's a very long, very dark, very painful and very cold valley.  We all have to walk through it.  At our own pace.

I made it through that valley.  And now I can say that life doesn't look the way I expected it to when I went in.
I never thought I'd be happy again.
I never thought I"d enjoy life again.
I never thought my heart would stop feeling painfully broken.
I never thought I'd really want to live again.
I was wrong.
Thankfully.

I never thought I'd be a person who could offer hope to anyone else.
Seriously.
But here I am.
And that's why I write.
The only reason I write.

No, life doesn't look the way I thought it would ...... 6 years ago.
But that doesn't mean it's not good.
Finally.

The lost art of flirting

... well lost to me anyway.


The last time I did "flirting" (without knowing that the flirtee was already very interested - ie Greg), I was in possession of a rather hot 22 year old body, flawless skin and a geeky naivete that was somehow attractive (who knew?).
In other words, the most flirting I did was glancing in the direction of someone I fancied .... and smiling. After that it wasn't me who was trying to do the impressing.

Now?  Well I *think* I am doing it, but I honestly have no idea whether I am or not.


 I am finding flirting very tricky.

What do modern flirters do?

Apparently taking the piss out of someone (gently) over dodgy taste in tv shows is NOT considered flirting anymore. 
That's my whole schtick now. 
I do the witty come backs. 
I do the friendly sarcasm. (Watching every season of Gilmore Girls can do that to anyone).
 Because funny is sexy .... right? 

Bueller?

I don't do mani-pedis and I don't do games.
I don't go for a hot body anymore; I go for a cool brain.
I go for intelligent conversation and a good sense of humour.
I go for kindness and compassion.
I go for someone who can make me smile and who is good at cuddling on the lounge and watching dodgy tv shows.
(I think I just described Dara Ó Briain -funny and cuddly.  Also, he's already married so that is another thing I don't do: married men). 

This flirting thing is tricky.




Looking at the good news though ... did anyone notice I just wrote an Entire Post on flirting?  
A year ago, the thought of flirting was equivalent to stabbing myself in the eye, repeatedly.  With a knitting needle.  
Must mean I am starting to get my act together!

Dreams

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I never dream of him. I can't for the life of me figure out why or how the person I spent most moments of 15 years with, the person I was closest to in my entire life, doesn't show up in my dreams now that he's gone from this earth. Or if he is, why I don't remember those dreams but I do remember the mundane, annoying, or ridiculous dreams instead.

I love science and I search automatically for a scientifically sound answer for this, but there really isn't one. I think even the science world is a little stumped by dreaming.

I do know that the belief is that the subconscious is always talking to us and processing while we dream. And that it doesn't talk very directly necessarily. It talks in symbols and metaphors and can be twisted and unreal.

So, maybe I have been dreaming about the loss and the missing him and the pain, but it hasn't showed up as him in bodily form. It was code for him. But I want him to visit my dreams. I want a little bit of him back, if only in my subconscious processing at night.

I'm losing the feel of him, the smell, the sound. I'm losing all of it. It's slipping away. I need it all to come back in my dreams so I can know that it's still there, somewhere in my brain, even it's it's not accessible during my waking hours.

My life is moving on whether I want it to or not. I'm moving farther and farther away from the last time I heard his voice or felt his hand enfolding mine.

If I could just have a dream of him, here and there, I'd know he still exists in my brain. As a whole being, a person. Not just a memory. Not just a suggestion.

I have a lot of trouble visualizing lately. When I'm awake I can't seem to visualize moments we had together or him talking to me, looking at me, touching me. I can conceptualize that those things happened, but I don't get a really clear picture in my mind of the events.

Maybe that has something to do with my dreams. My dreams seem a little out of focus and they're lacking the depth they used to have.

It's almost as though those memories are these incredibly painful bruises in my mind and to go anywhere near them is like threatening to poke hard at the bruise, so my mind protects itself by shutting those files down before I can get at them.

It seems logical that the memories would give me comfort and that I'd long for them, and I do, but my brain seems to be too skittish to really dig in and watch those filmstrips straight on whether I want to or not. A little peripheral glimpse and boom, the reel stops and the picture goes black.

It'd be nice if my subconscious mind would throw me a visit here and there. Or if it's possible for a person's soul to actually visit in our dreams, then it'd be nice if he'd show up.

I guess it's just not time yet, either way. But if my brain waits too long, will the memories be too hard to access even for dreams? Maybe just by writing this, I'll get to dream of him tonight. It would be so nice to get a message from him.

I don't think it's too much to ask for after being away from each other for so long.

"And Then.." Part 2

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Well friends.. my time has come.

I am retiring from widow’s voice.

Today is my last blog.

I've been thinking about quitting for a couple of months now. I couldn't figure out why I wanted to quit something that has always brought me such relief and peace.

While talking to a friend about not writing anymore, he said “The Melinda I knew a year ago was a widow. Being a widow was your identity and made you who you were. The Melinda I know now has been widowed but is not a widow. It no longer defines you.”

Ah ha. It clicked. After the three year anniversary of my husband’s suicide I made major changes. Not changes that I actually went out and did. It just happened slowly, piece by piece, over time inside of me, slowly changing me.. suddenly I was no longer a widow. Being widowed happened to me but it did not consume me and my everyday life anymore.

A year ago I honestly thought being widowed would kill me. I was in so much pain I didn’t understand how I kept waking up every day. I now have days that are rough, they can be sharp, but they don’t leave me completely useless. I can cry and grieve and move on with my day.. the rough days no longer destroy my day. I can now sit with my grief.. and move on.

While I will always be widowed and it will always hurt, I will always miss my best friend.. but I am moving forward and finding peace. I don’t live in the horrible memories of my husband’s final days and his suicide.

I was honestly a little upset and scared to tell Michele that I was retiring.. especially because I couldn't quite figure out why I felt it was time to retire. She said “I love the transitioning of writers on our blog, because it means we are healing. And that, my friend, is a beautiful thing.”

She is right. I wrote to heal. I told my story to heal. I told my story to get it out of my soul. Now I am healing.

For that I will always be thankful for Michele and Soaring Spirits. Thank you guys for allowing me a place to write and to heal. Thank you for believing in me and believing my story would make a difference.

I will miss my readers.. but please remember that if I can walk out of this and heal.. so can you. 

Being widowed will not always identify you.

With that I am off to work on my “And then..”

Let me introduce the new Sunday writer, Sarah Treanor -

Sarah is an artist and writer out of south-central Texas. She lost her fiancé on June 12, 2012 at the age of 29. He was a helicopter pilot who had just finished flight school and landed his dream job as a commercial pilot. While on a contract, he was riding along with another pilot when they hit power lines and crashed. He was killed instantly.

Two months after his death, she quit her job as a designer, left the city, and moved to the country to stay with his family and focus on healing. With a fire to continue in his footsteps and live her own dreams, she is now devoting much of her time to her art and writing – including recording her journey and their life together on her blog http://our1000days.com. She has said that no amount of pain is a match for her fire to live life as an adventure - the way they did - and she wants to inspire others who have endured loss to do the same.

Welcome Sarah!