Rose Colored Glasses?

Photo by Shot of Whimsy Photography, Austin Texas

What do you see when you look at this picture? I see love, fun, teamwork, happiness. A couple of years ago this picture, as happy as it is, would have made me sad. I would have seen sadness, loss, something missing. Unexpectedly, I am finally able to see what is there instead of always focusing on what or who is not. It's huge. It also happened without me noticing the subtle difference.

I didn't want it to happen, or at least parts of me didn't. Big parts of me were resistant. I didn't want to anticipate the future. I knew one thing for certain about the future - Daniel wasn't going to be there. What else did I need to know but that? If that was the lure of the future...I could resist for a very long time. I wasn't resistant to the present though, G is here...that's a big draw. I was fine with the present, I could take it one day at a time. The future on the other hand...the future was a black endless place with no certainty and no promise of happily ever after. Talk about having your illusions killed...when you watch your husband die at 35, life takes on a different color. The light is gone and blackness takes it place.

Until it doesn't. I think Janine wrote about life being shades of gray as she came out of the inky blackness of grief. I think the gray was my envelope for a few years until the colors started to seep back in. A few hues each month until suddenly a faded palette was there. Not vibrant, but softly colorful nonetheless. I noticed. It was good.

I think with my move back to Austin in 2009 the last pieces really started to fall into place. I was home. I felt it in my bones and it felt right. For the first time in a few years, I felt really good - healthy in mind and body. I'd like to say I felt like the old me, but the old me doesn't exist anymore. I felt in touch with the new me in a way I'd never felt before. Life was colorful again and the future looked maybe not bright, but at least possible.

It's been about a year and a half since then, and the trend has continued. Maybe it isn't so much the 5 years since Daniel died, maybe it's also the 40 year mark. I know who I am and I know what I want in a way I never have before. I've heard people say that you finally understand yourself in your 40s. Maybe it's true. Whatever the reason, 5 years or 40, I like it. It feels really good.

I Think I'm Ready To Start Dating. I Think.

I think I'm ready to try my hand at dating.

I think.

In thinking about the possibility of dating, I did something I have never done before, I went back and read something I wrote during my early days of being widowed. It was a post from my own blog, where I was discussing how our song, "Something Stupid," came to be.

In that post I was talking about the early days, when we were a very new couple, and love, passion, and sex, were all so new and exciting. We were in the throes of passion, and one of us said it, "I love you." Now looking back I could swear it was Michael who said it first, and he always swore it was me. In either case, we both ended up proclaiming our love, and then laughed about how vulnerable one feels when those words are first proclaimed. We talked about what it meant for each of us to be in love, and what we wanted out of the relationship.

In considering the idea of dating, I have to admit that I really miss being loved, both emotionally and physically. I worry that I may not truly be ready for this, or that my motives might be confused with my need for comfort.

Is it fair to begin a new relationship when my emotional needs are so high?

I also don't want to confuse sex with love. After having such a wonderfully loving relationship, one where I felt fulfilled if we were making love, or if we were just sitting side by side reading, I don't know if I will have the patience of mind to allow a new relationship to slowly develop. I fear that I am too needy. Will I become an emotional mess if something in a new relationship triggers past memories. Will a new potential partner be comfortable with the ghost of my late husband remaining a central presence in my life? Will I even find someone who will want to date me?

If I am honest, I would have to say that what I really want is for someone to come over and just hold me through the night. Is that too much to ask for?

I also worry that the first time I do have someone in my bed, that I will just become a wreck. I worry that it will take me back to those wonderful nights with Michael, and I'll either be filled with sorrow that it is not him next to me, or guilty that I have allowed someone to occupy what was once his space.

Maybe I'm not ready to begin dating after all. Maybe I'm just terribly lonely. Maybe I'm still holding on to something I used to cherish, but can never again be.

I wish I knew what was best for me. I wish I wasn't sitting here wishing that this had not been my fate. I wish I didn't talk to myself so much. I wish I wasn't so analytical.

Am I ready to start dating?

I think I'm ready to start dating.

I think.

Another

I had a conversation yesterday with a widower.
He's three months ahead of me
He wanted to meet me after his sister, a friend, showed him my black widow photo.

It was a conversation that felt good, connected and real.
It was a conversation with laughter and head nodding (which he didn’t see cause we were on the phone.)
It was a conversation of understanding.

It was a conversation of “Oh!! ME TOO!”
It was a conversation of faith.
It was a conversation of regret.
It was a conversation of courage and hope.

It was a conversation that made me sad.
It was a conversation that afterwards made me cry
for all that we both have lost.
It was a conversation that made me sigh for all that we have gained.

It was a conversation that reminded me that with pain comes wisdom
and hope
and
profound tenderness.

It was a conversation that made me realize (again) that while I didn’t want this life, I am moved by it
and
odd enough,
grateful for it.

Grateful because I can have a conversations with a widower and see my inspiring journey reflected in his words.

I can’t wait to talk to him again.

Shine A Light

I must admit...I love films. Foreign especially, but anything thought and emotionally provoking will do. What can I say....Michael and I first kissed while watching "American Beauty", it's just the kind of couple we are.

 

Tonight I found myself watching "Anna and the King", a remake of "The King and I", which I thoroughly enjoyed with the widowhood struggles lacing the edges of the classic film. The remake did not disappoint, as I found myself jotting down favorite quotes that came 'aplenty.

 

It would be the final quote and line of the film that struck the largest chord, as no other words of the film could ring more true of Michael and the love he still fills my soul with daily.

 

But enough of my jabbering.....here it is:

 

"It is always surprising how small a part of life is taken up by meaningful moments. Most often they are over before they start, although they cast a light on the future and make the person who originated them unforgettable."

 

Though Michael and I had little time physically, in the whole scheme of our eternity with each other, his life and love cast the light that guides me daily. Through the tough times (that are ever present right now) or even the calm and reflective times....it's what our love has created together that spares me from the dark that has a know reputation of swallowing its victims whole.

 

To great films and all they remind us....slaint'e.

 

safety freak

Photo from here

My minivan has a back-up beeper installed and I never fail to safety goggles when required.
I realize that teenagers at the bus stop snicker as I stride by sporting my safety vest covered in all its' reflective glory and a red light flashing out a constant reminder of the whereabouts of my hindend.
And in the past, I would have worried that this safety gear would identify me as a complete dork. A safety freak. Now I see it as protecting my kids.
By wearing this protective paraphernalia, I am hopefully preventing the possibility of creating two little orphans.
I am terrified of leaving them alone in the world. Without Daddy....and then without Mommy.
I have stopped short of wearing bubble wrap beneath my clothing. But I do get my flu shot and wear a helmet when riding my bike. For my kids. I'll do it because they do still need me.

34 months.

january 25th.

34 months.

...

it's been awhile

since i felt

like this on

a 25th.

i never forget

the day,

(never)

or what happened

all those

months ago.

(never).

but sometimes i

i don't realize it's

the 25th until

i'm halfway through

the day.

but on this 25th,

i was feeling it.

all day.

i don't know why.

...

that evening i

got to

my happiness.

my madeline.

she was excited

to see me.

"daddy! daddy!"

so excited.

and i was happy.

then a woman

walks in.

"mason...your mommy's here"

said the daycare woman.

maddy looked up

at me.

the bluest of eyes.

(eyes like her mom).

long eyelashes.

(lashes like her mom).

her long, blonde

hair pulled

back in a ponytail,

bangs sweeping across

the right side of

her face.

(just like her mom).

a black cardigan

hanging on her shoulders.

(her mom loved black cardigans).

"i don't have a mommy."

...

she was looking at me.

but she was

saying it to everyone.

...

on the way

home we talked again

about her mom.

i told her

the truth.

her reality.

again.

i cried.

she could hear me.

she suggested a song

that she knew

would make me feel better.

the song played.

(her current favorite - "ladies" by lee fields).

i was happy again.

it wasn't the song...

it was her.

helping me through.

(as always).

knowing when i needed

her to say something

to get me

out of a moment.

(i'm lucky).

How Do You Prepare Someone ....

.... for the loss of their spouse?
The answer is easy.
You can't.
Oh, you can tell them to get their finances in order, to say "I love you" a million times, to make sure their name is on everything from the mortgage to the utility bills, but how can you prepare their heart?
It's impossible.

I recently "met" a woman who reads my blog. She wrote to me, telling me that she will soon become a widow, and she wants to prepare herself as best she can, even though she doubts that is possible.
I told her that it's not, but that I could help her with the day-to-day stuff that could help her physically. I also reached out to many of my widowed friends and asked for their opinions. I've been sending her e-mails for about a week now.

The last time that I forwarded her some good avice, I realized that my heart wanted to tell her more.
So much more.
It was spilling over with all of the things that she should expect, that she will feel, not feel, cope with .... and not be able to cope with.
So I wrote them all down. Well, I didn't write ALL of them down, but I did give her a list of 10.
I told her to take this list and file it away .... for now. And then one day .... on one of the inky, black days when death is so much more inviting than life .... to try to remember to pull it out and read it.
I don't know if she'll remember to do so .... I hope that I'll be able to remind her.
It's not enough, but it's a start.
Please feel free to add to it so that I can pass your thoughts on to her, too.

Dear "H",
I thought of some things that I think you need to know after he dies, though you may forget them when the time comes.
#1. You are NOT crazy. You will feel like you are. You will feel like you are losing your mind ..... but you're not.
#2. You probably already know this but, grief is very, very physical. It makes you sick. You can't sleep, you can't eat (or some can't stop eating), you can't concentrate on ANYTHING, you can't remember many things that you're told, or that you've said. I know that there were many people in my house that first week, but I have no idea who they all were. I would also say things to the kids and then have NO memory of it if one of them brought it up. It got to be scary. Then I met other widows and knew it was the grief. It definitely affects your memory in a big way.
#3. You will not be able to call someone for help. Many will tell you to call them, but they shouldn't do that (you might want to tell all of them this NOW). They need to just show up. They need to just sit with you. You will not know what you want or what you don't want. But just having someone sit with you, even in complete silence, or while you watch a movie .... is huge.
#4. Get your hands on as many comedy DVD's as you can. The girls and I watched one Will & Grace dvd after another. I wanted something to take my mind away for a moment and I wanted it to be funny.
#5. You will look forward to being asleep. Not going to bed, because it will most likely be very difficult for you to fall asleep. I would stay up watching a movie or TV until I was ready to drop and only then would I go to bed. Once asleep, you're not grieving and it's a wonderful break. It sucks to wake up (for a while).
#6. It will take you a long time to stop thinking, "Oh, I need to call Hank and tell him .......". I just thought it a few months ago when I ran into an old friend. Jim was the only other person I know who knew her and I thought I needed to call him and tell him what's going on with that family. It's only a nano second, but it's enough to take your breath away and get swamped by a wave. But it does happen less and less with time.
#7. You will still FEEL married for quite a while. Your heart will still be married to him. I took my rings off after about 9 months .... when looking at them on my left hand made me feel phony, like I was pretending that I was something I'm not. That's when I knew it was time. You'll know, too. It may take years ... or only days, but that leads me to number 8.
#8. There are NO rules for grieving. No matter what you hear, read, feel, etc. No matter what friends or family say ..... you will grieve as hard as YOU need to grieve, for as long as YOU need to grieve. You cannot rush it, you can't get around it. You have to walk through it and it's mostly 1/2 step forward, 5 steps back. It's long. It's slow. And it's hard. But one day you will be able to look behind you and see how far you've come.
#9. Most of the world thinks that the one year mark is a magic date. They think that you're pretty much past/over it (or that you should be). But you aren't. You shouldn't. For me .... and for many, many people (I hate to tell you this but I HAVE to be honest with you) the second year is worse than the first. The first is filled with hazy, shock-filled days. Maybe not so much for someone who knew it was coming, but still .....
The second year brings feelings like, "I should be doing better by now. Why am I not?". People are no longer hanging around your house, or sending cards or just checking on you. They have (as well they should) gone on with their lives and their families ..... and their husbands. So it's harder. The second year also brings the firm knowledge that he is not coming back. This really is your life now and it totally sucks.
#10. And the most important ..... you WILL survive. You are not alone, even when you feel you are. There are too many of us out here, but we're here. And we want to be here for you. If we can do something good because of the crap that's been dealt us, then it's not a total waste. I never wanted to join this club .... no one does. But I have met the most amazing people in it, and so will you. You will find much support and love. It's one of the strangest and yet most beautiful things I've ever experienced. When you "meet" another widow, in person or even just over the "net", you will feel an instant bond. You will feel a strong connection and it will probably last until you die. You will "get" each other .... without even having to speak. You don't have to finish a sentence .... we know. And we listen. And never judge or think anything negative about you, your grief, your actions ..... whatever. We all know that there are no rules and we all understand, in our core, the things that "others" do not ..... the things that you hope "others" will never have to understand.

So that was my "List of 10". As I just re-read them my heart started hurting, as it usually does when I hear about a new widow. I hurt for "H" and for lies ahead. I hurt for all of you who are reading this and so fresh on this road.
It.
Totally.
Sucks.

And I hurt because there's not a damn thing I/we can do to make it stop hurting for you. There are no magic words, no kissing of boo-boos, no perscription meds that will fix a heart once it's truly broken.

But there is hope.
Hope that you will get stronger.
Hope that you smile more.
Hope that your children will be ok.
Hope that you will find when you meet others of us who have made it a little farther down the road.

Hope does not come right away.
But it will come. In your own time.

Everything .... will happen .... in YOUR own time.