Anniversary

Tuesday, May 24th, should have been my 8-year wedding anniversary. Instead, it was one day past the 16-month mark of my husband's death. And so Tuesday was just another ordinary day with the added sparkle of tears, pressure of heartache and thoughts of what should be. It's been a LONG time since I've had the sparkle of tears in my eyes consistently throughout the day.

Saturday May 24, 2008 was a rainy, cold and overcast day. We shuffled in and out of the hairdresser under rain coats and umbrellas. Dresses were transported to the church in double-layer garment bags and plastic. And then the clouds parted and gave way to the most beautiful late afternoon sun I think I have ever seen. I had insisted on pictures before the ceremony and our timing couldn't have been better. My photographers (two friends) captured these images of us as I was "revealed" to my soon-to-be-husband.

For MONTHS prior, I had made multiple trips to multiple dress shops searching for the perfect one. And he had complained. After all, it was "only a dress." But I will never forget how he looked in my eyes, told me I was beautiful and that I had found the perfect dress. He made me feel like a million bucks.

Our ceremony was small and simple. My sisters as bridesmaids, his brother and best friend as groomsmen. We chose the shortened (still too long in his opinion) Catholic ceremony and it was perfect. The emotion I felt feel for this man is unsurpassed. 

He wasn't one to express emotion freely, but on our wedding day he told me countless times how happy he was, how much he loved me and how excited he was to share the rest of our lives. I know he was happy...and now I pray that he died a happy man.

I haven't felt the level of happy shown in this picture in just over 16 months. Sure, the girls and I have had many happy moments but it's a different kind of happy, you know? Sam and I were perfect for each other. Marriage was easy. Don't get me wrong, we had our little spats but very few knock-down-drag-outs. Because we understood each other, had the same values and beliefs, agreed on budgeting and child-raising and all those big-ticket items the experts say cause divorce. I can't count how many times we remarked that we were lucky to have each other and not go through some of the fights our friends were experiencing.

I have always been a serious, no time for silliness, person. But somehow, Sam was always able to break through that and help me let go and have FUN. Again...none of that FUN for me in far too long. He was a big kid at heart, always joking and teasing to the point of being irritating but loveable. He didn't hold grudges, loved wholly and laughed easily. 

And these are the things I remembered about my soulmate, best friend, lover and the father of my children on what should have been my 8th anniversary. There were no last-minute runs to town for the card he forgot to buy ahead of time. No card telling me how much he loved me, how much more "action" he wanted or telling me that "as long as we have each other, we can make it through anything, Babe." Nothing. There was laundry and dishes and fighting toddlers and the sparkle of tears in the deafening silence and loneliness that surrounded me. Hell, my own family didn't acknowledge that it was my anniversary. (His did, by the way, which was a welcome surprise). Just another day in single-mommy widowhood. I try so hard to try to remind myself of this part of our vows when I'm struggling.

Yes, faith, hope and love remain. But it's not the same. And I'm not sure it ever will be.

Then what?

It's times like right now that send me into a tailspin. Times when the girls are at a sleepover with Grandma, the house is eerily quiet and I'm here by myself. A million things to do, yet hardly any ambition. Times when I finally let out that seemingly endless breath of air I constantly hold and just sit. And think. What am I going to do with my life?

Will I always be alone? Do I want to be alone? Do I want the girls to grow up without a constant father-figure in their lives? It is so very apparent at get-togethers that they relish the attention of other Dads...their friends and Uncles. But we do ok on our own, I think? Do I want to try to incorporate an "outsiders" point of view into my child-rearing, plan-making and daily routine? Do I want to sit here, by myself, when the girls have graduated and moved out...wondering what to do with myself?

I don't think I want to be alone, but I don't seem able to open myself up to anyone. I'm guarding our hearts and being selfish with my space and my time. I don't want to have to consider relocating (because it's not even a consideration), leaving my home to move elsewhere in town, disrupting the girls' lives as they know it yet again. And those are selfish thoughts to have in a relationship. So...it's just easier if I don't allow the relationship.

But then what? You know, it really sucks to have nobody to discuss the future with. Make plans with, spend time with, lounge around the house with. And there will come a day (all too soon), that the girls will be off doing their own things, with their own friends and I'll be left here alone, again, with no little girls constantly underfoot. Then what? What am I going to do with myself?

One Year

We did it. We've made it an entire year (plus a week now) without him. How can it be? Time has gone so fast...yet so slow. It seems like yesterday that I opened my door to a County Sheriff and it seems like forever since I felt the touch of my husband. It's like living in two worlds. One that keeps pushing me forward and another that longs for the past.

I'm not sure what I was expecting with this "angelversary." I know others were expecting a major meltdown from me, an epiphany of some sorts, some major life change. But it wasn't major, for me anyway. I mean...it's not like I don't think about this every minute of every day. The one-year mark is just another day on the calendar without him. It isn't some benchmark of the grieving process or some goal that says, "hey...time to move on!" It's just another day. And that's what I made it for me and the girls. Just another Saturday watching their cousins play soccer, some grocery shopping and our Saturday evening movie.

I think for Laura, though, it meant more. My little three year-old is very intuitive and in the days leading up to the angelversary, started asking some really hard questions with information I've never given her. I don't know where she came up with it...but she knows more than she probably realizes. And she is S.T.R.U.G.G.L.I.N.G.

   Why couldn't the doctors fix him?
   Why did Daddy like the ice?
   He needed a boat to help him Mama!
   How many owies did he have?
   He just needed a band-aid...a really big band-aid!
   Why did the ice break?
   Why can't he come back?
   Why can't we go to Heaven? Will you take me someday Mama?
   I miss my Daddy. I just want to give him a super big hug.

And this conversation happens every night, as we're going to bed. (Yes, we're co-sleeping...all 3 of us. No advice needed.) I want to shield her from the pain, but refuse to hide the truth. So I answer as simply and best I can...and a lot of times, my answer is "I don't know, punkin." And we both have a breakdown, a release of tears and emotion and fall asleep in each other's arms. I know the questions will keep coming, with more detail each time...until she can somehow find resolution and peace in her little heart.

People still ask how we're doing. The answer is still "ok...fine...hanging in there" or some other variation that slides out of my mouth. The truth?  See above. It's a daily struggle. Often times, it's like standing outside a window watching everyone's lives go on while mine is at a standstill. The world is one big blur moving around me, no decision is ever easy and it's lonely. So very lonely. And until you are wearing these shoes, you don't understand how there can be people surrounding you...and it's still lonely.

But when we lost Will, I promised Sam that I wouldn't give up...give up on me, us, our plans, our future. And I'm doing my best to hold true to that promise.

Bitch slap

Dreams about sex with my husband are glorious but few and far between.

Waking up and getting a cold hard slap to reality is brutal.

Nothing's been easy

It has been a while since I've been to this space. Partly by design, but mostly by default. The last 6 weeks have been brutal. Somebody recently asked me how things are going and the best thing I could come up with was, "Nothing's been easy."  I didn't elaborate, and nobody asked me to, because I am a depressing individual that nobody in my circle to relate to.

* I have been going back & forth with the monument company for months now, trying to get Sam's headstone finalized. About a month ago, I received a text stating that they were setting it that day. Hold on a minute...I hadn't even approved anything yet! After a panic attack, conspiracy theories and several phone calls I finally found out they were just pouring the concrete work. Since then I have cut the middle man and finally approved the design last week. It will likely still be several weeks before it is set.

* Strained relationships have really taken their toll on me. Those people whom I once called the "big sister/brother I never had" disappeared, got sneaky and were trying to take advantage of me by "pulling rank." I have had no extra energy to put toward dealing with them. I've tried several times to extend the olive branch and be the bigger person, but screw that. I'm tired of the bigger person. At the end of they day, they get to go home to their complete family unit. Their kids get to go home to both parents. We don't get that. I expected way more from them...expected them to be the ones to step up to the plate and be a constant in the girls' lives. Sam and I did everything we could to support their kids and I expected the same in return. That expectation, apparently, was too high. I told my MIL that I wouldn't be attending Thanksgiving dinner, but that the girls could go for a while, explaining that I wasn't going to willfully put myself in a miserable situation on a day that's already going to suck. I don't know what she said to them, but ever since then they have turned a corner. It's nice...a breath of fresh air to feel like they are in my corner again and I haven't lost them too, but I'm not holding my breath that the current state of affairs lasts.

* Will should have turned 4 on October 13. Nobody understands what it's like to be a BLM (baby loss mom) except other baby-loss parents. And my other half isn't here...I carry the burden by myself. This year hit me harder than I expected.

* As of October 23, Sam has been gone longer than he was present in Clara's life. Clara is nearly 18 months guys...that sucks. It's a hard blow for me to take.

* I finally settled the insurance appeal that has been hanging over my head for months. Receiving the news that they reversed their denial took a huge load off my shoulders.

* Halloween. I really, really don't like Halloween and I never have. I don't find much enjoyment out of dressing in costume and trick-or-treating. Halloween was Sam's...he picked out Laura's costumes, got her pumped for the holiday, trekked all over town trick-or-treating with her. And this year it fell solely on my shoulders. And while I feel that I rocked it...I still hate Halloween.

* Laura started hip hop dance class. I signed her up thinking she would love it and burn some extra energy. She spent the first two classes sobbing and not participating. The last three have been great...let's hope it lasts.

* Laura turned 3. Wow. I just can't believe how much she has matured and learned over the last several months. She is wise beyond her years, articulate, insightful...and hurting. Three, and the weeks leading up to have, has brought on breakdowns of "I just miss my Daddy, Mama" and "I just want Daddy to sleep with me, Mama." What do you say to that? Because it takes my breath away and breaks my heart every.single.time. It is hitting home that Daddy is gone forever and not coming back. I do my best to validate her feelings and talk about Daddy and tell her that we're going to be ok...that it's ok to miss Daddy and we're going to miss him forever, but we have to still get up and move forward because nobody is going to wait for us.

* I don't know how many times I had told Sam, "I'm so glad I don't have to ever do the dating thing again." Open mouth, insert foot. I don't know what I'm looking for, but he's interested. And knows me and knew Sam and knows our story. And knows that I'm hurting. But at the end of the day, I just don't have anything left to give to anyone, and that's not fair to him. The companionship is nice, but I feel like I'm starting to get in the groove as a single parent and the last thing we need right now is to disrupt that. So...I guess it is what it is and we'll see what it will be.

* Parenting, in general, has been such a struggle. I know I've written before about how I'm the sole decision maker and how frustrating it is. Well, it hasn't changed. Except I'm also the sole owie-kisser, disciplinarian, fun-planner and "is it doctor worthy" opinion maker. It's a big load to bear.

* Clara is definitely entering the "terrible twos" and isn't my easygoing baby anymore. She's opinionated, talking much more (NO! is very clear), tantrum-throwing and stubborn.

* And then there's this big white elephant hanging out at work...bankruptcy. But of course nobody wants to actually tell us what's going on, they want us to believe that everything is still rainbows & unicorns. But I'm not stupid and I think it will happen in the next week or so. And I have no idea what that means for the security of my job...and it's stressing me the F out.

Over the last six weeks, I felt myself spiraling downward out of control. It's like I was walking in circles...never accomplishing anything except reinforcing how alone I am. Constantly exhausted, finding little joy in anything, feeling perpetually annoyed by the girls' antics, overwhelmed. But I feel like I've got it back in control, a bit. I am trying so desperately hard to stand by my promise to Sam of not letting myself get too low, but it's so damn hard. This widowhood thing is a lonely place to be.

Dream Kisses

I have been waiting and praying for so incredibly long, but last night it finally happened. Sam came to me in my dreams. And he was real.  He was solid...I touched him. He took my face in his hands and said, "You're doing so good, Babe."  And he kissed me. And I bawled and told him how much I miss him and love him. He gave me his 100-watt smile, kissed me again and he was gone.

God, how I miss him. 

The Rings

I stopped wearing it 1.5 months ago. I was terrified of losing it and it was a daily reminder of what is no longer in my life. His wedding ring on a necklace.

I took it off 5 days ago. I was painting and didn't want the paint to get on it. I had intentions of putting it back on, but I haven't. The tan lines are gone...there is no longer a daily reminder of what is no longer in my life. My wedding ring no longer adorns my left hand, where it has been every day for the last 8.5 years. I'm not saying it's easy or comforting to look down and see my bare hand, but it doesn't feel wrong either.

Both rings are safely tucked away in my jewelry box.

sigh