I take thee, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, until death do us part.
If he only knew what those vows mean.
He does though. He always will.
Weddings can be a huge trigger for many widow(ers). It makes sense that attending a wedding brings up memories of one’s own wedding day. They emphasize that, at one time, you were married too, but now, your relationship status is somewhat murky, to say the least. Seeing a bride walk down the aisle, with a combination of tears and smiles, and saying “I do” shortly after uttering the words “til death do us part” seems more real when death has done one part.
It’s been an epic week. No other way to say it.
Since my boyfriend is out of town for two weeks I took the opportunity to get ahead of the possibility that I may lose this house and do a massive purge. So for three days I sweated and lifted and sorted and threw away and arranged in my carport for a garage sale. That part was really, really hard…hard physically, and hard emotionally. Even though I’ve already sorted through, given away and donated most of Mike’s stuff, there was still a lot of things of his left…and things we had together. So many memories. If there is a door that closes after a chapter of life ends, I found that door and moved stuff out of the way so I could close it…that will come later.
Yesterday I accompanied some friends to what I thought was going to be a Fourth of July party at the beach here in Kona. When I arrived, the host, dressed in white with a beautiful lei, handed me a program…we were actually there for a surprise wedding! A few people, it turns out, had known, but I had no idea. I had only seen my friend with her new boyfriend out and about and they looked really happy together…and I knew my friend had faced some scary health issues in the past year, so that made me doubly happy she was doing so well.Read more
Last weekend I attended the wedding of one of my husband's closest friends. This happened to fall on the second anniversary of his funeral, and a week after his anniversary.
I always knew it was going to be a difficult time. I knew it would hurt and bring up all kinds of triggers, sad thoughts and memories. But somehow, despite knowing something is going to hurt, I never really feel prepared for the intensity of the pain as it knocks me off my feet.
I also wasn't prepared for the anger I'd feel that he was missing this important moment. It was a really beautiful day, but oh my, was it tough.