How did he pass away? It’s a question I have hated answering. Up until now I’ve avoided that question out of fear of being judged. I recently read an inspiring article by Elizabeth Ann titled “Dear Judgy Lady on Facebook”. It bought tears to my eyes and made me look at myself and think, where is my backbone! Elizabeth gave me the courage to face one of my fears, judgement.
Definition of the word Junkie
– A person with a compulsive habit or dependency on something.
The truth is I am a junkie, totally and completely addicted to John and to our love and our life. I had been addicted to him and infatuated with him since I first laid eyes on him at thirteen years old. He was the boy who at thirteen was the handsome, sporty and popular surfer guy. But whose heart was larger than a stereotype so he chose his circle of friends based not on their looks but on how they treated others. He was the boy who always stood up for the underdog, who fought for kindness and simplicity. Who chose not to be a sheep, because he knew he was a wolf. The boy who at thirteen was more of a man than most forty year olds. Who stood his ground on his beliefs always. The boy who was riddled with an anxiety disorder, but masked it perfectly to the world with a front of fearless confidence.
Despite his demons, he was a man I am proud of. He worked as a concreter six days a week in blistering heat despite having herniated disks in his back that caused extreme physical pain. Pain for which he required pain killers, that he tried desperately to abstain from, because yes he was as our perfect society calls it a junkie. To me though, to his family and friends he was so much more.Read more
Hi all, I’m filling in for Kelley today since she is at Camp Widow Toronto. She’ll be back with us next week! Until then, I’m sitting down to write who-knows-what to you, on the fly. I suppose the first thing that comes to mind right now is community. It’s been on my mind all morning. Not only am I missing Camp Widow Toronto, and all the laughter and tears that are shared within this unique, incredible group of people, but I’ve also been missing my overall sense of community since moving to Ohio a year ago.
I will admit, I grossly underestimated how hard it would be to move so far from everything I’ve ever known back home in Texas. The culture itself is quite different. The people are. The restaurants and stores. The landscape and seasons. I suppose - as in grief - you really cannot grasp what it will be like, or how hard it will be, until you’re in it.Read more
No one thinks about the prospect of being widowed when they get married. You are starting a brand new life together and things look shiny and new. But think about it. Fifty per cent of all people who get married (and stay married) will ultimately be widowed. Eventually, one of them will die. When I exclaimed to a friend how surprised I was about how many widowed friends I have, they said, well, people get married, and they die.
This past week was my birthday. I turned 34. It might be the first time in my life I don’t really seem to have any particular feeling about turning an age. Usually I have a feeling of either excitement or resentment towards a new age. When I hit 30, I was so gloriously ready to leave my 20’s behind because they were, with the exception of meeting Drew, quite hard years. I had an abusive boyfriend, two jobs, and too many classes to count in my early twenties. I had a fear of relationships and complete breakdown and entered therapy in my mid twenties. Not to mention an alcoholic dad creating occasional chaos throughout all of that. I spent the better half of that decade fighting so hard to survive… with the odds of a dysfunctional childhood rearing at every turn. My twenties were filled with many adventures, but also much pain. Particularly when Drew died, just 3 months shy of my 30th birthday.
The best years, were from 26 to 29. My years with Drew. They were the first carefree years of my life. The first years where I finally understood what it felt like to exhale fully. Those were the birthdays I didn’t want to end. The celebrations that would span a whole week, just because this one person enjoyed celebrating me that much. Both of my parents were dead already, but his overflowing love combined with that of our amazing friends made it much harder to feel the pain. I remember in fact just enjoying my birthdays, fully, without the bittersweet feelings. Instead with only a passing thought to my parents.
Since he died, birthdays have yet again returned to that sort of “hurry up and get it over with” feeling. And I hate it. I hate that I fought so hard for so long in my twenties to finally have peaceful, joyful birthdays only to have them stolen away again. And it isn’t like I don’t try. It certainly isn’t like Mike doesn’t try. Having someone new in your life doesn’t take away the pain or the longing for your other person though. And I’ve learned over time that some years are just harder than others.
This is my life now, living with grief is a daily battle. It never ends, we just try to adapt to life with grief. Last week I was filled with a new found strength. I used this strength to put more effort into my job and was proud that I felt as though I was finally escaping the fog. That was until I was pulled into a meeting at the end of what I thought had been a productive week for me. And the words from my employer’s mouth were basically that they can see I am only functioning at about 30% and I need to give them more.
I knew this already, I feel bad about my performance at work and I am the first to admit I’m not all there. Will I ever be again?Read more
There's nothing special, or particular, about Saturdays. And I’m not sure when, how or why it started. Maybe a few months ago. Somewhere along the way I just started noticing how quickly the weeks seem to be speeding by. Yawn. Oh, wow, another Saturday morning already. How is that possible?
I lie there staring at the ceiling for a few moments before getting out of bed to let the dogs out. I try to fathom how much life I’ve lived without Mike already. I wonder how many more Saturdays I will wake without him.
Of course you’ll always miss your husband…..
It’s the but that you can read into those little dots at the end of that sentence that contain the crux of what the person is really saying.
….don’t hang onto the grief….
….it’s your decision to be happy or not….
…..if you’re still struggling with grief, maybe you should go on medications….
Add to this whatever you wish.Read more
Four years, 3 months, and two days after you died, I walked under a blanket of oak and beech trees. The air was cool and crisp, the leaves still shining from a gentle rain… holding drips ransom until the wind blows them loose with a whisper. We were in the city, he and I, but all the world around us was quiet up on that wooded hill. As we explored this newfound paradise, there was a wonder present… the kind of childlike feeling that was always around with you. Slowly a sadness crept into me. It was so gentle I don’t think I even noticed it for a time. Then suddenly, as we began to make our way down the hill, and back to the car, I felt it keenly. It seemed so odd to me to be sad while exploring nature, one of my favorite things to do.
And then I realized, and asked aloud to him, “Do you ever just get sad out of nowhere that they can’t experience any of this anymore?” He confirmed my wondering. Which of course, I know, anyone who has lost someone sometimes gets sad about that. Only thing is, it’s been a long while for me. Or at least, since I actually realized that’s why I was sad.
This week I have been filled with and unexpected strength, I have still cried almost every day but I feel strong within myself for the first time in a long time. I’ve struggled with insomnia since December. Generally waking two or three times a night. It probably doesn’t help that I don’t usually go to be till around 11 and with continuous broken sleep I still somehow cannot sleep in past 6.30am.
The other morning I woke after only four hours sleep, I made myself a coffee and walked outside to gather my thoughts. At first sight I noticed light filled rain drops resting on leaves and with that I was taken back to last year. To the memories of falling asleep with John on hot rainy nights and waking in his arms to vibrant sunny mornings.
With that, I thought to myself there are times in life now that it rains and it pours. Storm clouds roll in and it feels as though they are here to stay. However we weather it out and sunlight inevitably breaks through the dark clouds leaving behind beautiful drops of dew.Read more
15 years ago today, as I type this, Mike and I were awakened sometime after 3 AM Hawaii time by a phone call. In those days it was still landlines, so Mike groggily stumbled into the living room to answer it, and came back and woke me, handing me the phone, and saying, it’s your mom, I think there was a hurricane or something.
The house where I grew up, where my parents still live, is only a few miles from the Pentagon. So mom was calling to let us know she and dad were ok. I sat up in bed. Why, what’s wrong? I asked. Oh don’t you know, oh my gosh turn on your television right now.