Artist. Writer. Creative Mentor.

Soaring Spirits has had an enormously positive impact on my own life as a widow as well as the lives of so many friends and others. This organization is doing incredible work to help people not only to cope with widowhood, but to learn how to rebuild themselves beautifully... with love, laughter, tears, and authenticity. Most of all, Soaring Spirits gives us hope. Hope that life can still be amazing even after we have lost the most important person in our world. Hope that a beautiful life - one that our partner is always a part of - can be created. 


Waiting in the Wings

This past week was the 6th anniversary of his death. I wrote last week about this, and what would have been our 9th anniversary together the week before. I will always hate that these two dates are a week apart. It’ll always piss me off to have to have my anniversary of celebrating our love so closely linked to when he died. But it is what it is I guess...

The week of our anniversary proved to be a lot harder this year that I’d expected. Harder than the anniversary of his death, which turned out to be pretty okay really. But our anniversary, nope, a lot of tears and just an overall sadness and wanting to withdraw for days. Still, it’s easier than it used to be. I will never forget the excruciating sadness and anxiety those first few years. The horrible hollow feeling when I first realized that no one else cares about your anniversary but the two of you… and thusly no one else remembers it or honors it. So you are alone then more than on any other day.

My new partner, Mike, has brought a lot of joy back to these hard days though. The first year I dated him, we were long-distance, but happened to be visiting each other when my anniversary with Drew fell. Mike took me out for a nice dinner that night, to a fancy restaurant. We got all dressed up and enjoyed a beautiful romantic evening. It was so surreal to be out with another man on that particular night for the first time ever… and even more surreal that it wasn’t upsetting or awkward at all. It felt beautiful. It felt like I’d found this new person who wasn’t afraid to celebrate both our love and the love I had before. He got that it was a part of me. It surprised me, no doubt, how easy it could be to actually have these two worlds in some way meshing into one new life...

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Twice as Long and Loving On

Yesterday would have been my 9th anniversary with my fiance. Instead, we got 3 years. Instead, it was my 6th anniversary without him, and a reminder that I've now been without him for twice as long as I was with him. I didn't even think about those numbers leading up to this week… it wasn't until the day hit that I realized it was twice as long. And it punched me in the gut.

I've spent days fighting a kind of numb sadness. So much so that this is actually the first time I didn't share anything on Facebook or anywhere else about our anniversary. I just quietly let it be here and let it pass. I just didn't feel like having everyone on all of social media commenting. It's odd, but instead of wanting to make certain everyone else remembered him and this day, I just didn't care, because I remember it and that's what matters. In a way, it felt nice to allow it to be private. I just didn't feel like having to say some grand statement. It is what it is. He’s gone and it sucks, again, just like this week sucks every years… and I'm sad, and I don't feel like including the whole of social media in that right now.

His death anniversary is in less than a week too, so I'm sure I will share something next week, but this week… this week is for me.

Somehow hitting 6 years of death isn't the number that bothers me. It's the other… knowing we would have been together for nine whole years by now. We would have been reaching closer to that exciting new chapter of having been together for a decade. Something that so many other people in their mid thirties can say they've achieved - including my new partner - but I cannot.

It really sucks to have had to reset that clock. And it's hard not to be sad and a bit numb this week, as my heart longs to joyfully tell someone “Happy Nine Years!!! Look how far we've come!” Only he isn't here to tell it to. And we've now had six years of a life we didn't get to live.

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  • commented on Navigating My New Normal 2018-06-17 06:58:04 -0700
    I’m so sorry you’ve joined this club. I’m the Sunday writer, and have been without my partner for 6 years as of last week. I didn’t go to a wedding after he died for over two years, no doubt it will be hard. All the firsts are hard and terrifying. All I can say is to let the emotions and the demons out when you can, how you feel you can. Sometimes that means taking a break from your trip to call a close friend and unload. Or even just slipping away to the bathroom to have a moment to let some of it out on your own. I’ve found giving myself permission to have little breaks like this helps with the anxiety of having to face lots of faces and questions and times of celebration that are tough.

    I’ve told a lot of folks this… I think of grief and the pain it causes as something that needs to be bled out of us. A bit like a toxin. And it must be done gradually, and often… and our tears are the way that we let the pain bleed out. Over time, as we bleed out the pain, we have more and more room for the love that remains for them.

    Wishing you the best on this tough journey. We’re sorry your with us, but glad to have you.

  • commented on A Friend I Never Knew 2018-06-12 06:58:42 -0700
    Yup, you two would be the most successful annoying team ever, I can assure you of that! ;D Thank you, for welcoming both me AND him into your life. <3

  • commented on Truth in a Weedwacker 2018-06-03 06:42:20 -0700
    I love this story. That weedwacker is so symbolic of so very much. It’s amazing how eventually, one day, something that’s been hanging there suddenly just looks different… how eventually, something shifts inside us and we’re ready for some new part of living. Awesome post! I’ll remember this one for sure.

    I just wrote my Sunday post about buying a stove with my new guy, and though it was a different sort of symbolism, it’s amazing how a stove or a weedwacker could become so deeply symbolic!

    Thanks for sharing :) And proud of you!

  • commented on You Have Been my Best Surprise 2018-05-20 05:54:00 -0700
    Thank you April, that really means so much to me! Vulnerability is SO hard as a widow, no matter what our circumstance, but seems always worth trying for!

  • commented on My Husband Died, And I Am Not A Child 2018-04-20 18:30:41 -0700
    I had to comment. I so get it. As you know, living with Drew’s folks for so long I constantly felt like a child. There is still a bit of that feeling now, because Mike takes care of making the money, that somehow people don’t think I can do that. As if I didnt do it for a decade before Drew died. It did get better when I met Mike, except for what you say.. everyone who never noticed any of the other shit suddenly was noticing lol.

    So yep, also a yes to that feeling that everyone either avoided me or coddled me until I met Mike, and once I met him… All the coddlers disappeared, thinking “finally we don’t have to worry anymore!” And all the avoiders crept out to express how happy they were (i.e. how they were finally comfortable again with my life lol). It’s tough. I’ve felt so alone since moving g to Ohio because everyone just thinks a new love solves it all and we can all go back to “normal”. Only I cant go back to normal. Not ever. I get it for sure.

    These days I dont have too many folks treating me like a child.. I really think it is partly you living back home as I felt it more then too. It’s annoying. They mean well, but they are annoying lol. What do you do about it? No idea, other than give me a call so we can laugh it off. Love you!!

  • commented on Joy Seeker 2018-04-14 19:48:10 -0700
    I loved this post… it was so comforting, the idea of floating or drifting in the direction you are meant to go. Being where you’re meant to be. It made me feel a great big exhale. I think lately I’ve been trying to be somewhere else too much… further along in certain parts of my life. Thank you for this! Tomorrow I will try and just float and enjoy it. ;)

  • commented on New Directions Coming 2018-03-06 07:12:59 -0800
    Thank you Cathy and Beth! It does feel like a great fit, I’m hoping it works out well. :)

  • commented on This One isn't for You, if You're Offended by the F Word~ 2018-01-31 06:50:55 -0800
    Yes. Fucking yes to this. I might have to just print this out and keep it in my journal for those really fucking fuck kind of days. Thank you <3

  • commented on The Sky is Falling 2018-01-21 06:14:43 -0800
    Oh this reminded me of so many times when the topic of dying or an apocalypse would come up with my best friend present and I would so nonchalantly react. Her panic being me dying, or all of us dying, and me sitting calm and saying “fine by me!” lol she always hates when I do that. I so get it though, really.

  • commented on Galaxies within Us 2018-01-07 07:00:32 -0800
    Thank you Cet and Sharon for reading and being here to share. I’m wishing you much love and healing in this new year!

  • commented on Itching and Aching 2017-11-26 07:09:52 -0800
    Moving in with my Mike was very hard for me, mostly I had a ton of fear well up. If he died, I could not pay for the house and the cars and everything. It’s been about a year now, and I’m beginning to feel more settled. The fears are still there, I just tend not to give them much attention because it’s not like worrying is going to keep him from dying. I didn’t ever get to live with Drew, so we didn’t have a home filled with memories, but leaving Texas where all of our memories were was so so hard. I had no idea how much new grieving would come with that move… and am still working through it.

    I’m wishing you both the best with this new move! I know it will be very sad and so hard but also worthwhile and exciting and beautiful. Leave yourself ample room for grieving as you make the transition. It’s tough stuff, continuing to live life and have new milestones, but still beautiful.

  • commented on Revisiting the First Thanksgiving 2017-11-20 06:48:23 -0800
    I remember how hard Christmas was on you for years Kelley! I think the only good thing about it is how much more we enjoy and appreciate those holidays once we are finally able to feel joyful again. For me, it feels tenfold.

  • commented on Normal 2017-11-13 07:34:51 -0800
    I remember my first time going to Camp Widow, Tampa, 2014… Exactly what you said. I’ll never forget feeling “normal” for the first time in ages. And being able to talk about death and grief like it was a just an everyday topic, no one getting weird about it! So glad you had that experience.

  • commented on Three Divorces and a Funeral 2017-11-13 07:27:47 -0800
    Well said Gabe. I think we are all better off not trying to compare. I remember someone who’d been through divorce saying they envied me a few months after he died – it was the oddest thing I’d ever heard.

    Looking back, I know what they meant… In a way, I think they meant they envied that my love story was still beautiful, still devoted and pure. That part, I do get. Of course they envy that. Because in that one way, widowed people who were happy and in love will always have the purity of that love, and divorced people have to grapple with the dissolving of that. They have to grapple with a failure of love, a true ending of the love itself. It is the one thing we do not lose when we become widowed, the purity of our love to one another to the end, and that I think is what makes them feel their loss is worse. It’s not worse, of course, nor do I believe is ours, but entirely different kinds of loss.

    Really well said.

  • commented on Reality 2017-11-13 07:07:08 -0800
    I remember that feeling. It took what felt like an agony of time for it to begin to go away… I think a year maybe before it started to be less frequent. Your words are so honest and real, It reminded me of a very short poem I wrote the year he died…

    “Sometimes

    I just want to rip apart every synapse in my brain

    Because I am so tired

    Of the constant knowingness that you are gone."

    It was called “I don’t want to know this anymore”.

    Sending love, fellow writer.

  • commented on A New Dawn 2017-11-13 06:52:20 -0800
    Hi Candace. It’s so hard to hold onto hope in those early times of grief. You will no doubt continue to spread his love and legacy for all your days! Hold that hope close to your heart, and on the days you are too tired to swim, let it be your liferaft, keeping you afloat and letting you rest. :) All my love Candace, thank you for sharing this, it means so much to me.

  • commented on Knowing Them Deeper after Death 2017-10-30 08:11:45 -0700
    Thank you Cathy for your comment! What a meaningful journey you and your dad had in that shared grief experience – I am so glad you had that closeness with him. Much love my friend – today is actually the death anniversary of my mom, missing both of them much today. Indeed, hug the one you’re with <3

  • commented on X-ray Vision 2017-10-30 08:02:45 -0700
    Thank you for sharing this Teresa – you described it so well too, the flatness. It’s been about 5 1/5 years for me now, and I feel like the clarity started to come in a little bit better right around that year 4 for me too. It sure is a much longer process than we ever imagine, isn’t it? Much love to you!

  • commented on Live Life 2017-10-06 10:40:07 -0700
    I loved this post. And good for you – it takes so much courage not only to choose the possibility of loss, but also to write about it all. I went skydiving in my mid twenties, and I recall telling my dad – who was quite ill in the hospital at the time (and died within a few months) that I was going skydiving with this guy friend of mine. His reaction was kind of awesome… he just said, a little bit surprised, “Well that doesn’t sound like you at ALL!” But he meant it in the best of ways. That friend turned out to be the love of my life, the one who died 5 years ago now. And skydiving truly did change my life. It sounds cheesy, but i let fear get in the way a lot when I was young… that one skydive showed me how powerful and amazing facing something scary could be. It was pivotal for me.

    Good for you for supporting your daughter in living life boldly! And in turn, living life boldly yourself, by choosing to support her! I hope you let her read this! <3

  • commented on Anxiety 2017-09-08 09:29:17 -0700
    Holy shit that was tough to read, and beautiful. I can feel that feeling right there with you. I’m having my own irrational fear today. For no reason at all. Everything about today is normal, yet I feel so keenly aware of the fragility of it all. And am holding fear tightly in my throat for the idea of Mike dying. I’m so sorry you had to endure the scare last night. It’s awful. But I’m so glad today is not that day, and I hope it doesn’t come for a long long time again.

    Love you.

Artist. Writer. Creative Mentor - making meaning from life's challenges through creativity.
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