(Post pre-explanation & warning: I wrote this post for my personal blog .... on Sunday, the 18th, the 4th year date of Jim's death. This date, this year, was no easier for me than the previous 3. I still cried. I still wished that I were the one who was not left behind. I am still crying, and I think I may forever be wishing. And yet .... this date, this year, also held more than tears for me. It held hope. And reminders. And so I wrote about both. For some of you .... the hope will be too hard to read. You are not there. You're not even in the same state as "hope". And I get that. But push past the hope. Because one day .... maybe not any day relatively soon, but one day ..... you will catch a glimpse of hope. Only a small glimpse at first, but then .... a bigger glimpse. And it will be the one thing, maybe the only thing that day, that helps you put one foot in front of the other. Just one. One glimpse. One step. One hope.)
.... is a month to remember?
Truth be told, it wasn't all that difficult.
All I did was agree to have surgery today.
And then, to make it even MORE memorable .... I agreed to have my middle son's wisdom teeth extracted.
Yes, as in .... today, the 14th of December ..... both procedures.
I guess that's one way to ring in the "death day" of my husband (which really isn't until Sunday, the 18th).
I am in the 7th year AD (after Daniel). The 6th anniversary was in November, and this will be our 7th Christmas without him. I was thinking the other day, as Carl, the kids and I decorated the Christmas tree, that I could never have imagined this life that first Christmas in 2005.
That Christmas is a dark blur in my mind's eye. I vaguely remember shopping (on-line, no way I was going to the stores). I remember trying to pretend like it would all be okay, and I vividly remember having to take a cry break in my bedroom after we opened presents. My mom found me and sat with me while my brother entertained Grayson with his new toys.
Anyone who reads this knows what each and every one of us would like for Christmas if we could have whatever we wanted....We also know that's an impossibility.
We could sit and count every moment that we are missing our love. Every scenario that lacks our spouse. Every tradition that falls flat without their presence.
Or we can try to find the glow that once existed in the holiday season. We can remember the laughter and hope to feel the love that was and, hopefully, is somehow still held for us by our loved one.Read more
When I first became a widow, I wanted everyone to go away. I did not want to talk, discuss, be comforted, or hear anyone. I found everything overwhelming and the need to communicate with others verbally was not at all on the list of desired actions.Read more
Words we are familiar with.
We have, in one way or another, said goodbye to spouses/partners. In tears, begging for forgiveness, in resolution. We have thought, uttered, whispered those words.
Good bye for me, now holds so much more. I get that I may not see a person again. I get that there isn't a reason for death. It sweeps in, takes what it wants and leaves.
I also see that every day is full of good byes. Langston grows another inch (good bye to childhood), a friendship ends with silence, I stand up for myself in a new situation. They are all good byes. The leaving of of something behind. The moving forward, the passing, the stepping away from.
They happen...sometimes more than I think I can handle.
Those moments where it feels like I'm in a well, with all the walls caving in on me.
The sad thing is I see it when I'm being lowered down....like the bucket on the rope.
I anticipate what will happen and still am lowered further and further down...feeling as if there is no one at the top to help pull me up.
I reach the bottom and know that my soul and spirit will collapse with the walls around me....
I look up once more, taking that last glance at the light that seems so far away.
I struggle to find something of substance to talk about. Each Sunday comes around, and the awareness that my post is due by midnight is always on my mind. Usually there is something that I have been mulling over throughout the day, or something that has been with me throughout the week, that quickly becomes my post. Today I just feel empty.Read more
Six years ago today you headed out the door for what would be your final bike ride. You checked the tires on your bike, oiled the chain, filled two water bottles, kissed me good-bye, left, came back for some unidentified thing (I still wonder what brought you back, and if those additional moments cost you your life), and then kissed me good-bye again. After that last touching of lips, our lives would never again be the same.