Sometimes I'd swear Mike is here with me. I keep getting the sensation of his presence...or maybe, my mind and heart are just working overtime to remember. To remember how it felt when he was in the room with me. The sound of his breath, his footsteps...how he looked, the familiar freckles on his forearms, his latest mustache creation, his favorite camo t-shirt. That bright, childlike smile he wore. It's like I don't want to forget that feeling of being next to him, or the way his essence permeated my daily life.Read more
I'm struggling tonight. A mix of emotions are coursing through my veins… as is always the case with anything new on this journey. Why does every single new thing have to pull at my gut with uneasiness for the fact that he is not here? *sigh*Read more
"It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
And I'm feeling good"
Don't we ALL wish it was that simple??
Since coming home from my trip to Hawaii a few weeks ago, things have been rough. I wrote a post here trying to glean some of the positives from everything as of late - but really what I think I need to talk about is how freaking scary even the good new things can be. I went on that trip just to go visit a friend and see a new place… I never imagined that the girl I was when I left would not be the same girl I was when I returned. But that is what has happened. Since coming home, it is as if I landed back in my reality and realized in a very real way that I am a different person. And part of me is SO NOT okay with that.
Sometimes the English language feels so inadequate. I can’t count the number of times I’ve said ‘I miss him’ in the past 11 months since my husband passed away. But each time I say it, I find myself thinking that these three words just aren’t enough to fully capture the ache that is tearing at my body, mind and soul.
‘I miss you’ was a common phrase in our relationship. A term of endearment almost, up there with ‘I love you’. As our courtship blossomed we quickly grew from two private, independent people, content in our own company, to love-struck sweethearts who felt incomplete when we were apart.Read more
This week brought with it a major milestone - my first wedding anniversary. A special day that I should have been celebrating with my darling but, instead, had to spend alone, as his widow. I've had a pretty busy few weeks so even though I knew it was looming, the reality of the day really snuck up on me.
One year ago I married the man of my dreams. A man I never dared to imagine existed. A man I still adore and have a ridiculous crush on. A man who, even in death, makes me want to be a better person, to make him proud. Who makes me feel lucky and blessed, beautiful and loved.
In the days leading up to our wedding anniversary I started thinking, ‘what does this day mean now that he’s not here to celebrate it with me?’
Because, on one hand, I felt in my heart that it should be a happy day. I’m grateful that I married Dan, he was the most beautiful thing to happen to me and this should be celebrated. It is such a cliché – but our wedding day really was the happiest I had ever been in my life. I have had many reasons to be happy before this, I’ve had some amazing experiences, created wonderful memories and lived a very full life, even at the tender age of 32. But nothing had compared to standing up before everyone dear to me and exchanging vows with the man I had waited for my whole life. His love had validated me and completed me in a way that I hadn’t thought possible.Read more
I'm near the end of the first month in the second year since my husband Chuck died. The nights and the days blend one into the other. When people ask me how I'm doing, I ask them in return if they want to hear the polite answer or the real answer. That's pretty polite of me to ask that of them, isn't it?
I've run out of words to describe how much I miss my husband and how little investment I have in this new life I'm necessarily creating without him.
Time means nothing and it means everything since my husband died. My heart beats its' rhythm. It plods and it races and jumps and bumps and shatters and breaks and leaps and is subtle and loud. All at the same time sometimes.
In one month it will be one year since he died.
A fellow widowed friend of mine recently brought my attention to this wonderful quote, said by the character Reddington, from the TV show The Blacklist. The quote is this:
"There is nothing that can take the pain away, but eventually you will find a way to live with it. There will be nightmares, and everyday when you wake up, it will be the first thing you think of, until one day, it will be the second thing."
Each morning I wake up, knowing I slept, so I'm glad for that, but not feeling rested at all. By the evening, after a day spent getting through, well, the day, I'm done in. I take melatonin when I remember and that helps sometimes.Read more
My husband and I used to have those silly magnetic letters on our kitchen refrigerator back in our New Jersey apartment, and we would leave each other cute and often ridiculous or random messages on the fridge like: "I love you Boo", or "Yankees won", or "UR cute." One of his favorite things to spell out for me in colored letters was "Don 'N Kelley" or sometimes "Don Wuvs Kelley." He could be syrupy sweet to the point of nauseating, at times, because he knew I would be rolling my eyes at the gag-inducing baby-talk and he loved to annoy me. So it was sort of his way of being sarcastically romantic.
Fast-forward to 8 months ago, when I moved out of one apartment in Queens, New York after my roommate kicked me out, and moved into another apartment in Queens, New York after finding another roommate. I walked over to the 99 cent store and got 2 packs of the magnetic letters, because spelling out little messages makes me oddly happy somehow, even though it also makes me really sad. It is the "familiar" and the "routine" of doing something and having something that we had together, and now continuing it alone.