reflections and the best and worst year of my life

2011 started out as probably the best year of my life.  S and I were in such a good place in our marriage.  The last 10 or 11 months of our marriage were probably the best out of the whole 7 1/2 years.

S and I had a great anniversary celebration in 2011 and we had an amazing birth experience with G.  The big kids were so much fun and S loved taking them to the zoo by himself in May.  He had a blast at V's 4th birthday party and loved the Thunder games.  I didn't realize it then, but our lives were pretty perfect.

The second half of the year left a lot to be desired, but I learned so much too.  I learned that I am a whole hell of a lot stronger than I ever thought I was.  I learned that I can survive pretty much anything.  I learned what a fighter S was.  I learned how much S loved me and our kids.  I learned how to do things on my own.  I learned that bad things happen to good people.  I learned that I am not invincible.  I learned to ask for help.  I learned (again) to trust my instincts.  I learned that life is bigger than me.  I learned to be alone.  I learned who my true friends are and how blessed I am to have them.  I have learned so much.

It is sort of crazy to me to think that in a few hours, it will be 2012.  S will never see 2012.  Crazy to think about how many years are coming that he won't get to see.

I don't want to look back on 2011 and say it was a terrible year.  Terrible things happened, yes, but amazing things happened too.  I am so thankful for the gifts I got in 2011.  I wish that I was able to learn the lessons of 2011 differently, but it is what it is and I trust that good things are coming for us.

I am looking forward to 2012.

can't catch a break

A few months ago, my mom was watching all three kids while I went to counseling.  When I came back to pick the kids up, G's whole face was red and splotchy.  My mom said it looked a lot better than it had earlier and she wasn't sure what it was from.  She said the rash started while she was feeding the big kids breakfast.  She had served them french toast and gave G the spatula to play with.  I thought it was weird, and just stored it in my mama memory bank.

A few weeks later, I was making the kids eggs and when V was finished eating, he gave G his fork to play with.  A few minutes later, she had a rash all over her face.  I thought that maybe she had a little egg allergy.

A few weeks after that, I was eating french toast, and she touched it on my plate.  It never touched her face and I wiped her hand off right away.  She broke out in a rash again.  I thought it surely had something to do with the eggs.

She also won't eat food.  She nurses, but she flat out refuses to eat solids.  She is 9 months old and she won't eat.  I did some research and found that kids with food allergies frequently won't eat until they are older because they instinctively know that some food can hurt them so they avoid all food.  I started to wonder if G had an egg allergy.

So, at her 9 month check-up last week, I brought it up to her pediatrician.  We decided to do a blood allergy test (which was absolutely terrible) and the doctor called yesterday to tell me that G is allergic to eggs and it is severe enough that she wants her to have an Epi-Pen just in case.

So, I picked it up yesterday and I will spend the next few weeks voiding my house of things with egg in them.

I am sort of scared for G.  In the little research I have done, egg allergies are commonly outgrown, so that is hopeful because egg is in so much stuff!  All of my easy go-to meals have egg (eggs, pancakes, pasta, bread).  So many kid friendly foods have egg.  And in our little playgroup, the kids always just sort of share snacks, and she won't be able to do that.

I'm also really scared of what could happen if she consumes egg.  She breaks out in a rash from touching something that touched egg and it scares me that it could be really serious if she actually touches egg or gets some in her mouth.  I know that I have the Epi-Pen now so I feel better, but it is still so scary.

It also makes me a little mad that I have to deal with all of this on my own.  S is not here to talk about this stuff with.  It is frustrating.

I am just worried about my baby.  I just want life to be easy for my kids.  I think things are hard enough for them and I am mad that things are making it harder.  I just want normalcy.

Wrong

I thought Christmas wouldn't be harder than any other day, but it was.  I was wrong.  I don't know exactly what made it worse, but I have been much sadder the last 2 days.  Yesterday was hard because I was baking all day with all three kids under my feet.  Not an easy task, though I did bake 3 types of muffins and cookies.  I also sliced a pound and a half of cranberries and dehydrated them AND cooked dinner (chicken, stacked potatoes, brussel sprouts--S's favorite, and cinnamon sweet potatoes).  I also got the whole house clean and most of the laundry done.  The kids loved putting the cranberries in the dehydrator and stacking the potatoes for me, so they still had fun I suppose.

I really went back and forth about whether or not I wanted to video Christmas morning like we have every other year.  I decided not to, but then I thought that since this is G's first Christmas I need to have that on tape for her.  So I did.  It was really weird to watch the kids open their gifts alone.  I really didn't like it.

I also remembered that when V was a baby, S and I said that we didn't want to celebrate Christmas with gifts.  Instead, we wanted to take a family trip each year over Christmas and just get the kids something small.  I decided I really like that idea again.  Especially since the kids really don't need or want anything.  I think when G gets a bit bigger we might start doing that.

This is the first Christmas in 10 years without S.  We started dating in January 11 years ago.  Crazy to think about how much things have changed.

He got into the accident 26 weeks ago today.  V asked me today how many days Daddy has been dead.  I did the math and it has been 181 days.  I have survived 181 days without him in my life after 13 years with him in it.

Today was hard.  I think New Years Eve will be harder.  I have spent every New Years Eve with him for the past 11 years.  This will be my first alone.  It makes me want to cry.  NYE used to be my favorite holiday.  I loved looking forward to a new year and the fireworks and the excitement.  So much of that seems gone without him.

I just don't know what to expect anymore.  I don't know what to expect out of other people or myself.  Things I think will be hard are not and things I think will be easy are not.  Perhaps, I need to stop expecting anything and just let what will happen, happen.

we are blessed.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.  This year will be a different kind of Christmas for us.  S will be missing.  He will be with us, as he always is, but he will be missing.  Tomorrow, I plan on baking all day with the kids and Christmas Day, I will watch them open presents and then we will go to church.  I want to spend the days just the 4 of us.  I want to have fun and I think that is best done with just us.  We will celebrate Christmas with my family next week when my brother and his fiancee come back into town.

This year will be the first year in my entire life that I haven't seen my family on Christmas.  It will also be the first year I have gone to church on Christmas.  Really, this year, 2011, was the first year I ever went to church at all.  Since S died, I feel closer to God.  I know I have a lot of reasons to be very angry at God, and a lot of the time I am, but I also have a lot to be thankful for.  I am blessed.

A friend just sent me this poem and it had me bawling.  Sobbing really.  Ugly cries too.  I miss him so much.

A drunk man in an Oldsmobile
They said had run the light
That caused the six-car pileup
On 109 that night.
When broken bodies lay about
'And blood was everywhere,'
'The sirens screamed out eulogies,'
For death was in the air.
'A mother, trapped inside her car,'
Was heard above the noise;
Her plaintive plea near split the air:
'Oh, God, please spare my boys!'
She fought to loose her pinned hands
'She struggled to get free,'
But mangled metal held her fast
In grim captivity.
Her frightened eyes then focused
'On where the back seat once had been,'
But all she saw was broken glass and
Two children's seats crushed in.
Her twins were nowhere to be seen;
'She did not hear them cry, '
'And then she prayed they'd been thrown free, '
'Oh, God, don't let them die! '
Then firemen came and cut her loose, '
'But when they searched the back, '
'They found therein no little boys, '
But the seat belts were intact.
They thought the woman had gone mad
'And was traveling alone, '
'But when they turned to question her, '
They discovered she was gone.
Policemen saw her running wild
And screaming above the noise
'In beseeching supplication, '
Please help me find my boys!
They're four years old and wear blue shirts;
'Their jeans are blue to match.''
'One cop spoke up, ''They're in my car, '
And they don't have a scratch.
They said their daddy put them there
'And gave them each a cone, '
Then told them both to wait for Mom
To come and take them home.
'I've searched the area high and low, '
But I can't find their dad.
'He must have fled the scene, '
'I guess, and that is very bad.'
'The mother hugged the twins and said, '
'While wiping at a tear, '
'He could not flee the scene, you see, '
'For he's been dead a year.'
'The cop just looked confused and asked, '
'Now, how can that be true? '
'The boys said, ''Mommy, Daddy came
'And left a kiss for you.'' '
He told us not to worry
'And that you would be all right, '
And then he put us in this car with
'The pretty, flashing light. '
'We wanted him to stay with us, '
'Because we miss him so, '
'But Mommy, he just hugged us tight '
And said he had to go.
He said someday we'd understand
'And told us not to fuss, '
'And he said to tell you, Mommy, '
'He's watching over us.'
The mother knew without a doubt
'That what they spoke was true, '
'For she recalled their dad's last words, ' ' I will watch over you.'
The fire men's notes could not explain
'The twisted, mangled car, '
And how the three of them escaped
Without a single scar.
'But on the cop's report was scribed, '
'In print so very fine, '
An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.
'The 7 Second Prayer, Just repeat this phrase and see how God moves.
'Lord, I love you and I need you, come into my heart, and bless my
Family, my home, my friends, and me. Amen. '

I've read that before, but not since he died.  Not since I could imagine being in that mother's shoes.  It's different now.  But it makes me feel blessed too, because I know he will protect my kids.  I know he will keep us safe.  We have out own personal guardian angel who loves us more than anyone.

It amazes me how I see him places.  Not him personally, but things that he has done.  Signs he has left me.  He lets me know that he is around and he is behind me.  He tells me it will be okay and he lets me know that he supports me.  He is one hell of a man.

Before bed tonight, M went over to her picture of him and she just started talking.  "Mama.  That me on Daddy lap.  I sleepin' on Daddy lap.  Those my jammas.  That Daddy shirt.  I sleep on Daddy lap.  My Daddy died."  She says it all so mater-of-factly.  The same emotion is in each sentence.  It's amazing.

And sad.  It makes me sad that she has to talk about her Daddy in past tense.  I don't think she remembers him.

I think V is forgetting him too.  And G has long forgotten.  He never really got to know her when he was alive.  And he would love her.  He did love her, but I think she and he would have had a really special bond.  She would have been a Daddy's girl I think.

Still, I am glad my kids had such a great dad.  I am glad that V and M got to know him and he them.  I am glad he got to meet G and bond with her the way he did.  I am so blessed to have had him in my life.  And I know I will have more blessings coming my way.  I think he will make sure of it.

A friend told me the other day that God must need him to work on a big project with Him.  That was the kind of guy he was.  Now he can watch over us and keep us safe.

So, this holiday, I am blessed.  I have three healthy (sleeping) children.  I have food in my belly.  I have a roof over my head.  I have friends who love me.  And I have S.  I am blessed.

the holidays don't make it harder

Lately, a lot of my friends and family have been telling me how they know this time of year is harder for me because S is not here.  While I appreciate the extra thoughts and prayers (or any at all really), it is not any harder for me.  He is not more dead because it is Thanksgiving or Christmas or whatever.  He is just as dead today as he will be on December 25th.

I wonder if it is because it is more obvious to other people that he is not here.  I mean, at the holiday things, to everyone else, there is obviously someone missing.  Perhaps, but his absence is obvious to me in everything so I don't notice it more because it is a  holiday.  I thought it would be harder too, but it is not.

I miss him all the time and I really don't miss him any more because it is a holiday season.  I realize he is gone when I am getting the kids dressed and I think about how he loved them in these outfits, or he never got to see them in those.  I miss him when I make coffee and I remember how he drank coffee in the winter.  I think of him when I do laundry and his clothes are missing.  When I am washing dishes after dinner and the kids are screaming, I know he is not here playing with them.  When the bigs are racing and they crash and I have to sort of halfway console each of them with one in each arm, I understand that he would be hugging one kid and me the other if he were here.  His absence is just so outstanding in my everyday life.

He is always on my mind.  It is really not any worse now than it was a few months ago.  He is still gone.

I was thinking back today and I realized I have come pretty far in nearly 6 months.  I don't think he is coming home anymore.  I don't get angry that he is gone.  I fully realize that this is my life.  This is my new normal.  And I have to be okay with that.  I am okay with that.  I want to honor him and cherish his memory and let him live on in me and our babies.

Trucking Along

Sometimes I feel like life is happening without me.  Like this person I am now is not who I am.  I don't know where I went.  I think the old me died when S did 24 weeks ago and I don't know that I like who was left behind.

I am so short with the kids and I have no patience.  I feel like I have forgotten how to parent.  They are growing and changing and so often, I just want to be left alone and not have to entertain them.  How horrible is that?  I do what I need to do because I know I need to do it, but gosh, I just don't want to. 

Not that I would do it, but I can see how mothers just go.  Sometimes I want to just be left alone.  I want to drop the kids off at my parents house for 2 weeks and just go.

Doing it all alone is hard.  There is never a break.  I cook dinner with 3 kids under my feet (or in my arms, hanging on my legs, etc).  I don't sleep without them on top of me.  I don't shower alone.  Heck, I don't even get to pee alone.  They are always there and always needing something.  And it gets really frustrating when 2 or all 3 of them need something at the same time because I can't do it all at once.  Someone has to wait.  It is not fair to them and it is not fair to me.

But that is life.  Life isn't fair.  It just is.  And so we keep on trucking.  The 4 of us together.  We keep going because that is really the only choice we have.

But this is a hard time of year.  All my friends are doing holiday things with their husbands and kids and I feel left behind.  I see them doing things that S and I would have done together and my kids are missing out because, honestly, I just don't want to do it without him.  He is so obviously not here.

When I pulled out the stockings, I remembered that I bought 5 after Christmas last year.  I never found stocking holders I loved though.  I really had to think about whether I was putting up 4 or 5 stockings.  I decided on all 5 and I made stocking holders last night.

The crazy part though, is that even though they are all the same and I made them all the same way, one won't stay together.  They spell out "peace" and S would have been the "p".  That is the one that won't stay.  I feel like it is symbolic of how broken he is.  Or it is him trying to tell me something.  I don't know what.

I found myself thinking about him as I was cleaning the kitchen tonight.  An invitation to a flooring show came in the mail today.  He wanted to go last year, but I said no because it was just a few weeks after G was due and I didn't wan to have all 3 kids alone.  He would have had so much fun though.  He loved going.  On one hand, I wish I had let him go.  We agreed he could go this year, but now he can't.  On the other hand, I'm glad he didn't go because that was 5 days we had together that we wouldn't have.

There are just so many things I regret.  I wish I hadn't urged him to stop drinking soda.  I wish I hadn't complained about him eating crap food he loved so much.  I wish I didn't push him away when he tried to hug me when we were fighting.  I wish I told him I loved him more often.  I wish I payed more attention when he tried to explain things to me.  I just wish I was a better wife.  I don't think I was a bad wife, but I just wish I had realized then how silly the things I got mad about really were.  I wish I realized how short our time together was going to be.

But maybe I don't regret any of that.  Maybe those are the things that made me me and those things are part of the reason he loved me and part of the reason he chose me to be his wife.  I know he knew I loved him and I knew he loved me.  If either of us had done things differently it might have changed everything.

I just hope he knows how much I miss him.  I want him to know how much I love him.  I think I'm just missing him extra tonight.

a string of random thoughts

Wow, it's December.  Almost the end of 2011.  What a year it has been.  It is still crazy to me to think about how much my life has changed in the last 12 months.

2011 started off as one of the best years of my life.  We were getting ready to welcome our new baby into our family and I can remember S having so much fun making pizza with V during the late winter snow storms.  It was fun.

Halfway though the year, I had the worst experience in my life.  It trumped all of the things I thought were horrible before that moment.  22 weeks ago I could not imagine my life without S.  I really didn't think I would be able to breathe without him.  I didn't know how I would be able to function.

And here we are at the end of the year, and all things considered, I think we are doing pretty good.

I am learning that I am capable.  I can do things I used to think I couldn't do.  Simple things like taking out the trash and harder things like moving furniture alone.

Alone.  I am getting used to the alone.  I am getting used to the quiet.  I am getting used to doing everything with the kids on my own.  I have raised three kids for 5 months by myself.  I have kept a G alive and thriving for 17 months on nothing but me (9 months in and 8 months out so far).  I have helped M learn to use the potty and sleep in a big girl bed.  I have helped V learn math and letters.  I have been doing things mostly on my own for 5 months and for that I am pretty proud.

Yesterday I got asked if I am a single mom.  I told him I am, but I felt weird saying that.  I mean, technically I am a single mom, but I feel like my situation is different from most single mom situations.  Most kids have a dad who could call them or take them to the park or kiss a boo boo.  My kids don't.  So not only am I a single parent, but I am an only parent.  But then again, in a sense I am not.  My kids have two parents.  They have a mom and a dad who love them very much.

I asked M tonight if she remembers Daddy.  She said yes and then I asked her what she remembers about him.  She said "nothing."  It breaks my heart.  I feel like I need to seek out ways to keep him alive for them.  I want the kids to know how much he loved them.  I want them to know that he was an involved dad.  I want them to remember him playing with them and cooking with them and loving them.

And I want to remember that too.  I want to remember him with them.  I want to remember his love.  I want the kids to miss him.  I want them to remember him enough that they can miss him.

Someone today was telling me how cute G was and whatnot and then she said "Your Daddy is going to have to get a big stick when your a teenager!"  I wanted to tell her that he couldn't.  I wanted to tell her that he's dead.  I wanted her to know that it isn't fair to assume that my daughter's Daddy can watch out for her.  But I didn't.  Really, what good would it have done?  It would have just made  her feel bad and then I would have gotten the look of pity I  get from people when they find out that S died.

It is this horrible look of sadness, pity, and embarrassment.  It makes me feel bad and it makes the other person feel worse I am sure.

For a minute it might make them appreciate what they have, but that is it.

That is really strange to me too.  When I used to hear about something bad happening I always felt really bad and held my kids closer or treated S a little better for a bit, but then we got back into the swing of life and back into old habits.  Now that I am on the other side of this, it seems strange that I ever went back to normal because the other family did not.  They never will.  Their normal is forever altered.

It's weird that other people changed their lives momentarily after S died, but mine will never be the same.

That is not to say my life won't be good again.  It will.  I know it will because that is what he would have wanted.  I know he would want me to find happiness again.  For me and for our kids.  They will follow my lead, and I want them to be happy and I know he would too.

We will always remember him.  We will always love him.  He will always be with us.  That is our new normal.

and so it begins

Today S's friend and I went to meet with the Assistant District Attorney who will be working on S's case.  I was a little nervous,  mostly just because I didn't know what to expect, but it went fine.

The ADA is really nice and he seems to really care.  He asked about S and asked what we wanted to do.  The ADA explained how everything is going to work and what we can expect and told me a little more about the accident so that was nice too.

A woman who apparently drove up on the scene called 9-1-1.  They asked if I wanted a copy of the 9-1-1 call, and I told them I might, but I don't want to see it right now.  They also offered pictures of the accident if I wanted them.  I am really happy to know that these things are available to me now.  They showed me a picture of the man who killed him.  He doesn't look anything like I thought he would look.  It was really weird to see his face and know what he did.

I really want to talk to him.  I have so many questions for him and I am hopeful that he will answer them for me.  They offered to just have him write answers to the questions I have so that I don't have to hear them until I am ready.  I like that idea too.

S's friend brought up a good point too.  He thinks this is all going to be much harder on us than we realize.  Seeing the man who took S's life for the first time, hearing him talk, knowing that he is still living his life...it's not going to be easy.  But I hope it will be healing.  I am hopeful that there won't be a trial and that this man is a decent person who will apologize and answer my questions and we can find some level of healing from all of this.

I also want him to know what an amazing man S was.  I want him to that he was a great dad who loved the hell out of his kids.  I want him to know that he was hard working and honest and smart and loving and that he would have given anything for the good of his family.

And I want him to know that I am not mad at him.  I want him to know that I don't blame him.  I want him to feel some peace too.

forgiveness

I have been hearing a lot of people talk about forgiveness lately.  At church, at MOPS, just in general and I feel like I have never really had an easy time with forgiveness.  I tend to hold grudges.  S would always tell me I could remember all the things he ever did wrong.  He's probably right, too.

When I would hear stories on the news or whatever about people forgiving those who wronged them I always wondered how they could do it.  Especially when someone died.  I wondered how you could ever forgive someone for taking the life of someone you love.

And I am yet again eating my words.

I am not mad at the man who killed S.  I was never mad at him.  I can remember sitting in the hospital, waiting to get to see S and being scared and worried and panicked, but not at all mad.  In talking to his mom, she said something about being mad at him for riding the bike, and I told her I wasn't mad, but once I knew he would be okay I probably would be.  I have never been mad at him for riding the motorcycle that day.  I have also never been mad at the man who killed him.  Not even a little bit.  I sort of want to be, but I can't.

I actually feel bad for him.  Really bad for him.  I don't know that his path is even an easier one to walk than mine.  He knows that he killed someone.  He killed a husband, a father, a son, a friend.  He took a life.   He is 74 years old.  He lived his life and he knows that he took one much shorter than his.  I'm thankful I don't have to walk his path.

Now, that is not to say that I would choose my path over his.  Obviously, the thing in this world best for my kids is to have their dad here with them, so I wouldn't take that from them for anything, but this is the hand we were dealt.  The four of us, and now we have to make the best of it.

I also realized, at Target yesterday, that last year, I was pregnant with G and looking for stocking holders for all 5 of us.  I wanted coordinating ones, but none the same.  It was really hard to find 5 that matched and then I saw some at Hobby Lobby.  They spelled "peace" and I wanted to get them, but they were insanely expensive.  When I talked S into it, and went back, they were gone.

So, as I'm walking through Target, I see the employees putting out Christmas things and I realized that we will never get to spend a Christmas as a family of 5.  As I sit here typing this, it just hit me that S won't be here for G's first Christmas.  How much she has changed in the past 4 months and he missed all of it.  He probably wouldn't ever recognize her now.  Wow.

Still though, I'm not mad at the man who killed S.  I just can't be.  What good would it do?  Really, it won't change that man's life.  It would change my life, but I don't think it would be a positive change.  I want to more forward and give my kids a good life. I can't hold anger for nothing.

I took the kids to a carnival tonight.  By myself.  I really didn't want to, but I told the kids if they behaved today that we would go and they did so I kept my word and we went.  BACA (Bikers Against Child Abuse) was there and they were giving the kids tattoos.  My kids go crazy for tattoos, so we waited in line for a BACA tattoo.  While we were waiting, we talked about S and how these men rode motorcycles too.  When we got to the tattoo guy, V put his hand out and told him that his daddy rode a motorcycle.  The man said "so do I!  I fall off sometimes, does your daddy fall off sometimes too?"  V just told him no.  It really made me think about how we have no idea what is going on in other people's lives.  None!

The kids did pretty well at the carnival though, especially since it was so late for them.  I'd like to thank S for that.  I feel like he is around and he helps me when I need it most.

Today, M peed on the potty at my parents house and we were all clapping and cheering for her when her battery powered toothbrush (that is broken and hasn't worked in weeks and was sitting on the counter next to me completely untouched) turned on.  It was like S was saying, "I'm here and I'm proud of you, M!"

I like when things like that happen.  Maybe I'm crazy and it just happens, but it gives me a peace to think it's him.  I used to only feel him at home, but now I hardly feel him here at all.  I talk to him often and I think he tells me what he thinks I should do in his own ways, but I still want to feel him here.  I miss him.  I will always miss him.

4 months--I almost missed it

Today is the 27th.  I didn't even realize it until late in the afternoon when I was writing a check.  I thought about it yesterday, but it just slipped by for most of today.  I sometimes lose track of the weeks too (this is the 18th week withouth him).  I suppose that happens as time passes.  Sort of sad, really.

I find myself wanting to be alone more now.  I don't know what that is about since I usually like to be around people.  But lately I have to force myself to go out or invite friends over.  I usually have a good time when I do, but it just isn't a desire of mine right now.  Maybe that is me getting used to the lonliness?

I think that is probably the hardest part about losing a spouse.  The quiet and the lonliness.  I used to look forward to evenings becuase the kids were all asleep and S and I could sit around and just talk or whatever.  I tried to get all the chores done during the day so we could have evenings for us.  It was nice.  Now, I try to keep busy in the evenings.  I keep the laundry folding to do at night, or the dishes, or the crafting.  I need something so I don't go crazy.

I have started making a lot of things out of his clothes.  Well, scarves mostly, but I like wearing them.  I think they are cute and they make me feel closer to him.  Sometimes I just find myself longing for him.

I am trying to do things in my life that he would want.  I think the next few months are going to be hard ones.  His birthday is next month, followed by Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and what would have been our 8th wedding anniversary.  We also started dating in January nearly 11 years ago and he proposed to me in February nearly 10 years ago.  Then it's G's first birthday and then V and my birthday in May.  Then June.  Then it will be a year.

Wow.  Somehow I just went through the next 8 months.  I hope they fly by and go slowly all at once.  I keep thinking it will get easier over time.  I think it just keeps getting different.

sad realizations

Today, while V was at counseling, I was reading a blog on my phone and it said something about a baby being 14 weeks old.  I then realized that G was about 3 1/2 months old when S died and that is about 14 weeks and he's been dead for 16 weeks.  I counted and she was 14 weeks 4 days old when he died.  That means that during her life, he has been dead longer than he was alive.  How sad for her.  Her daddy has been dead longer than she knew him.

I also realized today that when S died, my kids didn't just lose their dad.  They lost their mom too.  I am so much a different parent than I was when he was alive.  I have less patience, less energy, less care.  I don't take them to do the things that we did when he was alive.  They have skipped birthday parties because I don't feel comfortable with all the kids on my own there.  They have had to skip weekend fairs and festivals.  They have missed family nights at restaurants.  V isn't playing soccer or t-ball or doing gymnastics because it is too late for the girls to be out and I can't be in two places at once.

Just another thing to add to the mama guilt I have.  I want so badly for my kids to have a normal childhood.  I want them to be normal kids.  But they won't be.  It wasn't in the cards for them.  They will always be different.  Something in their life will always be different than their friends.  I just hope that this will make them stronger.  That they will cherish the relationships they have with the people they love because they will know how fragile life can be.  I want them to know how much their daddy loved them and to know that he will always be a part of them.

I also hope that I can be a better mom because of this.  Right now, I know I am not being a better mom, but I hope that I can.  I hope this makes me more laid back and less afraid.  I hope I can remember the qualities S had that I don't and try to bring those forth and teach them to our kids.  I know it will change them, but I don't want the fact that my kids dad died to define them.

how many people *does* it take to change a lightbulb

Apparently at least two.  Or at least me plus someone who knows how to do it.   A few of the lights in my kitchen have been out for a while so yesterday I decided to finally change them.  That was always, S's job, but I decided it really needed to be done and obviously he's not doing it.  So I went in the garage, got the lightbulbs, got the stool and climbed up to change the bulb (while all 3 kids were clamoring trying to get up the stepstool too).  It was then that I realized I have no idea how to change this lightbulb.  I tried to get the bulb out, but couldn't and finally gave up and asked his friend to come help me.  Now, in my defense, these are not regular lightbulbs.  They are complicated and I know how to do it now, but it just made me realize how much S took care of that I didn't have to think about.

I am so thankful to have such awesome neighbors who have been taking care of my lawn for me.  And I am so blessed that S and I have such good friends who come to fix my washer, fix my car, light my heater, and change my lightbulbs.

These are things I feel like I need to be able to do though.  I should be able to take care of these things on my own.  I should, but somehow I can't.

Not just physically can't, but emotionally.  It is hard to do the things that S did.

The kids and I also washed my car yesterday.  I haven't washed a car since I was 16.  S always did that for me too.

My counselor asked me last week what I want for my future and I told her I want to be happy.  She asked me what that meant, how would I know when I was there, and I couldn't answer her.  True happiness seems someone unattainable to me right now.  She tasked me with deciding what happiness means to me now.  I can obviously change my definition, but she wants me to decide how I will know when I am happy in the future.

Tonight I cooked dinner.  A real dinner.  I made chicken, stuffing, and green beans and carrots.  The kids and I sat at the table and ate a real dinner like a real family.  A real family with someone missing.  It has been 16 weeks and I finally did it.  It feels good to have that past me, but I decided that I think I will be happy when I can do everyday things and not be sad.  When I can change a lightbulb or wash the car or make dinner without being sad.

I think tonight, I took a step in the right direction.

organ donation recipients

I don't know whether or not I've mentioned it, but S's organs were donated.  I told them to use everything they could, but they were only able to use his liver and his kidneys.  I wrote letters to the 3 people who received his organs, but I haven't heard anything back yet.  I am still hopeful that they will write.   I am sure it is hard for them to know that someone died in order for them to live and I know they have their own sort of grieving to do.  I will be patient.

I really want to meet them one day though.  It would mean so much to me to see them and know that a part of S is living on in them.

That is why I feel so blessed to have met 2 organ donation recipients this week.  It wasn't planned, by me anyway, but the more time that passes the more I think there is some sort of Divine plan in the works here.

Wednesday afternoon I got really sick.  Really, really sick and I had to call my mom to come over and take care of the kids.  I think I ate something bad, and I just couldn't take care of them.  She was fabulous and came over and played with them and fed them and put them to bed for me.  She just brought me G when she needed to nurse.  Anyway, Thursday I was supposed to work at a health fair for Weight Watchers, but I didn't think I would be able to since I was so sick.

Thursday morning, I woke up and was still iffy about whether or not I could do it.  I finally decided I wasn't feeling 100%, but I could do it, so I did.  I ran into a friend there, who mentioned that she had walked the fair earlier and saw that LifeShare was there.  So, before I left, I went over to the LifeShare booth, expecting to see the people who work in the office, but there were 2 organ recipients.  One woman, who had a double lung transplant 4 years ago, was about my age and the other woman, who received a pancreas and kidney 11 years ago was a bit older.  It was so neat to talk to them!  The pancreas and kidney recipient said that her donor was a 13 year old boy and she and his family are close now.  The double lung recipient said that she wrote to her donor's family, a "middle age woman", but hasn't heard anything yet.  She said she likes to "adopt" other donor families as hers though.

Seeing what they have done since their transplants and hearing about their journeys was amazing!  I hope that the people who have S's organs are doing well too.  Obviously, I would rather have S here then pretty much anything else, but since that isn't an option, I am so thankful that he was able to give the gift of life to 3 other people.  Even in his death, he is doing good!  What an amazing man!

100 days

Today marks 100 days since S died.  100 days.  Wow.  Triple digits.  I can remember in elementary school having a 100 day party on the 100th day of school.  Such a thing to celebrate!  I felt like I should mark this day somehow, but couldn't figure out how, so I didn't do anything special.  100 days.

I did look at his helmet for the first time today.  His helmet and saddle bags have been sitting in a box in my garage for about 3 months.  My brother went to get them from the tow lot and he took pictures of the bike for me too.  I looked at the pictures a while ago and I was shocked at how little damage was done to the bike.  It really didn't look bad.  There was a dent in the gas tank and one of the mirrors was broken.  That was about it.  He took the brunt of it.

They told me his saddle bags look new (and they do) and his helmet didn't look bad either, but I haven't been ready to look at it until today.  It has a small paint mark on the chin area and that is about it.  I wonder if his head hit the guys car there.  I really examined the helmet.  I looked at every inch, inside and out.  I can see where the paramedics cut the chin strap to get the helmet off his head.  I smelled the inside.  I wanted to see if it smelled like him.  It doesn't.

I am sort of mad at the helmet.  It didn't do its job.  I paid for it to protect his head if he got into an accident and it failed miserably.  It hardly took a beating at all.  It gave it all to him.

101 days ago that piece of plastic and padding was on S's head as he rode his bike through the intersection.  He put it on that day, so that in the unlikely event of an accident, he would live to tell the story.  His story will never be told.

not doing the widow thing right

There should be a widow's handbook.  It says how long a widow is required to cry.  How many times a day she is allowed to think of her husband.  How often she can talk about him.  When it is okay to take his clothes out of the closet or clear his dresser drawers or throw away his toothbrush.  How she should refer to her husband.  When to tell people she is just meeting that she is a widow.  When she should start dating.  And much more, but since there is not, I am just doing what feels right to me.

I don't know how to grieve my husband.  I wasn't planning on doing it this early in life.  I'm just winging it.

I read that 7 years after a man has died his widow thinks of him 10 times an hour.  TEN times an HOUR!  After SEVEN YEARS!  That is how much the death affects the widow.  How much is changes her.  It is life altering, forever.

I called him "my late husband" for the first time today.  It felt so weird calling him "late" because he wasn't late for anything!  It feels weird sometimes calling him my husband though.  I mean he is my husband, but I'm not married anymore.

I have a husband, but I'm not married.  How weird is that?

I have been trying to talk myself into selling some of his tools and such in a couple of weeks.  We'll see if I get there or not.  I took some of his clothes out of the closet so I can have quilts made for the kids and for me.  His toothbrushes are still in the toothbrush holders though (he had one in each bathroom).  The things I feel ready to part with and those I don't are so random.

I also realized the other day, that if I had died, the only things in the house that are just mine are my clothes and my sewing machine.  He would have so much less to go through.  Everything else he would really need to keep.  Just my clothes and my sewing machine.  How crazy.

And crazy brings me to the grocery store.  I ran into the grocery store after leaving counseling the other day to just get a couple of things I needed before I picked the kids up at my parents'.  I am really out of the loop on dating or whatever though because I didn't even realize the guy was hitting on me for a while, even though he apparently used a well known pick-up.  We ended up standing in the aisle of the grocery store for about an hour talking though.  Right there between eggs and pasta sauce, for an hour!  It was flattering, yes, but crazy just the same.

And it brought up the concept of me dating.  Am I ready?  Will it happen?  I don't know.  I just want my family and friends to know that if and when I do date, I will be very cautious about who I bring around my children.  I will also be very cautious about who I let into my life.  My kids and I have been hurt horribly by the death of S and I want to protect them from any hurt I can.  And I will.  I think I have pretty fair judgement and really good instincts.  And I'm not a floosie.  I will also try to be honorable and respect S and his wishes.  I know what he would want for me and our kids and I want to honor him.

That is really what everything boils down to.  I want to honor my husband.  I want to live my life how he would want me to.  I want that because he loved me.  I know he would want me to be happy.  He always said that if I was happy, he was happy, and I want him to be happy. :)

3 months

Today marks 3 months since S died.  It seems so long ago and so not long ago all at once.

It feels like it has been ages since I've talked to him.  Since I've kissed him.  Since I've heard him laugh.  At the same time I wonder how I have survived 3 months without him.  What a crazy feeling.

Part of me wonders how the kids and I are going to live this life without him and then part of me knows we can because we've gotten this far.  It hasn't always been fun and it hasn't been easy, but we have done it.

I feel like I am forgetting him.  It is getting hard to remember what his hands felt like in mine. Or what his voice sounded like.  Or what he smelled like.  At V's counseling session today, the counselor asked V what he liked to do with Daddy.  V said they liked to smash cars (which I can assure you never happened) and then he asked me what S and I liked to do together.  It took me a second to think of something because it feels like it has been so long since I've done anything with him.  That makes me really sad and really scared.

I don't want to forget him.  I want to remember everything.  I want to be able to tell the kids everything about him.  I want them to at least know who he was through me and I am scared I won't be able to tell them.

It also makes me think about the last 10 years.  How can I forget them so quickly?  I have heard that sometimes this happens.  Sometimes, widows start to forget, but the memories come back.  I pray they do for me.  I need to remember everything.

this emotional roller coaster

Today H's best friend came over and we went through some of H's tools and such in the garage.  It was not as emotional as I thought it would be, but basically we  just moved stuff around.  We put together a little bag of tools that I am going to keep for me and separated out some tools that I am going to keep for the kids.  The rest of it we left for me to eventually maybe sell.

I don't know why I am so attached to his things.  I mean they are just that, THINGS!  Some of it is even things he didn't even really care about.  He had no attachment to them, so why do I?  H's friend made a good point that in a month I'm going to miss H, not his motorcycle jack.  That is true, but somehow I can't bring myself to start the process of having his things leave my house.

I did put some of his clothes in bins a couple of weeks ago.  I am having quilts made with his clothes (one for me and each of the kids) and I really want to give them to the kids on his birthday in November.  In order to do that they have to leave my closet.  I know that, but I just don't want them to.  So silly, I know.

The man who killed him was arrested Tuesday.  He posted bond and his preliminary hearing will be in December.  I thought that might bring me some sort of peace, to know that this is starting so it will be over, but it didn't.  I feel really badly for the man.  I don't want him to worry or be scared or anything like that.  All I want is for him to look me and my kids in the eyes and tell us how sorry he is.  I want him to know what he took.  I just want an apology.

I don't know if he will give me that or not though.  He plead "not guilty" but the DA's office also said the judges won't let them enter a plea of "guilty" at this point even if they want to.  I don't know how he feels about the whole thing.

I'm also half scared that he's going to kick the bucket before any of this really starts.  Then I won't ever know what happened from his point of view.  I won't know what he thought.  I won't know what he did.

Did he run to him on the street?  Did he hold his hand and tell him he was sorry?  Did he let him know that help was coming?  Did he even see him?  It's all just so much to think about.

It's on the sad days that I find myself consumed with these thoughts.  And it is so hard because no one understands.  The one person who I could always turn to, the one person who knew what I was feeling without me having to say it, the one person who was always there to make me feel better is gone.  It's this crazy feeling when the person I miss so much and want back so much and need so much and want so much to help me get through this is the person I can't have.

Sometimes I still think he's coming home.  Sometimes I think I see him or hear him for just a second.  Sometimes I look forward to those seconds.  It's almost like I have him back.

"If you can't change your fate...

"If you can't change your fate, change your attitude" -Amy Tan

I just came across this quote and it really struck me.  Mostly because I have decided to change my attitude.  The last few weeks have been especially hard.  He has been dead for 11 weeks and one day.  78 days today.  The DA called me last week and said they are having a seminar about how the court proceedings will work and asked me to attend.  The man who killed him is being charged with negligent  homicide.  I don't know how I feel about all of this yet, but it doesn't really matter how I feel.  I don't have any say in any of it.

Anyway, after talking with the DA's office, it sort of made all of this real and that sucks.  I have noticed many of the relationships around me changing and that sucks (though some of it is good).  Nights have gotten lonelier and that sucks.  Basically, just a lot of sucking going on.

So, before I went to bed I asked H to help me to get through all of this.  To tell me what I am supposed to do.  As I ask him every night, I asked to see him in my dreams.  Up until that night, I had only had 3 dreams (that I remember) since he died.  All 3 were about him and only one of the 3 was a really good dream.

That night I had 3 dreams.  He basically told me that this is how it was always supposed to be.  And he wants me to move forward.  He wants me to continue my life.  He doesn't want me to cry over him.  He wants me to be happy.

So, I decided that I need to change my attitude.  I need to stop thinking so much about what should have been or what could have been.  This is what should have been for whatever reason and that means that nothing different could have been.

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason and I still question what that reason could be, but I know there has to be one.  There just does.  And I may never know what it is, and I am okay with that (mostly).

I miss him every day and I don't think that will ever stop.  I will love him for the rest of my life.  He was an amazing man and he loved the hell out of me and our kids.  But none of that changes what happened.  Wishing and hoping and praying isn't going to change it.  All that is going to do is make me sad and he made it pretty clear to me that he doesn't want that for me.  So, really, all that's left to do is change my attitude.

That is not to say that I am not sad, or that I won't ever be sad, or that his death doesn't hurt.  It just means that I am not going to let this horrible thing turn my life into a horrible thing.  I will find happiness.  Consider me officially changed.

realizations from church

I have been trying to find a church I like and today we tried a new one.  I almost feel like God is sending me to these different churches because I need the message at that church that week.  The message this week really resonated with me.  Not the whole message, but a specific part of it.  Well, 2 actually.

The lesser of the two is Proverbs 18:24 

A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

That just made me think of H because he didn't have a ton of friends, but the friends he had were family.

The most impactful part that stuck with me was about having a person or people who know everything about you.  Someone who is honest with you all the time.  Someone you can trust.  H was my someone.  We had no secrets.  He knew everything about me.  I told him everything.  He was always honest with me.  He would tell me when I was acting crazy and pull me back when I was going overboard.  I can remember clothes shopping with him when we were first dating and he would tell me when the clothes didn't look good (he said it nicely, but I knew what he was saying).  I knew even back then that we were supposed to be together.  He was the only person I had in my life with that type of honesty and trust.

So when he died, I didn't just lose my husband.  I didn't just lose my best friend.  I didn't just lose my housemate.  I didn't just lose my provider.  I didn't just lose my confidant.  I lost me. A part of me died the day he died.  He knew everything about me and I about him.  We were one.  And he took part of me with him.

So that leaves me to redefine who I am.  Not just in the sense that I am now a widow, now a single mom, but also that I am not his.  I am finding that to be really hard to do.  I don't know how to be a single person.  I have been half of a couple for so long that I think I have forgotten how to be a single.  And I don't want to remember.

I made dinner tonight and I didn't think to halve the recipe.  The kids and I will be eating fritatta for days.  I bought lettuce the other day and I didn't think that I don't need as much anymore.  I have all of these big important decisions to make like where I am going to live and where the kids are going to go to school and I don't know how to make them on my own.

Now, that is not to say that I can't do it or that I didn't have a part in those decisions when he was alive.  I did, but I had someone to bounce things off of and I had his opinion and feelings to take into consideration and he mine.  Now, I have to think about what he would want and hope that I am doing what he would want and honoring him.

I made a big decision already.  I had my sister come and take the dog to live with her.  He was his dog.  I mean we got him together, but he wasn't mine.  They were buds and I had to admit to myself that I can't give him a good life.  He is too big and I just don't have the time or the energy to care for him.  I had been feeding him and making sure he had water, but that was it.  I know my sister can give him a better life.  It just hurts to have him gone.  Not having the dog here means H isn't coming home.

And admitting that hurts.  It hurts more than I could ever imagine hurting.  It is an all encompassing hurt.  It hurts on all levels.  I get physically nauseous when I think about the fact that I won't get to feel his arms around me.  Hear him say he loves me.  Feel his lips on mine.  It physically hurts me.  And the emotional hurt in just indescribable.  Being dead just lasts so long.

the club--and ramblings

I just finished this post and decided that I should say that I am writing this blog really for me.  I mean I know other people can read it, it is on the internet afterall, but it is really for me.  I find it very cathartic to get my thoughts and feelings out.  I have a notebook at home too that I write it, but sometimes I prefer to type.

I also haven't been proofreading what I've been writing.  So any typos aren't going to be caught.  Oops.
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I am part of an exclusive club.  Not many people my age are in the club.  Not many people even close to my age are in this club.  Sadly, I am not the youngest.  I am part of the widows club.  It is a club that I never thought I would be in.  Most people don't.  Tragedy doesn't happen to us anyway.  It always happens to other people.  Until it doesn't.

I have "met" a lot of other people in this club.  I have found support online from others in this shit club.  They know what it is to be living life and enjoying life and then have life ripped away.  Sadly, others know this hurt.

Those farther in this journey than me have said that people they thought were their friends aren't anymore.  They just stopped calling, stopped visiting.  Talking to a "young widow" made them uncomfortable.  I am so scared that is going to happen to me.  I feel so alone as it is because my best friend is gone.

I am just so confused.  I don't understand how he can be gone.  He was such a big, strong man and I don't see how he could be dead.  It just doesn't make sense to me.  Other people have been in motorcycle accidents, accidents similar to his even and they are fine.  Why is he not?

So many people were praying, why didn't God answer our prayers?  I mean this was a big one.  Screw the stupid prayers I have prayed.  I feel like I wasted prayers on shit when I should have been saving them up.  There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't give to have him here with me.  Nothing.  This life is just not the same without him.

I feel so overwhelmed.  There are so many decisions to make, decisions we would have made together that are all on me now.  I don't do well with making decisions.  He always made them and I just argued if I didn't like it.

In the 6 or so months before he died, I feel like he knew something was going to happen.  He tried to get me to understand things I just didn't care about.  Almost like he knew I would need to know.  I should have listened to him, but I didn't.  He got nearly everything in the house done so I have nothing really left to do.  The few things left I can do or his friend has offered to help me with.  He did special things with the kids before he died.  He made sure we all knew that he loved us.

He worked so much this last year though.  He spent so many hours at work.  He was working hard so we could have a better life.  We were sacrificing now for the future.  I'm pissed that we did that.  We planned ahead and we were planning to retire when he was about 50 and travel the world and just enjoy eachother.  Retirement was 19 years away and now all of that is gone.  I mean the planning is still there, but the future is gone.  I wish we had been irresponsible and figured that we would deal with the future in the future.

I wish he got to do all the things he wanted to do in his life.  I heard something today about how 30 isn't old and I thought that it was for him.

It all still just doesn't seem real.  I don't know that I want it to though.  The kids and I ate dinner at the table last night and the night before.  I couldn't do it again tonight though.  It is just so hard doing things without him.  I need to decide where I want to live, what I want the kids to do for school, and what to eat for dinner.  All things I don't want to do alone.

I was folding laundry yesterday and a pair of my shorts were inside out and I thought for just a second they were his.  It was so weird.

Everything in my life is just so different.  I mean, really, nothing is the same.  The laundry is different because his isn't there (although some of his stuff is because I wear his clothes to bed and around the house), the garage is different because his car is gone (its coming back, but its getting fixed right now), the entry way is different because his shoes aren't there.  The bathroom is different because his towel isn't there.  My bed is different because he isn't in.  There is no one to call when the kids do the cute things they do (today I told M to hold hands and she didn't put her hand up for me to grab.  I went to grab her and realized she was holding her hands together in front of her.  So cute, and something I definitely would have called H to tell him about).  When I make dinner, well, I don't make dinner.  When I make lunches, I am one short.  When I clean up after dinner, I don't put the leftovers in a container for him to take to work for lunch.  When I clean the kitchen after dinner, G is usually crying because I can't wash dishes and hold her and there isn't anyone here to hold her.  The kids have to play alone during that time too since he's not here to play with them.  I have to brush the kids teeth.  Things are so different.

And then there are the things that still are the same.  His clothes still hang in the closet.  His tools are still in their place in the garage.  His toothbrush is still in the bathroom where he left it.  His cologne is in the drawer.  His clothes are are still in the dressers.  His food is still in the pantry/fridge/freezer.

I can't bring myself to get rid of his things.  Even the things that I should.  Like the food only he ate.  I decided the other day that I was going to go through the pantry and donate the food that only he liked.  I took out 2 bottles of BBQ Sauce and couldn't go any farther.  I put them both back.  There is food in the freezer that I had gotten for his lunches.  I can't take it out.  I just want to feel him around me.  I want to know hes here in spirit at least.

This is all so hard.  This is not how I wanted my life to be.  This is not how he would want my life to be.  I should not be here, not in this club.  I want to revoke my membership.

who he was part deux

After I posted my post about who he was, I decided that I am going to print it and put it in the kid's "daddy book" (a scrapbook I am making about their Daddy). I also thought of so many more things I wanted to add, so I figured I would just add them here. So, here goes...

He liked "Teen Mom" and "16 and Pregnant." He liked "Teen Mom" better though because he said he got bored sometimes watching the same girl for an hour. I have meetings 2 Tuesdays a month and sometimes, if I got home late, he would tell me he watched without me!

He also liked "Sister Wives." I can remember one Sunday, he was going to clean out the garage and came into the bedroom to tell me something and realized it was one. He skipped the garage and watched with me. We went to the zoo one afternoon with a bunch of my friends. All of our kids were mixed up in everyones strollers and he was carrying someone elses kid on his shoulders. It was him and a bunch of moms and kids. We all joked that we REALLY looked like sister wives :)

He didn't like fruit. Occasionally, he would eat watermelon or strawberries if I cut them up, but he didn't like eating fruit because it got his hands dirty. He especially hated fruit in his food (apples and pork, fruit on cheesecake, etc). He always said "why ruin a perfectly good whatever with fruit!"

He loved pizza and hamburgers. They were by far his favorite foods. He also loved a good steak, but steak had nothing on a BBQ bacon cheeseburger.

He also loved brussel spouts and broccoli. And canned green beans.

He was a great cook. Our first Valentine's Day he made me dinner. Spaghetti with homemade sauce. Absolutely delish! He also made me dinner for Mother's Day this year. Spaghetti and homemade sauce again. And breadsticks. Except, he thought the recipe was for 6 individual breadsticks, but it was really for bread loaves, so he made 12 LOAVES of bread. So cute (and yummy!)

He also loved to grill. He would grill anything and didn't want me messing with his grill.

He wasn't a big reader, but recently he started reading more. He was a big fan of Brad Meltzer. He was also reading "Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters" when he died.

He loved history. Especially American history. He loved learning and talking about wars.

He frequently said "as serious as a heart attack" when I would ask him if he was serious. Drive me nuts!

He was very self conscious about his grey hair. At a Thunder game, some lady called him "touch of grey" and he came home and shaved his head.

He was also pretty conscious of his weight. He was super skinny when I met him and then gained a lot of weight before we started dating. After we got engaged, he lost a lot of weight, but put some back on after we got married (certainly not due to my cooking--that would have made him lose from not wanting to eat!) He got made fun of a lot as a kid for being "the fat kid" and he carried that with him into adulthood.

He was a kid at heart. He thought farting was burping were funny. He would frequently come into the room where I was, fart, and leave. Oddly enough, I miss that.

He took care of me. He took a lot of pride in taking care of his family. I didn't realize how much he really did for me until he died and I have to do it now. I have to take out the trash and the recycling. I have to take care of the lawn (thankfully other are mowing for me though). I had to put the new tag on the van. I have to wash my car. I have to take out the compost. I have to get the stool out to get things up high. I have to struggle with heavy things. I had to put a new battery in the garage door opener. I had to fix the stroller. I have to do all the kid's birthday and Christmas shopping.

He was just such a good man. He loved his family and we miss him so much. The kids each have a picture of him in their room and every night, before they go to bed, they say goodnight to Daddy and tell him they love him and they miss him. I know they miss their daddy.

who he was

I just realized that I posted that I'm afraid the kids will forget H's spirit so I decided I should write about who he was. So many of my friends have told me that they wish they had gotten to know him better. I wish that too. He was an amazing person and you totally missed out if you didn't get to to know him! Here a little about him though :)

He was shy. It took him years, YEARS to ask me out!

But when he was drinking, he was so outgoing. He would talk to anyone if he had a beer!

He was so funny. That is part of what drew me to him. He could always make me laugh. He could make a joke out of anything

He was such a big man, but so loving. He was tough, but gentle. I always felt safe in his arms

He could fix anything. Seriously, anything. I remember, just a few weeks before he died, he was messing with the water heater in the garage. He called me out there to show me something and I remember asking him how he knew how to fix a water heater. He said "how do you not?!" He was so very handy.

He was slightly (mostly) pessimistic. I always told him to have a positive attitude, but he didn't

He was so hard working. He was the hardest working man I know. He didn't half-ass anything, ever

Well, unless he got really really tired and had been working on stuff for a long time. Even then though, he usually went back to finish it

He worked his way through college and was only 18 hours away from his Bachelors

He was a perfectionist. He set the bar high for himself and wasn't happy until he reached it and usually went beyond

He always hated that I was late all the time and that I made him late. His philosophy was "if you're on time, you're late"

He loved beer. He brewed his own beer for a while and he liked experimenting with flavors

He was a man of his word. When he said something, he meant it. He got offered a job making a lot more money after he had given his word with a different job and turned down the second job. Twice.

He was a loyal man. Not just to me, in our marriage, but to his friends. He didn't have many friends, but those he had were very close to him. He never said it, but I feel like he didn't want to have to give just a little of himself to a relationship. If he was going to be friends, he wanted to give you all of him.

He had such good ethics and morals. I don't know where he got them from because Lord knows he didn't learn them from his upbringing, but somehow he had them. If everyone had half of the integrity that he had this world would be a different place

He did the right thing just because it was the right thing to do

He was a man of many hobbies. He liked to start things he never finished. He did fishing, golf, boxing, auto-cross, beer making, picture framing/matting, biking, guitar playing, camping, weight lifting, hockey, football, softball, shooting guns, and so many more things I can't think of I am sure

He loved his kids. He loved them more than anything. He would have given anything for them

He loved me. I know he did. He showed it every day

He loved movies. He liked going to the theater or watching them at home. He could quote any movie and tell you who was in it

When I would ask him what a movie was about he would start with telling me who was in it. It always drove me nuts!

He liked tv shows that only 13 year old girls watched (True Blood and Dawson's Creek come to mind). I always told him he was a 13 year old girl at heart

He liked chick flicks. He said it was because of the hot chicks in chick flicks, but it was the storyline too

He hated black and white movies. He wouldn't watch Clerks with me because it was black and white

He liked helping others. He was selfish with his time (in a good way) though and if he was helping you it was because he really cared.

He was a neat freak.

And maybe more of a germ-a-phobe than me!

He liked things symmetrical. Asymmetry drove him nuts!

The man loved shoes. I know he didn't have much growing up and that probably added to his obsession, but really, it was crazy. I went through the garage and found something like 12 pairs out there alone. That doesn't even count what he has in the closets inside!

And he left his shoes EVERYWHERE! I was always yelling at him about how he only had 2 feet and there was no reason for 15 shoes to be strewn about my house. I miss tripping over his shoes

For as much as he loved shoes, he hated wearing them. He went barefoot if he could

And for that matter, he wasn't a big fan of wearing clothes at all. Until we had kids, we would come home from work and get undressed and not put clothes on again until we had to go to work the next morning

He loved the ocean. Everything about it. On our honeymoon he played in the ocean like a child

Once we had kids, he became a bit of an environmentalist. When we first got married, I dug the cans out of the trash to recycle them. He refused to recycle and thought it was dumb.

He loved history

He loved to build things. He was going to help build our house and he built all sorts of things around the house we live in now

He was so proud of our master bathroom. He designed it, built it, and finished alone! And it is B-E-A-UTIFUL!

He loved sports. College football was probably his favorite followed closely by professional hockey and basketball. Boomer Sooner! Thunder Up! Go Stars!

He loved music. He listened to all kinds of music. He told me that he thought his iTunes account was probably the most diverse ever!

He listened to music loud. Really freaking loud. I thought he might be deaf sometimes

He was so forgiving. If we were arguing, he would take a break and come back and I was totally forgiven. He never expected or wanted an apology

He didn't apologize much. Looking back, I think it was because he didn't expect it

He was such an awesome person. Really, he was. This world is totally missing out because he's not here. He was on this earth for 31 years, 7 months and 10 days. That is 11, 545 days. I was blessed with knowing him for 12 years, 7 months, and 8 days. That is a lifetime too little. He's been gone for 61 days (2 months) today. That is a lifetime too long.

2 months--the things I miss

I can't believe he has been gone for 2 months. It seems like just yesterday that I was in his arms and forever ago at the same time. I obviously miss everything about him, but I wanted to write a few things I miss specifically.

*I miss how he would hold me on the couch when we watched a movie. He frequently told me he should be doing XYZWhatever, but would rather be there with me

*I miss how he would smack my ass when he walked through the kitchen

*I miss laying in bed on Saturday mornings arguing over who had to get out of bed when M woke up

*I miss the whole family laying in our bed on Sunday mornings

*I miss getting his phone calls in the middle of the day, especially when he was just calling to say hi or to see how my day was going

*I miss cooking for him. I have never been a good cook or enjoyed cooking, but I miss it

*I miss having someone to entertain the kids while I clean the kitchen after dinner

*I miss watching him rough house with the kids before bed

*I miss how our feet would touch at night

*I miss his sense of humor. He was always cracking jokes and making me laugh

Really, I just miss him. His spirit, his essence.

Tonight, after the girls were in bed, V and I were laying on his bed talking. He asked why Daddy got broken. I told him I don't know. He asked if the guy who hit Daddy was a mama or a Daddy. I told him he was a Daddy. He asked if the other guy got broken too. I told him no and he asked why his Daddy got broken then. These are not questions a 4 year old should have to ponder. These are not the things we should be talking about before he goes to bed. Yesterday, we were talking about wishes and he said if he had one wish it would be to have his daddy come home. That should not be something a 4 year old should wish for. He should be wishing for a train or a truck or a ice cream for dinner. Not for his daddy.

I hope though that V doesn't forget his spirit. I want my kids to know how awesome their dad is. It's only been 2 months and I fear they are forgetting. He is so missed.

a unique and devastating loss

I found this essay and I think it so well written and explains quite well how I feel.

Unique and Devastating Loss

With the death of our spouse (which here includes fiancée, significant other, partner, etc.), we grieve the loss of so much more than someone we merely loved or were close to, like a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend or pet. We grieve instead the loss of: The one we loved most deeply, cherished and felt the very closest to. The one we swore commitment to in that unique human bond of marriage, which many consider sacred. The one we shared the ultimate partnership with to live as one and perhaps bear children with. The one who embodied our true sense of home. The one who was our best friend and who was to be our companion for life. The one we confided in, depended on and trusted most. The one who really knew, understood and accepted us as we were. The one we felt safe and protected with. The one we shared private moments and intimate feelings with. The one we mated souls with.

But it is not just that this most precious person has been torn from our life, as unbearably heartbreaking as that alone is. With the death of our spouse, and only of our spouse, many additional profound losses must be grieved as well. For we also suffer: The loss of who we ourselves were while with them. The loss of the couple we were once half of. The loss of the life partnership we once formed. The loss of the husband or wife role we once embraced. The loss of the life we once lived. The loss of the plans we once made. The loss of the dreams we once shared. The loss of the future we once envisioned.

Amidst all this, we are also suddenly confronted with many hardships we never expected to face at this point in our life. Besides financial survival, increased domestic burdens and perhaps single parenting, additional challenges less apparent to others but all too real and terrifying to us. We must now find it within ourselves: To create a new identity. To redefine our role in life. To establish a new connection to the world. To build a new network of social relationships. To discover a new sense of purpose. To formulate a new set of goals. To decide on a new direction for our future.

And we must accomplish these without dishonoring our former life, but while
suppressing bittersweet memories of that life, so that they not hold us back. Memories of happier times mostly, but also those of our spouse’s death, either sudden and shocking or after prolonged illness. We must further endure the feelings of guilt and disloyalty that follow us as we attempt to forget and move forward, but with our heartstrings tied so tightly to the past.

And all these tasks must be taken on at the lowest possible point of our life in the worst state imaginable. When we are the weakest, most vulnerable, most insecure, most isolated, most heartbroken and most emotionally exhausted we have ever been. Without that one person we long ago became accustomed to relying on to help get us through life's greatest challenges. The one who, just by being there, would have provided us emotional comfort and moral support to draw upon, as well as the strength and confidence we need to complete those tasks and so much more. But now we face all this alone.

Profound indeed is the death of our spouse. Unique and devastating. For nearly all of us, much more catastrophic to our life than the loss of any other. And truly comparable, many of us widows and widowers often feel, to one other death only. Ours.

The last paragraph especially. I still can't imagine my life without him. I try and I can't do it. People say "I can't imagine" and I think "I'm living it and I can't imagine it either!"

He has been gone for 57 days. It has been 58 days since he has held me, since I have heard his voice. That is 58 days too long.

I feel like his death has taken over my life. He is all I think about. I wake up in the morning and realize his alarm didn't go off. He isn't in my bed because he is dead. Then I think about how I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to go on. And then I look over and I see my sweet G sleeping next to me (and sometimes V too). And I realize I don't have a choice. I fight back my tears and know I have to live another day. Another day without him. Another lonely day.

I used to love that my kids go to bed early. It gave H and I plenty of time in the evenings to be together. Now, I don't like it so much. It gets lonely at night when the kids go to bed between 6 and 7. The quiet it deafening.

It still doesn't seem real. I still keep thinking he is coming home. I want nothing more in this world then for him to come home. I can't imagine living 50+ years without him.

God, Church, and Dying Ramblings

First, I grew up in an Atheist home. My parents both grew up in religious families (my mother Jewish and my father Catholic) but early in their marriage they became Atheists.

When H and I started dating, he was a Christian and I, an Atheist, mostly because that is all I knew. H taught me a lot about God, but we didn't ever really go to church together. We took a religious studies class in college and that was the first time I ever went to church. We went to 5 or 6 different services for different religions and it was very interesting. Somewhere between high school and marriage I realized I was more of an Agnostic than an Atheist.

I am not sure what I believe today. Really, its not that important.

5 weeks ago I started going to church. I feel called to go there. I feel like its what I am supposed to be doing, so I load up my 3 kids and off to church we go on Sunday mornings.

I haven't told my parents that I have been going to church. I haven't lied to them, just sort of left it out of conversation. I feel like a 12 year old hiding my boyfriend or something. Ridiculous, I know.

Today, V told them we went to a place with lots of music and talking. I felt like I had to tell them, so I did. They then went on to ask me why I felt like I needed to go to church and asked how I could believe that a good God would let such horrible things happen to me.

Part of me feels like I have to believe in a God. I mean, I believed there was a God before H died, but now, I almost WANT to believe because if there is a God, then there is a heaven and if there is a heaven, then I will get to be with my husband again. I can't imagine never seeing him again. I need to see him again. I need to know that is a possibility.

I also understand their questions. I have those same questions. Why, if God answers prayers, didn't he answer the prayers of all the people praying for H, for our family? Why didn't he work miracles? Why won't my kids get to know their dad? Why is my husband dead? It doesn't make sense.

But I also feel like I have to believe there is a reason that this happened. Maybe that will make it hurt less? Probably not. I just keep wondering what I did and what my kids did to put us here.

Because H died though, I am not afraid of dying anymore. I am still a pretty cautious person, but I have no fear of dying. Its a really strange feeling. I figure, if I die, either I'm dead and gone and nothing, or I get to be with him again.

I just want to be with him again.

Driving home today a guy on a motorcycle pulled in front of me. I was stopped behind him at a light and I just kept thinking about H and how much that guy reminded me of him. He was wearing khaki shorts, a t-shirt, sneakers, and a full face helmet. Just what H wore when he rode on really hot days. This guy was smaller than H and his bike was smaller too, but it just made me hope that he is careful. I don't want his family to suffer the way mine has.

As he drove off, I said a prayer for him.

not sad

I feel like I can't be sad. I want to be sad, but I can't be. I feel like I have to put on a happy face for my kids. The girls had well baby checks at the doctor last week and the PA and I were talking about them and H's death and she said that they are both so young that they will pretty much just do what I do. If I am sad, they were recognize that and be sad too. If I am happy, they will be too.

That puts me in a really awkward place. I want the three of them to be sad that their dad died. I want them to know what an awesome person he was and how much he loved them. I want them to know that he never, ever, wanted to leave them.

But I don't want them to look back on their childhood and remember it being sad. I don't want them to remember a mama who was sad all the time. I want them to have a happy childhood and I know that that is what H wanted too.

So I feel like I can't be sad. And not being sad makes me frustrated. Sometimes I just want to cry and I don't feel like I can.

This morning, I was thinking about how every day has some sort of significance that makes me think of him.

Sunday he got into the accident.
Monday he died.
Tuesday was his Celebration of Life.
Wednesdays we met for lunch.
Thursdays he came home crabby because they were big bid day and we just hung out and vegged.
Fridays we watched a movie on the couch after the kids went to bed.
Saturdays were days to do something as a family.

Everything makes me think of him.

Everytime I come to an intersection, I look and think about how I can see everything coming and wonder how the other guy didn't see him.

When I eat a meal, I think about if it was something he loved or hated.

When I do laundry I think about how his clothes aren't there.

When I play with the kids I am sad that no one is here to wrestle with them on the floor.

When I wake up I wake up to an empty spot in the bed.

His shoes aren't all over the house.

His dirty clothes aren't just outside the laundry basket.

His dirty dishes aren't in the sink.

He isn't watching tv too loud.

My house isn't cold like he liked it.

He's just gone and can't cry about it. I don't want to cry about it. I just want him. It's so frustrating that I can't have him back. Everything else I have ever wanted I have been able to work hard and get. And the one thing that actually really matters, I can't. It is so aggravating. It's not fair. And I'm mad. And I'm sad.

him

I like to talk about him. A lot. I think about him all the time. Everything brings my mind back to him. Literally, everything. I found this poem tonight and it pretty well sums up how I feel. I miss him, but talking about him doesn't make it any harder.

Say his name .

The time of concern is over.
No longer am I asked how I am doing.
Never is the name of my partner mentioned to me.

A curtain descends.
The moment has passed.
A life slips from frequent recall.
There are exceptions ...
close and comforting friends, sensitive and loving family.

For most, the drama is over.
The spotlight is off.
Applause is silent.

But for me, the play will never end.
The effects on me are timeless.

Say his name to me.
On the stage of my life,
he has been both lead
and supporting actor.

Do not tiptoe around the greatest event of my life.
Love does not die.
His name is written on my life.
The sound of his voice replays within my mind.

You feel he is dead.
I feel he is of the dead and still lives.
You say he was my partner,
I say he is.

Say his name to me
and say his name again.
It hurts to bury his memory in silence.
What he was in flesh
has now turned to ash.
What he is in spirit,
stirs within me always.

He is of my past, but he is part of my present.
He is my hope for the future.

You say not to remind me.
How little you understand I cannot forget.
I would not if I could.

I forgive you,
because you cannot know.

I strive to not judge you,
for yesterday I was like you.
I do not ask you to walk this road.
The ascent is steep
and the burden heavy.

I walk it not by choice.
I would rather walk it with him in the flesh
.
I am what I have to be.
What I have lost you cannot feel.
What I have gained you cannot see.

Say his name,
for he is alive in me.
He and I will meet again,
though in many ways we have never parted.

He and his life play light songs on my mind,
sunrises and sunsets on my dreams.
He is real and he is shadow.
He was and he is.
He is my partner and I love him as I always did.

Say his name to me
and say his name again.

regrets

I don't have many regrets in life. I have always thought that everything happens for a reason and one thing causes others so making one change would change everything.

H and I were planning an anniversary trip. We had planned on taking the trip January 2010, but I got pregnant with M and she was too little for us to leave her. Then we planned on taking the trip January 2012, but I got pregnant again with G and she would have been too little to leave. We had planned on taking a trip January 2013. We would have been celebrating our 9th wedding anniversary. We were disagreeing about where to go. He wanted to go back to Paradise Island (where we went on our honeymoon) and stay at Atlantis. I wanted to go somewhere new, Jamaica, maybe. He was so excited about the trip. I didn't know it, but he had been talking to his boss about it. When we were in the hospital, I told him we would go to Atlantis.

I wish we had gotten to take that trip (I DO NOT regret having our girls, I just wish we could have taken the trip too).

I wish we had spent more time doing nothing together and less time working on the house.

I wish we had spent more time alone together.

I wish he had spent more time alone with the kids.

I wish we had spent more time together as a family.

Really, I just wish we had more time. I feel like we were so busy planning for our future and making sure our kids could go to college and we could build our house and, and, and that we didn't take advantage of the time we had together. We were sacrificing now to win the in the long run. Sometimes I wish we had just figured we would sacrifice later.

We figured we would have time later to just be together, without taking care of little kids or working on finishing the house or whatever. We thought we were going to get old together. We thought we would one day be planning a 50th wedding anniversary party, and now I don't even get to plan a 32nd birthday for my husband.

I hear couples say that they are doing such and such now for the future. It makes me sad that they have that future and we don't. Death is so final. I often find myself thinking "Oh, I need to tell him that. He would think that is so funny." It seems so strange that I won't get the chance. Really, it just seems impossible. I don't understand how he can be gone.

Then again, I wonder if he is here. He and I can't hold a 2 way conversation (although my kitchen lights kept flicking off and on today and I thought, "Ah! If only we knew Morse Code!")

At church on Sunday, M didn't want to stay in the nursery so I brought her into the service with me. All of a sudden, she got really excited and said "Mama! I see Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" She was sitting on my lap and tried to go to him, but I held her. I didn't say anything and she didn't fight me. She was pointing past the preacher. He didn't looking anything like H. NOTHING. It was strange. Part of me wonders if she could see him.

Last night I was putting stuff away and TWICE I thought I saw him. It was in the mirror and just a flash of blue (like his Thunder shirts), but it felt like him.

Even now, I feel his presence. It makes me smile.

So, as far as regrets go, really I guess my only wish is that we had more time together. I wish he didn't die. I wish he was still here. I wish I had my family back.

Happy 2nd Birthday my sweet girl--the hardest day yet

M is 2 today. I can't beleive she has been in our lives for 2 years. She is such a blessing.



For many mamas, birthdays are sad. It means our babies are getting older and they are one year closer to leaving us and getting their own place (sometimes thats a good thing though ;) ). For me, birthdays haven't ever really been sad. I have never cried on one of my kids birthdays. Until now.



Today was hard. Really hard for me. Today was the first time we did things the way we did them when H was alive and he wasn't here to do them with us. I made M's cake last night and iced it this am. Even that was hard because H and I ususally make the cake together and then I text him pictures when it is done. I made the cake alone, at 11:30 last night. I just didn't want to do it (plus it is 112 outside and I didn't want to turn on the oven!) No one to talk to while it baked. Today, there was no one to text.



We usually eat dinner and then do cake and then presents. I thought maybe doing things a little differently would make it easier, so we did presents, dinner, cake. Helping a 2 year old open gifts, keeping a 4 year old out of her gifts, keeping a 4 month old who just wants to be held from crying, AND trying to take pictures is not a one person job. That is why kids have 2 parents!



The cake was hard too. I couldn't get the match to light so we didn't have any flame on her candles. That was H's job. The crazy part is that after we sang "Happy Birthday," I moved the cake to cut it and the light above my head flicked off. A few years ago I told H that I thought we had ghosts messing with our kitchen lights. A few days after he died my brother's girlfriend and I were sitting alone in the kitchen talking about H and her mom who passsed away in October and the lights kept flicking off. I think that H was telling me he was here.



Maybe I'm crazy, but it keeps me sane.



I am so glad that today is over. I'm glad the kids are in bed. I'm glad I can drink a beer and watch trash tv and do nothing. Being without him is the worst.