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.