50/50 on 2008 or 2009?

Happy New Year 2009!

I wish you all great health and happiness, this year and always.

So I'm kind of 50/50. My initial feeling is thank God it is over! 2008 was by far the worst year of my life (although 2006 ranked up there too). I shudder to think what has happened to my life, our life, me, my kids, my family...what is left of it...in the past 366 days (remember it was a leap year). Yada yada, you could go on and on about the good things that happened, my healthy and wonderful children, blah, blah.

My husband is dead. D-E-A-D. So many times my head is clouded with that thought, and it kind of takes the enthusiasm out of all the other good things. It is like saying...well, your car is totaled and one person is dead, but look on the bright side, everyone else is fine. Or like saying...the house burned to the ground, but thank God some people lived. I know that sounds harsh, but frankly I find it very difficult, very frustrating, to hear the comments about how freaking great everything is when Brian is dead. It is often hard to step back and see all the other things and think, well, at least my whole family isn't dead, or...at least it was only him. Jeez. What I want is him, my life was perfect with three healthy and wonderful kids and an amazing husband who loved me unconditionally. Who wouldn't want that back, fantasize about having that life back, long for it and be consumed by the sadness of knowing that only in my own death can we be together again.

If you didn't catch it, I've been a bit angry lately. The holidays were actually better than I thought they would be, and I've finally surmised that is because even Brian's death couldn't have been as bad as last year. I am very thankful for the moments last year and for having one more Christmas together. But the holidays were agony, knowing what was coming. You can only sugar-coat things so much, and then you step back and realize, sheesh, this is really happening. I close my eyes at night and think of Brian, suffering in his hospital bed, trying to look out the window at Christmas lights. And then that look of longing to get out of bed and wrestle the kids and check out all the new cool presents...a close friend once told me that sometimes there are things worse than death.

So I told God the other night I was mad (again, still). I'm not going to quit believing. I know how this whole devil deal works, and I'm not going to lose my faith because I didn't get my way. I don't think I will ever stop being mad, and I told Him that. He didn't respond, at least as far as I could tell. As usual, I have to wait to find out what the response is, or try to interpret it or figure out which way he is steering me. But I'm not going to be swayed. My belief in God gives me hope, peace in knowing I will be with Brian again someday, that Brian is still here in spirit, and that my own suffering will someday be gone when I find my way back Home.

Then there is the other side of me, the part of me that didn't want to see this year go. I didn't want the year that Brian was alive to slip away, and yet it did without me being able to do anything about it. 2008 became etched in stone, literally. 2008 was a year with Brian, and now already I am in a year without him. He didn't die THIS year, it was LAST year. Get over it. Move on. There will be someone else for you. Get your shit together. I read a blog today from someone else who had lost her husband, and I feel the same as she does. I don't care about being alone, I care about being WITHOUT Brian. I feel like 1/2 of me is missing, lost somewhere in the oblivion of what some refer to as grief, and as I often feel may be my own personal hell. Brief flashes have me wanting to go back, to rewind 366 days. Then I remember the pain he was in, the agony of knowing he was dying, the fear in his eyes, the peace in knowing that eternal life was waiting for him, the pain of knowing widowhood was waiting for me.

I love Brian more than I can ever say. Our love was perfect, even with any flaws in it because it was unconditional. I find it hardest when I miss that "head-over-heels in love" feeling, the one I truly believe would change the world if everyone felt that way. What was the purpose of his death, heck...what was the purpose of his life for that matter? And me, how could this pain bring anything good? ...Jeez...here I go again and I think I better just stop there on this topic.

The other day Tye asked me...how old are you? I said 35. He exclaimed 55! and covered his mouth and said WOW! I said...whoa, no just 35. Then I looked at him and thought to myself, I don't even know anymore, I've almost lost track of myself. He ran to tell the girls that I was 55, and as I heard them correcting him, my mind just wandered to the thought of what life would have been like if I had been widowed at 55 instead. The kids would have been grown, we might have had a few grandchildren and would have been looking ahead to retiring and traveling.

You know, Brian always worried he would get stuck like he was. One of his biggest fears was that we would figure out how to stop the cancer, but his body would be so damaged that he would be left to suffer in that terrible physical condition. I mean, come on, that is what he worried about when he was dying. Not the dying itself...but the suffering.

I've already told you several times over the last year what it was like to have him dying, what it was like to have him slowly slipping away. Maybe I'll start the year off differently and tell you what it was like to have him living...I'll think that over and get back to you, maybe in time for our anniversary on Saturday...seems always to be some big milestone.

Thanks for checking on us, yet again. I am thankful I took time to vent a little so I didn't have to go to bed angry again.