Hiatus?

Wow! I was gone so long from blogging that the whole blogspot layout was reformatted!


So why the hiatus?

I don't have much to say. I have thoughtfully considered closing down this blog. But the permanent hole in my family, in my heart, and in my life is all documented here. And I hope and pray it isn't the end of the story.

I have come to realize some very important things. I have let Brian's death define me. Believe me, I tried not to. I tried very hard. The other day I when I was thinking about him, I realized it had been a while since my thoughts of him included his illness. That made me so happy. Because I never believed that his illness and death defined who HE was.

But yet...

I look in the mirror and it is who I AM. It is ok if you all don't see it, don't understand it, or don't agree with me. It is the truth. How sad is that? He would be really pissed at me about it too.

Recently, a widow friend wrote on her blog about the loss of intimacy in her life. Being touched. On purpose. It cut to the core of how I have become somewhat of a hollow shell in this respect. I don't get hugged. And I frankly don't want you to come up and hug me the next time you see me. It has been 4 years and almost 3 months, and I'm not sure it is something I want right now. It is just funny how affectionate my life was before.

Before the firestorm that stole the future I had planned, the future I wanted, the future that was mine at one time, full of being loved and cherished.

Thank God our son is so charming and affectionate like his father. He told me recently when the One Direction song Beautiful came on, that he wanted that to be my ringtone someday when he gets a cell phone. He is 8. I almost ran out and bought him a cell phone right then!

So lately my sadness has centered around the fact that I am trying to refocus my life. At one point in my life, I considered myself a real go-getter, full of motivation, initiative and enthusiasm. I am trying to find my way back to that. I have spent a lot of time in prayer and reflection, in hopes of finding whoever it is underneath this cloud of grief. Some hopes and dreams are starting to emerge, maybe even resurface.

So much of my life in the past 15 years has been full of turmoil, chaos, loss, sadness and loneliness. It is no wonder I find myself clinging to a routine...monotonous, boring, sometimes unproductive. That routine of my life is at least not chaotic, does not bring more sadness, and gives me comfort in that consistency.

But this also makes me complacent. I have battled an almost lackadaisical attitude. I have certain passions that have surfaced over the past few years, including the Ministry Center and Scrip. Those things nourish my soul and bring me happiness. And they also keep me busy enough not to get anything else done. Double-edged sword, maybe?

For most of the time Brian has been gone, but especially lately, I find myself selfishly missing him simply because he was my biggest cheerleader. I do surround myself constantly with other motivated and enthusiastic people, many of my family and friends. They are great cheerleaders too. But they aren't Brian. And he is the one I want. He is the one who knew how to push me, to stand by me, and to encourage me. I have been trying a lot lately to imagine what I think he would say to me. Right now, it is a huge struggle to pull that motivation from within myself, to look ahead to the future, to what I want with my family and professionally, what I just want in terms of following a dream and making a difference. I want to snuggle up on the couch with him and hear him tell me it will all be ok, or to hear him tell me I deserve better than what has presently become my life, or maybe even to tell me the hard stuff and remind me of my dreams, to remind me what I need to change, and to assure me he will help me along the way.

So sometimes when I think maybe the hole in my life is starting to slowly close, I step back and realize maybe the hole has become so large that it is now almost an unrecognizable hole, but instead now a part of the landscape of my life.

I haven't blogged for a while because I honestly feel like I don't have much else to say. I don't want to be a downer, and I don't want to sugar coat things either. Things really are good right now. The kids are getting old enough that all my responsibilities don't actually make me crazy anymore. Part of that is probably because I had to start letting some things go, and not try to be perfect at everything. Don't worry, I have accomplished that most definitely...the not being perfect part.

A lot of my silence is because I have learned how judgmental people can be. I am sure each of you has a thought on where I should be in my grieving process. So do I. The funny thing is, some days I look at myself and think, wow, I have come so far and I am getting used to the afterlife I was left with...all its many blessings and my beautiful children, family and friends. And other days I am taken back, sitting next to Brian's bed, whispering into his ear that he could go to Heaven now, that I would be ok, wondering if I would die right along with him and thinking my life is over. As hurtful as it is, I am mostly at a point of just getting a chuckle out of those who think they know how a widow should be or feel. It totally cracks me up. Our society is not equipped to deal with a 30-something widow. I don't want to hear how I will find someone someday. I already did and he is dead now. And so what if I don't want to ever find someone again? Or what if I don't feel like it now, but maybe someday I feel differently? Or I don't? Come on! I'm a Heflin girl, and I was raised to be very independent and strong-minded. I don't need a man to feel valued.

So why do I miss it so much? It is Brian. HE is who I miss. Oh sure, I miss being a couple, going places, making plans together. I miss someone asking me how my day was, and really wanting to know. I miss mattering to someone on an intimate relationship level. I think that is human nature. But HE is who I miss. His laugh, his smile, his genuine concern for me and our family, just HIM.

As I move forward...and I do feel myself moving forward...I am working to sort through what all I learned from Brian, what gifts he gave me and instilled in me, and how I can bring those out and celebrate a future. A new future. That doesn't look anything like what I thought it would look like. Honestly, right now it is a future I can't really even envision, or haven't even allowed myself to. All my future plans were shot all to hell, and it makes it hard to look ahead and want to imagine or hope.

But I am trying. And hey, that is quite a bit better than I was doing, even a year ago. I need some goals, some challenges, some dreams. I am reluctant to ask God for them, as He has sent me more than my share of challenges over the years. I am just trying to trust Him, to believe that He hasn't forgotten me, and to understand that maybe I haven't been listening, that maybe I am not seeing what His plans are for me because all I want to see is what is no longer possible.

You might have read before on my blog that Brian's favorite time of day was 11:11. He thought it was a lucky time, and the kids and I always watch for that time and make a wish. And you know what I always wish for? That my husband wasn't dead. Jeez. So the other day, randomly driving along, I noticed the car clock said 11:11. I started to wish my normal wish. And I was overcome with this feeling that it was time to stop wishing for this. It was time to stop even letting that be a part of my wishful thinking. Even in a fairytale life, I know straight up that it isn't happening. So I wished to win the lottery because dang!...I have a better chance of that wish coming true! But seriously.

Things have been different lately. I went to my dad's for Father's Day. I celebrated with Tye. But beyond that, Brian was not mentioned all day. I guess that is what happens after so many years. And maybe that is ok. I planned to go to the cemetery. But I didn't. I didn't want to think about him being dead, so I just celebrated the gift of Tye. For the first time since Brian died, I didn't feel quite as sad.

Until a few days later when Tye said why didn't we celebrate Father's Day for Daddy. How fair is that? I tried to blow past it to save myself the heartache. I sunk down into the blanket of silence surrounding the day, allowing myself the comfort of not facing it, yet taking away from a child who needs to always celebrate Father's Day. So it is a regret. And I won't do it that way next year, if anything because death is hard, and I'm not going to try to make it easier on myself at the expense of Tye's longing to be close to Brian. Sigh...
It is over halfway through summer. And I have really enjoyed myself. I have been less than productive, but I don't care. I don't know if that is a good thing or not. I so badly needed a break after a very long spring with hardly any time off. And I've had fun just being lazy, relaxing, and playing at the pool. But it is going to end. And my real life will be back with a vengeance. And I don't want to hate my life. I want to love it and enjoy it and cherish it. Something has to change, and I am trying to find the courage within myself to do just that. God, why is this so hard?

My kids are growing up before my eyes. I feel sad that I have been shrouded in grief for so many years, and that several years before that I was busy fighting melanoma. Love takes you down a path you don't always know, and I can only hope that whatever has been missed over the last years is made up for with my unconditional love for my children. They are amazing and so resilient, strong-willed and independent just as I am. I'm thankful that my grief has not totally screwed them up, even though I know dealing with me has probably been a challenge for them. Their love sustains me right now, and for that I am eternally blessed.

Thanks for checking in...

This Rollercoaster Called Grief

It is yet again that time of year.  I have been to bed once tonight. And sleep is not coming fast enough for my mind. So I will blog.

I climbed into bed tonight and thought of 4 years ago on this night.  The house was quiet.  I stayed up all night, sitting with Brian and wondering what the coming day would bring. I prayed for him, for me, for our children and everyone who loves and cares for us.  I knew this would be so hard. I imagined it so many times, ran the scene through my head repeatedly so I would be ready.  But I wasn't ever really going to be ready. I sat at the edge of his hospital bed and thought how just 24 hours before, I didn't really think he would still be alive by this time the next day.  But as the day progressed, I knew Brian wasn't ready. See, today (the 20th) is Trace's birthday.  Brian's only sibling's first child.  And Brian would always want Trace to celebrate that day and not have the day forever marked by his death. 

As I sat there holding his hand, I said a lot of things I wanted to be sure I got to say. And yet there are so many other things I wish I would have said that night.  I could barely close my eyes that night, for fear of waking and finding him gone.  I had been there with him through the whole journey, and if God was going to make me give him back, I wanted to love him into the arms of the Lord.

Although I wouldn't want the suffering back, I would give anything to feel that peace right now, the peace I felt in the quiet of our home, as I held his hand and cherished the warmth of his touch, as I whispered into his ear sweet nothings, as I recalled each moment of our love story.

That was 2008.  So now, 4 years later, Brian has been dead for 1/2 of Tye's life. HALF!  Karis commented that I would have to be in my 60's for my mom to be gone 1/2 of my life.  Maybe that is why the last week has been so difficult.

Tomorrow, the Mass is for Brian.  Tye is saying the petition, and he is very excited. Forget fishing and playing catch with your dad, this is what my kid gets to do that is special about his daddy. I wish I could truly explain the anger I feel about that, but words could never express the pain I feel.

He is also taking a box of Brian's things to share with his class sometime tomorrow morning after Mass.  He has chosen Brian's wallet with his driver's license, a Jeff Gordon car, his Twinkie the Kid, and a few pictures, plus a hand-held game that Brian played while he was sick.  Looking for these items dug up some memories that I enjoyed thinking about, but causes the floodgates to open. Tye begged me to let him bring one of the big Gordon cards, but I wouldn't let it out of the house. He then begged to bring a George Brett baseball card. I finally settled with him that Daddy probably wouldn't let him bring it if he was here, so it wasn't leaving the house either.  As he was asking me repeatedly, he said...well, let me just ask Daddy. (then he paused and looked up).  This has been a tactic of his off and on over the years, and he usually responds with...yep, he said I can.  I looked at him and laughed and said...so what was the answer?

And oh my God, I can't believe what he said.

Mom, I don't speak ghost so I don't know.

Lord, people must think we are total freaks with our grief. But THAT was funny!

We did get into my top dresser drawer and find Brian's MP3 player. It was an older one I got him when Tye was a baby, maybe for his birthday in 2005 or 06.  I put batteries in it and listened to a few songs.  Then I clicked on the menu and saw there were voice recordings.

My heart jumped. I forgot about this feature!  I prayed with all my might that Brian's voice would be on there.  My heart knew it wouldn't be.  There were 4 short recordings. I remember now that I did a few recordings so when he opened it, he would have a special message on there.  The 1st one I am saying I love you Brian, and I want you to always remember that. I smiled, but nearly passed out when I heard him in the background say something. What he says is irrelevant...he was asking something about the recording.  #2 is too short to hear anything. #3 is me trying to get Tye to say I love you Daddy, and he does...he says Daaa-EE.  Then he says I you you, which is how Tye always said I love you when he was little. I burst into tears. And sobbed.

Tye came rushing in and asked me what was wrong. I was trying to catch my breath, it was one of those hard cries.  Before I could answer, he said...I think it is always best to tell someone how you feel (as he patted me on the back and hugged me).  His daddy was always so loving and compassionate to me, and Tye reminds me so much of him.  I asked him if he wanted to hear, and he listened. And he smiled.  Oh God, how I wish I could have convinced Brian to do some recordings for Tye. It is a devastation surrounding Brian's death that I have yet to come to terms with.  That the opportunity was there, and he refused it.  I don't blame him, nor do I understand it.  I was right there on the journey, but could never really imagine what it would be like to know you were dying.  My counselor once told me that it wasn't my death to die, that I had to let him do it his way.  That was one of the hardest things to do.  I wanted the storybook movie version, where he makes videos for Tye to teach him how to shave, or writes letters to his wife and stashes them around the house for her to find after he is gone. In real life, death is not nearly as glamorous.

So March 21, 2008...THE day finally did come. My memories of this day are etched forever in my heart. I don't want to forget. But remembering is so very painful.  Please say a prayer for us today.  Tye has had a bit of a rough time lately, asking a lot of questions, more than usual.  I am in a different place with my grief than I was a year ago, and for that, I am very thankful. But all the progress in the world doesn't take away the memories of those moments, when the death of someone you love so deeply and so profoundly, becomes a reality.

Thanks for checking in on us.  As Tye reminded me tonight, he is always with me in my heart. I just wish Heaven didn't seem so far away.

Dream on...

1400+ days of mourning the loss of a man who changed my life and showed me how to love.

Time has not healed any wounds. I particularly hate that adage.  I am sure it was written by someone who has never lost someone they truly loved.

Admittedly, time has given me space to begin to accept, because familiar with, adjust to, and deal with my loss.

But 1400+ days can seem like only 1 in an instant. 

The last several days and weeks have gone well.  I have been focused on being a better mother and a better person.  I have worked to lose weight (11+ pounds since Jan. 2), and find time for myself and my own prayer life. 

Yet when I crawled into bed last night, I suddenly felt so alone. More alone than I have felt in a long time.  The quiet of my bedroom reminded me of the feelings of loneliness, and the darkness made me wonder about the night my mom died in that very same room.  Needless to say, I was restless and had quite a time even getting to sleep.

So imagine my surprise when my alarm went off this morning.  I found myself wanting to scream to keep my dream alive, and as I opened my eyes, I realized it was Brian who was there.  As I stumbled to the kitchen counter and grabbed my cell phone, I burst into tears. I knew it was over, he wasn't really there.  I crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.  I sqeezed my eyes shut, hoping to slip back into whatever it was I was dreaming about. I could see him standing across from me.  He had just arrived at our wedding, and he was running towards me.  I could feel the love and happiness I miss so much from when he was here with me.  But the dream was gone, just like he is gone forever.  I know our love lives on, and it creeps up and smacks me in the face every so often.

So my Monday started off rough.  I felt somewhat pleasantly surprised by his presence in my dream.  For those of you who have followed me, you know I never dream about him and have prayed and wished I would see him someday in my dreams.  But I started my day full of sadness that it was so short-lived.  It is amazing how a moment or a memory, a thought or a dream, can catapult you back to the starting line.  It is baffling to me how a grief can seemingly be growing and changing, then in a split second, feel as raw as the moment he lay dying in my arms.  I spent half the day trying to remember anything else about the dream, and some of the details are hazy, others too personal to share.

Maybe it was my subconscious, trying to help me find a way to get those bottled up emotions out. Maybe it was my way of being able to turn on the floodgates before the dam broke, allowing myself a few moments of grieving today.  On this Valentine's Eve, I am trying so desperately to remember the moments we spent together celebrating, and not our last when he had a bad seizure and my whole life flashed before me.  More often than not, the wonderful memories are starting to take over the sadness, but I can't say I'm a big fan of Valentine's Day.  The funny thing is, I keep reading and hearing every year about how others hate it because they wish they had someone in their life. I just wish I had my Brian.  I wonder if I will ever stop living in the past and longing for what I had.  To be loved as Brian loved me is something I miss the most. God help me survive this Valentine's Day, because Heaven sure seems like a long ways away right now.

9 Years

9 years.

And yet it seems like a lifetime ago. 

Or only yesterday.

9 years ago tonight I walked down the aisle and became Mrs. Brian Halley. 

Thank you, Brian, for showing me what a real marriage is, and how to love unconditionally.  Thank you for always encouraging me, and for believing in me.  Thank you for loving my girls and giving me Tye.

We alternated who was in charge of the anniversary plans.  I took care of the 1st anniversary, since he had planned a little honeymoon getaway.  We went to Cheaper by the Dozen, and I was almost 8 months preganant by then. We shopped for a carseat, then came back to get frozen custard at Sheridan's. Which was closed for the evening. So we ended up at Baskin Robbins. 

By my count, it should be my turn again. What I wouldn't give to go back to those days of pure love and innocence, a life not yet ravaged by cancer.  I would take him to the new Brazilian restaurant in St. Joe because I just have a feeling he would totally have loved it.  Whatever else we would do would hardly matter, just spending time together was so precious to us both. 

I almost went to the cemetery today. But I didn't. Not now. I went over the weekend because the weather was nice, and I hadn't gone for Christmas. My dad had his grave decorated so nice for the Christmas season.  I sat on his grave with the wind blowing and the sun shining. I still wanted to just crawl in there with him, just to stop feeling so sad.  So today, I didn't feel like going.  Tye was excited to repeatedly tell me Happy Anniversary, and when we sat down for dinner, he asked if this was an anniversary dinner. He ate for a while, then said he thought that his dad would have liked this dinner. Made me smile.

Time is passing so quickly. We celebrated 5 anniversaries together, and now I have celebrated 4 more without him. It isn't fair. It never is.  The years will continue to pass, and I will never forget how I felt the day I married him.

I miss you, Brian, now and always!

A Day That Lives On in Infamy

He knocked on my door. I was waiting for him. I acted like I wasn't waiting for him. I think I had been waiting for him my whole life.  I had never seen him before. Heck, I had never even heard of him until a mutual friend (thanks Cindy) called to see if it was ok for her to give him my number. I figured, why not? Either something special will grow from this, or I will make a new friend.  When he called me earlier in the week to see if I would like to go to dinner, the conversation was relaxed and easy. 
 

And then the day came.  And he suddenly was on the other side of the door.  My heart raced, mostly because of the unknown.  I had a lot of baggage.  I was hurt and damaged.  I was healing and didn't need to be hurt again.

Even so, I opened the door.  My first thought was...yep, he's short. Second thought, very handsome. He would later tell me that his first thought was...wow, she has big hair. Tee hee! As he stepped into my house and introduced himself, it felt as if we had already met.  My anxiety and nervousness disappeared.  He glanced up at the pictures on the wall, those of my 2 very young daughters.  He nodded towards the pictures, as if acknowledging my baggage, then smiled and said...they are adorable.  He never treated them like baggage from that moment forward, instead like added bonuses.

Today is a difficult day for me. It has now been 10 years since that day, Nov. 10, 2001, when Brian Halley walked into my life and changed the course of my future.  He showed me how to love, how to really love, how to be loved.  He brought much laughter and happiness into each day.  He made me feel like a million dollars, offering me encouragement, compliments, advice and friendship.  He made me feel alive and evoked in me a passion for life.  I fell in love with him over and over again in the coming months and years.  He was genuinely fun to be with.  His whitty humor, his ornery smile, I tried to soak in all of his affection and love.  He always put the girls and me before himself. 

A few months after we met, I stopped by his house one day for a few minutes. I was trying to tell him a story about something that had happened that day.  He kept kissing me and interrupting the story. Then he jumped to his feet, turned on the stereo to this song, and whisked me around the house.  When the song ended, I burst into tears.  He kept saying, Sweetie, what is wrong?  I was overwhelmed with his love, and thought then that I could not live without him.  That is the song we are dancing to at our wedding in the picture below.

Loving Brian for our short time together here on earth was enough. I figure if I say it over and over again, maybe I will eventually believe it.  I am selfish and want him here with me, and I know I will never stop loving him.  But in truth, I love him enough to know that Heaven is where he belongs now, this earth could not keep him, I could not keep him.  It is true, what they say about loving someone so much that you put their needs above yours.  You see, Brian did that for me almost everyday we were together.  So it was my gift back to him, to put his needs before my own, and to let him go on to live eternally with the Father, free from a cancer only Heaven could cure. Oh sure, he was headed out, whether I gave him permission to go or not.  I love him enough to want him in Heaven instead of physically suffering here with us.  The love we shared was enough to sustain me, to change me for the better, to permeate my soul.

My life was inexplicably changed by the existence of this amazing man, and I am thankful each day for the impact he has made on my life. I will die happy someday, hopefully a long time down the road, knowing I had a love of a lifetime, one that so many only wish for but will never experience.  And I know he will be waiting for me.  I imagine what that moment will be like.  I imagine seeing him and feeling like no time has passed since we were together, even if it has been 50 years.  I imagine his arms around me, and long for that feeling of security, comfort and love that I felt each day with him. 

I wonder about him now.  I know he would be proud of me, at least I hope so. I also know he would have words of encouragement, and would want so much for me not to be hurting.  His smile is etched forever in my heart and mind.  I am so thankful for that day in early November 2001, a day that changed the course of my history and brought to me one of the biggest blessings of my life.  Cancer could not take those precious memories from me, and only made our love stronger. His humor and whit lives on in our son, his love lives on in my heart. 

How it is...

Lately, my mind has spent a lot of time wondering about some really serious stuff. It is funny in an odd way, how a thought pops in my mind, and if I don't want to think about it, I can push it away. Again. And again. But eventually, it resurfaces, and I just have to let the thoughts play out and run their course. I've spent time feeling ashamed of my feelings, but finally come to realize they are just that, feelings. And often, scratching at one feeling uncovers another deeper feeling, and gives me the chance to come to terms with that.

Like being mad at Brian. How freaking crazy is that? But the thing is, I could tell him anything, and one day recently I just finally let it all out. I let him know how angry I am that he is gone, that he left me here to fend for myself, and that Tye doesn't have a daddy. I made it clear how angry I am about my feelings on our family, how the whole dynamics of our home have changed since he's been gone, and how much I want back what I had.  I quit beating around the bush, being all lovey dovey to him, and just let him know.  A lot came from that anger, such as me realizing it is the melanoma I'm angry with, not Brian. And also reminding myself that I am not alone, I have lots of love and support. Come on people, you know it isn't the same. But anyway, also knowing that we do indeed still have a family here to be a part of and love each other. And I am once again reminded that he is not coming back. That part I can't change.

I've been thinking a lot about death. You know, about what it really means to be dead. I drove past the cemetery the other day and thought, jeez, he will be there forever, in his very own spot of this earth.  I went to sleep that night and nightmared all night that I had found out I was dying. I was running all over, trying to finish up whatever needed to be done. Everyone was looking at me with pity. I had a lot of anxiety, but I was excited to see Brian.  Tye and the girls weren't in the dream, so I wasn't thinking about leaving them, more about my life on earth being over, and wondering if it mattered to anyone.  I was running through an airport, as if I was trying to catch a flight, and I felt relief that I wouldn't be heartbroken and full of such gut-wrenching sadness anymore.  I felt like I had waited a lifetime to get to see him again so I could have cared less that I was dying.

I jolted upright and awoke in a sobbing mess. I cried and cried and honestly wasn't sure why I was even crying.  I think a lot of it is that I don't feel Brian here with me. I don't feel his presence or sense him with me.  I don't feel his guidance, and even struggle to draw any strength. Like he vanished off the face of the earth, and I indeed am left to fend for myself.  I look back and can single out a few moments since his death, but I long for a peace that he is with me always.  I've heard about it, and I've read about it. I just don't feel it.  Saying it and thinking it doesn't make me feel it.

I've been thinking a lot about how someone can breathe in and out so many times in their life, and then suddenly just stop.  How in a moment, a life can be snuffed out, their purpose more clearly defined.  All present and future tenses wiped out of existence, and only the past remains.  Special moments become cherished memories.  The days become weeks and months, and eventually years.  Time passes to where the present starts to show no resemblance to the past.  New people come into our lives having known nothing of our loss, sometimes completely failing to ever really know us because of missing this important life-changing event.  I wasn't always a widow.  There was a life before this.  It is just getting pushed back even farther in my mind.  My loss is really no longer a recent event, more so my history.  So much has happened in 3 years and 7 months, and even I have moved forward.

But sometimes, in the quiet of the night, or in moments when I least expect it, I am thrust backwards as if no time has passed. The pain is suddenly as unbearable as the first moment I heard the word hospice or the feel of Brian's last breaths upon my cheek, the look of horror on Rachel's face when she first saw Brian after he had died, the sobs of Amberlea trying to wrap her head around it all, and the feel of Tye wiping my tears at Brian's funeral, begging me to stop crying.

More good memories run through my head than bad. Yet without warning, those other things are still very fresh. For everyone else, time has passed and maybe I should "get over it" or "move on". (my favorite lines). How judgmental. I will probably never again in my life feel the way I felt when I was with Brian, so I'm never going to feel bad for never getting over it.

I have almost forgotten what his voice sounds like. I swore I would never let that happen, and I feel even worse that if I have forgotten, Tye must struggle to remember. I planned to watch our wedding video, I've tried a few times, but I can't do it yet. Just the thought of how happy I was on that day, I don't know if I would survive watching it. Even so, I'm going to attempt sometime over the holidays, mostly because I miss him and I think I am finally to the point that I feel worse not watching it.

I am so thankful that I have an outlet for my feelings. I have been doing a lot of work with a widow and divorce support group, and taking time to reflect on my feelings and work through them has been such a blessing.  I wish I would have found this even sooner so I could have let some of the pain go. I wonder if I ever can let it all go.  It has indeed been my cross to bear, and I have begged the Lord to lighten my load. Somedays it does feel lighter, others even heavier than before.

I even wonder sometimes about the impact someone else can have on us. I think about how much Brian is missed and I wonder about myself. I wonder how I would be missed if I was gone.  Have I made an impact that would be felt in ripples the way Brian has? I wonder so much about me. What about me? Was this what God had planned for me? It seems like a stretch to figure out my purpose. I know it will all be revealed to me someday.  I just want so much to feel some push in some direction. I feel like I'm treading water. The past is gone and I can't see far enough into the future to understand what God wants from me.  I have begged him to show me the way, to bring me peace and use my life for His purpose.  Maybe I am even at the point of wondering if God is even listening. So often it has been as if my cries fell on deaf ears, that He did not see my anguish, or He did not care. I wonder if He is using my life as a tool within His wonderous creation to bring about good in something. I wonder why He chose me to suffer, and why His plan has included so much pain in my life.  I wonder if He knows I have surrendered all that I am for His good, or does He think I have given up? Does my willingness to give it all to God look like I'm not doing my part?  I'm no martyr. Bad things happen to good people.  I just always hoped I would find the good in it all. And then I wonder if that matters, if it really means anything if I myself find the good in it, as long as it is for the good of His divine plan.

I'm getting deep here, maybe realizing that a lot of my struggle is with my faith.  I know we are not puppets, yet I feel as if I have had no control over the devastating events that have shaped my life into what it is now.  I just refuse to believe my life is about picking up the pieces and surviving with what is left. Again, my purpose is not yet known, but I have faith that He already knows, and that is really all that matters.

And the Wave Continues

Holy smoly, what is up today? I could get on here and write a whole bunch about how hunky dory everything is, how time has healed all wounds and God didn't give me more than I can handle.  But the truth is, most days are like that, some bearable, some good, some great.  But some just bite the big one and today seems to be one of those days. And when the floodgates open, man I can't seem to get the tears to stop. Figure maybe I will be cried out by the end of the day and I'll be good to go for a while.
Today I absolutely am so angry that I am the only parent left to raise Tye. I am so very thankful for Tye, but that is a given and I'm not going to go into that because I have always been more than clear on how much I love my kids.  I can't begin to describe the heavy weight on my heart today, wondering how this child is going to turn out, wondering if I will survive all the homework fiascos and all the other challenges, multiplied by the fact that it all falls on my shoulders. I wanted so much today to pass the buck, to let someone else do the talking and let  him know our expectations. There is no good cop bad cop in my house, I am always the bad cop.  Or if I am the good cop, nothing gets accomplished.

And here I'm not even the one without the parent here, it is Tye...oh, wait, my mom is dead too, so there is no mom to call up and share my frustrations and get advice. It was all taken from me, and that is just how it feels right now. 

I know my head will clear, hopefully soon, and I'll go back to what I know is true, that God is taking great care of us and I am strong and I can do this...yada yada yada.  For tonight, I am just sad.

9/11

I am just going to come right out there and say what I am thinking. How in the world these 9/11 families can handle the hype surrounding the 10th anniversary of that horrible day when they lost their loved one is beyond me. I am not agreeing or disagreeing with what has taken place today and over the past month in preparation for today.  I am just trying to wrap my head around it. Everyone grieves so differently, how have the big wigs who have organized and orchestrated all of what has happened as far as memorials even been able to consider these differences?  I am not an expert on grief, just very experienced. And I am thinking without a doubt that all of this seriously has had to hurt some more than it has helped them. It was quite a touching tribute to hear all of those names said at ground zero today.  I liked that they were each their own individual, each a life worth remembering instead of all lumped together.  I didn't like the news commentator saying...ok, we are taking you back now to relive those horrifying moments...seriously, do you hear yourself?  And what about the children of 9/11? What heartbreak this has to have been for them.  Especially the ones who were so little. I can't help but think that some, not all, but some will mourn September 11, 2011, more than they did in 2001, simply because they were not old enough. How do I know that? I don't for sure, just suspect. I know that Tye being as young as he was became a blessing in some regards.  Can you imagine me taking each traumatic and horrifying step through Brian's death and telling Tye all about it, plastering it all over the t.v. Repeatedly. For. the. last. month?  I just can't believe that is the right thing for all 3,000 of those children who lost a parent. Oh, and my favorite...already have heard it from the mouths of so many reporters to those directly involved...do you miss him? have the last 10 years been hard growing up without a dad?  Or even worse...how did you feel when you realized he was dead? What did you think when you realized the towers collapsed?

I think the thing that is of most concern to me are those who have successfully be able to heal in a healthy way and move forward. Who would otherwise mark the 10th anniversary of their loved one's death quietly, privately, personally. Or those who have struggled to take any steps forward, and have finally been putting one foot in front of the other. Does this overwhelming response/reaction whatever it is called for the 10th anniversary help the cause for them or hinder it.  No doubt, there are many who have been able to move forward, and this is a moment they expected, they embrace, and remember.  For others, it may turn out to be a very good turning point in their grief, a chance to share and move beyond.

I have thought a lot about myself and kids this weekend. How would I feel if there was a designated time in our lives that I HAD to relive the horrors of losing Brian or my mom. Those thoughts come already without warning.

What a very difficult day for thousands of people directly, and for our nation as a whole.  One of my students asked...how many people were affected by 9/11? My response...we don't know for sure, but it is very widespread and multi-leveled.  And so much grief to deal with. My prayers are with all of those who lost someone they love. May they be blessed with the chance to grieve and heal.

What Have You Got to Lose?

Beginning Experience Brochure - click on the link for more info and to register. Note - if you want to attend the KC BE weekend, please contact me so I can let you know the correct address to send your registration. Also, our deposit is only $25, with the total weekend being $160 (room, board, all meals). We also have financial assistance available for part or all of the cost. If you are outside of our area, please search to find another location near you.

Here's what I've been up to lately. What a blessing this has been in my life. I attended my own BE weekend in November 2010, and then helped fascilitate weekends in March and July 2011. We are now preparing for our October retreat.

“What Have You Got to Lose?”

Beginning Experience is an official ministry of the Catholic Church. Founded in 1974, the support program is for divorced, separated and widowed individuals of any denomination. It is intended to facilitate the resolution of the grief surrounding the ending of a marriage relationship and to promote healing.



The Beginning Experience Weekend is the foundation of the program. Most people who attend a BE Weekend find it to be a life changing event that sets them on the road through their grief in a safe and loving environment. The BE Weekend has proven to be a means to an efficient and permanent solution over the grief from the loss of a relationship. The process through grief is not quick, but the BE Weekend is a catalyst in true healing. The next Beginning Experience Weekend Retreat is October 21-23 at the peaceful Sanctuary of Hope Prayer Center in Kansas City KS.



The BE Weekend is facilitated by persons who have themselves experienced the loss of a spouse and know firsthand the many confusing feelings of anger, discouragement, despair, lack of trust, fear, guilt and hopelessness, associated with such a loss. Whether through a death or a divorce, the loss of a relationship and the accompanying loss of hopes and dreams are real. All facilitators are trained to be good listeners, to ask questions that encourage participants to look inside themselves, and to stay on target. However, retreat facilitators are not professional counselors, and individuals currently in counseling are asked to obtain the permission of their counselor before attending the Beginning Experience Weekend.



The Beginning Experience, now an international ministry, is offered in our area three times a year. Participants spend Friday evening until Sunday afternoon in a safe, retreat-like environment. The BE experience provides support and direction and offers participants an opportunity to reevaluate their lives and to move on to the future with renewed hope while maintaining respect for the past.


BE was originated by a Roman Catholic nun who was working as a counselor and includes Catholic traditions such as Mass at the conclusion of the weekend, but the weekend is not limited to Catholics. All single-again Christians will benefit from the principles of the Weekend and are welcomed and encouraged to attend. The cost of the retreat is $160, which includes food, board and supplies. Financial assistance is available upon request. For additional information on the history and general programs, visit the Beginning Experience website at www.beginningexperience.org, or find us on Facebook search: Beginning Experience of Greater Kansas City.



Advance registration for the October 21-23 weekend is required, as space is limited. For questions or to register, contact me directly, or call Kim at (816) 739-4733 or John at (913) 219-3465.

Red, White and Very Blue

Wow, it amazes me how grief can creep back in when you least expect it.  I have really been missing Brian the last few days. I always miss him, not a day goes by that I don't have that hole in my heart feeling. But the last few days has been the missing him I can't think straight did this really happen type. It will pass. I know it will. Maybe that is why I just let these feelings happen now instead of fighting it, because this phase will pass.  It still is fascinating to me as to why these days have been harder. Did something happen? Not that I can think of. A certain memory? No any more memorable than a whole lot of other things...

I think it is the family part. The family part of the 4th of July. My inability to create new memories because they aren't the memories I want to be having. Yet, this is now the 4th July 4th without Brian. Get over it already. I figure there are so many people out there who think that. And if you do, you are so very wrong. It just doesn't work like that.  Just get past it already. Doesn't work like that either.

But it is indeed healthy to move ahead in a forward motion.  I don't view it as moving on, more as moving down a different path than previously set.  Still, at any moment, without warning, I can be transported back to a second or minute, even an hour or day or two, that the grief just hurts to bad to move in any direction.  Then, without much warning, I'm back on the path towards healing.

I am missing Brian's company so badly. He was so fun to be around, always made me laugh and always was interested in everything.  I miss his smile. I was thinking of him and his face, and a feeling a dread came over me, that I could not recall what his nose looked like. I felt panic coming on, and then sadness that I thought his face was forever etched into my memory. I can still hear his voice in my head, and I fear the day that I can't remember.  I feel lonely and like a part of me is missing, even after all this time.  I wonder if I have really accepted Brian's death, and realize that yes, I have accepted that he is dead, my brain was totally wrapped around that as it was happening. But I'm not sure, actually I'm pretty sure, that I haven't begun to accept that my hopes and dreams for our life together died that day too.  Our future together was a casualty of his battle with cancer. His life was taken, but so much more was also wiped out. A son growing up with his father to take him fishing, or shoot off fireworks, or learn to play baseball...a wife crawling into bed alone, planning vacations alone, making all the decisions alone.

I just wanted what we started out with, a future full of love and support, a real family. Am I terrible to feel like the 4 of us are still struggling to be a "real" family? What makes a "real" family? I'm not even sure. There are families out there with a mom and dad who are far from being anything close to a real family. 

I think I am also missing just feeling loved. Really loved. The quick hugs I get from my kids are practically the only human contact I have, how sad is that?  I miss the love I felt when Brian wrapped his arms around me, or snuggled up next to me on the couch.

I do think some of it is the holidays. I miss my mom terribly on any holidays, mostly because the concept of family that I was raised with died when she did.  I miss Brian to be here to make plans with, to be a part of the celebration, to make memories with. I know it is importatant to continue making memories, and that is what I will focus on.  I keep thinking this will all get easier, and maybe even some days it is actually easier than it was.  I know a few other melanoma warriors who are very sick and suffering right now, and I am so very thankful that Brian is free from the pain inflicted by melanoma.  I just wonder when the pain that melanoma inflicted on me will ever pass. I wonder if the cruel reality of the disease that left me here without him will ever get easier.

Today it doesn't feel like it. Probably in a day or so, I'll feel better and can move along my new path again.

An Amazing Night

It is a funny feeling, knowing we have made it to a big milestone in our lives. Last night was Rachel's 8th grade graduation, which is a big celebration at our school.  I love her so much!

Tim, Rachel and Jenni

I know I speak for Tim also when I say that we are very proud of the young woman she has become.  She makes me laugh and her beautiful smile can light up a room.

I took the last few hours of the day off on Friday, just to be sure the house was up to par and I was ready for the upcoming night. She came home from having her hair done, and I burst into tears. She hugged me great big and said it will be ok! I told her I was crying happy tears. I guess I figure it is an accomplishment that she isn't totally screwed up by now, considering the obstacles of our life with a divorce and death to deal with.  I also cried because I know Brian would be so proud of her, and this was just one more event he isn't here to share.  Thankfully, Brian's parents were here, and his brother and his wife and kids came too.  It made me feel close to Brian, knowing that we are still a family, and they were there to celebrate. My dad and Martha were also there, and so were Karis and Zeke, TJ and Erin, Tori, Don and Luke, and Jacob and Rosie.  I am so very thankful for our family, and for them being there to show their support of Rachel as she ends one chapter of her life and begins another.

I held back the tears as Rachel packed up her things and 10 years of her life at St. Gregory's came to an end. 10 years of coming to school with me. 10 years of getting to be a part of so much of her life, just because I teach there.  I think that is something I will miss the most. I will be honest to say I am to the point that I will not miss being her teacher. We got along very well, aside from a few times, but I am happy to go back to just being the mom!

Apparently I'm not the only one who cried over this. I didn't know until later, but the younger students lined up in the entryway to tell the 8th graders good-bye as they left at 12:20.  I guess Tye was bawling his head off. He cried at graduation too when one of the speeches was about leaving.  I was able to hold it together at graduation for the most part, until Amberlea started crying during the parent song. We just love Rachel so much, and I hope she always knows that.

I cried also because I know in my heart that these next 4 years are going to fly by.  In no time at all, we will be planning a high school graduation party, as well as getting ready for college. Whew!  I am excited though, for what this next chapter will bring, and look forward to her high school years. 

Thoughts on the Death of My Mother

Just sitting and thinking tonight about my beautiful mother, feeling so far from her and trying to wrap my head around the fact that she has been dead for 5 years now.  As I type this, the hour has passed for the last time I saw her. I was out running errands and she called me to remind me she had not given me the money for a fundraiser that Rachel and Amberlea were involved in.  I told her I would run by, and have always believed God knew I needed to be there that night. I had not seen my mom since Sunday, which was Easter. It was now Wednesday night, and I hurriedly stopped in to visit.  I had the girls with me, and Dad was working in the yard. Mom and I chatted, and then I rushed out to get the girls home for bed. I said I love you, and see you later, and off I went. I can see it in my head like it just happened, and considering I LIVE in the house where it all happened, it has replayed in my head many times.  While I don't regret much of anything with my mom, I do regret leaving that night without hugging her.  I have often fought the anger I feel in not knowing that death was staring me in the face, that tragedy and loss were lingering in the air.  I came home, got everyone to bed, and that was the end of my life as I knew it. 

I woke shortly before 3am to the phone ringing. I nearly broke my neck getting to the kitchen to answer it.  A million things ran through my mind as to why the phone was ringing.  My brother was on the other end, telling me that Mom woke Dad up and now she isn't breathing. I took that to mean that she had woken him up and was now having trouble. He did say that the paramedics were there and had been working on her for almost a half an hour. I said I would be right there and raced in to get dressed.  I was shaking violently, and Brian was saying to calm down. I brushed my teeth.

Yes.

I brushed my freaking teeth. How do I remember? Because I rammed the toothbrush up into my teeth and bruised my gums, and it hurt for like a week.

What the heck?  I have no clue, other than my head was seriously thinking I was leaving the house and going to be heading to the hospital to stay for a while.  As I rounded the corner to head down the steps, I stumbled and nearly took a dive down the steps. Again, Brian was asking me if I was ok, and I remember telling him I would call him, and that I didn't know what to expect, but that we might end up in St. Joe or KC. It never crossed my mind that she was dead.

Never.

I sped from my house to my parents. I didn't care if the cops stopped me or not. I raced up Walnut Street and pulled in the driveway to find no ambulance.  I jumped out of the van and Erin said she would drive us.  I got back in and it was a barrage of questions, what was happening, come on let's hurry.  I know she was talking, but I didn't hear anything. I think that Jacob was driving Erin's van. We all pulled in the hospital parking lot, and I jumped out and sprinted towards the front door. My heart was racing, and as I got closer, I realized that I was alone. I looked over my shoulder and Jacob, Dad and Erin were just walking slowly across the parking lot arm in arm.  I felt desperate. Come on! Jacob was shaking his head, and Dad said something about how long they had been working on her. 

Then I saw through the heavy weight of terror, and I knew. The next 30 minutes were a complete blurr. We could not get ahold of Karis, as her husband worked nights and she wasn't answering her phone. Since she lived out towards Conception at the time, we called the sheriff to go notify her. It was awful, and I can only imagine how terrible that was for her.

Finally, the nurse came to the door. My immediate thought was, well she must be stable because they didn't have to work on her very long. Then I could see her face. She is someone our family knows, and she looked so incredibly sad as she told us there was nothing they could do.  I remember thinking what a crappy job she has to get stuck being the one to go tell the family. I could hear this awful screaming, and suddenly realized it was me. I could hear myself, but could not stop. The betrayal I felt from a God I had previously felt so close to was undescribable, and has never fully healed.  We were in a small window of time that there was no sign of Brian's cancer, and it was as if I deserved this pain. 

I lost my innocence that day. From then on, anything was possible. Any tragedy, sadness, pain, I was not immune.  I stood in the ER and stared at my mom, the woman I had seen just 6 hours before, full of love and life, now cold and lifeless.

Since then, I get the feeling every once in a while, sometimes more often than others, that I want my mommy...that kindergarten feeling that all you want is your mom, maybe not for any reason other than it feels good.  I want to go back and hug her, to tell her again and again what a great mother she was.  And losing her was not an isolated incident...it is a series of subsequent losses....each lost grandparents day, missing Jacob's wedding, the births of Isaiah and Luke, even little things like Rachel's first boyfriend, or hearing Amberlea play the bells, seeing Tye play baseball, or Rachel graduate from 8th grade, or even having to endure the loss of Brian without her support.

I often wonder what she would think of how life is now, without her. I think she would be very happy that I live in her house, the house that she and dad were so very excited about planning and building.  I know some things would probably make her sad too.

I was thinking today how quickly the 5 years have gone. In 5 more years, Rachel will be finishing her freshman year in college, Amberlea will be 16 and Tye will be in 6th grade. Time just ticks away.

It felt good to get it all down, and to reflect on what has happened.  I am exhausted and headed to sleep, although I am camping out on the couch tonight. Since I now own my parents' house, I'm just not sure I feel up to spending the night in the room where my mom died. Not tonight anyway.

Double Ugh...

I freaking hate melanoma. With. A. Passion.

A friend of mine has just been diagnosed with melanoma. The great news is that there is a really good chance they got it all.  The bad news is that we heard that before with Brian. But the good news is that my friend DID catch it early, and I truly believe things are going to go well for him and he will just be able to go on and enjoy life. Thank God.

I spent the evening finishing up gathering pictures for Rachel's 8th grade graduation video.  I took a lot of time to reminisce. I realize that I have avoided looking at pictures and reliving a lot of memories lately because it all hurts too much. Even just thinking about Rachel growing up so fast has been difficult for me. But tonight, I felt like looking and I was quite enjoying myself! What beautiful children I have!

And then I opened a folder with this picture in it. It was taken on Easter Sunday 2008, only about 36 hours after Brian died. Tye and the girls had played and looked for Easter eggs. I remember him being happy and sad that morning, smiling and then crying. But I do not at all remember taking this picture or ever seeing it before. It is in with all the rest that were taken at our house that morning. And I bawled. Those of you who know Tye, you know he never looks like this. His eyes are full of life and love and orneriness.  But this picture just filled me with pain. I didn't attach the other two that were taken in sequence, he is starting to cry in one of them.  His eyes...it brought back those feelings of trying to get it to sink in that my beloved Brian was dead, that Tye's daddy was NOT coming back, and that this was not just a cruel nightmare, this was real. God, how thankful I am that this picture is not what I see from Tye normally, and that he continues to be the little firecracker he always has been.  I did think though, that this picture is an accurate description of how I personally have felt for several years. It hasn't passed, although I do finally feel like it is evolving, and that some happiness is starting to fill my heart.

I was also thinking, why is it that I blog and tell you all about it? Well, mostly I am just venting, giving myself a chance to chronicle what I feel and reflect on how I've grown. And also to help you understand me. I have come to realize that many people, including myself, are so judgmental others.  I have said it a million times, and I will say it again. I am not just getting over this. You are ignorant if you really think that is how it works. And tonight I am going to thank God that you are so blind to the pain I deal with, because it means you have not had a marriage fall apart in divorce, you do not have to share your children with someone else who is not their parent, you do not have to go a few days here and there on a regular basis, not seeing your children because it "isn't your day", you don't come home to an empty house or crawl in bed alone, and all you can do is imagine how bad it feels to miss someone as much as I miss Brian. For that, I am thankful, because I don't want you to really know.  But since you don't know, don't pretend to know or make judgments about me.  Don't form an opinion in your mind as to how someone like me should be dealing with things. And certainly don't compare me to anyone else you know who has lost a loved one, we each have our own unique story, our own unique loss, and our own personal grief.  You can't truly love someone like I love Brian, and not continue to feel the loss and excrutiating pain on a daily basis, no matter how long it has been.  Your judgment of those of us who have lost our spouses only makes it even harder on us. I have enough to deal with, without feeling like I have failed at grieving also.  And honestly, I don't know if I really care if you are judgmental, only to the point that I wish I could still make it clear to anyone who cares about someone who is in my situation, give us a break. Love us and take care of us, but for God's sake, don't expect us to conform to your idea of how this whole grieving deal should look like.

Well, I was just rambling and let whatever come out that I felt. Thanks to so many who have indeed allowed me to grieve in my own way because I am finally starting to feel better. Finally. Even I can't predict what will be hard for me, what memory will be painful, and which ones will have evolved back into being cherished memories. It is a process, a lifetime process, because it is a lifetime without him, a lifetime of missing him, and a lifetime of subsequent losses when he is not here once again to do what husbands and dads do.

I've been to bed once tonight, couldn't sleep. Now I finally feel like I got it off my mind, so hopefully I can rest easy.

I Can Just Hear Brian's Side of the Story

Warning: This post has not be censored.

Tye spent the weekend at the farm again while I took Rachel graduation dress shopping. He is by far more of a farmboy than his daddy, who would have rather stayed inside and watched t.v. or read books instead of being out on the farm. Brian used to always tell about how hard his parents made him work, and how awful it was to clean out the barn. I'm sure he walked uphill 5 miles to school both ways also!

So I met Denise in Bethany yesterday afternoon. (Yes, I let Tye skip school, justified by the fact that I will do anything I need to do for Tye to be a part of his dad's side of the family).  I got out of the van and into her car just to chat. I said, so what did you do on Saturday?

His response...we used a pitchfork to clean the shit out of the barn.  And he just beamed! Just like his dad would have reacted. Not at all like his father would have done.

After Denise and I regained our composure, I reminded him that what happens in Vegas on the farm, stays on the farm.  He remembers this rule from a few years ago, after he told me about "getting the hot stuff out of a cow's butt", and our discussion about how his teacher would NOT like to hear about this at school.  He then started talking about a cow having a baby, and I am not even going to repeat can't remember what he said about it.  We had our little Farm Talk talk, and reviewed the rules of being a farmer. I guess I have somehow incinuated that it means you get to cuss while you are ON the farm, as long as your teacher doesn't find out!

I said...well, your dad HATED to clean out the barn. Tye replied...no he didn't, Papa said he LOVED it!  Oh, the sarcasm is lost on this kid who could care less that his boots have poop on them and would spend every waking minute checking cows, mending fence, feeding calves, bailing hay...whatever the farmlife entails, he wants to be a part of it. Oh, the irony!

Ash Wednesday Eve

Fat Tuesday. Shrove Tuesday. Mardi Gras. Or just the day to do a bunch of last minute things before you give them all up for Lent.  Whatever you call it, today is the day before Ash Wednesday. And so my mind is busy, trying to find a meaningful way to spend this Lenten season.  To be brutally honest, I can't recall much about Lent 2009 or 2010.  Ash Wednesday has been a terrible struggle for me over the past few years.  In 2007, Brian was home from having major surgery, and very excited and anxious for his first official Ash Wednesday.  He had only been baptized into the Catholic Church a few months before, and looked forward to participating in this tradition and ritual. This was to be one of his first outings since returning home from surgery.  He woke that morning with a high fever and throwing up, and he was crushed that his physical condition once again caused him to miss out on something. By noon, we were on the road to Columbia to eventually find out that his pancreas was not healing well, and he was battling a raging infection.

And then there is Ash Wednesday 2008, a day in which it wasn't really even an option to leave the house without causing Brian great physical pain.  You can read about that here.  I was rereading the post tonight, as I had spent a lot of time that day in reflection on the current events of our life and my feelings about my faith.  I am amazed how much I still feel the same, and how so much has not healed from watching my husband suffer, and my own suffering.  It has become a part of me.

I am in a different place right now with my faith.  I attended a Beginning Experience weekend back in November, and what a moving experience it was! I am ever thankful for it being rooted in my Catholic faith, as I was desperately in need of nurturing from my own church.  This weekend is for people who have lost a marriage either to divorce or death.  Since attending, I have decided to join the BE group and help with future retreats. I cried out in anguish so many times for God to help me make sense of my tragedy, to find some good in the devastating events of my life.  And this is allowing me to do that. By being a part of the BE team, I am also able to continue on a path of healing. I sometimes have to take a deep breath when I realize I am the youngest on the team, and the ONLY one that has been both divorced and widowed. Nice. But I have so much to offer, and I hope someone might be blessed by my story.

So I have been doing a lot of thinking about this whole Lenten thing.  I finally realized that, although I did not voice it in my blog, I feared that Brian would not live through the 40 days following Ash Wednesday that year. He was already struggling so much with the realization that he didn't have much of a future left.  He even commented about a few t.v. shows that he figured he wouldn't be alive to see the season premiers in the fall. I secretly wondered if he would live to see the spring season finales, and after his death in March, I didn't watch much t.v. just because of that.  I wondered on that day as he received ashes in our home, would he be here to celebrate Easter? Would he be well enough to go out to Mass? Would he already be dead?

If you think this is a terrifying way to live, that is an understatement. Living with someone who is dying is like dangling their life in front of you.  Even both of my sisters had announced their pregnancies, and Brian and I cried because we knew he would never see those babies (and he didn't).

As Holy Week began that year, I knew his time was short. He was in and out of consciousness, and I spent each minute of my day just comforting him and our children. As the week wore on, I begged God to take him before Easter. I feared he would die on Easter, and I knew he would not want those memories for us.  I selfishly worried that he would die in the midst of me trying to be the Easter Bunny and blow it for Tye and Amberlea.  It was a worry he had already when he was so very sick on Christmas Eve and we were making backup plans for Santa for the same reason.  But mostly I begged God to take him because his time was up, the suffering was beyond unbearable, and I didn't want him to suffer any longer.  By Holy Thursday, hospice and I anticipated him to have about another week. By Good Friday morning, I knew it would be sooner. I told the hospice nurse I wanted all his non-essential meds stopped. We tucked a large blanket under him and picked him up from his hospital bed into a sort of cocoon/sling, and carried him to our bed. As we crossed the threshhold, I knew in my heart that he would not come back out of that room alive. That day is the most prayerful day of my life, full of anguish and knowing of Christ's sufferings. He seemed to be in less pain on this day than he had for the last several. I figure it was the pain medication, but whatever caused his awareness of his suffering to lessen, I am thankful. When he died a little after 5pm, I sobbed and thought to myself...I knew he wouldn't make it through Lent.

I have been very thankful, and I still am, that if he could not stay, that God chose to take him on Good Friday. On Easter, I was very thankful that he could spend it with Jesus in Heaven.

So where am I for Ash Wednesday 2011? Hoping for continued healing. Hoping for peace. Still longing for and missing Brian like it just happened today. And hoping at the end of Lent this year, I might feel more alive with the understanding of my faith and the promise of eternal life.

What Might Have Been

I didn't really know what to title this post. I can't really say that today would have been our 8th anniversary because God had other plans, plans that had us married just past 5 years before Brian's life on this earth was over.  Even so, I can't help but remember those dreams we had on this day in 2003. The love I felt was beyond any description I could even attempt to give.

So how is it on this 3rd anniversary date without him? It was a hard day. But I survived. For me, it really hasn't gotten any easier.  I have learned to better deal with it, sometimes to better hide it. But more often as the days and months and years have now passed, I have to realize a different norm. Life is what it is and has been now for 38 1/2 months. So I guess I have actually gotten used to it, as far as the day to day goes.

I went to the cemetery the other night. I cried harder than I have in a long time. My head was filled with strange thoughts.  What did he look like? What did he sound like? I felt a panicky feeling that I couldn't remember him calling out my name. I tried to remember his touch and his kiss. It seemed so foreign to me. I felt like digging up the dirt and crawling in with him. Don't judge my craziness until you've had a dead husband you miss so much you can't think straight. Crawling in with him sounds like a great idea for a brief moment of time every so often.  I kept seeing him as he was when he walked up onto my front porch the first night I met him. He was wearing the same shirt as he was buried in. I suddenly wanted the shirt back. I wanted to hold it close.

That night I nightmared. This time he walked up onto the front porch and his head was shaved. He looked more like he did at the time of his dodgeball benefit. His face was puffy. But he had that same shirt on. When I opened the door, he said...you have big hair. He always teased me that my hair was poofy that night. Some other not-so-pleasant and too personal to repeat things happened in my nightmare to remind me of his illness. Then he kept walking away from my house. He would come close, then turn and leave. Next, he was up on the ladder putting up my Christmas lights (if you remember, this is the moment when I realized I was falling in love with him and he was telling me about his cancer, and I was thinking oh my God I am going to fall in love with him and he is going to die)...but in my nightmare he climbed up onto the house and then fell off. Next thing I knew I was standing in the back of church with my dad, getting ready to come down the aisle. I started having a panic attack (which really did happen), and I was freaking out about how happy I felt (did happen). I came down the aisle and the violins were playing but I couldn't hear them (maybe a connection to the fact that my ears have been plugged for 2 weeks because of a double ear infection). Then I could hear this cackling from the back of church, like an evil laugh.

I bolted straight up in bed. And people wonder why I can't freaking sleep. Honestly though, it was the first actual nightmare I have had about Brian. I am sure the earlier crying at the cemetery sparked it off. Here's hoping that his the last of it.

I got flowers today, beautiful flowers like the ones from our wedding. I don't know whose handiwork it was, but it made me feel very special. One of my students asked why I got the flowers, and I said that today is my anniversary. He replied...what an awful thing to have to come back to school! No kidding! Although the routine probably helped to make it an easier day.  Then I had several texts, emails and posts on my facebook page, and it meant a lot to know that so many remembered and/or thought to say something to me. Like this day really mattered. Like it wasn't a figment of my imagination. Like it was ok to still celebrate that this is the day I committed to be Brian's wife, to love and honor him, in sickness and in health. And I upheld that, by God, and I am proud of that. I like to think I had a hand in getting him to Heaven, and I am honored to have been a part of that.

I planned to come home and look at pictures with Tye. He has wanted to see our wedding video. So that was the plan. By the time we got home, I was feeling a little better about the day and decide to leave well enough alone and just leave that for another time.

I keep thinking that before I know it, more time will have passed with him dead than the time I knew him alive. How can that be? When so much of him is living and breathing right in my daily life. Tye brings Brian's love to me everyday, and I am so thankful. I feel bad for Tye to grow up without Daddy, but hope he always knows what a gift he has been to me. I told him today that I missed him at school. He said...why? I said...because you are good company! He said...MOM! I'm not company, I'm your son. Tee hee!  On New Year's Eve at midnight, he hugged me great big and said...it just gets better and better every year. Awww. I chuckled and thought, no kidding, it can't hardly have gotten much worse! But it made me feel good that he is so happy and feels so loved.

Thanks to all of you who have helped me get from my 7th anniverary to my 8th. I have been taking one day at a time, and pray for continued healing, and maybe someday even peace.

The Holidays, Take 3

I can't sleep. It is not surprising. Sleep...the lack of, the inability to get to sleep, the exhaustion from not sleeping, insomnia, and then oversleeping, tiredness and so on that comes with trying to always play catch-up on sleep. It has been a normal part of my life for quite a while now. I have always been a night owl. But about a year before Brian's death, I started having sleep issues.  It is the getting to sleep part that is hard. It is the crawling into bed alone part that his heartbreaking. And so began a pattern that I have rarely snapped out of. Which is why I am writing this at 2:09 in the morning.

I know I have not been writing regularly. It isn't because I don't have anything to say. It is mostly because what I DO have to say is the same old story, even to me it is getting old, and I mostly don't know what else there is to say about it. Yet, I still felt like writing tonight of all nights.

I do not have my tree up. Yet. And I don't know when I am putting it up. Tomorrow probably. How awful am I that I don't even really want to put it up. I am really excited about how nice the outside of the house looks with all the lights and greenery. But that seems to be where my holiday spirit has stopped. I can't seem to get anything going in the Christmas present department. I listened to some Christmas music today and really enjoyed it. My head is all over the place, and ultimately I am coming to realize that I am not the person I used to be. Different things are important to me.

And here I am, approaching the THIRD Christmas without Brian. The 3rd round of being Santa alone. While I still consider the holidays of 2007 to have been a horrible experience with Brian's illness, he was still there to show the gifts to, to brainstorm and plan and sneak around, to laugh and get excited with. I remember that year how desperately I missed spending time with him, shopping for our children and other family members.

So how is the 3rd one? Well, I made it through the 1st one, numb with grief. Then last year was a harsh reality that life was continuing, regardless of what was going on with me.  This year, I'm not sure. It feels odd. I feel distanced from myself almost. I feel out of practice, like I need to rewrite the plan so I know what I am doing.

I have not talked extensively on this blog as to how I really feel. I don't know why. I have really put myself out there, having this blog and sharing our family's journey and heartache, yet I still felt like I needed to protect my feelings. I beat around the bush a lot about how I really feel. I also tried to sugarcoat things so no one thought I was going off the deep end. I have done the same thing in my everyday life. The downfall is that on my way over the edge, no one was there to catch me because no one really knew what was happening. I had a very difficult summer and fall. I have come to realize that from about last Christmas to about June, I checked out for a while. It wasn't intentional, I think the pain just got to be too much. Instead of dealing with it, I sat it aside. I put back on the game face. I let people make comments to me about how great I was doing, and I chose not to correct them for several reasons. It was easier not to explain the same thing over and over. It felt better to not be sad all the time. 

Then the summer came, and I had lots of emotional things going on in my life. Pushing out my feelings about losing my husband eventually caught up with me, and August, September and October were very difficult months. I could not explain it if I tried. The pain was raw and unbearable, and my breaking point was coming fast. I reached out to others, some who responded by ignoring my pain, others who were surprised to find I wasn't "over" it, and some who really listened. It was a very sad and lonely time for me in my grief, as I felt as if I was completely isolated and paralyzed by my grief.

Things are gradually changing. I found comfort through a retreat called Beginning Experience. It is designed for those who have lost a marriage to divorce or death. Sigh. Once again, I was the exception, I have been there in both situations. And while I am long past grieving over the loss of my first marriage, I continue to have to deal with issues involving my ex-husband and his wife on a daily basis, as we raise our children together. Even so, before I even met Brian I had come to the realization that Tim and I did not belong together, and that God had different plans for me. While I hate that divorce became a part of my life and the lives of my daughters, I long ago came to terms with that. I have come to realize, however, that being in a lousy marriage and then divorced previously has made grieving the loss of Brian and our wonderful life together all the more difficult. I DID indeed believe after my first marriage that there was more God had planned for me, that He had a different future in store for me, and that blessing came with Brian and our life together. So it doesn't take much of a jump to see that losing that marriage to cancer has left me in a very difficult place of understanding what my own purpose in life is.  And right now, the only purpose I am truly seeing is being Rachel, Amberlea and Tye's mom. I do believe God wanted me to be there for Brian, to care for him and love him and bring him happiness.  I am amazed that this wonderful man came into my life, and sometimes wonder if my purpose what to help him die. God only knows. But what I do know is that I have really found it difficult to find my way back to me, to what I personally am doing here in this existence.

Beginning Experience has given me a chance to really focus on those feelings. I came to realize I have not really dealt with Brian dying. I have dealt with the consequences of it, the aftermath. But I have not really faced head on that he is dead and gone. That he slipped away right in front of me, that he no longer exists but in the memories and in our hearts.

So THAT is where I am. Trying to really face that he is dead. If you are confused, then you probably haven't lost your spouse or a very close loved one. Otherwise, you would probably GET what it is I am saying. I am definitely NOT saying that I have been pretending he isn't dead, or that I have been in denial. But I realized I never told him good-bye. He was sick, and then he was dead. There was nothing in between. I know there were missed conversations between us that should have happened and they did not. I admit that I have resentment towards him for not helping me face him dying. I also admit that I feel very guilty for being resentful to him, when he himself had such terrible things to deal with. Even so, the feelings are there. I also realize that I do not think Brian really came to terms with the fact that he was dying. I think he got to a certain level of acceptance that he was sick, and a certain level of understanding that this story was not going to end well. But he himself told me several times that he could not face knowing he wasn't a part of our future. This was why he turned down the chances to leave videos for us, and for Tye. I repeatedly tell myself that this was not selfish on his part, that is was how his heart and mind dealt with his own impending death. Dying isn't as glamorous as Hollywood makes it, people often can't muster up the ability to do these amazing things like you see in movies like My Life with Michael Keaton. God how I would give anything for Tye to have those kinds of videos of Brian. And I know I have said that before, and for some reason it keeps coming up and resurfacing. So I am trying now to figure out how to deal with those feelings and move past them.  And I am trying to figure out how to deal with the realization that Brian is dead. I know it seems logical, maybe even out of sequence, that I feel like I've come to understand that this life is what I was dealt. I don't have a terrible life by any means. My blessings are great. None of that matters when my heart aches to feel Brian's love.

I hope to be able to use my experiences to help others. I plan to stay involved with the Beginning Experience so I can continue to heal. It is a process, one that doesn't end when others judge me that it should end. It also comes and goes. Surprisingly, I maybe could admit that I felt better last spring than I do now. But again, I am an emotional person, and each moment of the fall brings back memories that are not so good. November was such a difficult time in 2007, and my mind was locked on the fact that we spent 10 very difficult days in the hospital then, and that was when I thought he was going to die right then. That was my first real understanding that he was dying. I knew already, but after that I really KNEW. So November is a rough time. Yet I met Brian in November, on the 10th. And I freaking forgot. A few days later I was thinking, oh my gosh, my grief overshadowed my joy of the moments this man came into my life.

I am better than I was a month ago. Interestingly, I still have a lot to deal with, but it doesn't feel quite as stressful. The thoughts of Brian being gone are always on my mind, and I wonder seriously what it is I need to do to have that not haunt me day in and day out. I told my sister Erin, I might know how I want to feel, or how I should feel (which is an arguement anyway, as to WHO exactly dictates that), but that doesn't make me feel that way.

My sadness is controlling my life. I can't sleep (did I mention that), and I know it is also affecting my health. I'm overweight, and I want to change that, but everything seems so overwhelming. I am looking forward to Christmas break and maybe getting the chance to regroup and try to get in some exercising a few days a week, as a starter. 

Oh, and I am not sleeping. Oops...said that. But what I meant was, when I do sleep, I am not sleeping in my room. In my bed where Brian died. In the room where my mom died. Nope. Haven't since July. Which must have been a turning point of some sort in my head. A few days turned into weeks, and now several months later, I am trying to muster up the strength to face the pain of crawling back into our bed without him. How odd, in my own opinion, that this did not concern me in the first 2 years following his death. I think it was definitely the combination of being where my mom died also.  My brain took over and decided how to solve the problem, and that has been the easy way out. My room is a disaster, lots of things piled on my bed, which makes it super easy NOT to crawl back into bed.

Well, maybe I will try to post again in the next few days because I am literally forcing myself to get it cleaned up. The problem is that I was trying to sort some things, things that involve Brian, things that I have not wanted to do, and I think maybe I pushed myself too far. I need to go back and maybe take care of a few things at once. I think I sent myself over the edge when I tried to force myself to separate Brian from me. And that isn't going to happen. In my desperation, I let my heart take over and trick my mind into not doing anything, instead of taking baby steps with it.

I have my rings off today. That is a big step for me. I might put them back on tomorrow. Or the next day. Or in a few minutes. I'm not going to make any rules for it. Or I might put them on and never take them off. I just have them off right now to see how I feel about it. I am worried to have them off, that people will make stupid comments about me moving on, or assume that means I am "over" the said incident. How ignorant! It just doesn't work like that. But I am feeling somewhat as if I need to make myself understand that my marriage to Brian was lost to cancer.  The fact that I have experience in losing a marriage both to divorce and death complicates things. I know what it was like to have a marriage fizzle out, breakdown and lose the ability to maintain itself and lose love. Losing someone to death is so very different, all the bad feelings weren't there and the love was as strong as ever. I say WAS because I have struggled terribly to feel Brian's love now after he is gone. I know I will always and forever love him, and the pain of not being able to share that directly with him, and to feel it reciprocated has caused me great pain and suffering over the past 33 months.  I have summed up these two marriages that one husband didn't want me and left, and the other did everything he could to stay and he couldn't. You can somewhat imagine how emotional this all is for me.  I've heard the "you'll find someone else" comments, and so far, all they are is hurtful to me. It diminishes my pain, like another man in my life will fix the pain I feel. On top of that, I've been there, done that...I've had one crappy marriage and one marriage full of unconditional love and commitment. It will take a lot for me to even want to take a chance on anything, now that I have known true love and a healthy and happy marriage.  For a while I thought I was crazy (still do a little), because after my divorce, I truly felt like I would survive. I hoped I would not grow old alone, but I prayed that God would help me find peace in whatever my life had in store. I had almost 18 months from when Tim left until I actually met Brian, and that was a time of healing and finding myself again. So why is it so hard to find myself now? And it comes down to the fact that my love for Brian, our love for each other, is still there and will never be gone, and it isn't the same type of adjustment.

I'm not sure why I wrote all this, probably more for myself to see how I felt. If I was rambling, don't read it.  If it didn't make any sense to you, then that is good and I hope it never truly does make sense, and that you are never in a situation that what I have to say on this blog hits close to home.

So we will attempt the tree tomorrow, mostly just because we should. I will survive the holidays, as I have the last 2 without my husband. I am open for more joy than sadness to find its way into my heart this holiday season, and am thankful for the many blessings in my life, especially my 3 children, who help make that happen.