Reason for Everthing

I’ve been in Squamish for the past 2 days.

Well, sorta. I’m an hour north of Squamish in the rain forest.   There’s a massive fire up here and I’m part of the team that is working to put it out.

I’m living in a camp. It’s nice. Camping, but food is supplied and cooked, there’s showers and bathrooms, and a place to hide out from the rain if it happens.

But I’m *this* close to Squamish.

I went for a walk this morning before work started – sat on the river and meditated.   Realized that this was one of the rivers Mark fished.

For the first time… there wasn’t an overwhelming sadness, a grief storm, there was only a tug of longing that made me wish I could be sitting there with him.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be camping right there? Quiet and peaceful and listening to the river?

I miss him. Every day. I don’t have a day that goes by that I don’t think of him or what our life could have been.

And I wish, every day, that I had gotten to share my life with him.

But I loved him to his last breath. And I know he’s still with me. I know he’s still around, checking up on me, loving me.

There was a post on Facebook by a widda sister who had someone tell her that “things happen for a reason” and a lot of the other widows agreed that that was one of the most insensitive, throat-punch deserving comments that could be made.

I believe that things DO happen for a reason.   I may not like the reason. I may not WANT the reason. I may not SEE the reason, but there’s always a reason.

If my husband hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have reconnected with Mike. If I hadn’t reconnected with Mike, I wouldn’t have loved him and his kids. If I hadn’t loved him and his kids, I wouldn’t have moved to Quesnel. If I hadn’t moved, I wouldn’t have found the job at BC Wildfire. If I hadn’t had the job with BC Wildfire, I wouldn’t be in school. If I wasn’t going to school, I wouldn’t be working towards nursing.

Everything happens for a reason in my life. I truly believe that. I met Robert and Patricia and Ellen and they inspired me to be better, be more, be who they were for me.   And because of where I am in my life and my job situation – I can be.

The relationship with Mike – I love him and I miss him. But there’s things *I* need to do, things I need that I don’t know if he can give me – at all, or just not now. There’s a reason we’re not together, I’m just not sure what the reason is. (yes we can go on all the reasons that things failed but they are not the *reason* why we’re not together. There’s another reason, a deeper reason why all the minor reasons caused the relationship to end) I want to get back together with him – but I think if that were to happen right now, we’d both end up miserable again. There’s some things we both need to do.   My TimeHop showed me a status that I made a year ago about how grateful I was that he had the faith and the conviction that we’d end up back together. That he’d held on to that belief for so long. I have a hard time believing that he held on to that belief only for us to not end up together.   There’s a reason for what’s going on right now.  I just don’t know what the reason is, yet.

The broken-ness is healing, I think. I’m at just over 3 years, and a lot of the broken parts of me feel whole… some of them for the first time ever.

I don’t know where my widowed journey will take me – if I will always identify as a widow. I’ve met a couple widows who don’t identify as widows any longer. They’ve remarried and they say they are a ‘former widow’ because of it. For me, that makes no sense.   But for them, it makes perfect sense.   And so, I don’t know.

But I do know that I get to find out.   There’s a reason for everything… I just have to be patient and wait to see what it is.20150727_071513[1]

The view as I sat contemplating my world, my widowhood, my life….

That Moment…

You’re helping someone pack their house up and you accidentally cut yourself…

And you realize you’re hurting more than you thought because the pain felt GOOD and you want to cut yourself again…. the focused physical pain is easier to handle than the generalized emotional pain.

it’ll pass.  I know it will.   But right now I’m alone in a house that’s not mine with a very sharp knife.

Slow sinking

For the past 4 or 5 days…. I’ve felt this slow sinking into sadness and grief.

The weight of his death getting heavier and heavier.   Yesterday I could feel it in my shoulders and neck. It would occasionally overwhelm me and I’d end up in tears.

It’s an interesting observation.  I hurt so much ibwant an escape.  I want to not feel.  But I know that it’s temporary. I know that when I get through today and I wake up tomorrow… I will feel lighter.  And each day as it comes will also bring the ascent back to enjoyment of my life.

Littler dips happen during the year.  Those dips are not as devastating and not as painful…. but this one…. I fell like I am being dragged down in quicksand…. like someone keeps piling lead blankets over me one at a time…

Tomorrow they’ll start to come off.

But today…. today is about remembering.   Actively remembering who he was and how much he meant to us.

Today, 3 years ago…. my life changed irrevocably.

Mark in Fruitvale

Time Passes Slowly

11.30pm, June 25.

2012?  I was sitting with the amazing nurse Robert.  Listening to my son play guitar for his Dad one last time.  Sitting with Adriana and… someone… fuck… I hate when my memory fails me.

Crying.  The realization of the last night was overwhelming.  Shortly after, I would go back to his bedside, and ask him… “If I asked you to try harder, to give it one last go, would you?”

And him saying no.

He, who would move mountains for me, said no.

He had used up his last spoon.  He had no more. That was it.

And I cried.

2015?  I am so very awake.  I just want to sleep through the next 2 days.

Is it coincidence?  Or syncronicity that my acceptance letter came in the mail today?

I don’t know.  But today, I am overwhelmed with the memories of the silent passing of time.  The last moments of his life.  The night I got that many others didn’t get.  The night I got to say goodbye.  The night, that amazing, incredible night where, for one last night, I got to say everything I needed to.

Not many get that last night of lucidity.  Not many get those last moments of clarity.

And for that…. for that I am grateful.

Mark's Urn

It’s not About “Thinking Positively”

Someone asked me how I was doing today.

I told him how my week was going.

He said… well… just “think positively”

It’s not about thinking positively.

How can I positively reframe my husband’s death?  How can I think “positively” about an event that altered my life irrevokably?

It’s not about thinking positively – it’s about accepting the feelings, feeling the feelings and moving through the feelings.

I’m positive I won’t die because of this.

I’m positive I’ll get through this.

I’m positive the rest of the world will go on.

But I miss him like crazy and no amount of “thinking positively” is going to change how much it hurts that he’s NOT HERE.

So… the positive in today?

I didn’t throat punch a guy who lives with his parents, probably hasn’t had a real relationship… ever, and has NO CLUE what it’s like to have your life, your identity, your everything stripped from you in one last breath.

So that’s positive.  I didn’t even rip him a new one.  Or cry.

I managed to keep a smile on my face while I finished out the last 20 mins of my day.

That’s thinking positively, right?

Grey's Anatomy

Because it Mattered

I saw tonight that my ex has blocked me from twitter.   He’s blocked me from every social media we shared and yet claims he wants to build a friendship.

It bugs me.  It hurts.

Because it mattered.

Because HE mattered.

and things he does still hurt me.

He said and did some things today that made me wonder if he’s deliberately trying to hurt me.

This is the week.

It matters.  I’m trying to get it to stop mattering.  Eventually one day.

but today?  It matters.  And it hurts.

Who’s Going to Remember?

Besides me?

Who’s going to remember that he was doing SO well today 3 years ago.

Who’s going to remember that the doctor got the bleed and things were going in the right direction?

Who’s going to remember how tomorrow night I would call after blowing off my visit only to be told that the doctor’s needed to talk to me tomorrow?

Who’s going remember how guilty I felt that out of the last 4 days of his life, I only was there for him 1 of those?

Who’s going to remember that I was in a panick, and that Jeanne showed up to help me stay calm after that call tomorrow?

Who’s going to remember that tonight, 3 years ago, I was NSO’ing a derby game, oblivious that this would be my husband’s last few days?

Who’s going to remember how awful I felt for stealing a tiny bit of joy for my week only to discover that it was his last few?

Who’s going to remember besides me?

Who’s going to care besides me?

Who hurts because of what they missed besides me?

Who, besides me, hurts so much they can barely breathe this week because the angelversary is coming up in 3 days?

I don’t want to be the only one who remembers him.  I know for some, it’s a birthday or just another day, but for me… this is the day my life changed.

Who cares about that besides me?

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