The Things You Lose

There were so many things my husband loved.


Awards shows.


Music shows.

Things I don’t watch anymore.

Glee.  Oscars.  So You Think You Can Dance.  Dancing With The Stars.

I don’t watch them because I want to share them with him.  I go to tell him something, even after all this time.   And then… the hurt hits.  My heart hurts.  I remember what I’ve lost.

After 32 months.  I still get hit in the chest by the pain of losing him.

I’m deliberately watching the Oscars tonight.

I am on purpose watching a show that was something he and I watched together.

I am not wallowing, but I am letting the pain wash over me.   I am breathing through the sadness.  I am feeling it.

I have heard/read somewhere that in order to let something go, you must first have a hold of it.

I can’t let go of the pain, I can’t move past the pain, I can’t leave the pain behind if I don’t FEEL the pain.

The well of pain is deep and at times seems limitless.   But I know as time goes by, as I move through each wave of pain, as I learn to swim in the deep ocean of grief… it becomes easier.   Not consistently, but it does.  There are times I’m drowning, but there are times when I feel the pain…and I let it go.

Slowly… I’m getting better at the letting go.   Slowly.

In the meantime… I make choices as to when I wish to submerge myself in that pain… sometimes… so I can learn to swim.

Grief Is Like the Ocean

Grief Waves

I don’t remember the last time I had a grief wave hit me this hard or last this long.

It’s leaving me in a fog.  In a mental state of confusion.  I’m slow, and I’m easily distracted and I’m unable to concentrate.

I had forgotten what full on grief does to me.

I had forgotten what it feels like to ride the wave of pain.

I’m pretty sure I don’t fucking like it.

But it will pass.  And life will get better.  I’m glad that I don’t have to be in school this week.

Grief Is Like the Ocean

Falling Apart

I am falling apart right now.

Big, snotty, can’t breathe, can’t see sobs.

It’s a good thing I can type without looking, without seeing because I can’t right now.   I apologize for any spelling errors.

I hurt.

My dad died, did I tell anyone here that?

He died in April 2011.

A year before my husband.

He and I weren’t particularly close.  He lived 8 hours away, and didn’t seem to know, despite his incredible intelligence, how to pick up a phone and use it.

And then when he finally did call… it was to tell me he had stage 4 lung cancer.

That was October?  November? of 2010.   We went to see him at Christmas.  My brother, my sister, me.  My sister’s husband.  My husband and kids.   And then we didn’t expect to see him again.

I managed to go for another visit in March – saw him in the hospital.

And then he died in April.  I remember – I was at work when I got the call.   My husband came to get me.

I had a cry.   I mourned.   We spread his ashes that summer at Duggan Lake.   I cried again.

And that was it.

Less than a year later, my husband went into the hospital.   159 days after – he died.

My dad and I weren’t close.   I always had a feeling of I would never *quite* measure up.   I got an A once on an English Essay and he said to let him know when I got 100% on an essay like him.

I’m in English right now – my essay marks have been 97%, 97%, and 98%.  Not quite the 100%.  And yes, each mark, I’ve thought about him when I saw that it wasn’t perfect.

So Saturday I went to see 50 Shades of Grey.

The main female character graduates from college.  Her dad shows up.   She’s super happy.  And then it hits me.


My dad won’t be at my graduation.

He won’t be there for me at that moment.

He was at almost every other major event in my life.

But he won’t be at that one.

And so there I am… in the middle of a sexxy movie… crying.

Fuck me.

And tonight?  I can’t stop.  It’s like all the grief I didn’t know was there has just bubbled the fuck out.

And I can’t stop crying about it.

I miss my Daddy.  I miss him.  And I’m never going to be able to share my grandson with him.  He’s not going to see me graduate.  He’s not going to be a part any of that.

And I can’t stop crying about it.

So much fucking lost time.

July & Aug 2009 048

Valentine’s Day 3rd Edition

This is my 3rd Valentine’s Day without my Mark.

This is, however, only my first Valentine’s Day alone in 17 years.

First Valentine’s – I had a single friend over and she and I celebrated together.

Second Valentine’s – I was in a relationship.

This Valentine’s?  I’m single.   I don’t even have a date.

But you know what?  That’s. OK.

This was my Facebook status this morning:

17 years ago today he first told me he loved me. 3 years ago today he was awake from his coma and said happy Anniversary. Today, I get to spend my first Valentine’s alone in 17 years. BUT… I choose to celebrate ME. Happy Valentine’s Day to ME. The person I’m going to be with for the rest of my life. The person that’s going to celebrate every single success I have. The person that’s going comfort me in my lows. The person who I will wake up with EVERY SINGLE DAY for the rest of my life.

Happy Valentine’s to ME. Today, I will take myself to a movie, buy myself a flower, and remind myself how awesome it is that I have ME in my life 🙂

And you know what?

I’m happy.  I’m about to head out to buy me flowers and watch a movie on my own.   And I’m looking forward to it.

Happy Valentine’s Day Mark.

And Happy Valentine’s Day to each and every one of you reading this today.   Long live love.  Love transcends all space and time and YOU ARE LOVED.



I am strong.

I am fierce.

I have been broken.

I have been lost.

I am healing.

I am different.

I am new.

I am young.

I am old.

I am changing.

I am adapting.

I am surviving.

I am connected.

I am alone.

I am dreaming of the future.

I am missing the past.

I am you.

I am vocal.

I am larger than life.

I am hiding in a corner.

I am scared.

I am excited for the future.

I am grateful for the people I’ve met.

I am sad for having to meet the people I’ve met.

I am confident.

I am insecure.

I am beautiful.

I am me.

I am… widow.

And widow’s rock.


I’m Angry… but Not… blah

Lately, I’ve had some anger surfacing.

Anger that he died.

Anger that he left me alone.

Anger that I have to live my life differently.

Anger that the future we planned is not going to happen.

Don’t get me wrong… I love my life.  I love where it’s headed. I love the choices I am making.

But I’m angry that I HAD to make the choices.

While there is something amazing in having freedom, I was never one who wanted it.  I wanted the plan.

Too many choices confuses me.

But… I have the choice.  I have the freedom.  It’s an awesome dichotomy of “I want this but damn I wish I didn’t have to” going on in my head.

Life is a mass of contridictions.   And so am I.

Lost sign

I Forgot

I forgot my anniversary.

Not my wedding anniversary.

The anniversary of us getting together.

February 1, 1998.  We got together for the first time.   It was a Saturday.

And I forgot it.

I was having a grief wave the other day.  I attributed it to missing his special brand support and encouragement while I’m in school.

A friend asked me if there were any special dates.

Then I remembered.  I had forgotten.   Our anniversary.

I remember so very clearly when he came out of the coma, when he was awake… he remembered our anniversary in 2012.   And I forgot.

My life has been pretty freaking good lately.  I love where I’m at, what I’m doing and everything else that is happening in my life.  I… am happy.  (something changed last night to change part of that, but I’ll work that shit out on my own)

So yeah.  Happy.

Not Mark-centered happy.  Just happy.   Never not missing him.  But happy.

And I forgot our anniversary.

And I’m sitting here, trying to figure out if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.   I feel slighly guilty… but he’d be SO happy that I was happy enough in my life that I forgot.  So I’m confused about how I feel about that.

I’m still happy.

Another anniversary is coming up next weekend.  Valentine’s Day was the first time he ever said he loved me.   I have not spent a Valentine’s alone in 17 years.

I think I’m going to be happy anyhow.  Because my life is pretty freaking awesome.  And I’m happy.

Heart Broken Heart