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?



I’ve had anger pop up lately.

I’m angry that he died.  That the beautiful life we planned was cut short.  That he’s not here to see the amazing grandbabies.  That I’m raising two young men to adulthood without his influence.  That he’s not HERE for me to lean into.  That he’s missing out on so much.

I’m angry that Father’s Day is coming up and I have NO IDEA what to do to honour him. Or if the boys and Katie WANT to honour him.  I’m angry that they don’t have their father to celebrate.

I’m angry that he left me.  That I’m alone. That I have to date again if I don’t want to be alone.  That all the good things, all the sad things, all the frustrating things go unsaid because he’s NOT HERE.

I’m angry because he’s not here.

(as a side note, I’m reading this and the children’s book “Red Is Best” keeps popping up in my head.  Thanks Mark for the giggle in the midst of the anger)

I’m angry because I’ll never again know what it’s like to kiss him to insensibility.  I’ll never again feel his arms around me, hear his heartbeat, feel his warmth.   I’ll never again have him run his fingertips up my back while I’m trying to read before falling asleep because he’s trying to get my “ahem” attention. (he usually succeeded)

I’m angry because I don’t know if what I’m doing is right.  Because I could always bounce ideas off him.  He was beyond smart.  Tested at 20+ years of education.  Only finished gr. 10.  And he was so freaking smart.  And I don’t have that to bounce my thoughts against anymore.

I’m angry because he died.

And so many other’s get to live.

In 9 days it will be 3 years.  Every year I inch closer and closer to 49, the age he is forever.  And I’m angry that there will come a day when I’ll be older than him.  I was never supposed to be older than him.

I Miss You