I don’t handle change very well.

I get cranky.

I get snappy.

I get grouchy.

And in the end, I realize there was change afoot and I level out.

4 years ago I had a life.  It was solid. My husband and I, raising our children, surrounded by friends and family, I had a good job, he was the primary parent, we had a plan for the future. (mostly involving a lot of fishing and camping and grandchildren)

Then… He got sick.  And was in the hospital.  And then he died.

Since his death… there has been a series of changes.

Dead husband.

Wife to widow.

Back to work.

New relationship.

Quit work

Moved to new town.

New job

Full time step-parent to boys who desperately needed structure and routine in their life.

Mental crash.

Lost my job.

Got new job.  (summer job)

Relationship ended.

Living on my own.

Back to school.

Back to summer job.

Amazing summer job.

Enter into a contract to buy a house.

Summer job ends.

And here I am.

My last 2 years in a nutshell.

Likely, I am not going back to the summer job.  The summer job rocks.  I am sad to leave the summer job.  It is hard.  I worked my ass off to gain the respect of the people I worked with and for.  And I did.  But I also worked my ass off to get to a point where I can go to school and become a nurse.

The change is killing me.  I like stability.  I love my job.  It’s not sustainable, but I love it. In 3 years?  I could just keep going with it.

But I can’t right now.

So I”m in the midst of some huge changes.  Changes that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for my husband’s death. Changes I wouldn’t have even IMAGINED if he were still here.

And I hate change.

But I love where my life is going.

Best advice given by one of my co-workers: “Time to grow up and get a real job”

There’s dreams I never knew I had that are coming true.  People I can’t imagine my life without.

And with every change that takes me further away from the dream I had with my husband… I get to grieve again.  I get to go through the days and days of crying and trying to adjust my brain to “things are different”

And I’m reminded over and over again…  life is never constant.  It always changes.  I’m rolling with it much better than I have in the past, but I’m rolling with it.

And I wouldn’t change things if I could…

Well.  Maybe I’d be skinnier.  But that’s in my control.   So meh.  It’s all good.

I miss him though.  These are celebrations I miss being able to have with him.  Celebrations of what’s new and exciting and I’m celebrating them on my own.

WIdowhood sucks.   But widows rock.

I WANT my LIFE back!!!

… oh wait.  No I don’t

I mean I do.  I want HIM back. I want to feel his ARMS around me.  I want to see his face when I kiss him into insensibility.  I want to hear his laugh.  I want to be bored to tears as he passionately talks about all things fish and rivers.  I want him to sit with me and help me study for an exam on a subject that bores him.

But… I want all that NOW.

But… I wouldn’t have my NOW if he were alive still.

I want my life back… but I don’t.

It doesn’t make sense.  I miss him. I hurt over him. I can have grief waves where his absence makes me wonder how I’ll survive another minute without him.

But I love the direction my life is going.

I love the options I have.

I love so much about my life NOW… and I wouldn’t have had it if he were here.

But I want my husband back.

But… I want to keep my life as it is…

It’s so conflicting… being on the verge of “LIFE IS AWESOME” while still being pulled by “BRING HIM BAAAACK!!!”

There’s so many weird thoughts… the missing him never stops.  The memories still tear.  The pain still haunts.

But the anticipation for the future beckons.  The excitement for what will be is overwhelming.  The world of “what will be” and all the possibilities…. I feel GOOD about what could be.

And I feel slightly guilty that I do.

I will always love and honour my Mark, my Love, my sexxy redhead.

I will always wish for a different outcome.

I will always grieve for the loss of what could have been.

I will always have trigger moments as things happen and life happens and he’s not here to share it with me.

But I will share them with my Chapter 2, whoever he will be.

I am excited about the possibilities of building a life with a new Love.

I am giggly with anticipation with the “what could be’s” with … someone… whoever that may be… who wants to share my life with me, and let me share their life with them.

I look forward to being someone’s last love, or someone being mine.

I’ve been someone’s last love.  I have loved until death parted us…and I will always love… and I will love again.

Learning to be alone?  Kinda sucks.  But it’s kinda exciting as well.

Loving and knowing that I’m loveable?

Beyond priceless.

I want my life back… but I want my life as it will be.