It’s Your Birthday.

I’m writing this a day early.

You see, tomorrow is your birthday.  But it’s also date night. And while it’s your birthday, you’re DEAD and I have date night with my LIVING fiance.

I had to think this morning. I had to count the number of years you’d been gone vs how old you were when you died in order to remember that this would have been your 54th birthday.

It’s not that I don’t miss you – I miss you with every fibre of my being. It makes me cry when I stop and think about it.  I keep myself so busy that I don’t have time to stop and think a lot of the time.  I don’t want to miss you that much when I’m snuggled up to him. I don’t want to be laying in bed with him and wishing it were you.

I don’t want to be sad about you and have him make jokes to cheer me up when I just want to miss you.

I need those things to be somewhat separate. I need to miss you when I miss you and love him when I love him. They do intersect – he’s freaking amazing when it comes to my grief over you.

But there’s a shame, a guilt about missing you when I’m so happy with him. I don’t want to make him feel bad for not being you – but I don’t want him to be you – I want him to be him.

But it’s YOUR birthday tomorrow.  My 5th without you. My 6th without you at home. Actually my 7th without you at home – you were with Wade on your 48th, remember? You spent that birthday with Wade, the next birthday in the hospital and then you were gone.

Happy Birthday my Forever 49 Love.  You are missed. You are loved. You are always remembered.

 

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On His 15th Birthday

The last birthday my son got to share with his father was his 11th.  The pictures are amazing.  I was, as usual, the picture taker, and caught an amazing picture of Andrew and Mark hugging over the shiny new bike.

There have been 4 birthdays since then. His 12th was spent in a hospital room with his dad.

His 13th, 14th and now 15th…?  As a fatherless child.

I’ve tried to make birthdays something special.

I’ve tried to live and love and parent as if Mark were still here.

I don’t know if I’ve succeeded.

I don’t know if Mark would have approved of the double bladed sword-type thing I gave Andrew for his 15th.  (Honestly I’m not sure if *I* approve LMFAO)

But I’m doing my best.

3 birthdays without his dad.  3 birthdays where he’s had to grow up, learn to be a man, figure out what adult men are supposed to be like and for the most part, aside from a year with my ex, he’s had a woman to try to teach him.

I wanted different for my boys.  I don’t know how to raise boys.  Hell – when my oldest was going through puberty (and there WAS a male figure there) I got a book on puberty to try to understand what the hell was going on with his body.

Boys are icky and weird and I’m supposed to be the mother of girls.

But I wouldn’t trade my son’s for anything.

Somehow, despite me, they are growing into amazing young men.  Not a lot of initiative (yet) but responsible when given a list.  Caring, loving, kind.

And my baby… my husband’s first (biological) born… is now 15.  And he’s turning into an incredible young man.

I wish Mark were here to see it.

Andrew 15th Birthday

(double bladed sword thingy – untwist the handle and it’s got a chain between it – bladed nunchucks?)

Happy Forever 49….

Happy Birthday Mark.   Today you would have been 52.  But you are forever 49.

We miss you – all of us.  We all miss you so incredibly much.

The immediate, can’t breathe, don’t know how to function pain has lessened, but the sudden can’t breathe, forgot he was dead for a moment but OMG he really is, hits me more often.

The grief storms are much shorter now.

Triggers that take me back to the moment keep me there for a day or two, instead of a week or two or three.

The moments of “I want to tell Mark…” that sucker punch me in the gut send me in a grief storm that lasts for an hour or two at most.

The grief is changing.

I’ll never *get over* losing you.

I’ll never *move on* from you.

But I will move forward.

I will grow.   The pain of losing you becoming part of me.  I will be the tree that grows around the object.

Tree growing around motorcycle

And I will thrive, despite?  because of?  the pain that your loss caused.

You are forever a part of me.

Happy Birthday my Love.

This Week

I’m somewhat surprised I’m not more emotional this week.

Mother’s Day 2015.

Alone-ish.  I was with someone I love in the morning… a lovely snuggle and time together.  He wished me happy Mother’s Day.

My kids got up.  My oldest-at-home made me breakfast.  No cards, no big to-do, just a simple breakfast, a hug and a lot of love from all my kids.

I miss the time and effort that was put in before.

And then Thursday morning.

Mark was an avid fisherman.  Loved everything to do with fly-fishing.  Loved watching shows.  Loved doing it.  Was going to teach me how the summer he died.

One of his favourite shows was “Sport Fishing On the Fly”

And then I saw this:

Sport Fishing

And the host.  And there was this instantaneous “OMG-I-HAVE-TO-TELL-MARK-FUCK-HE’S-DEAD” punch in the gut.

And right there… at the gas station… grief storm hits.

Crying on the way to work.  Big ugly sobbing tears.   Wishing I could talk to *someone* about it.

But really?  Who gets it?  Who understands?  Who would be able/willing to just let me lean into them… and be loved while I cried it out?

It’s been close to 3 years.  Specifically it’s been 3 years less 40 days.

I get things like… “why do you still grieve so hard?” and “shouldn’t you be moving forward?”

So who do I talk to? How do I tell someone that a fucking BOAT reduced me to tears?

I don’t even want to talk.  I just want to be wrapped up in his arms and cry until I’ve cried out and then move on with my day.

Instead… I cried my way to work… cleaned up my tears… put on more make up… and went in and smiled a lot.

And in 2 days… 2 more days.. it would have been his 52nd birthday. The man who was supposed to be 50 before I turned 40 will forever be 49…  Gawd… 52… I’m 41… we’ve got one grandbaby and another on the way… and he’s forever 49.

I had wanted to go to visit with his brother for his birthday.  His brother shares the same birthday as he does.  3 years apart.  (and there’s a sister in between!  Their mom must have lost her mind… LOL)

Unfortunately – fire season kicked in and I’m sitting 5 mins away from work in case I get a call.   So no camping with the brother-in-law and nephew for me and my boys.

Between Mother’s Day, the stupid boat, the birthday, and the relationship that is unsure and unsteady with a dash of WTF is going on mixed in… I’m feeling incredibly lonely.

I want the dead guy I love back (but don’t change my life because there’s lots about it I like).

I want the live guy I love to just pull me in his arms and love me until I’m ok again.

I am sitting, waiting for work to call.

The summer before Mark died, he went to visit with his brother on their shared birthday.  I was a little put out that I couldn’t go, that I wouldn’t be around to help celebrate his birthday, but overall, it was a good thing.

I insisted that they take a picture of the two of them on their birthday.

It has been Wade’s profile pic on Facebook since that day.

It reminds me… to take the moments.  Don’t say “next time” because next time, you might be saying goodbye.

Mark & Wade

Happy Birthday Mark & Wade.  I love you both.

Happy Birthday To Me

I turned 41 two days ago.

41.

How did I get there? Here?  How did I get to be FORTY-ONE??

I spent my day at school, had a pop quiz in biology, a test in chemistry and my English teacher taught me a way to remember the metric scale which I’ve promptly forgotten half of it (I’ll have to remember to ask her for it again)

My boys made me dinner.   We had birthday cake.

I went out to hang out with acquantences who will likely become friends.

Had a good time, played cards, had a drink or two.

Saturday morning found me up at the butt-crack of dawn… actually before the butt-crack of dawn… to drive an hour or so away to play roller derby for the day.

6 hours of skating.

A lunch date.

2 more hours of skating.

I played in a bout where I got knocked on my ass by a wicked hit to my sternum (totally legal) and I had SO much fun!!!

My body hurts from the bangover.

Overall… I had a good weekend.   So far.

But there were moments… moments of longing.  Moments of missing.  Moments of intense sadness.

I looked out in the crowd at the bout and there was no one there…. no one to cheer me on, no one to support me, no one for me to have a victory drink with after the bout.

Don’t get me wrong… there were people I knew in the crowd… but they were there to watch *derby* not cheer *Jezebelle* on (my derby name).

My husband would have been there.  My ex-boyfriend? I don’t know that he would have – he was hot & cold in his support of my hobbies/goals/dreams.

I have friends I celebrated with… and watched them go home to their spouses.  I watched them go home to their families.

That’s the part I hate most about being a widow.   Going home alone.  Combine that with the knowledge that my ex is so very close… that I would probably just have to go upstairs and tell him that I miss him, that I need him, that I want him, that I want to work things out with him… and we’d find a way…

It hurts… knowing that he’s right there.   It hurts, knowing that my love for my husband is part of what ended my relationship with the man I love now.    It hurts… knowing that I go to bed every night, starving of skin hunger… missing him incredibly (both the hims I love) and wondering if I’m ever going to be able to have a love like what I experienced again.

Happy Birthday to me.   I didn’t get a picture of me on my birthday this year.  I’m not going to.  Or maybe I will.  But right now… I’m kinda feeling sorry for myself, wishing I had him here to snuggle up to on the couch, watch a movie before I go to work, or go through my flash cards with while we drink coffee and just be together.

The loss of a love relationship after the death of a spouse is harder than just an ordinary break up.   I grieve over my 2nd chapter daily.    I miss him.  I miss my husband.  While there is so much good going on in my life, I am grieving over the loss of the future I was promised… again…

Happy Birthday to Me…

38 sucked.  Not every single moment, there was some really awesome, really amazing things that happened while I was 38, but the overall theme of 38 was suckitude…

Today, I turn 39.  Technically, I turned 39 at 7.15am… but today I’m 39.

Pushing 40 as my lovely friend Adriana puts it.   But 40 is a year away.

39 is going to be… no, it has been a fantastic year and will continue to be a fantastic year.

There’s a lot of firsts left to come.  There’s a lot of sadness I will experience.  There’s a lot of grief I will still go through.

But there’s a lot of joy to be experienced.

I frequent Widowed Village and have started to make good friends there.  I was chatting with a friend last night and I said to him… “He died, I didn’t.”

And if I didn’t die… I need to live.   I need to find joy.  I need to find peace, however fleeting.  I need to find happiness.  I need to embrace love.

I know Mark would be seriously pissed at me if I gave up.   I would be seriously pissed at myself if I gave up.  Well, if I had the energy to be pissed at myself LOL.   But the reality is… I didn’t die.  I’m still here.

I have children to raise.  I’m waiting for grandchildren.  I expect to love someone again.  And I have dreams, aspirations and ambitions to fullfill.

I’m going to have a cry today, it’s coming.  I miss Mark terribly. It hurts beyond hurt that he’s not here to share in my birthday.

But dammit, I’m going to enjoy my birthday.

My day will start with Kathy coming over for coffee.  I have lunch planned with Sarah, and then Adriana and I are going to invade on Michelle.

Later tonight, my craft night friends will all come invade on me… which means I should spend some time cleaning my house this morning LMFAO.    I’ve told several of them that they *had* to come because it’s my birthday craft night.

Today… will be a good day.

Happy Birthday to me.   I am going to go back in my email, and find the e-card Mark sent me for my 38th birthday… a reminder of how much he loved me…

I hope your day is as full of love and laughter as mine will be.

Birthday Boobs

This is not the greatest picture of the birthday cake that was made for me, but it was gorgeous… this is from the surprise party my friends threw for me on Saturday.

jezandtinybday

This is Spunky Monkey – and me on our roller derby birthday party last year.   Did I mention our team rocks?!?!?