The Month of Changes

So much has happened in the past 37 days.

It started with a bachelorette party. On my dead husband’s birthday. Weirdness and shit. But fun.  Glitter dicks everywhere. Drunk me danced the night away. Drunk me decided to walk home late in the night with one of my bridesmaids.  Drunk me had a good time.  Hungover me was not impressed with drunk me. It was a weird thing, celebrating my upcoming nuptuals with a new guy on my dead guy’s birthday. My daughter planned the day and it was fantastic.

Then the wedding.  What a glorious, fantastic day. It was amazing and magical and incredible. My Smith family showed up which made it so much better. I stood there at my reception, staring at what is now all 6 branches of my family. The Smiths, the Cavanaghs, the Teichmans, the Mortimers, the Leylands, and the Beech’s. As I said then… some people are blessed to find one great love in their life. I have been blessed to find two. Loving my Sexxy Chef does not mean my love for my dead guy has changed. The heart expands and grows to encompass more love. And I am blessed far more than I feel I deserve with all the love that surrounds me.

Fairy Tale Wedding
Photo credit Throughout Time Photography

Last night… my 3rd child graduated. Mark was watching, somewhere, I know. The tiny baby who was smaller than our cat at the time… is now a grown up adult. Graduated from high school.  Ready to start life as an adult. But in that face… I still see the tiny baby. I still see the tiny human who kept me up for an hour every hour. And I remember all the plans we had, the promises we made, the hopes and dreams we had for the future and our children and grandchildren…

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Andrew Grad 2018

My heart hurts for all that he’s missing. But my heart is full of love and life and laughter at the same time. It’s a strange dichotomy.

It is June 23. Typically the time between May 18 and June 26 is a slow progression of increasing stress and pain and fighting to convince my brain that suicide is not an option. With all that has happened it has kept me distracted from that. It’s amazing how much LIVING can keep me from wanting to die.

I still hurt though. I sat in my living room last night, fighting tears, fighting the pain of him not being here, not really succeeding but holding it together enough.

The excitement is all done.  The planning/preparation for the wedding is complete.  Graduation has passed. And I’m faced with 3 more days before his angelversary.

I’m left with my thoughts, my feelings, and the reality of somehow balancing my love and excitement of being married to my new husband with the abject, overwhelming pain of not having my dead husband here. I’m not sure how to balance that. Any suggestions would be fantastic.

On the drive up to decorate the hall for my wedding, my graduate asked me why we had a picture of Dad. I said it was to go on the display of people who we miss and wish were here.  He was like… …ok… and I laughed and said… of course if Dad was here, we wouldn’t be doing this.  He laughed as well…and we carried on.

Such is the strange dichotomy of a remarried widow, a new wife, who has been blessed with a man who loves her enough to accept all of her… the past, the present and the future.

I am blessed.

Holding Hands Ceremony
Photo credit Throughout Time Photography

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Happy New Year!

It’s a hard time of year for those who lost someone.

I received an email from someone this morning who lost their husband on Christmas morning.

I can’t offer her any words of comfort.  There is nothing comforting I can say or offer her.

I had a fantastic, amazing, incredible New Years. I rang in 2018 with my Chapter 2.  I thought about my late husband for a bit before my Sexxy Chef got home.

I reflected on the way my life has changed this past year, the things that have become very important to me and the things that are no longer important.

I miss him.  I miss the life we had.

I wouldn’t trade my past with him for anything. It still boggles my mind that he’s NOT here.  It still seems incredibly surreal that he’s been gone for 5 1/2 years.  Each June 26, each January 1 brings me that much closer to him being gone for longer than I had him.

If you’re reading this and you’re hurting from the loss of a loved one… it does get different.

Not better, just different. It did for me, anyhow.

I miss him. I love my life now.  The two are not diametrically opposed.  They co-exist in my heart (mostly) seamlessly.

If you’re hurting… reach out. If not to someone in your life, find an online group, send me an email, anything.  But reach out.  Life is good.  It sucks right now but it can be good again.

Happy 2018!  happy-new-year-wishes

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.

 

End of Another Year…

Here I am, 6 hours away from the calendar flip over from one year to the next.

I am alone, sorta.  Hanging with my youngest son and his friend.

My Sexxy Chef is working, my older son is with his girlfriend.

While my Sexxy Chef will be off work in about 3 hours, I’ve volunteered to DD to help raise funds for my roller derby team.  We’ll spend maybe half hour, an hour together on our first New Year’s Eve together.

I will spend the evening with my daughter.  My oldest is in another town, and I’ll send him a text around midnight.

This is not the New Year’s Eve I anticipated.

I accept… that the Sexxy Chef has to work. I accept it. I understand it. I understand that the nature of his job means that he can’t join me in volunteering because of tomorrow’s work schedule.

I accept that.

I don’t like it.

I have spent too many New Year’s Eve’s alone in the past 5 years.

Before Mark went into the hospital, New Years was puzzles. Drinks.  And after I met Kathy it was a party.

It was surrounded by people.

This alone thing… feels weird.

New Year’s 2012 – Party at the Dunlops’
New Year’s 2013 – New relationship, don’t really remember New Years – was in a relationship that ultimately failed and posted *nothing* about what was going on on Dec 31, 2013
New Year’s 2014 – single, quiet evening.
New Year’s 2015 – single, went to a party. Won (?) mother of the year award by dragging my kids to said party (it was kid friendly) and let them have a couple drinks.  Sent them home, stayed and tried to make myself feel better about my life by hooking up with a random.

This year, I’m in a fantastic relationship with a man I love.  I am looking forward to our life together.

I’ve cried less over Mark.

I’ve cried more intensely over Mark.

I’ve found someone who will hold me and keep me together while I fall apart over Mark.

Christmas came and went… no tears shed, although it felt like I was going to on several occasions.

So another year has gone by.  Every year marks one more that I’ve been without him. Every year is one closer to longer without him than I was with him.  That frightens me.

It’s been almost 5 years since he got sick.  4 1/2 since he died. And while my future looks fucking amazing… I miss the future that isn’t.

But it’s a happy New Year.  Despite being mostly alone, I’m surrounded by people who love me… I am blessed with many friends and a whole ‘nother family.

I hope your New Year shows promise of joy and laughter.  If you’re reading this, fresh out from the loss of someone you love, know that it doesn’t get better, but it gets different. The pain you feel now will become a part of you, and you will feel joy again. It’s not the same as before…there’s always a thread of sadness and missing your person that will run through everything, but it becomes a part of who you are and the laughter and joy will be genuine.

You’re not alone, no matter how alone you feel right now. There’s a whole community you can reach out to – starting with me.  And I can help you find someone closer if you’re looking for someone in your time zone.

Happy New Year to all my widda peeps and to all the friends and family who have been there for me the last 5 years.

happy-new-year-wishes

How are You Feeling?

Four years ago I wrote this post about how I was feeling, 2 days before Christmas, 6 months post-loss.

Yesterday, when the post popped up in my “On This Day” memories feed… I looked at it and thought how drastically my life has changed in the past four years.

Four years ago I was devastated, and trying to put on a “happy” face for my children.

Three years ago I was in a new relationship… it was our first (and only) together, and we had been fighting and it was MISERABLE.

Tree Decorating night  2013

Two years ago my boys and I made our Christmas together. We created happy-ish memories.

christmas-tree

Last year, I was in Edmonton, welcoming in a new life.  I was witness to my grandson’s birth, spent a Christmas with all my children (although missing one grandchild), and while there was some misery/crappy bits about it, being able to be there for my daughter and enjoy the time made it incredibly awesome.

This year?  This year I’m engaged. I have two days, one of which I’m spending with my lovely little grandson, to complete Christmas crafts, do my Christmas baking, finish decorating the tree (and house if I want to go there), and get things cleaned before my future in-laws arrive. There is SO much joy in my life right now.

It’s amazing how much life can change.

And yet… there’s still part of me that misses… that’s teary… that wants to succumb to the sadness.  I won’t.  Not this year.  But I may take a few minutes… just on my own. To remember.

Christmas is Hitting Hard

I almost managed to stay cheery.

I almost managed to get/stay in the Christmas spirit.

I almost managed to avoid the lead blanket that is starting to envelop me.

I almost.

It’s starting to hit… the lack of desire to do anything holiday-ish.

The lack of desire to finish the decorations.

The lack of desire to finish the Christmas crafting.

The lack of desire to do anything but sit on my couch.

I was hoping that this Christmas would be different. I was hoping I’d not get into a funk.

But here I sit.

Funk-a-fied.

Staring at an undecorated tree.

Staring at Christmas crafts that need to be completed.

Staring at the Christmas movie playing on the TV.

With a complete. lack. of desire. to do anything.

This is not where I want to be this Christmas.

This is not who I want to be.

I want to be happy and Christmas-y and bouncy and in love with life.

I know that a big part of me IS in love with life.  I have an amazing man who loves me, wants to marry me, and loves our life together.

But the fucking sadness of Christmas… ugh. It’s dragging at me.

So I’m watching cheesy Christmas movies and hoping the spirit will rise up..and I’ll get the damn tree decorated.

Because.  Christmas.  The most wonderful time of the year.

IMGP5737Christmas 2012 – first one without him.

Stupid Balancing Act

I’ve noticed something about myself recently.   I’m pretty sure it’s not a new phenomenon, but it’s been very evident over the past 4 or 5 months.

Its been especially noticeable to me in the last few weeks.

I put most everyone before me.

I will shove whatever’s going on with me aside in favour of what’s going on for everyone else.

I stopped blogging, for the most part, because I was afraid of hurting someone.  I stopped posting pictures of me and my husband because I didn’t want to upset someone.

I never asked him what he was feeling about it.

I never asked him if it WOULD hurt him.

When we first got together, I asked him if he was strong enough to handle my grief.  I asked him if he was able to deal with the fact that I WOULD cry over my husband.  I asked him if he would be able to handle seeing me upset.

He told me he would.  He did research.   He has given me no reason, through words or actions, to believe anything different.

But then… somehow, somewhere in MY head, I became afraid.  I worried that my posts like the one the other day about how I want my life back would make him think I didn’t want the life we have and are building.

The reality is that I need to express my grief.  I need to cry. I need to blog.  I need to talk to my widowed friends.  I need to go to Camp Widow and run my regional group and I need to be a widow.

It doesn’t change the fact that I am also his girlfriend and for the most part, that’s where my life is.

He’s my Chapter 2.  He’s my “and then.”  He’s my future.

And I still grieve over Mark.

I was trying to balance things that didn’t need balancing.   I was stuck in my own head and that is never a good place to be.

A conversation with him cleared things up.

You’ll be hearing from me more often.   That much silence means I have a LOT to say. :p

I’m done balancing.  I’m going to work more on communication.

Mar & Jane Wedding

 

Chapter 1

 

Chubb Lake April 2013

 

And then… chapter 2. 🙂