Anniversaries

4 days ago, it was the 19th anniversary of Mark telling me he loved me.

4 days ago, it was Valentines day.

I’m not big on the “hallmark” holiday that is Valentines Day.

He loves me… he tells me daily.  He shows me in the little things he does.  I don’t need a holiday to celebrate our love.

I have our anniversary.

I have the anniversary of the day he first told me he loves me.

I have those little days and moments and memories.

And now I don’t share them with him.  I remember them. I remember that on the anniversary of the day he told me he loved me, he told me “Happy Anniversary” 5 years ago.  Only 4 months before he died.

I remember the day he told me… how everything in my world tilted on it’s axis.

And I have my Sexxy Chef who works on Valentines…. so the day for us is fairly meaningless. We did have a dinner a couple nights before, he gave me the most beautiful purple rose, and he gave me some chocolates.  It was sweet, romantic and amazingly beautiful.

But Valentine’s Day? I spent a couple hours being sad. Remembering Mark and the love we shared.  Missing him.  Missing the connection we had.

I love him still. I always will.

February 14 is a day on the calendar. It’s also the day he first told me he loved me. But it means nothing in terms of the hallmark holiday that generates so much income for local businesses….

Long-Live-Love

I Said YES!!

Sometimes, the world conspires to make you incredibly, irrevokably happy.

On November 5, in the early hours of the morning, my Sexxy Chef proposed to me.

Of course I said YES!!

 

 

 

The ring is being sized. I can’t wear it for a couple weeks – and that’s ok.

The date has been chosen.  Location is 95% sure – I just need to see it again and confirm that YES, I can set up the wedding the way I want in the space that’s available.

Plans… plans… and more plans.

Love happens again.  Happiness happens again.

It’s the weirdest thing, being so incredibly, amazingly happy – with that thread of sorrow going through it all.

The guilt of “how can I be this happy when he’s still dead?”

Going through so many things that I did for the first wedding.  Making plans.

I don’t even know how to explain it.

I’m ridiculously HAPPY and I want to shout it to the world.  I can’t wait to start my life with my Sexxy Chef.  I can’t wait to be Mrs. Sexxy Chef.

But I’ve been Mrs. Smith for the majority of my adult life.  It will be 19 years of being Mrs. Smith when I become Mrs. Sexxy Chef.

That’s weird to me.  Never mind the fact that I’m trying to wrap my head around what will be my new name.

New Beginnings

I’ve got an amazing new beginning ahead of me. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But man… did I have to lose so much to get what’s ahead of me?

I’m happy. I’m in love.  I’m looking forward to a long, happy, healthy future with my Sexxy Chef.

But I want to tell my Mark all about how happy I am.  He’d be happy for me.  He’d celebrate with me.

Long live love.

Changes

There have been big changes in my life recently.

I’ve got a new Love, he’s amazing, he’s incredible, we’re perfect on so many levels its scary.

He brings joy to my life.

I slow him down, he speeds me up, we complement and balance each other well.

Today… he moved in.  Fully. Completely.  All his stuff here.  And he’s here.

There’s a light sabre in my house.

A storm trooper helmet.

A whole lotta New England Patriots swag.

Clothes and stuff that aren’t mine.

It… feels weird and awesome at the same time.  Very much a “hey this is it. we’re TOGETHER” moment walking in the door and seeing his stuff.

Before, there was a transience to the relationship.  He was here, but essentially living out of a suitcase.  He was wearing the same clothes for 4 months.

It felt… however much we talked about a future, that there was an option to go back.

Now there’s not.

He’s here.  And I have a future with him.

He loves me, I love him, and he respects and honours the love I have for Mark.

I am amazed at how my life has changed…

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17 Years

As I write this, my new Love is in our bed, sleeping peacefully because he has to work in the morning.  I have no where to be; I have some stuff to do at home but for the most part, my next 3 weeks are my own.

I snuck out of the bedroom. I wanted a few minutes to myself to write this post and I haven’t managed to get them today.  It’s been a busy day.  My friend from Vancouver Island was up visiting this weekend.  My daughter was over printing pictures of my grandson. The drive to the airport was just over an hour and when I got home, there were extra people in the house.

It’s hard to just feel when there are people around.  My house was too people-y.

On the way back from the airport, I had a cry. I talked to him. I yelled at him.I raged against the unfairness of it all.

I was supposed to have 50 years with him and I got barely 14. Not quite 13 married.

There’s a part of me that still rages about that.  Because, yanno, I miss him.  I miss his smile. I miss his laugh.  I miss the look in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t noticing.

But there’s the part of me that doesn’t.

I have a beautiful life in so many ways.

I’m going  back to school – and able to make a difference in other people’s lives.

I’ve met people who are amazing and fun and make a HUGE difference in mine.

I’ve got a new love who loves me intensely.

I’ve got a good life.

And none of it.  NONE of it would have happened if he was still here.

I miss him. I miss my Mark with so much intensity that I don’t know how to breathe when I think of it.

I miss him.  And I’m grateful for every. single. day. I got with him. He taught me so much and allowed me to become more myself than I would have been able to without him.

I wish I could be celebrating the end of an amazing day with Mark. I wish he were here to see his grandsons.  I wish, with all my heart, that we had gotten those 50 years.

But as the saying goes… if wishes were horses…

I can’t change the past. I can honour him, honour our life together, do good for other people, but I can’t change the past.

Happy Anniversary my Love.  I will love you for the rest of my life. You left me with beautiful memories, four amazing children, and a lifetime of love. I was your happy ever after. I got the fairy tale of “until death” and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d love you and walk that journey with you again if I were asked – even knowing that our paths would diverge.

I love you.

A Myriad of Emotions

I’m happy.  Ridiculously happy. And I feel like crying.

I said to the Sexy Chef when we were shopping for groceries… “I don’t like always being the sad one you know.”

It’s exhausting. I’m sad.  I’m happy. Every damn thing is tinged with sadness. Everything.

At this moment, I want to take my Sexy Chef to bed.  I want to rock his world.  And I want to bawl.  I feel broken and brittle and like I’m going to fall apart at the slightest thing.

I don’t like feeling like this.  The joys of widowhood are that I am forever fighting with the sadness.  I LOVE my sexy chef. He brings such joy to my life.  He’s kind and considerate and loves me for exactly who I am. I want to revel in that. I want to lose myself in him.

Fuck widowhood. Fuck having to forever have that golden thread of grief running through every damn thing I do.

I want to feel joy with the blissful ignorance of someone who hasn’t known loss.

I want to lose myself in a moment without the knowledge that life can change in just one moment.

And in the kitchen, he pulls me around, makes me look him in the eye and says to me… “You’re ok.”

And for one second, I can, I do, lose myself in the moment and forget that it might change when I blink.

For one second… I am lost in the love of a man who loves me for me.  The good, the bad, and the broken.

One DayTurn On the LightIt's Going to be Ok SomedayKintsugi

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to the newest member of my family!!

My daughter gave birth to a beautiful little man on December 21. He is my second grandchild.

This is also my fourth Christmas without him.

It seems so unreal that he’s not here for his grandsons…

I don’t even know how to fathom that.  He wanted grandkids. I wanted more kids, he kept saying that we’d wait for grandkids.

He’d play Santa.

He’d play with them.

He wanted grandkids so very badly.   And he’s not here… Zeddicus Wellington

 

I’m told there will come a point where the pain, the stabbing reminders that he’s NOT HERE will eventually subside and be replaced with joyful memories and gratitude for a happy life shared.

I’d like that for Christmas this year please.

That’s all.  All I want is to smile because it happened, not cry because it’s over.

I want to remember him and honour him and be joyful in the life we shared… while I’m living an amazing life I’ve built.

It hurts… as much as I am joyful, as much as I am in love with my grandsons, it hurts that I can’t share them with him…

I am a Grandma without a Grandpa.

At some point, I’d really like to have my life be about all the things it IS, not what is NOT.

Peace

I am not at peace… not yet… not all the time…

But it is a happy beautiful Christmas this year.  I got a grandson. I got to be there for his birth.  I got to be with all of my children, and my children’s grandparents for “our” Christmas – which we did 2 days early – and I got to see my older grandson over Skype.  And I’ve found 2 dimes from him these last few days.  So I know he’s been around.

It is, it was a beautiful Christmas.

I still miss him.  I still miss our life. And I miss the Metalhead Poet.

But it is an amazing Christmas – even if it didn’t feel very Christmas-y.

Nights Are the Worst

I have four children.

They are 25, 23, 15 and 14.

The 25 year old has a son, and he lives in Edmonton.  His baby lives in Kamloops.

The 23 year old is due with her first baby in December.  She lives in Edmonton.

My 15 & 14 year old boys live with me.  They’re teenaged boys so they live in their bedrooms – and might as well be in Edmonton.

I live in Quesnel.  It is a min 8 hour drive from Edmonton – but in reality takes 10 hours with pit stops, gas fill ups etc.

So around 7pm, the boys vacate to their room… and I’m left sitting alone in my house.

There’s no other around. No adult to talk to. No one to share my day with (although some days are very boring, like today).  No one to just look over at and know that they’re THERE.

I don’t know how to live alone.

I never have.

But now, I’m alone.  Very alone.

I can feel the depression setting in. I’m silent, my ability to have conversations feels stunted.  I watch my widowed friends, my single friends all couple-ing up.  And I live in a town where I don’t have a circle of friends so I don’t have people to do things with.

I think that’s what makes the *alone* worse than anything.  Not only did I lose my partner, my spouse, my other half; I left my friends.

I don’t, for a moment, regret my choice to live here. My Metalhead Poet was worth taking a chance on. Love always is.

But I’m lonely, and struggling with the time and patience it takes to build a social circle.  Last time I had to, I had Mark with me to stave off the frustrations.

The loneliness is one that is understood and commiserated with by widda peeps everywhere.  But they’re all… elsewhere.

And the nights are the worst.

Grief Is Like the Ocean