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I was on a short road trip with a couple of my derby peeps today. At some point, someone said to me something about my posts on Facebook being more relaxed, calm and more at peace with being alone.

I sorta had to stop and think about that for a minute.

I am at peace with being alone.  I am at peace with not having someone to snuggle up to every night.

I am not lonely. Not right now. I am not struggling with how to do everything on my own, and who am I going to share my life with.

I have 2 beautiful, intelligent, articulate, funny and amazing young men I get to call my sons living with me.  Some days they are more than enough company. Some days they drive me nutty.  But I like just the “them and me” parts of our lives.

I wish they were a bit smaller, but then if they were.. .they wouldn’t have gotten as much time with their Dad before he died.   So I’m glad they’re not.

But they are amazing. And when they give me their time and attention, it’s an awesome time.  My Andrew is so funny and so fun to be around.  Luke is mostly his awesomely sweet self (unless he’s in hell monster teenaged mode)

But for the most part, I’m good with my time alone.  I get to control the TV.  I get to control the music.  I get to decide if I want steak or macaroni for dinner.  I paint the walls the colour I want.

I don’t feel a desperate need to find someone who wants to fill the hole because the hole HAS been filled.  I filled it.  I filled it with memories that make me smile, joy in my children, a life I love, and enjoyment of my own company.

Life is truly good.  And I don’t know that I’d trade what I have for what I had.  I miss him terribly.  But my life is GOOD and that’s amazing.

Peace

(disclaimer: I’m a widow, with widda brain.  I reserve the right to feel completely the opposite tomorrow… LOL)

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2015… wait… 2016… and peace…

I didn’t do my usual end of year post.

Reflection on what was, and hopes for what will be.

I am in a different place than I ever have been.  It’s odd, really.

I am practicing “non-attachment” in my life.

I am not attached to the outcome.

I am not attached to a certain path.

I am not attached to a future that only truly exists in my mind.

I am practicing this on a daily basis.

I invite people to share my time… and I am not attached to the answer.  I would be happy if the answer is yes, and understanding if it is no but not attached to the answer.

I refuse to agonize, to dramatize, to create pain for myself.

Do I miss my husband?  yes.  INCREDIBLY.  I miss him with every fibre of my being.

Do I miss my Metalhead Poet?  yes.  I miss him with every fibre of my being.

Do I spend a lot of time agonizing over what was, what could have been, what might be, what might not be?  Fuck NO.  It’s done me NO good over the past 4 years.  (hell, ever)

This hasn’t been an easy place to get to.  It’s easy to say… just let go of the outcome.  Just let go of the attachment.  But it’s fucking HARD.

I am a control freak.  (yep, I said it out loud).  I am that person who can organize the shit out of any situation and have everything “just so” and make sure all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed.

If you are moving, I will find you a place, have your utilities hooked up, your stuff packed and all mail/correspondence addresses changed months before you actually move.

I am the person you want in a crisis.  I will be there to hold your hand. I will manage things, I will take notes, I will advocate the hell out of everything.

I plan my life like a master chess player.  I look for every nuance, every possible outcome, every path before choosing one.  And when one path closes, I move to the next path.  When plan A fails, I move to plan B.   There’s 26 letters of the alphabet to work with.   My doctor, 2 1/2 years ago (or more, I don’t remember exactly when) told me that if I’m always living life as if there’s a game going on – then I’m seeing things in terms of winner vs loser.   IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO UNDERSTAND THAT.

Seriously.

If I’m always looking at things as if they are a chess match, planning my next move, then the people around me?  They will suffer.

I was with someone a few weeks ago… having some fun sexxy time… and he said to me… just relax… enjoy the moment… and for the first time… I did.

I just relaxed.  I enjoyed the moment for what it was.  I wasn’t focussed on the ending, the outcome, the next step.  I was just focused on him and how I was feeling with him at that moment.

It was amazing.

I started to put that into practice in other parts of my life.  This was… 3? weeks ago? ish.  And I have been mostly successful. Focusing on the moment.  Focusing on the now.  Enjoying what IS rather than what I want things to be.

It’s freed me in a lot of ways.

As a side note: there are areas in my life where this is HARD to do… where I am struggling… but most areas, I’m mostly succeeding.  Some days it takes some mental working to get to that point… but when I do get there, it’s a beautiful thing.

I’m discovering peace.  And I like it.

Peace

Oh Wait, he already did…

I ended up in the ER last night.

I’m sure overall it was a combination of stress, anxiety and the energy drink I had, but I was having heart palpatations, sweating profusely, shaking, dizzy, lightheaded, and my left arm was achy.

So I went to the ER.   I had a friend drive me.

We were conversing while we waited for tests, doctors, etc.    I mentioned to the doctor and her that my husband had had 2 heart attacks.   I told her that I didn’t think that my kids could handle another parent having a heart attack.

She agreed with me.

I said that their dad had had two heart attacks in 2009.   That he just needed to stop having heart attacks…. oh wait.  He already did.

I don’t know what happened, or why or where that came from.  He’s been gone 2 years.    He stopped having heart attacks 2 years ago.  I have the record of his last heartbeat.

But there it was.

My friend just said, “I don’t know what to say to that”

And I started laughing, somewhat hysterically.   And then I started leaking.   Crying because for one single moment, one slip of the tongue, I forgot that he’d died.

How the FUCK did I forget that?

Seriously?  Even for one moment?

I don’t know.  But there it was.  Something I hadn’t done in 2 years of widow-hood.

“He needs to stop having heart attacks… Oh wait, he already did”

Fuck.

Heartbeat

Who Am I?

I’ve asked this question before – who am I now that he’s gone?

Its not about the “MarkandJane” portion of my life anymore.

It’s WHO’s JANE?

I start a job in a new place, with new people…and I wonder… do I tell them?

Right now I’m a woman living in a blended family with enough kids that everyone thinks I’m crazy.

I’m just another person in what is very much a normal family (except maybe the number of kids LOL)

But there’s so much of my life that is missing.  If I talk about my husband – people assume that we’re divorced – even though I don’t refer to him as my ex-husband.

I’m just another woman with an ex and kids.

Am I doing him a disservice? By not talking about him to my new co-workers when they talk about their lives?

Or is this just a part of moving forward?

Am I Mike’s girlfriend?

Or am I Mark’s widow?

All of the above?

Or none?

I don’t want those “looks” that I get when I explain what happened.   But I don’t want to NOT have him a part of my new life.  He’s part of me.  How can I NOT talk about him?

It’s so very confusing and seriously uncharted territory.

I said to someone that I want my life back.  She replied that we can’t go back… it’s about growth and evolution spiritually etc.

Yeah. I get it.  Move forward.  Grow.  Become a more enlightened being.

Just another fucking growth opportunity.

23 months and 1 day.   That’s how long I’ve been a widow.   I’m not ready to shed that status yet.

Coloured Memorial Tattoo

Visits From Mark

The hummingbird has special meaning to me since Mark died.

I wrote about it in this post way back when this was all new and fresh.

I believe with all my heart that when a hummingbird comes around it’s Mark saying hello, it’s him letting me know that he’s still with us.

Coloured Memorial Tattoo

This is the memorial tattoo I had done for him.

Tomorrow is his birthday.   He would have been 51. Seriously.  51. Too freaking young to die.

This week – I have had a visit from a hummingbird on two seperate occasions.

I don’t have any hummingbird feeders.  I don’t have any hummingbird attractants.  But I get hummingbirds come visit me.

I love the little visits… the reminders that he’s still around.

It’s been 23 months.  I’m with someone new.  I’m building a life.

But I still think about him each and every day.

Love you Mark… always…

Memories

I had said in a blog a while back that I lost the keeper of my memories. Mark had better recall than I and whenever I’d go through various pictures, I’d have him tell me who what when where… but the recall rarely was triggered independently of him.

Until this weekend.

Driving around with Marja in Terrace, the memories kept popping up.

The place we used to go fishing.

The time the bear chased us across the Shames.

The place Kyle fell in the river.

The church.

The house we lived in.

The awesome farmer’s market we lived next to.

The house she lives in that we spent a lot of time at.

Her old house where I learned how to make garlic butter.

Euchre.  Gawd I loved playing euchre with them.

Ferry Island with the faces in the trees.

Hikng Terrace Mountain.

Where Video Update/Movie Gallery used to be.

Where the quilt shop was (it’s moved just down the road).

The mall.

The fishing store we spent so much time at.

The restaurant we ate frog legs at.

The cafe we had a date night at every week – I don’t remember what we were doing but we got a couple hours together every week and played triominoes.   No kids.  No worries. Just him and I.   I was pregnant with Andrew.

It was painful.  It was joyful.  It was so very lovely to immerse myself in memories, to just enjoy the feeling of the beginning of *us* and remember it with a smile.

The weather was perfect.

Sunshine-y.  Hot.  Everything that we loved about Terrace.   It wasn’t supposed to be – there was supposed to be rain.  But he was going back to the Shames…and we never went there on a grey rainy day.  Knowing that he was there with me on so many levels… being able to just enjoy Marja’s company…

I wish, I regret not going back before now.  But it is what it is and it was so very right being there this past weekend.

We had a good life there… even with all the first years learning each other and learning to live with each other, it was a good life there.

Good memories.  Good times.  And I’ve reconnected with people who were once very important to me.   And I won’t lose contact again.

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16 Years Ago

16 years ago tomorrow, Valentines Day, was the first time Mark ever said he loved me.

We didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day.

We were at work…  and it came out.

And we celebrated that day as the day we officially “got together” for the rest of our time together.

Even though we’d been together for 2 weeks at that point.

Even though he hadn’t *quite* left his ex.

We celebrated Valentines Day not as a commercially marketed “this is the day you must romance your partner” day, but as the day we first expressed our love.

We didn’t even celebrate Valentines Day that year.

To this day – I couldn’t tell you what day he officially asked me to marry him – but I’ll never forget the day he first told me he loved me.

We’ll ignore the fact that he broke up with me the day after…and then the day after that he woke me up with “I want to spend my life with you”

Because none of that matters now.

What matters is that we got to spend 14 years together expressing our love on Valentines Day… the day he first told me he loved me.

Happy Valentine’s Mark.  I love you.  I will always love you (I have Whitney Houston running through my head… And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-EEEE-IIIIIIIIIIIIIII will always love YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU) and I am so grateful that you sent Mike to me.  I know you had a hand in him finding me again.  I got the messages from you that he was the right one, and that you approved.

I love you.

Valentines

 

Broken Heart