Is it Okay?

Is it okay to have moments, hours, days where I am so incredibly happy that I don’t think about him?

Is it okay to enjoy my life so very much that I don’t have a moment of breathlessness because he’s not here to share it with?

Is it okay to have things in my life happen that I DON’T want to share with him?

Is it okay to miss him, but be okay with him not being here?

A year or two ago, someone dear to me asked me “Why are you grieving so hard?” and I was flabbergasted that he would even consider asking me that.  After all, I lost the love of my life!  I had everything I knew turned upside down!

Today, I ask myself, “Why are you not grieving as hard?” Does this mean I didn’t love him as much as I thought I did? Does it mean that I don’t miss him as much as I said I did?

How could I spend a day, being ridiculously happy, and not want to share it with him?  How could I have moments that don’t belong to him?

The guilt, that I should have a life that I don’t want him included in all the parts, it confuses me.

How could I not want him included in all the parts of my life? How could I have pieces of me that I want just for me?

I don’t understand it.

But I’m pretty fucking happy, even if the happy is tinged with guilt.  And the only thing I want to share with him is that I AM happy.

I didn’t die with him.

A piece of me did, but that piece?  The part that is growing back?  That’s mine.

Don't Cry

This is becoming more and more real for me.  It happened.  It was beautiful. It was amazing.  It was painful and awful at times.  We weren’t perfect but we were perfectly imperfect for each other. And I’m getting to the point where I can smile… because it happened.

New Beginnings

It Was Meant To Be…

When I was in employment flux, between my first and second seasons at BC Wildfire, I went to a career counsellor, jumped through some hoops and decided on Licensed Practical Nurse as my upgrade/career path.

My reasons:

  1. The amazing nurses who inspired me.
  2. To be of service
  3. To be there for other people going through what I went through (simliar to #2)
  4. Employability.
  5. Mobility OR stability.

What I didn’t remember… was it was something I had thought about a long time ago.

This was part of an update post on April 13, 2012.  Almost 3 months after he initially went into the hospital.

Mark Healing Community Post

I can’t do a point/arrow/highlight on a picture in a wordpress blog, but right in the middle… It says..

“If I could do it over again I would go into nursing or surgery because that was AWESOME to watch.”

 “I would go into nursing”

And yah.  In 2 months, I will be in nursing.

It was meant to be.  It is happening.

I know for a lot of widows/widowers, the phrase “everything happens for a reason” is cause for white hot rage, seriously offended, going to throat punch the speaker reactions.

For me?  It’s the truth.

Everything happened.  For. A. REASON.

I am exactly where I should be in my life.

I am doing what I am supposed to.

All avenues, all options have closed off and the path towards nursing is brightly lit, clear and safe.

Path

I know where I’m supposed to go from here. I can see the way, and without EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED…

I wouldn’t be here.

I’d be in Squamish still (miss my friends!) working with Co-operators, selling life insurance and probably doing an amazing job at it.

I’d have a husband who requires round the clock care with a recovery measured in years not months.

I’d be exhausted.  My kids would come second to my husband’s needs.  My husband would feel guilty about that.  He’d feel helpless and hopeless and lost and a burden.  I would probably spend more time trying to make him understand that he’s not a burden than just loving him, because he’d need that from me, from us.

The reality is, life would have amazing beautiful moments.  I would still be Mrs. Mark Smith.  I wouldn’t resent it for a moment.   But it would be my life, focussed entirely on my husband.

But now, I’m allowed to shine.

A friend of mine blogged a long time ago… he gave me my life back.  I know that he’d be here if he could… but in the end, he loved me, loved his family enough to let us out of the limbo we were in.  He loved us enough that he would have fought if there were any real options left.  But there weren’t.  So he let go, and let us move forward.

And now… where I’m supposed to be is coming to fruition.

I love him so much more for being willing to let go.  For doing what’s best for EVERYONE, instead of holding on and keeping us in that holding pattern.  It shows how amazing of a person he was.   And I wish everyone who reads this could have met him.  Could have known him.

He was so incredible and I was so blessed to have been loved by him.  So blessed to have been his wife for 13 years.  So blessed to be the mother of his children.  So very blessed to have loved him to his last breath.

Who’s Going to Remember?

Besides me?

Who’s going to remember that he was doing SO well today 3 years ago.

Who’s going to remember that the doctor got the bleed and things were going in the right direction?

Who’s going to remember how tomorrow night I would call after blowing off my visit only to be told that the doctor’s needed to talk to me tomorrow?

Who’s going remember how guilty I felt that out of the last 4 days of his life, I only was there for him 1 of those?

Who’s going to remember that I was in a panick, and that Jeanne showed up to help me stay calm after that call tomorrow?

Who’s going to remember that tonight, 3 years ago, I was NSO’ing a derby game, oblivious that this would be my husband’s last few days?

Who’s going to remember how awful I felt for stealing a tiny bit of joy for my week only to discover that it was his last few?

Who’s going to remember besides me?

Who’s going to care besides me?

Who hurts because of what they missed besides me?

Who, besides me, hurts so much they can barely breathe this week because the angelversary is coming up in 3 days?

I don’t want to be the only one who remembers him.  I know for some, it’s a birthday or just another day, but for me… this is the day my life changed.

Who cares about that besides me?

IMAG0026

Yesterday’s Blog

When I wrote yesterday’s blog about 2 things you shouldn’t say… it was out of frustration, out of confusion and to gauge other people’s reactions (was I overreacting?)

Apparently I was not overreacting.  Apparently I was spot on in my reaction of anger and hurt and how fucking inappropriate!

I am still trying my best to just let it go, let it be and pretend it didn’t happen.

Why? You might ask.  WHY would I not punch him out, kick him out and refuse to associate with him?

Because he’s my friend’s brother.

Because he has issues.

Because, when it comes down to it, he’s essentially a big dumb puppy dog who’s just destroyed the house and doesn’t know what he did was wrong or why.

Aside from the comments he made… he’s basically engaging and good company.  I enjoyed spending time with him.  I enjoyed spending time with him (mostly) when he came over the next day to borrow my computer to do up his resume.

He’s just clueless.  He noticed me sniffling (I had been leaking most of the day and my nose was stuffed from continuous crying) and asked if I had a cold.  Or allergies.

I don’t think he gets it.  I think that despite the really really horrible thing he said… he just doesn’t get that what he said was wrong or why it was.   There was no malice in him when he said it.

The next time, if there is one, I’ll know that it’s not an overreaction.  I’ll know that my filter doesn’t need to stay on.

And I’ll kindly, with loving intent, tell him to go fuck himself.

Guilt

I remember, a couple weeks before he died, having a conversation with a nurse about when to let go and let him pass, and how not to feel survivors guilt.

I remember it so clearly because it was the first of 2 major dips in his health before he finally decided that it was time.

I remember thinking “why would I have survivor’s guilt?” and even after he passed – I still didn’t feel guilty about surviving.  I didn’t feel guilty about decisions I made.

I had one regret – not visiting the few days before he decided – but if I had to make those decisions again – even knowing what I know now – I probably would make the same decisions.

But now I feel guilty.  Not about surviving, but because of the freedom I feel.  I am free, because of his death, to do things that previously were not possible.  They were not possible in my mind, in my thought processes because of how our life was set up.

Let me be clear.

I LOVED OUR LIFE TOGETHER.

I would happily go back to that in an instant.

I adored him.

But now… now the future is uncertain, unclear, and possibilities are limitless.

And for that, I feel guilty.  I feel guilty that I’m excited (in my better moments) about what can happen now.

I feel guilty because the future – which had a clear path, a clear plan, is uncertain and I can do whatever I want.   I can forge my own future.  I can pursue dreams that seemed impossible before.  Dreams that were shelved as unrealistic.  Dreams that I gave up on.

I feel guilty because I can live a life that is authentic.

I would go back to our life together in a heartbeat.

But I can choose a life that works for me.

I don’t know if it’s because he’s gone… or if it’s because now I realize how very fragile life is.

But I don’t want to just mindlessly live the life I was living before… I want to live it with purpose, with intent, with authenticity.

I want my life back with him.  But since that cannot, will not happen – I will choose a life that works.

And I feel guilty because I’m just realizing now what I should have done before.