A myriad of emotions

Tonight I was putting Eleanor to bed and I felt incredibly strong!  I actually felt amazing, like, I was actually making it.  I am a single parent, a widow and I am doing good.  I am making good decisions for my daughter and I.  I am being responsible, practical, thoughtful and (for the most part) patient. I felt like Nic would be proud of what I'm doing and how I'm handling it all.  I came home from work, I got in a good run (cut short by some cold temperatures and a cold baby! but a run none the less), made us a dinner (complete with veggies), got her ready for bed, read stories and snuggled.  PERFECT NIGHT!! 

Then I went into Emma's room to get gym clothes for tomorrow and put away some clothes.  I folded a white cool weather running shirt and the memory hit me.  I remembered going with Nic to Dick's Sporting Goods after Christmas.  I was so excited to finally have some cold weather running gear and wanted to exchange it for the right size immediately!  Nic was pushing Eleanor in the cart as I absent-mindedly sorted through each rack of running clothes.  That's it.  That was my memory.  Nothing extraordinary happened, but it was a perfect memory.  It was a great trip to Dick's.  Because, you see, that's how life with Nic was.  Not extraordinary, just perfect.  The point is, we were together, as a family, making the most of a mundane chore.  I could hear Eleanor laughing from across the store.  Every now and again they would come and see what I was doing.  And Nic provided honest feedback of everything I tried on.  I can hear his voice in my head right now.  Nicolas just made everything fun.  He just completed my life. 

I tried to enjoy the memory and not be sad about it, so I kept putting clothes away and looked for a gym bag.  I opened Emma's closet and there were all of his clothes.  All the clothes that I don't see on a regular basis because, well because they are in Emma's closet and I don't need to go in there for anything.  His polos, his button downs, his sweatshirts, his jeans.  And I. Just. Lost. It.  I literally threw myself in the closet, surrounded myself in his clothes, tried to breathe in any scent of him that was left and just wailed. 

So that's life now?  I can go from being so incredibly proud of myself to so incredibly sad in just seconds?  I haven't really stopped crying since.  I try to stop.  I try to shake this feeling and the clearest image of him crosses my mind or my heart does the pause/flutter that it did, even after 4 years of marriage, when he looked at me a certain way. 

So what does it mean?  Why the huge set back on a night that was going so well?   Am I not supposed to be proud?  Am I not supposed to feel strong?  I mean, seriously, how long do I feel like this?  The world has gone on.  The world has kept turning.  Everyone else has learned to function.  Why can't I?  Why is this pain still as raw as it was last October when I heard the tumor grew, or last November as we finished cutting edge radiation, or last January when the MRI told us the tumor spread and there was nothing we could do.  Or in February when I held my husband as he took his last breath?  When do I get to be OK with this all?  Because believe me, I'm trying! And I feel like I"m just expected to be OK.  Expected to be "better".  But I don't even know what any of that means. 

Maybe I just needed tonight.  I've cried every day since I lost him, but I haven't had one of these long, no end in sight cry in a long time.  Maybe that's part of my grieving process.  We all know I like a good cry every now and then.  I remember after watching The Notebook for the first time I just sat and cried, for the rest of the night.  The movie was long over, but I just couldn't stop feeling sad about it.  I couldn't stop reflecting on it.  Ohhhh, poor Nicolas!  But maybe I need this right now.  I'm going to go to bed, read one of my "How to be a good Widow" books and just keep crying! 

BUT remind me to tell you about my first grocery shopping experience and how, I've discovered, Nicolas saved money. 

Give a Girl a break...

I think it' pretty safe to say that Marquette is going to loose this game..so I don't feel bad blogging during it.

Sometimes I feel like I just can't get ahead these days. One month ago today I was at my husband's wake. That is just a sentence that no one should have to say. And the little black cloud just seems to linger.

My tooth has been hurting off and on for several months. I kept telling Nic something was wrong with it but I wanted to wait until a new year to get it looked at, so I could set some money aside in my flex spending account for the major dental work I knew I was going to have.

As we know, 2011 didn't really start so hot for the Terrones family and I decided, maybe 2012 was a better year for dental hell. However, as my superb luck would have it, my tooth starting killing me in the last few days. (**Warning! Side story and extreme digression!!) Last night I had ever intention of running, but after a full out battle with my Wii, I gave up. (I didn't feel like running, but told myself that I could watch Grey's for the first time in a long time, if I ran) The Wii stopped working, so no Netflix, no running. Instead I sat with a box of girl scout cookies on the couch, feeling sorry for myself. You see, electronics make me CRAZY! I hate my phone, I hated our TV, I want a VCR player to play my VHS tapes. I dragged my feet getting an iPod. WHy? Because when that stuff doesn't work, I get furious! Crazy mad! Because I don't know how to fix it. I don't get how it works, argh! And of course, everything is compounded by Nic's absence. "Nic could fix the Wii for me" I cried on the couch while I ate my cookies.

So, back to my original story...as I was eating my cookies, I noticed the dull pain I had in my tooth for several months now was a sharp, shooting pain. This morning, it was worse. I took a bite of oatmeal of all things, and screamed in pain. Finally my co-workers convinced me...I needed to call the dentist.

Well, of course my dental office was closed today, but after some convincing from the co-workers, I determined this WAS a dental emergency.

Another side story is that at one time I had 3 baby teeth. As an adult. There just weren't any adult teeth under the baby teeth, so I never lost them. I now only have 2...well, actually as of 4 hours ago, I only have 1 :-( So I have been through this before, I know what it felt like to have an infected baby tooth and I knew what happened next. My dentist said right away that the only option was to pull it. We scheduled an appointment for 4 PM. Yippie, 4 PM on a Friday night, I get to have major dental surgery. OK, maybe not major, but have you ever had a tooth pulled...it's not a cool way to start the weekend! PLUS I had to work all day with the impending surgery looming over my head (surgery, extraction, potato, potatoe) AND of course, Nic's absence made it worse. If Nic was here, he'd make fun of me for being scared, but then he'd hold my hand while waiting in the waiting room and he'd give me ice cream when it was over. He'd laugh at me for being so scared, but he'd still make it all better. Because that's Nic.

As for the tooth extraction - it sucked. And at the end I was given my poor little beat up baby tooth, a packet of gauze and some instructions. I got in my car and drove home. By now, my gum line and gaping whole were THROBBING. I sped to my mom's to just get some Advil in my system.

Now, 4 hours later, the bleeding has stopped, the Advil kicked in and I got to eat ice cream for dinner. My mouth feels better than it has in months, but now I start the dental journey from hell. Eventually, I'll need to fill in the large whole in my smile. Dental implants. ARGH. I hated it last time!

Damn it. Why did I put this off?! I KNEW I would need this done and now here I am...1 month into widowhood and I have to go through it all alone. It just makes it all SO MUCH WORSE. Don't get me wrong, Diane rocked tonight. She changed her plans just so I could come here after the appointment and not worry about E. But Diane is no Nic...and she knows that. Nic would...well, I guess it doesn't matter what Nic would do. Does it?

So, now you get to read about my life as a single mom, widow and over all crazy woman AND you get to read about my dental hell. The next year of dentist appointments and implant HELL. The Advil is wearing off, my basket ball team is loosing miserably and I'm wondering what experience is going to be worse - living my new life or getting my 2nd implant.

Not a commercial...

For the most part, I was right! I told you I would be stronger today, and I was! Of course a story of mine can never go in a straight line, so let me start you back about 1 year ago. Nic was feeling a little self conscience about his lack of hair and how he really felt that it would never grow back. He was getting to the point where he felt like strangers were staring at him. Of course my non-cancer fighting, full head of hair self was full of great advice...never going through this myself. One piece of advice actually stuck. If anyone ever said anything to Nic, or gave him a sideways glance or for one minute didn't make him feel like the most beautiful, rock star (do those two words go together?) he should look them straight in the eyes and say, "I fought cancer today, what the hell did you do?"

Nic never really needed to say that to anyone because he quickly got over being self-conscience and realized how hot he looked bald ;)

Which brings me to today. I've had several friends who send me daily affirmations of how strong, wonderful, motivating, etc that I am. Usually, I smile at the text, e-mail, voicemail or whatever and move on...how ever this morning I was thinking to myself...HECK YEAH! YOU ROCK...I fought grief today...what did YOU do?!

Unfortunatly, if you are reading this, you knew Nicolas, so you fought grief today too....so, YOU ROCK!

But like all good things, even my self empowerment must come to an end and now I'm tired and missing him and, well, I'm just tired of fighting grief.

But on I go....on to tell you why this blog post is NOT a commercial for BELLA LEI. But about two weeks ago, I went in for a massage. I told the masseause that I was really ticklish on my upper back and, well, long story short, it turns out I have all sorts of weird curves in my spine and yada, yada. So, she recommended a series of deep tissue massages to help realign my spine, hip, shoulder blades, etc. I basically figured it was a bunch of voo-doo, just to get me back in for a massage, but I was up for a good excuse for a massage.

So tonight I went back for session one. I kid you not, I feel different! It's amazing how all that stuff (i.e. YOU) is connected! She pushed in areas that made other areas hurt, she pushed in areas that made other areas spasm. Toward the end you could actually feel the muscles relax. I can not explain it! But I feel great! I didn't realize that all the pain I had in my (for lack of the professional term) butt muscles, lower back, upper back and hamstrings. But when I bent over to put on my shoes, after the massage, my entire back didn't spasm....Yes, I thought that was normal!

So I now have some exercises that I need to do at home and I go back for another massage in 3 weeks to work on my chest and shoulders (which always lean forward because of the funky curve of my back) and to ensure that my lower back and "butt" maintained the work we did tonight. OK, OK, even as I type this I KNOW some of you are thinking, yeah right, this is all a gimic for some salon to get you to keep coming back. And while maybe it is, I will swear up and down that I feel better! I hope this lasts because it's just amazing! I'm going to keep up with my exercises and pay attention to my new center of gravity!

Isn't it ironic...I mean, do you think my massuese can help me find a new center of gravity in life...just like she did in my body?

Mixed Emotions

I write this with mixed emotions.

Today is March 22. So I play that game that we, as introspective human beings, tend to play. "Where were you when..." In today's case, "Where were you 1 month ago?" I can tell you, very, very, very vividly where I was on February 22 at 8:07 (which is the exact time, right now...we'll see how long it takes me to type this post). And while, sharing with you that I was in my dining room doesn't seem dramatic, it's every other detail around that moment that makes it difficult.

Or does it?

What is the significance of 1 month? What difference does a day make? I mean, do I feel THAT different today? Or is it just that I think I'm supposed to feel different? In the great scheme of things, today is just one more day without him. It's just one more tally mark. Check mark.

So why does it seem harder to say "one month ago" then to say " XX days ago"? And does that mean that tomorrow will be easier? Because I made it past this anniversary? Because some how I doubt that. Different - maybe. Easier - no.

So today is another anniversary accomplished. We made it through one week. We made it through one month. And, what's next? What is the next challenge? Because each day, presents a challenge. Finding something I thought we lost. Seeing something funny and wanting to share it with him. Needing a little encouragement after a rough day. Sitting in silence and watching TV. Each day throws something new at me.

OK OK, why hasn't anyone kicked me recently? Each day throws something new at me and guess what - each day I overcome that challenge. Each day I say, screw you grief! Team Terrones is SO much better than this. If my grief challenges me, then my love of and love from Nicolas, motivates me.

If it's a day, a week, a month, a year....yeah, I don't have that type of strength tonight....This anniversary stuff sucks! I'm going to finish my wine, brush my teeth and curl into bed. I'll be strong tomorrow!

Dead End

Shit. I was having a great evening. I had energy. I just put E down. I came downstairs with camera and purse in hand. I was going to pay bills, blog, get stuff done.

I started by uploading my pictures and checking out Facebook. Then I went to photoshop to check out my picture up loads. And there they were....

Instantly, I have chest pains and have lost ALL motivation. The first picture is from February 9, the next is from February 12 and the final is from February 17. It's the last picture I have of Nicolas and it's the only picture I allowed taken when he got so bad. I feel sick to my stomach. I want to go run up and hug him. I just want a frickin' hug.

Oh, guys...I'm going to try SO hard to keep writing because I really did have another amazing weekend, but those pictures just keep flashing in front of my eyes, across my memory. Reminding me...confirming....it all happened. It's real. I want to tell you all about the fun that was had with family, with friends and even a new friend! But no...I'm just staring at those pictures.

Sorry bills. Sorry blog. Sorry motivation. I'll see you another day. For now...I just want to be sad. And guess what...I'm going to just allow myself to feel that way! Just for the record...in case you didn't know - I miss him like crazy. And this hurts like hell.

Still not ready...

I'm still not ready to talk about this, but here it is...

I've been getting some strange mail lately. Very strange.

So let me say a few random things about a very random piece of mail I received.

On Wednesday I received a certified letter...an anonymous letter. An anonymous letter written by a very talented some one. It is a beautifully worded letter, that almost made me feel uncomfortable while reading and surely makes me uncomfortable writing about. It's hard for me to really understand that little ol' Nic and I have impacted so many people. It's really hard for me to understand that people read my blog and feel better after reading it. It's really, really hard for me to feel like all I've ever wanted in my life is to make a difference...and that maybe I have.

I'll digress for a minute - but let's all be real here...the real hero in all of this is Nicolas. If I can be 1/5 of the person he was...then maybe I'll get a chance to go to heaven too some day and really get to spend eternity with him. Nic is the better person in all of this and so any good that comes out of me now, is merely a reflection of him and a desire to be just like him.

So, back to my incredibly humbling, anonymous letter. The letter also contained a gift. It is the gift which, most likely, is why the letter was anonymous. In secret, invisible ink, this letter is signed by many, many people. And so those many, many people contributed to this gift.

What you, the sender of this anonymous letter, don't realize is that typed letter is more of a gift to me than anything. Your super secret love and support is what I'm taking to the bank.

It's driving me nuts. I don't know who to thank. I don't know who to hug. I don't know who I am indebted to. And so I think about it. I think and think and think. And think and think and think. The creators of this letter went through great lengths to ensure I had NO IDEA who it was from. They went to great lengths to ensure I didn't know even one person to try and give this gift back to. So I'm going to leave it be. I not going to pressure any of my friends for details. I'm not going to fingerprint the letter or hold it up to the light to see if there are any weird water marks (I've watched too many movies!). I'm dropping it.

Sender of my anonymous letter....why? I'm just me. I'm just a girl trying to figure out how to walk in a world without my life partner. I'm not doing anything gift worthy. You'd do the same thing if you were me. You hurt like hell, but you keep going. You push down the feelings of total and utter despair because, well, because that would be giving in or giving up...neither of which suit me well.

Oh, don't answer that - I told myself I wouldn't ask. I won't push. I won't investigate. I'm just going to keep my letter and put it on my fridge...just like my friend Izzie Stephens did when Denny Duquette died. I'm going to put my letter on my fridge just like it's a check for 8.7 million dollars...because that is what this letter means to me.

So if you did, and even if you didn't, contribute to this gift and to this letter. Thank you.
Thank YOU for being support for me and Baby E. Thank YOU for making me feel like I'm being listened to. Thank YOU for making me feel like I'm not TOTALLY (just partially) crazy.

And it feels weird to type about it. It feels weird to know, to actually know how incredibly blessed we are. But senders of my super, secret letter, you knew this post was coming. You knew I'd say something...And I guess that's all I can say about that.

SO much to say....SO little time

First let me say that I am ACTUALLY trying to train for this 10K. Not just running, like I normally do, but ACTUALLY printed a 1oK training program and am going to follow it! Today, although all I wanted to do was run, I followed the nice little print out in my cabinet and did cardio or cross training, or whatever Hal calls it.
My
Arms
Are
Killing
ME!!!!
Who would have thought cardio would kick my ass, errrr, I mean arms so much! So if this post randomly ends, it's because my arms stopped working.

Second, last night sucked....in the best way possible. I started my support group at Kyle's Corner. It's a young widow's support group that meets every first and third Tuesday. Last night was the third Tuesday of the month, so technically, Nicolas and I should have been going to Brain Tumor Support Group. I can't bring myself to go there without Nicolas, even though we met so many wonderful people. And, I think I'd get a little more from Young Widows Support Group (more affectionately typed "YWSG") (second side note, I'm in a talkative mood tonight, so this could get long!)

YWSG is in the cutest house and I felt like I was sitting in some one's living room. The people in group seemed very friendly and there were two "facilitators" that asked questions and helped with some of the comments...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Everyone went around the room and said their name and how long they have been going to group. No one really said how their spouse passed and it just made me curious (although I eventually found out some stories). I was introduced by one of the facilitators, so once everyone went around the room, I didn't really need to say anything. As I sat and listened to these strangers talk about their stage of grief I just kept repeating to myself, "this sucks, I need to leave. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for this." I really almost got up and left.

Then one girl asked me if I wanted to share anything and I - just - lost - it. Right there in the pseudo living room with strangers staring at me. Only they weren't staring at me. They were just looking at me. Listening. Waiting. And I verbally spewed all over that living room. On all those stranger's ears. I told them all about Nicolas. About how it was 3 weeks ago that very day that he had passed away. One man handed me a tissue. Then other people got tissues. These strangers were crying with me. They didn't ask me how I was. They didn't say, Oh, I'm so sorry. They didn't say anything. They just listened and cried. They told me how I took them back to where they were and how they felt at the 3 week mark.

And just like that. They weren't strangers anymore. And although I can't tell you one of their names, I feel like they are long time friends.

And then other people talked and I cried at their stories. I mean...no one in that group has it any better or worse than the other...but sometimes I think...thank God for the way it all happened. I had time to plan family pictures. A family vacation. Nic recorded books for the girls. Made bracelets for the girls. Ordered me a necklace. I hate that he's gone, but LOVE that I was with him. I was holding his hand as he transitioned. I HATE that image has to be burned in my memory, but am so grateful for it. My heart breaks for those people (in group and in life) that suddenly, and without warning, loose their life partner.

Group ended and every one told me they were sorry I had to be a part of their group, but they were happy to have me. I told them how I wanted to leave and how I was so thankful for them. I can't wait to go back there. My new little happy place. Where I get to sit and talk about Nic. How much I miss him. How I don't feel like I belong to my life anymore. How I don't feel like I fit in anymore and maybe that's because I don't want to. And everyone in that room understands. Actually understands. I could talk and talk and talk about YWSG, but there will be plenty of time for me to share plenty of stories about them.

AND I'll end with a cryptic message. To the senders of the letter. The secret elves that sent me a letter. The secret elves that only know who they are...the post about you is coming. But I need time to think about it. To process it. Reflect. Pray. Cry. And then...what I do because I do...I'll blog about it.

Weekend Recap

Webster's dictionary is constantly adding new words.
So is Dana's dictionary.
While it's not a new word - it's a new definition: Perfect.
I'm not OK with the new definition, because it doesn't involve Nic's actual physical being and that, of course, is what prompted the change in the first place.

But according to my new definition of "perfect" I'd have to say this weekend ranked right up there.

Friday night was spent with old friends. It was the greatest night of laughter and tears. Pure comfort. I even got a present! Joyce Carol Oates' memoir. I can't wait to read it as apparently it's a story of inspiration for widows. Apparently, it doesn't have that same "Your Life is Over" undertone that so many of my grief books have. I also got "Healing your Grieving Heart" which is just 100 practical ideas for...a grieving heart. The fabulous thing about this book is that my friends read the partner book, "Healing a Friends Grieving Heart". My friends have just rocked through all of this. I couldn't be doing it without them. I can't describe it. Who would have thought, 13 years ago in the hallway of McCormick, that we would still be each other's pillar of strength. Who would have thought, as we drank cheap beer out of plastic cups in some random person's basement that we really would be friends for life. I feel bad for putting people I love through this, but if you are going to go through a crisis....you'll want my friends to go through it with you!

Saturday night Nic's sister came over. My in-laws came up for dinner, but then Jolene and I just sat in the front room and went through the cards we've received. We drank wine and talked. Sometimes our conversation was about Nicolas...sometimes it wasn't. Sometimes we let the tears roll down our cheeks and sometimes we laughed.

Today is a beautiful day. Eleanor and I got some errands run and, for the most part, she was SUCH a trooper! That bag of popcorn at Target surely helped, but she just made my errands more fun. Now she's napping and I'm blogging, staring out the window and just catching my breath.

This day would be SO much better if Nic was here. We'd have family dinner tonight, watch some Grey's and curl into our bed together. We'd talk, forehead to forehead, about how wonderful our life is. How happy we are. How blessed we are.

Nic, you aren't here to talk forehead to forehead with, but I know I can still talk to you tonight, heart to heart...soul to soul. I miss you so so so much. And while I'm not OK with this new definition of perfect...while I want it back to the way it was...this new perfect will start to fit in and I will feel happy again....and I know I am blessed.

Almost there...

It's been 16 days and it still sucks just as much as day 1. I think I'm starting to realize he is never coming back. He is not going to walk through those doors and yell at me for throwing away his luffa. The only thing I can say about that right now is that it sucks. Have I told you lately how much I miss him? Unfairly miss him.


This week has officially and totally kicked my ass.

I can't wait for it to be over.

It's just an emotional disaster. Every day I feel like I am pretending more and more. Trying to keep it together at work. I can't just sit there and cry. I can't burst into tears at the smallest thing and yet I want to...all the time.

It's also been a busy week. There has been so much going on every night. E and I haven't even begun to establish a pattern. I need pattern. I need routine. I have none of that right now. I have so much that needs to get done and none of it is getting done. I'm frazzled and overwhelmed!

And I'm sick. That achy, sore throat, stuffy nose, ouch feeling. Today at Target Eleanor put NyQuil in my cart. I think it's a sign I should start taking something for this.

AND if I don't go running soon I'm going to scream! It's amazing how much better it makes me feel! I just don't have the energy to do anything, much less go running.

Well, thanks for listening to me complain. It's 8:10 and I'm going to take my NyQuil and head to bed. I MUST feel better in the morning...

Day 1

I got an e-mail from a friend today that said, "Thought about you a lot today and was just wishing that you could make it through the day. And you did!!!!!"
I did.
Barely.
Do you remember that highly dramatic scene in season 3 of Grey's Anatomy, right after Denny Duquette dies, and Izzy stands in front of the hospital all day and never moves? That is exactly how I felt today. I pulled into the parking lot of work and wanted to puke.

The last time I was there was three weeks ago, minus one day. Nic was at home with my father. Nic, while causing a lot of trouble, was still talking, walking, hugging and kissing. Three weeks ago.

Three weeks ago, I left work and walked into a nightmare. It's the day we started having someone at our house 24 hours a day. It's the intervention day with our hospice team. And do you realize that one week after that day, Nic died?

Did you know that? Because I don't think I did. I don't think I realized how fast any of this has gone until I went back to work today. It wasn't weeks. It wasn't months. One week. 7 days after I left that building last, Nicolas died.

Why is that so hard for me to grasp? Really, I thought it was SO much longer than that.

Thankfully, I had a doctor's appointment after work today and without getting into too much, it was actually a very productive appointment. I've been rolling around in a lot of strange emotions, such as guilt, anger, fear and anxiety. Emotions that I never really expected to have with Nic's death. As it turns out...I'm not that abnormal after all. Apparently, no one can tell me how long these feelings will last, but in time, they will work themselves out. Patience. I laughed at this...I've NEVER been good at patient.

So, I got in the car and put on my new favorite Nic song, from Wicked, and said, out loud, "OK Nic, it's time for a come to Jesus meeting" and I was getting all ready to tell Nic about how I may not be perfect, but I'm trying to get through this as best as I can. How I'm scaredto death that establishing a routine will mean that I don't miss Nic SO MUCH. How, if I can get myself out of bed, showered, dressed and to work...function at work, be productive at work, then maybe Nic will feel like I don't miss him. Strange thoughts, yes, I agree...but the thoughts of someone who lost their life's love, none the less. SOOO, I was getting ready to tell Nic all of this when the phone rang. It was Nic's cousin and I decided I should answer it.

And while I won't go over all the details, let me just say that I'm not sure if the conversation helped me or Nic's cousin more. And just then I realized....that was my sign. That was my sign from my Nic. Nic didn't want me to have a long conversation about crap he already knew. Nic doesn't want me to have anxiety about stupid stuff that isn't real anyway. This weekend, I am going to go to the grocery store and I am going to buy milk and apples and it doesn't mean I don't miss Nic like crazy...it just means I was loved enough to be able to go on. And where ever this crazy life leads me, nothing will ever take away the love we have for each other. If I start moving on tomorrow or I start moving on in 20 years from now. Nothing can change the past.

And just like that, my heart feels fuller. I feel less of all the bad emotions and I feel all the good emotions. Days will go on. Routines will start. But it's how Nic changed me deeply, not on the surface, that I will carry through those days and routines.

SEE, PATIENCE! In time, Nic was ready to give me that sign. It's like my friend said to me...give him some time, he's new at this angel business.

I'm not going to lie...I am having a terrible night. The chest pains that took a temporary vacation are back. Back with a vengeance!

I go back to work tomorrow. Thursday night I dropped Eleanor off at my parents and yelled to my father as I was running away from their house, "This is why I'm not a stay at home mom!!" That kid was driving me crazy!! No, I don't want to stay home with her every day, but I also don't want to go to work full-time.

Going to work symbolizes SO much tomorrow. It means moving on. I'm not ready to move on. I'm not ready to start my new life without Nic. I'm not ready to be strong enough to get through an entire day without crying. I'm not ready to sit at my desk and not pick up the phone to call him during lunch. I'm not ready.

Tomorrow is the first day of the new chapter in my life. It's me figuring out how the hell to make this all work. It's me acknowledging that a world is going on around me. That although I've sat in my house for the last 3 weeks, life has been happening. I just can't acknowledge that. My life stopped. And while, yes, Eleanor and I continue to take baby steps forward, I'm just NOT READY to get thrown back into it all.

Nic I can't do this without you. I thought I could. I thought I was strong enough but I'm JUST NOT.

Do you know what I said tonight? Out loud, I actually said to him, "Come Back." As if that is not the craziest, most self-pitying statement. I cried and begged him to come back. One more hug. One more kiss. One more I love you. One more I'm proud of you. Shit, I'd even have him back to yell at me one time or roll his eyes at me or put me on probation because I did something stupid.

I told Nic that I didn't care where he was buried because I wasn't going to go to his grave and visit him if I missed him. I'd put on his favorite shirt and curl up in his blanket and think of him. I'm doing all of that right now, plus I'm even drinking tea, but it's not helping the ache. I want to go to his graveside and throw myself on top of it and just cry, hysterically.

OK, this is just a really emotional night for me because I have so much anxiety about going back to work. I have SO much anxiety about trying to function. My husband has been dead for 12 days (I'm trying to say that so maybe I'll start believing it), no one can really expect too much greatness from me. Right?

I'm not ready for this...

It's the weather...

Today is a very grey day. One of those days that you just can't help but feel introspective, quiet and melancholy (are those all the same adjective?!).

Nicolas continues to occupy my every thought and action. I turn to talk to him when I do something I know he would not approve (shopping at Banner Crafts JUST because it was going out of business) or I find something I thought we lost (the pink Minnie straw that we THOUGHT was consumed by our dishwasher) or I can't find something I wish I could (his black long sleeve fire fighter t-shirt that I always tried to steal).

Eleanor also seems to be handling his death differently now. She talks about him a lot, whereas the first few days she hardly mentioned him. Now she tells me she is playing with daddy, or she asks about him and then before I can even respond, she smiles...like she knows and just wanted to say his name.

I've had so many people tell me how Nic is just always on their mind these days.

I mean seriously, what an amazing guy! What an amazing husband, father, son, brother, uncle, cousin, nephew, friend and on and on and on.

I want to sit in my pajamas all day. I want to cry and feel sorry for myself. I want the ache in my heart to just consume me and I want to HATE the world and everyone in it. But that's not Nicolas. If I truly want to honor him, then I'll get up, get showered and clean this house. I'll put one foot in front of the other and, although I'm scared as hell, I'm going to get through each minute of each day. I will not sit around and feel sorry for myself. I will not fear the unknown. I will not loathe in self-pity. I will work my ass off to be half the person he was.

Oh you guys are great...you sit and read my random ramblings...some of you comment...some of you e-mail. You have no idea how therapeutic I find typing away on my laptop, sharing my journey, our journey. (Totally Random Question - Is it Raining?! I think I hear rain) And what a journey it has been and continues to be.

I leave you with the Nic story I tried to share yesterday...a perfect story for today's entry! This story comes from my sister, Melissa:

"I too wanted to say something at the memorial service, but that is very hard to do when thoughts are swirling through your head.

My story is brief but one that sums up in one moment the essence of Nic.

Nic and I got together several times to work on secrete projects, for Dana, for his girls. Every time we got together to work on something that would be left as a tribute to his legacy, I would pray to God to give me the strength to not fall apart in front of Nic.

One day when we were finished I asked him what else I could help him with. At first he said, Nothing. It always took Nic awhile to agree to accept help. He thought about a couple errands he could run since he was unable to drive anymore. We got into the car to leave. He said, "ohh, wait a minute I will be right back." Into the house he went only to reappear a minute later. "Here..." He said and handed me a piece of chocolate. "I thought you would enjoy one of these from my private stash." (Nic knew me too well, I always like chocolate after my meal and we had just finished lunch moments before inside.) "Don't you want one?" I asked him since he only had one in his hand. "No," he explained "It's just my way of saying thanks."

I am a better person because I knew Nic, ask my husband and he too would say he is a better person because of Nic. My children are better people because of Uncle Nic. He came into our lives for a reason. And he will NEVER be forgotten!"

Thanks Melissa! (Did Nic tell you where that private stash is? I would love to find it!)

Single Parenting

I think it's safe to say that as far as single parenting goes, I suck!

After listening to Eleanor SCREAM because I took her out of the car, I told her to go to her room and come out when she was sweet...when she came out, this is what I found...
I told Eleanor to play while I made breakfast...this is what happened (and worse, it's how it still looks!)
And the worst thing...our craft store is going out of business, so Eleanor and I spent 1 hour going up and down every aisle! Nic is rollin' FOR SURE! But Nic! It was on Sale!!!
God I hope I get this down pat soon!!

It appears I also suck at the copy and paste function right now...I'll have to try again later...

1 week

And just like that a week has passed. In all honesty, this was probably the easiest week I have to deal with. It was spent with family and friends, tears and laughter, drinks and food. Yes, I'd say week 1 was the easiest. People tell me that it's going to get easier, but I actually feel like it has to get harder first.

Today turned out to be a rough day for me. I spent the morning at the Betty Brinn Children's museum with a friend and her 2 boys. A great time was had by all, but like all good things...it couldn't last all day. I just needed two minutes alone with my thoughts to completely fall apart. How has it already been a week?

My chest pains were so severe this evening that at one point I had to bend over just to try and get oxygen to them. If things were getting easier, then why do I still feel like my chest is going to explode?

FOCUS DANA. I stare at a picture of us and I remember how happy I was. I remember how happy he made me and how I am a better person for knowing him. How I am the luckiest for loving him and being loved in return.

Nah...right now I can only focus on the pain and sadness. I'm having another friend come over for a glass of wine and hopefully, just hopefully, I will be in bed and sleeping when the clock hits 9:30. I don't want to see it. Although, it's just as hard to see every minute leading up to 9:30. God, I want this day to be over. It goes without saying Nicolas...I love you and I miss you like crazy.

TOnight I leave you with a story from Nic's cousin's wife. Thanks for sharing your memory with us Melissa! It is a great, classic Nic story...

"This happened at our wedding and Nic had just gone through a surgery. (2004) Brad was doing his "Brad moves" and removing the garter to throw to the single men. All the men were gathered around him and Nic took a seat next to all the men. No one thought anything of it, just figured he was tired and didn't want to join in. The countdown began and Brad throws the garter in the air. As it's beginning to descend, Nic makes a last minute leap in front of 3 men and snatches it out of the air. I had front row seating for this and it was so priceless. Many high fives were given and everyone was laughing. It was a memory I will never forget. The story is told by my family quite a bit because the garter was going right in the direction of my youngest brother."

Melissa included a picture - but I'm having trouble attaching it...gotta love Nic with the Flower Girl! :) Thanks again, Melissa!