Thank You

Whattaweek!

I'll be honest.  I do feel different today.
I couldn't explain it to you if I tried.
But something is different.
Not better
Not worse
Just different

And I made it.
Most likely, because of you.
Yes YOU. 
You don't think I"m talking about YOU?  Well.
I am.

That text message you sent me. (yes, YOU)
That facebook message you sent me (yes, YOU)
The card you signed, sealed and delivered (uh-huh..YOU)
The e-mail you sent (You...over there)
The phone call you made and the message you left (YOU)

I didn't respond.
I didn't say anything.
I didn't call back.

But PLEASE know just how much you meant to me at that time.
Please know what your words mean to me.
What that 5 seconds to you, was a lifetime to me. 
I got that message after I just spent minutes crying.
I saw you call right when I felt lonely. 
I don't know what to say back.  I can't say, ''Thank You".
That doesn't seem like enough.
And that's why...
selfishly
I don't respond.

Your words carry me.
Your thoughtfulness makes me strong.
And while you compliment me and question how I can do it.
It's because of YOU that I can.

And maybe you are still questioning if I'm talking about you...but if you are taking the time to read this.
Then I'm talking about you.
If, for just 1 second this past week, you thought of
Nicolas
Me
Eleanor
Someone you love
Someone you miss
Then, YES, I am talking about you.

Because something tells me that the feathery white wings of my
ANGEL NETWORK
spread pretty darn far.

So from the bottom of my heart...thank you.
Especially, YOU.

Bad Day

Have you ever had a bad day?
No...I mean a REALLY bad day.

Today is the anniversary of the last day I ever saw my Nicolas.
The last day I touched his hand.
I kissed his forehead.

Today is the anniversary of the day some woman handed me his wedding ring.
They closed the casket.
And draped the American Flag over him.

Today is the day I buried my husband.

I hear the gunshots echo in my mind.
I see - too vividly - the solder standing in front of me, handing me 3 casings.
I feel his white gloved hand on top of mine.
Presenting me with his flag.
And I feel my father's hands, tightly grabbing my arms as I feel my legs turn to jello
and the world starts to spin.
I see the honor guard staring at me as my father drove me away from my husband.

And in this memory, I have a moment of clarity.
A moment that I'm not sure I've had in the last 365 days.

What have I done for ME?

I remember, very vividly, sitting in the funeral parlor.  After his wake was over.
My family went one way.
My inlaws went the other.
Nic's friends went one way.
My friends went the other.
And I stood in that room and cried.
I didn't know where to go.
I didn't know where I belonged.
I didn't belong anywhere.
And in this moment of clarity.  I realize.
That is how I have felt every day for this past year.

I'm not my own family anymore.
I try to fit in.  I try to stay the same.
Be there for my family.
The inlaws.
The friends.
To be the same person that I was before.
To not allow for one more thing to change.
To try to protect those I love from feeling this same way.
That their life is spinning out of control and that everything is changing and they are powerless.

But everything is changing.
Everything changed.

In Victorian custom, today is the day I would stop wearing black.
It's a year after my husband's funeral - aka - the day he passed away.
And I'm done wearing black.
I'm a widow and will ALWAYS be a widow.
But that will not define me.
I'm not making excuses.
I'm going to make choices.
Tough choices.

But a wise man recently said to me - whatever you feel in that moment.  In that day.  Whatever you did.  It was right at that time.  And you did everything you were supposed to do and felt everything you were supposed to feel.  And don't think that it should be different.

And I'm not letting this life define me.
I am going to define it.

Clarity.

A final word

I wish I wrote this. 
It's amazing. 
It's spot. on. true. 
But I didn't write it and am giving credit where credit is due. 
But it's too good to not share.

This time of loss is a time you will not forget. 
It is a time that is breaking you open and re-shaping you. 
You will never be the same.

Remember: you can shape this time, even as it shapes you. 
You are not powerless. 
You are not entirely at the mercy of whatever has happened to you. 
It may feel that way to you at the moment. 
You may wonder if you'll ever regain control of your ife.
The truth is this: you will and you won't and that's good.

You will regain more control over your life with the passing of time and in the living of your days. 
Your hurt will decrease. 
Your feelings of emptiness will subside. 
You'll be able to look back and see the happiness. 
You'll find yourself starting to look forward and to feel more hopeful. 
You'll sense you're more yourself. 

And, at the same time, you won't regain control. 
For you're coming to know that ultimately much of life is beyond your control and beyond anyone's control.  It can be lived, but it cannot be contained. 
It can be appreciated, but it canot be narrowly confined. 
It can be emraced, but it cannot be held too tightly. 
For life ultimately is a gift. 
It come from far beyond you, and that is also its destiny. 

May the experiences you are living through help you toward those realizations. 
May you be on the pat of living your life for all it's worth. 
And never forget: it's worth a great deal.

--James Miller

525.600 minutes

I had the weirdest dream.
I dreamt my husband passed away. 
I dreamt Nic was dead. 
And I was lonely.
And alone.
And sad.
And scared.

And I woke up.  And realized it wasn't a dream. 
And everything I felt in that dream was real and my pillow was wet from crying.

But I wasn't alone.

I was far from alone.

This day is everything I thought it would be - and that's impossible to describe. But I'm trying SO hard to just experience every single emotion that I feel today. 

The moments of sadness and tears.
The anger (yes, I screamed at a stranger).
The sense of accomplishment.
The pride.
The strength. 
And the full cycle of feeling each thing over and over again. 

It's a pain that I can't describe. 
It's a dull ache that just takes hold of you and doesn't let go.
Holds you captive. 

And it's a feeling of hope.
And it's joy and excitement for the future.  
For the past that you've accomplished.

And the realization that it wasn't a dream. 
You were married to the most amazing man on the face of the earth and he left you with a legacy. 
A heart full of love for the amazing people he left behind. 
He left you with all of the strength that he had...to put towards your life. 

And no matter how much that hurts - it's pretty amazing at the same time.

Happy Balentine's Day

Eleanor says "Balentine" and I think it's just about the cutest thing.  Ever.

Holy shit.  What a difference a year makes.
I remember last Valentine's Day like it was yesterday.  Every. Last. Detail. 
Including being so mad at my husband I left him on the floor.

If the last year has taught me anything it's that a lot can happen in one year.
Your life, as you know it, can change.
You
Can change.

And there will be moments you hate it
and there will be moments of utter clarity
and you can appreciate everything your life has become. 

Last year on Valentine's Day I left my husband on the floor because I just wasn't
strong enough.

Is that irony?

This year I'm sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of wine, listening to my daughter sing Balentine's songs to herself in bed.

My life sucks
My life is perfect

In the last year I have overcome obstacles that I didn't think I'd overcome
And through it all...I really think I triumphed. 

If this next year is anything like the past year
I laugh and say
bring. it. on.

The difference in a year?
Last year I was fighting my sanity.  Watching my husband deteriorate before my very eyes
Helpless
Knowing what was happening.

This year?
My heart has holes
But I'm learning to love again and I have a guardian angel watching over me. 
Picking me up when I'm not strong enough.

And while that may suck.
Sometimes it's just not all that bad.

 

I'm one day into this month and I'm already over it. 
If tonight is any indication of what this month is going to bring...then I'm screwed. 

I woke up this morning and the first thing I said was
F'ing February.
I pitied myself all the way to work and then shook myself out of it and had a highly productive day.

I had a good day.

I had a good night.

And then I got motivated.  I put in a load of laundry.  I cleaned up my basement and I picked up a pair of Nic's socks. 

I stared at the socks.
And I thought about the "article" from last Sunday's church bulletin that was stuck to my fridge. 
Our Church is in desperate need of warm clothes for the winter months.  Not to be confused by the warm weather we are having, there are many people out there that have nothing.  And while it's not as bad as it could be - you go sleep outside tonight without warm socks. 
And me? 
I have a drawer...several drawers actually...of thick, warm winter socks. 
Thick, warm long underware.
Knit hats.
And it's not mine.
It's Nic's. 
And Nic doesn't need them.
So just like that...I bagged every last pair of wool socks.  Long underware.  Long sleeve undershirts (minus one pair of socks and one set of long underware...it's the last pair he wore and I just couldn't...)
I called my mom and asked her to pick up the bags from my garage and take them to church with her on Friday.  "Well..." she started...not really sure of her task.  Confused by where she was supposed to go with these items and what was going on. "Just ask Dad.  Just do it.  Just take them.  I can't" and I felt it coming.  She quickly received clarity and just agreed to remove the bags from my garage.
I hung up and lost it. 
For the love of Pete - it's just socks!  Socks!  I still have drawers of his t-shirts.  Jeans.  Sweatshirts.  this was SOCKS!
And now I feel just like I did not so many (but so many) months ago.
I can't explain it.  But I can tell you it is the most raw I have felt in months. 
It's the most I have hurt in months. 
And I"m exhausted.  I am drained.
I text the dearest friend.  Asked for her to just listen and not to call.  I just needed someone to know that I was on the ground in my kitchen and couldn't get up. 
We finally agreed that my first movement could be toward the freezer, which is luckily on the bottom of my fridge.  My first movement could be to pour a shot of tequila.  Don't judge. 
And I layed there with a chilled bottle of tequila and a phone and read encouraging texts and cried like I haven't cried in months.
And now I'm tired.
But now I feel cleansed. 
Shitty.  And cleansed.  
How can one person be so happy.  And so sad all at the same time? 
How can one task seriously take be back to such a horrible place?  It scares me how much I remembered that feeling.  How I know, how I remember, that's the same way I felt last year...on this exact day. 
In this exact month.

And friend said it best, "Fucking February...each day will bring a new moment of happiness, clarity, insanity and often sadness."

And maybe even a little tequila.