October, so it begins

I feel like the beginning of fall has brought me full circle and now I am reliving your final days but without you.

In some moments my memories are sweet.  We were always so busy with kid activities and family outings.  Fall brought Halloween activities, birthday parties, visits to the pumpkin patch, holiday planning, football games.  These things are beginning to revolve around me and I am spending a lot of time reminiscing about what these things were like with you.  I miss your presence.  At moments I feel the anger again that you are gone.  It's been many months since I have felt anger, but grief is circular and it has emerged once again. 

I am also spending a large amount of time thinking about how much our kids have changed. Just typing that sentence brought the tightness to my throat and tears to my eyes.  In all of this past year that is what has been the most difficult for me.  Not being single, not the title of widow, not the sleepless nights but the thought that you would have done anything to be here for Maya and Owen, to experience their childhood, to watch them grow and learn.  It breaks my heart to think that though Owen can now pick you out in a picture, he doesn't have a single memory of you that he will be able to call his own.  Maya is talking about you often.  I am not sure if it is coincidental or if she senses something major is shifting as we head toward the one year mark.  You would be excited by everything she is doing.  She even went fishing with the pole we bought her last year.  Despite the emerging attitude, she is still such a sweetheart.

I also find myself thinking about the things that you loved and that now go on without you.  Husky football, the Broncos, Thanksgiving, camping, family vacations, Christmas, sushi, goody runs.  It's hard to not think you feel like you are missing out on this world.  How could you not feel like that when your children were so small when you died?  It's difficult to think you feel at peace with not experiencing more of this world with us.  

321 days in.  39 to go.   But....then what?  The countdown really seems insignificant in light of the fact that I have always pushed myself to remember that you are gone, eternally.  Objects, rituals, clothing don't bring you back.  After the 39 days have come and gone, life will still move forward further away from the moment you took your last breath and with that we all must move forward with our acceptance of and peace with the life that remains. 

So Much

I balked at posting the past two posts primarily because I was taken aback by the cruel judgment and couldn't decide how much of my life I cared to remark about.  Alas, I have come full circle and here I am, even posting the previously unpublished posts.  This, however, is about our life.

At the end of June, I had 1 and 3 year photos taken of Maya and Owen.  Here are a few of my favorites. I still cannot believe my babies are growing up so fast!

 Birthdays in July are now in mass.  Owen had his 2nd birthday on July 18th followed by Riley's 2nd birthday on July 19th and Shaun's birthday on July 23rd.  We celebrated Owen's birthday at Pump it Up and Riley's with grandma and grandpa Phillips.

At the end of July myself, Maya and Owen were in my sister Tori's wedding.  Unfortunately both Maya and Owen had injuries....Owen got into a fight with a shelf and lost which resulted in a black eye and three stitches.  Maya got into a fight with the arm rest on the couch and lost which resulted in a very swollen cheek and one stitch.  Either way, I'm shocked CPS wasn't called as it was the two days in a row prior to Tori's wedding.  

In August we took a leap of faith and took all three kids tent camping with two other couples:  six adults and seven kids ranging from 4 months to 4 1/2 years.  The kids had a blast despite a very sleep deprived Riley who wasn't digging the whole tent sleeping thing.  Overall, however, we made some great memories and it will definitely be a trip to look back on and laugh. 

Finally some random photos...playing in the backyard, painting, playing at Grandma and Papa's, jet skiing in Brewster and bubble baths!

This summer has been one of learning, loving and the beginning of a wonderful life with three of the most amazing kids.  I am astonished at where I have found myself but I have never felt more at peace with the direction of my life and how my kids are transitioning.  We have had an awesome summer and I'm excited to see where fall will take us!

Judgment

Today, what would have been Chris' 35th birthday, I woke up at 4:45 a.m. to a text from a friend, more or less warning me about a post of my Facebook page...yes Facebook.

Today, as I read scathing remarks from this person I came to the point where I wondered who really is in a position to judge my life, my decisions, my path.  In the end I stand by every decision I have made and the path I have chosen for myself as well as my children.

The question remains, how does one disregard the judgment of another?  I am at a loss to understand when this became about anyone else but Chris and those close to him.

I'm tired.  Tired of feeling judged, feeling like so many need to voice their opinion about my life let alone the picture I post on my facebook page.

I'm shocked that the path of grief must become to guarded.  It's hard to know whom to trust.  Chris' death left an enormous gap of uncertainty and insecurity.  So why would anyone exacerbate this and offer up a cruel and judgmental opinion to a situation that is not even impacting them.   

Back in Time

There are moments where the smallest things momentarily propel me back in time.  It happens quite rarely but yesterday the hole in my heart was quite apparent.

My kids were ushered away by my dad and I washed the carpet in the living room and on the stairs after which I stopped for a break and I glanced at my email and scrolled through Facebook on my phone.  That's when it happened.

A Facebook post.

I was reminded in that post about the confirmation I was always expecting from Chris.  Of course, immediately after his death I spent weeks agonizing about the fact that I didn't sense he was dying only 15 feet from where I sat with the kids watching cartoons.  I felt like, he being my spouse, I should be 'allowed' some sort of confirmation of the other side, of his peace, of his passage.  Almost 9 months out.  Nothing.  Of course most of you know I stopped expecting anything about 6 months ago.

I was also reminded by this post that my life is great.  I am smiling, laughing and that fog from the initial phase of grief lifted long ago.  Taking this post to heart, I have to say I know Chris is at peace with my life and with the path I have chosen for myself and our kids.  I know he is because the man in my life is so patient, loving, playful, and silly with not only me but with Maya and Owen as well.  

Of course, I spent the past 24 hours thinking about this post then got on just now only to glance at one of the widow blogs as I signed in to find a judgmental post about dating in the first year.  The writer described herself as feeling ticked off when others got into relationship and 'ran to the alter'.  What also surprised me was the response which indicated the writer feeling that every new widow who gets into a relationship will wake from the fog to find themselves with the wrong person and in the wrong place.

I know that not everyone was or is ready to see me in a relationship and that widows have their own sense of what the journey should look like.  Honestly, when I met Shaun I wasn't sure I was ready to see myself in a relationship either.  It was more of an experiment.  Now, it's my life and my love.  Two months into this relationship it is still new and we are still figuring out our rhythm with three kids, two dogs, rotating days with one child, work and activities.  But the hiccups are few and the love is amazing.   

My life events and experiences have lead me to this point, to this love, to this new life.  I am amazed by Shaun's comfort with my widowhood, with the space in my heart which will always miss Chris, with my guilt that my children will not know the father who loved them so fiercely.  I am amazed and comforted that he gives me space for these feelings, has no sense of animosity toward my situation and supports my need to keep Chris' spirit and memory alive.  Our lives lead us to one another, I have no doubt about that fact.