I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass. -Maya Angelou
So I am not young but I'm trying to kick ass in this world. Several months ago I decided it was about time to take control of my life again and find my own happiness. Life had been happening to me which is not a pleasant experience and is extremely disheartening. I decided I was ready but I was cautious about the kids and I wasn't sure if those in my life were as ready as I was, so I put it on the back burner.
I was worried. I swear I never worried this much before. Sheesh.
No, I'm not delusional about my life; I realize that where grief is concerned, sometimes there is no control. Despite my current state of perpetual happiness, a discussion about father's day brought tears to my eyes. I am not sure I will move past this one last major obstacle any time soon. My kids were screwed. I am still feeling the pressure of being the memory keeper, the one whose job it is to tell them about what life was like with their daddy, about how much he loved them and even about how much they loved him in return. It's a strange phenomenon to think they won't remember how much they loved him. In the end, their memories of the man who would have gone to the ends of the Earth for them will be derived from me and with that comes the need for great balance as well as cautious evaluation.
For the record, Maya made her father's day project for her Papa, my dad. Just typing that made my eyes tear up. I hate that her life isn't just normal. No, I don't think she is shrouded by sadness. In fact I truly believe she has adjusted very well and continues to. I suppose my desire lies in the fact that I don't want my kids to feel like they don't fit in with their friends and their world. In reality, our life will only feel as normal as I make it feel. I need to jump this last hurdle...the one in which I accept that this is ok for Maya and Owen also and that despite this enormous loss, we will all find love and happiness again.
Maya's last day of preschool brought a flood of memories. September was such an exciting month as she started her first year of preschool. Chris and I couldn't believe our baby was ready for her first day and I was anxious about leaving her for 3 hours. Little did I know I would come to cherish those 3 hours. Maya jumped in with two feet and over the course of the year only had one drop off that involved tears. She was loved at preschool and I am eternally grateful for wonderful teachers and a thoughtful director who filled my hands with literature about death, filled my mind with ideas on how to ease Maya through this major life change and always kept me in the loop about how she was adjusting to it all at school. In the end, I know it's their job. These are their kids too. To me, as the mother of a child who has gone through an extreme loss, I am grateful for those who reached out to steady her in this storm.
There are still three first left in our year. Owen's second birthday is in just over a month. Chris' 35th birthday is in August and then there is the one year mark. There are still hurdles but I know there will be happiness to steady our lives throughout the remainder of this first year.
In the end for each of the remaining firsts we have on our plate, I believe there will be twice the number of happy firsts. Whether they fall in our laps or we create them, they will happen.
I'm jumping in with two feet.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Judgement
Maya was being her usual goofy self on the way home from swim but her silliness suddenly took an ugly turn. She looked at Owen and said, "We're going to die some day. And then we can see daddy. Yeah! I can't wait Owen." Nausea sets in..
A four year old should not be excited about dying but she also should not have to cope with the loss of her daddy. But really, who am I to judge her excitement.
On a whim I googled widow + dating. Really, it was sort of an idiotic move.
I'm not sure what I was looking for, but I can guarantee I didn't find it.
Instead, I found a post by a woman appalled by her cousin who was dating after his wife's death. At the time of her post it had been about 3 months. I agree I was not ready after 3 months. But who's to say he was not. The woman even went as far as confessing she was 'venting' about the situation because it bothered her so profusely. The responses that followed her posts mostly represented those appalled by the cousin's dating. Many indicated they thought it was 'appropriate' to 'expect' a widow to wait a year 'out of respect.' Of course, many of these responses also included the information that the responder was not a widow, but it was what they would do if they were widowed.
Do people really imagine they would be widowed at 33 with a 3 1/2 year old and 16 month old? I am a worst case scenario kind of person and never had I imagined the events that transpired leading me down the path of widowhood and single parenthood. In the end, even if I had imagined it, I was so clueless. There is no way I could know what would be right for any individual's journey through widowhood let alone ..... my own.
I wanted to track this poor man down. Of course the post was dated 2009 thus the events are long passed. I wanted to let him know he should make whatever choice he needed to for his life in that moment. Life is about choices, good and bad. My only advice is that choices be purposeful not haphazard.
In the end, we all arrive at the pearly gates with bag full of good and our fair share of both questionable and plain bad choices.
My insinuation is not that I am perfect. I pass judgment as well. But I suppose what I am truly wanting to say is, be sure you are being constructive and not destructive when you are helping anyone through a crisis or arduous journey. This man, like all widows, was in the process of trying to discover who he is without his wife, without his marriage and ultimately without the life he once lead. Though it seems like 'slow' is the favored path I would venture a guess it is not. My journey through widowhood has thus far shown me some things are best faced head on and in the immediate. This journey has a steep learning curve and with it the decisions are never ending.
Shortly after Chris' death I had an interesting conversation. It was one repeated over the first few months. These conversations surrounded the question of whether Chris had been seeing a doctor and whether we knew about his Cardiovascular Hypertensive Disease. He had not and did not. He had refused to go to the doctor in the 7 1/2 years I had known him. In this 'interesting' conversation I was told that this person 'made' their significant other go. Ouch! I wasn't mad, per say, about this response. But it made my heart ache. In retrospect, of course I wished I had made Chris go. However, I couldn't and I didn't and now ultimately that doesn't matter. He's dead. So many things are said out of love with best intentions.
No worries, this wasn't meant as a diatribe. In my own pursuit of healing, this moment of using google to solve my life problems lead me down this path. It's a lesson I need to learn just a well as the next person, widow or not.
In the words of Voltaire, judge a man by his questions rather than his answers.
A four year old should not be excited about dying but she also should not have to cope with the loss of her daddy. But really, who am I to judge her excitement.
On a whim I googled widow + dating. Really, it was sort of an idiotic move.
I'm not sure what I was looking for, but I can guarantee I didn't find it.
Instead, I found a post by a woman appalled by her cousin who was dating after his wife's death. At the time of her post it had been about 3 months. I agree I was not ready after 3 months. But who's to say he was not. The woman even went as far as confessing she was 'venting' about the situation because it bothered her so profusely. The responses that followed her posts mostly represented those appalled by the cousin's dating. Many indicated they thought it was 'appropriate' to 'expect' a widow to wait a year 'out of respect.' Of course, many of these responses also included the information that the responder was not a widow, but it was what they would do if they were widowed.
Do people really imagine they would be widowed at 33 with a 3 1/2 year old and 16 month old? I am a worst case scenario kind of person and never had I imagined the events that transpired leading me down the path of widowhood and single parenthood. In the end, even if I had imagined it, I was so clueless. There is no way I could know what would be right for any individual's journey through widowhood let alone ..... my own.
I wanted to track this poor man down. Of course the post was dated 2009 thus the events are long passed. I wanted to let him know he should make whatever choice he needed to for his life in that moment. Life is about choices, good and bad. My only advice is that choices be purposeful not haphazard.
In the end, we all arrive at the pearly gates with bag full of good and our fair share of both questionable and plain bad choices.
My insinuation is not that I am perfect. I pass judgment as well. But I suppose what I am truly wanting to say is, be sure you are being constructive and not destructive when you are helping anyone through a crisis or arduous journey. This man, like all widows, was in the process of trying to discover who he is without his wife, without his marriage and ultimately without the life he once lead. Though it seems like 'slow' is the favored path I would venture a guess it is not. My journey through widowhood has thus far shown me some things are best faced head on and in the immediate. This journey has a steep learning curve and with it the decisions are never ending.
Shortly after Chris' death I had an interesting conversation. It was one repeated over the first few months. These conversations surrounded the question of whether Chris had been seeing a doctor and whether we knew about his Cardiovascular Hypertensive Disease. He had not and did not. He had refused to go to the doctor in the 7 1/2 years I had known him. In this 'interesting' conversation I was told that this person 'made' their significant other go. Ouch! I wasn't mad, per say, about this response. But it made my heart ache. In retrospect, of course I wished I had made Chris go. However, I couldn't and I didn't and now ultimately that doesn't matter. He's dead. So many things are said out of love with best intentions.
No worries, this wasn't meant as a diatribe. In my own pursuit of healing, this moment of using google to solve my life problems lead me down this path. It's a lesson I need to learn just a well as the next person, widow or not.
In the words of Voltaire, judge a man by his questions rather than his answers.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Uncomfortable
"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers." M. Scott Peck
On the way to Costco, I felt it. By the time I walked through the bay doors of the warehouse and flashed the picture of me from 7 years ago, my heart was sinking, and the crowds were closing in, pulling at the strings of claustrophobia. I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.
I spent 15 minutes pacing aisles, looking at everything I didn't need to buy. In so many ways I was looking for what was causing my panic. My mind was searching for an answer among the towels, mixing bowls and step ladders. This is not the way I shop...I am a no nonsense person. However, without the kids, I was restless, anxious and overwhelmed.
I took another deep breath and looked down at my list that I suddenly realized was backwards and upside down. Instead of laughing, I looked at a half empty pallet of cereal and wondered if the man standing next to me would stop to see if I was ok if I sat down to collect my thoughts.
Costco. Why do so many things in my life return to Costco?
When I finally finished shopping, I ended up in the checkout line of a guy approximately my age who was syrupy sweet and chatty. As he handed back my card he said "Thank you miss, have a good day." My head swung around, my jaw dropped. I cannot remember the last time I was called miss...and really, I am not. I'm a 35 year old widow and at that moment I was suddenly pissed about being called miss.
Of course, lately, my F**k You attitude, really sucks. In January I was apologizing to everyone and now my attitude sucks. My problem? My life feels shrouded by death. Fewer people are understanding this reality and I have reached the point where my phone has become silent and the subject of my deceased husband has grown silent.
I loved him, I still love him and I will to my grave.
Now...how to figure out the rest of this life without him.
"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, or end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s to happen next." Gilda Radner
On the way to Costco, I felt it. By the time I walked through the bay doors of the warehouse and flashed the picture of me from 7 years ago, my heart was sinking, and the crowds were closing in, pulling at the strings of claustrophobia. I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.
I spent 15 minutes pacing aisles, looking at everything I didn't need to buy. In so many ways I was looking for what was causing my panic. My mind was searching for an answer among the towels, mixing bowls and step ladders. This is not the way I shop...I am a no nonsense person. However, without the kids, I was restless, anxious and overwhelmed.
I took another deep breath and looked down at my list that I suddenly realized was backwards and upside down. Instead of laughing, I looked at a half empty pallet of cereal and wondered if the man standing next to me would stop to see if I was ok if I sat down to collect my thoughts.
Costco. Why do so many things in my life return to Costco?
When I finally finished shopping, I ended up in the checkout line of a guy approximately my age who was syrupy sweet and chatty. As he handed back my card he said "Thank you miss, have a good day." My head swung around, my jaw dropped. I cannot remember the last time I was called miss...and really, I am not. I'm a 35 year old widow and at that moment I was suddenly pissed about being called miss.
Of course, lately, my F**k You attitude, really sucks. In January I was apologizing to everyone and now my attitude sucks. My problem? My life feels shrouded by death. Fewer people are understanding this reality and I have reached the point where my phone has become silent and the subject of my deceased husband has grown silent.
I loved him, I still love him and I will to my grave.
Now...how to figure out the rest of this life without him.
"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, or end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s to happen next." Gilda Radner
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Just Breathe
I made it.
The days leading up to the 6 months anniversary were suffocatingly thick with grief so much so that it felt like the weeks following Chris' death.
But, as it always does, the grief shifted to an emotion that is much less debilitating. Thank God. I'm not sure who could live with that constant weight baring down on them.
Two days have passed and my life feels like what it 'was' ... all of the craziness included.
The days leading up to the 6 months anniversary were suffocatingly thick with grief so much so that it felt like the weeks following Chris' death.
But, as it always does, the grief shifted to an emotion that is much less debilitating. Thank God. I'm not sure who could live with that constant weight baring down on them.
Two days have passed and my life feels like what it 'was' ... all of the craziness included.
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