(I knew it. I just knew my last entry was waaayyy too short compared to my usual style!)
This back-to-school time of year always brings something out in me. I don't know what it is. Summer is winding down. The nights start getting cooler. The leaves change colors. Fall. It really is one of my favorite times of the year.
This fall is a little different though. I'm entering into that time when I keep thinking "About this time last year....."
Yeah.
Ouch.
About this time last year we were getting ready for a fun day at Cedar Point. The school shopping was finished. Just one little trip to round out the summer. (And to, unknowingly at that time, create our final fun memory as a family.)
This time last year we were oblivious to the fact that we had already boarded a runaway train. One that we had no control over. About this time last year, life wasn't perfect. (Or was it?) Looking back now, it seems pretty damn close to perfect. I guess it's all a matter of perspective.
September will be here before I know it. Damn. There are going to be a lot of "About this time last years". The pain. The frustration. The doctors. The hospitals.
And then October. More doctors. Even more pain. My last birthday...and the promise that "next year's birthday will be better". And then that final hospital visit. The dreaded diagnosis. Hospice. Sickness. Pain. Tears. Beautiful, crisp fall weather. And pain, pain, pain. The never-ending pain. Physical. Emotional. Heartache.
And, hey, while I'm on the subject...what about November?
F%*# November.
Reminds me of that song. "Wake me up when September ends." Screw that. Wake me up on New Years Day.
But that's not me. I won't sleep through it all. What good would that do? I will forge through it. I will make the best of the life I have today. Because I do have a lot to be grateful for. A lot. Maybe even more than I deserve.
I will see this year of firsts through to the end. I know the grief won't magically disappear come mid-November. But maybe, just maybe, I will start to feel like the survivor...the strong person...that everyone keeps telling me I am. Maybe then a few stupid squares on the calendar won't hold so much power over me.
Maybe the second year will actually be worse than the first. I don't think so though. At least I hope not. From where I'm sitting now, I have so many things to look forward to.
And, for that, I am extremely grateful. And I feel very lucky. :)
Now, if I could just pull my one foot out of the past and plant it firmly on today's ground......
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Milestones
There are so many "firsts" in our lives. They start the moment we are born. Our first cry. Our first bath. First words. First steps.
Our first day of school. First crushes and first kisses. First job. And who can forget their first time behind the wheel of a car?
I've always been afraid of forgetting any of these firsts with my own sons. I took countless pictures when they were small. I was constantly scrambling to write down dates on scraps of paper to later transfer to their baby books. There was a period of time where they probably didn't recognize me if I didn't have a camcorder stuck to the front of my face!
I don't feel the compulsion to document the exact dates anymore. While it's nice to see a log of all of these dates, to jog my memory of what is now known to me as the absolute happiest time of my life, I'm starting to see that I would rather revel in the emotions that these memories bring to the surface than to know the specific day it happened. I'm starting to realize in a big way that it is all about the feelings...the joy and the happiness.
And, my God, there are so many of those moments locked so deep within my heart. Good moments. Really good moments.
And then 9 months ago happened. There will still be many more "firsts" to experience. Several have happened already. Some of them have been good. Unfortunately, there are many sad ones too.
Today was an exciting one. Brandon is attending his very first day of high school! Yep...he's growing up. I am excited for him. But I still had that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach all morning. You might know the feeling. That one where something just doesn't feel quite right but you can't put your finger on what it is. Only....I do know what it is.
The absence.
Not just the physical absence of his Dad. But all that goes along with who he was. The absence of his teasing. The absence of some profound comment or perfectly-timed joke that would make us all smile. Oh and I could just hear him talking about how we only have 4 more years of this "raising-kids-stuff" and then it would be our time. (And our money...to actually spend on ourselves!)
So my emotions were all over the place this morning. Excited. Happy. Anxious. Sad. Proud.
As I dropped Brandon off at school, I tried to think of something that Chuck would have said. Something light-hearted enough to make him smile. But also something poignant that would make him feel like his Dad is still here with him through one of his major milestones. I drew a blank. My mind just doesn't work like his did.
So I said nothing.
I felt the urge to somehow share this day with Chuck. What else could I do except make a trip to the cemetery? Can I just say one thing? It is just really wrong that I have to touch the letters of his name on a piece of bronze to "share" these days with him. Really, really wrong.
The only fear he shared with me during his illness was that he worried he would miss us. Seeing the morning dew on the roses I placed there the other day reminded me of that fact. It sorta reminded me of tears. Tears from heaven.
We know how much you want to be here with us. We miss you, too.
Our first day of school. First crushes and first kisses. First job. And who can forget their first time behind the wheel of a car?
I've always been afraid of forgetting any of these firsts with my own sons. I took countless pictures when they were small. I was constantly scrambling to write down dates on scraps of paper to later transfer to their baby books. There was a period of time where they probably didn't recognize me if I didn't have a camcorder stuck to the front of my face!
I don't feel the compulsion to document the exact dates anymore. While it's nice to see a log of all of these dates, to jog my memory of what is now known to me as the absolute happiest time of my life, I'm starting to see that I would rather revel in the emotions that these memories bring to the surface than to know the specific day it happened. I'm starting to realize in a big way that it is all about the feelings...the joy and the happiness.
And, my God, there are so many of those moments locked so deep within my heart. Good moments. Really good moments.
And then 9 months ago happened. There will still be many more "firsts" to experience. Several have happened already. Some of them have been good. Unfortunately, there are many sad ones too.
Today was an exciting one. Brandon is attending his very first day of high school! Yep...he's growing up. I am excited for him. But I still had that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach all morning. You might know the feeling. That one where something just doesn't feel quite right but you can't put your finger on what it is. Only....I do know what it is.
The absence.
Not just the physical absence of his Dad. But all that goes along with who he was. The absence of his teasing. The absence of some profound comment or perfectly-timed joke that would make us all smile. Oh and I could just hear him talking about how we only have 4 more years of this "raising-kids-stuff" and then it would be our time. (And our money...to actually spend on ourselves!)
So my emotions were all over the place this morning. Excited. Happy. Anxious. Sad. Proud.
As I dropped Brandon off at school, I tried to think of something that Chuck would have said. Something light-hearted enough to make him smile. But also something poignant that would make him feel like his Dad is still here with him through one of his major milestones. I drew a blank. My mind just doesn't work like his did.
So I said nothing.
I felt the urge to somehow share this day with Chuck. What else could I do except make a trip to the cemetery? Can I just say one thing? It is just really wrong that I have to touch the letters of his name on a piece of bronze to "share" these days with him. Really, really wrong.
The only fear he shared with me during his illness was that he worried he would miss us. Seeing the morning dew on the roses I placed there the other day reminded me of that fact. It sorta reminded me of tears. Tears from heaven.
We know how much you want to be here with us. We miss you, too.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Do I dare say it?
Or will I jinx myself?
Or will it bring me tremendous guilt at a future time?
Ahhh...who cares about the future. Or what anybody else thinks...for that matter. I've learned (in the worst way), to live for today. There is no guarantee for tomorrow. Never.
It's all about today.
So, yeah, I will say it. I AM HAPPY RIGHT NOW!
Wow...what a concept...this happiness thing.
I feel like an excited teenager in love. What??? Yeah, I do. Judge me if you want to. That's okay. I'm living for me and my boys. That's all I care about it. I'm not looking to please anybody. I'm not being reckless. I think...about everything. I consider every circumstance and consequence. I don't just put my heart out there to be played with. I'm too smart for that. I'm not saying I know everything.
But I know enough.
Just when I thought my life was "over". Just when I thought there would be no more happiness. Just when I was ready to lay down and die........
Yeah.
I'm starting to love someone else.
It doesn't mean I can't still love my past and my life up until this point. It doesn't mean that I have to give up my past. It doesn't mean any of that. It doesn't mean that I was looking for any of this.
Seriously...this was the last thing I was "looking" for. It just happened.
It just is what it is.
It's happening. It's real. It's awesome.
And I'm happy...right now. That's all I can ask for.
It doesn't mean I will forget.
It doesn't mean I will never cry for what I've lost. It doesn't mean that I wasn't satisfied and happy with the direction my life was supposed to take.
It just means that I'm persevering.
That I'm living.
That I have hope.
That I believe in love. That I still have hope.
I'm not one to take these things lightly. I've considered whether or not it could be a "rebound" or "replacement" type of thing. That has scared me more than anything.
But it's not.
It's what I want. It's what I need. There is no denying that it's taken some adjustments. In my thinking. In my living. In my heart.
But it is what it is.
And I'm happy.
I've worked through it in my mind and my heart for awhile now. But I just feel it. I know it. It's there.
And I'm happy. (How many times can I say that??)
I'm truly happy.
I'll never forget.
But just when I thought that love was never in the cards for me ever again? All I can say about that is to never assume anything.
If it doesn't work out, please be there for me when my heart is broken. If it does work out? Please be happy for me. Please, most of all, don't judge me. Until you've walked in my shoes? You just have no clue. No matter how good of a writer someone is? I can try my best to get you to feel what I feel. It's still not the same. YOU JUST DON'T KNOW!
I may make you feel the emotions with the words I write. But you still will (God forbid) never know. I don't want you to know.
I've been to the depths of hell.
I'm coming back. I'm stronger than ever before. I believe more than ever in living for today. Life's thrown some pretty shitty curves at me. It's not gonna bring me down anymore. I'm here.
I'm alive.
I will be me. I will live. Nothing can ever bring me to my knees again.
NOTHING.
I'm living my life while I've got the chance. That's all I can do. And it's a damn good feeling.
I will always carry with me the lessons I've learned, the love I've had, the life I've led. Those things can only make me a better me. I will always cherish and honor my past. But I can't stay stuck in the "what-ifs" and the "should've-beens".
As well-intentioned as our plans might have been?
That's Life Lesson Number One.
Doesn't always work out as planned. You make plans. You do the best you can to bring those plans to fruition. You work towards goals.
For what?
To have it ripped out from under you?
So, no. For today. That's what it's about. I'm living for today. I'm enjoying myself. I'm giving myself permission to feel bad when I need to. I'm not trying to block anything or forget anything. But I'm living today. I choose to live.
That's pretty awesome compared to where I've been. It's damn awesome.
I'm living again.
I'm excited.
I'm giddy.
I'm like a teenager in love.
And I won't apologize for it.
I deserve it.
I'll never forget. I'll always cherish what has been. I'll always love what I've had. I'll always miss what could have been. I'll always and forever wish the future could have worked out the way we planned.
But I can still be happy. And it feels good. Really, really good.
It didn't end the way it was supposed to. We had no control over that. But we gave it a hell of a shot.
I'm just not ready or capable of laying down to die. Not just yet. I'm here. I'm alive. I want to laugh. I want to live.
Damn....what a difference from a few months ago. ;)
Or will it bring me tremendous guilt at a future time?
Ahhh...who cares about the future. Or what anybody else thinks...for that matter. I've learned (in the worst way), to live for today. There is no guarantee for tomorrow. Never.
It's all about today.
So, yeah, I will say it. I AM HAPPY RIGHT NOW!
Wow...what a concept...this happiness thing.
I feel like an excited teenager in love. What??? Yeah, I do. Judge me if you want to. That's okay. I'm living for me and my boys. That's all I care about it. I'm not looking to please anybody. I'm not being reckless. I think...about everything. I consider every circumstance and consequence. I don't just put my heart out there to be played with. I'm too smart for that. I'm not saying I know everything.
But I know enough.
Just when I thought my life was "over". Just when I thought there would be no more happiness. Just when I was ready to lay down and die........
Yeah.
I'm starting to love someone else.
It doesn't mean I can't still love my past and my life up until this point. It doesn't mean that I have to give up my past. It doesn't mean any of that. It doesn't mean that I was looking for any of this.
Seriously...this was the last thing I was "looking" for. It just happened.
It just is what it is.
It's happening. It's real. It's awesome.
And I'm happy...right now. That's all I can ask for.
It doesn't mean I will forget.
It doesn't mean I will never cry for what I've lost. It doesn't mean that I wasn't satisfied and happy with the direction my life was supposed to take.
It just means that I'm persevering.
That I'm living.
That I have hope.
That I believe in love. That I still have hope.
I'm not one to take these things lightly. I've considered whether or not it could be a "rebound" or "replacement" type of thing. That has scared me more than anything.
But it's not.
It's what I want. It's what I need. There is no denying that it's taken some adjustments. In my thinking. In my living. In my heart.
But it is what it is.
And I'm happy.
I've worked through it in my mind and my heart for awhile now. But I just feel it. I know it. It's there.
And I'm happy. (How many times can I say that??)
I'm truly happy.
I'll never forget.
But just when I thought that love was never in the cards for me ever again? All I can say about that is to never assume anything.
If it doesn't work out, please be there for me when my heart is broken. If it does work out? Please be happy for me. Please, most of all, don't judge me. Until you've walked in my shoes? You just have no clue. No matter how good of a writer someone is? I can try my best to get you to feel what I feel. It's still not the same. YOU JUST DON'T KNOW!
I may make you feel the emotions with the words I write. But you still will (God forbid) never know. I don't want you to know.
I've been to the depths of hell.
I'm coming back. I'm stronger than ever before. I believe more than ever in living for today. Life's thrown some pretty shitty curves at me. It's not gonna bring me down anymore. I'm here.
I'm alive.
I will be me. I will live. Nothing can ever bring me to my knees again.
NOTHING.
I'm living my life while I've got the chance. That's all I can do. And it's a damn good feeling.
I will always carry with me the lessons I've learned, the love I've had, the life I've led. Those things can only make me a better me. I will always cherish and honor my past. But I can't stay stuck in the "what-ifs" and the "should've-beens".
As well-intentioned as our plans might have been?
That's Life Lesson Number One.
Doesn't always work out as planned. You make plans. You do the best you can to bring those plans to fruition. You work towards goals.
For what?
To have it ripped out from under you?
So, no. For today. That's what it's about. I'm living for today. I'm enjoying myself. I'm giving myself permission to feel bad when I need to. I'm not trying to block anything or forget anything. But I'm living today. I choose to live.
That's pretty awesome compared to where I've been. It's damn awesome.
I'm living again.
I'm excited.
I'm giddy.
I'm like a teenager in love.
And I won't apologize for it.
I deserve it.
I'll never forget. I'll always cherish what has been. I'll always love what I've had. I'll always miss what could have been. I'll always and forever wish the future could have worked out the way we planned.
But I can still be happy. And it feels good. Really, really good.
It didn't end the way it was supposed to. We had no control over that. But we gave it a hell of a shot.
I'm just not ready or capable of laying down to die. Not just yet. I'm here. I'm alive. I want to laugh. I want to live.
Damn....what a difference from a few months ago. ;)
Friday, August 7, 2009
Roller coasters, male bonding......and pennies!
Most that know me have heard the story about the two pennies. Those two shiny 2008 pennies I found at my feet 16 hours after Chuck died brought me moments of great peace and comfort in the beginning weeks. I carried them in my left pocket every day. Whenever things got rough or I started to question my beliefs, I could reach in and feel those two pennies. To me, they were the closest thing I could get to physical "proof" that our spirits continue on after we die. When I lost one of them about a month ago, I was almost devastated. That's when I decided I didn't need to carry the remaining one around anymore and put it up for safekeeping.
I feel like I've made so many changes in the last month...since I decided to stop clinging so tightly to the many rituals I felt the need to observe the first 8 months. Things are looking up quite a bit more. While I know I will still have my moments when grief knocks me to the ground, I'm learning how to get up a little bit quicker and stand taller.
I'm opening my mind up to new possibilities and I'm opening my heart up to new friends. I have one friend in particular (who happens to be a Man....go ahead, gasp if you would like) who has been very good for me the last couple of weeks. I talk, he listens. He talks, I listen....and I learn. He is not the reason I decided to remove my rings. He is not the reason I decided it's time to start letting go. But he was very influential in me deciding to do those things...in helping me realize that it's time to trudge forward. He is full of advice and I just find myself amazed at how relevant his words are. And I feel extremely lucky that, if I have to be in this situation, I have gained a very strong friendship through it all.
Yesterday, this particular friend went to Cedar Point with me and the boys. Adam and Brandon have seen him hanging around here a bit but this was the first time they actually got the chance to "meet" him. It didn't take long at all for them to become friendly. Many times I found myself walking behind the three of them while they just walked and talked amongst themselves. It made me feel good to see the boys just hanging out with an older male. That's obviously one thing that's been sorely lacking in their lives since Chuck died.
We had a great day at Cedar Point. We hit as many roller coasters as we could. And a few of the smaller rides. We ate. We walked...a lot. We talked. We laughed.
When I have spent any time with a friend of the opposite sex, I can't help but feel a little twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Chuck had a jealous streak. I didn't have any close male friends. It's just the way it went between us. So now I start wondering, "What would Chuck think about this?" or "Is he disappointed and upset with me right now?" Pretty normal thinking, for me anyways. I guess. But it always takes away from the enjoyment of the moment. It's always in the back of my mind that I'm doing something "wrong"...even though I know in my heart that I'm not.
At one point in the day, my friend told the boys that he would pay for them to go on a different kind of ride. It's basically one of those things where you are strapped in a harness and attached to a long cord. You are hoisted up God knows how many feet, one rider pulls the cord, and then you are free-falling....and flying! Swinging back and forth. It's pretty fun to watch. Anyways, it's no more expensive for a trio to go than it is for a duo. He asked if I would like to go on it with them and I told him that I would sit this one out. I told him to go.
So I sat down on one of the many benches around to wait and watch. As they were being slowly hoisted into the air, I smiled. I laughed at the expression of apprehension on the boys' faces. But then...there it was. That twinge of guilt. Seeing the boys up there with our friend in the middle. In the place their Dad should be. But I felt happy that they had someone to experience this with. Still.... I just couldn't keep wondering if Chuck would be upset about all of this. After all, I never got that whole "I want you to move on" talk from him. I've been hoping and praying that something will happen that will "prove" to me that it is okay.
At that moment, while they are almost to the top, I glanced down at the ground where I was sitting. Right there, an inch away from my left foot, was a penny! A shiny penny just glaring in the sun. My heart skipped a beat or two. It was tails down. I leaned over to pick it up and I thought in my head, "If this is a 2008 penny......" And do you know what? That's right. There it was. Probably a huge coincidence, this penny I held tightly in the palm of my hand. But, to me, it was much more than that. It was a symbol. It was my sign. It was the doorway through which all of my guilt and doubts left my heart. I quietly slipped that penny into my left pocket until I could get home and put it with my other remaining one. And I walked around the rest of the day with the sense of peace I experienced on that first awful morning alone.
In Wednesday's blog entry about letting go, I wrote these words:
"Whatever the future brings, I hope he will be out there...somehow guiding me, encouraging me and cheering me on."
I think I got my wish!
Thank you, Chuck. I understand.
I feel like I've made so many changes in the last month...since I decided to stop clinging so tightly to the many rituals I felt the need to observe the first 8 months. Things are looking up quite a bit more. While I know I will still have my moments when grief knocks me to the ground, I'm learning how to get up a little bit quicker and stand taller.
I'm opening my mind up to new possibilities and I'm opening my heart up to new friends. I have one friend in particular (who happens to be a Man....go ahead, gasp if you would like) who has been very good for me the last couple of weeks. I talk, he listens. He talks, I listen....and I learn. He is not the reason I decided to remove my rings. He is not the reason I decided it's time to start letting go. But he was very influential in me deciding to do those things...in helping me realize that it's time to trudge forward. He is full of advice and I just find myself amazed at how relevant his words are. And I feel extremely lucky that, if I have to be in this situation, I have gained a very strong friendship through it all.
Yesterday, this particular friend went to Cedar Point with me and the boys. Adam and Brandon have seen him hanging around here a bit but this was the first time they actually got the chance to "meet" him. It didn't take long at all for them to become friendly. Many times I found myself walking behind the three of them while they just walked and talked amongst themselves. It made me feel good to see the boys just hanging out with an older male. That's obviously one thing that's been sorely lacking in their lives since Chuck died.
We had a great day at Cedar Point. We hit as many roller coasters as we could. And a few of the smaller rides. We ate. We walked...a lot. We talked. We laughed.
When I have spent any time with a friend of the opposite sex, I can't help but feel a little twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Chuck had a jealous streak. I didn't have any close male friends. It's just the way it went between us. So now I start wondering, "What would Chuck think about this?" or "Is he disappointed and upset with me right now?" Pretty normal thinking, for me anyways. I guess. But it always takes away from the enjoyment of the moment. It's always in the back of my mind that I'm doing something "wrong"...even though I know in my heart that I'm not.
At one point in the day, my friend told the boys that he would pay for them to go on a different kind of ride. It's basically one of those things where you are strapped in a harness and attached to a long cord. You are hoisted up God knows how many feet, one rider pulls the cord, and then you are free-falling....and flying! Swinging back and forth. It's pretty fun to watch. Anyways, it's no more expensive for a trio to go than it is for a duo. He asked if I would like to go on it with them and I told him that I would sit this one out. I told him to go.
So I sat down on one of the many benches around to wait and watch. As they were being slowly hoisted into the air, I smiled. I laughed at the expression of apprehension on the boys' faces. But then...there it was. That twinge of guilt. Seeing the boys up there with our friend in the middle. In the place their Dad should be. But I felt happy that they had someone to experience this with. Still.... I just couldn't keep wondering if Chuck would be upset about all of this. After all, I never got that whole "I want you to move on" talk from him. I've been hoping and praying that something will happen that will "prove" to me that it is okay.
At that moment, while they are almost to the top, I glanced down at the ground where I was sitting. Right there, an inch away from my left foot, was a penny! A shiny penny just glaring in the sun. My heart skipped a beat or two. It was tails down. I leaned over to pick it up and I thought in my head, "If this is a 2008 penny......" And do you know what? That's right. There it was. Probably a huge coincidence, this penny I held tightly in the palm of my hand. But, to me, it was much more than that. It was a symbol. It was my sign. It was the doorway through which all of my guilt and doubts left my heart. I quietly slipped that penny into my left pocket until I could get home and put it with my other remaining one. And I walked around the rest of the day with the sense of peace I experienced on that first awful morning alone.
In Wednesday's blog entry about letting go, I wrote these words:
"Whatever the future brings, I hope he will be out there...somehow guiding me, encouraging me and cheering me on."
I think I got my wish!
Thank you, Chuck. I understand.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
With this ring....
All through this grief process, this journey that is completely unique to me, I've been adamant about listening to my heart. If I over think things, if I do what other people suggest I should do...well that will only lead to struggle and regrets. When someone you love dies prematurely you gain a whole new perspective on many things. Regret seems to be at or near the top of the list.
I've been trying to dip my toes in the water a little more lately. I really do want to engage in life again. I sat at the cemetery last weekend and thought about so many things. Mostly I thought about how my life has been since that horrible day in the hospital. I thought about the path I have taken so far. I thought about my choices I have for the future.
There are literally hundreds of different choices I can make that will alter the course of the rest of my life. But it actually boils down to only two general directions. I can stay miserable, sad, despondent. I can do that while still appearing to function. I can just "show up" to life without participating. That's exactly what I've been doing for the past 8 months and 3 weeks. Sure, I've had a few fun times during that period. But for the most part, it's been a torturous experience....breathing, existing, surviving. And then repeating it again tomorrow.
Then there's my other option. I can begin the process of letting go. I have no doubt it's a very long and complicated process. And a very difficult one. But if I want to live again, if I want that excitement and joy in my life that I used to have, if I want my smile to reach all the way up to my eyes...well, then learning to let go is my only choice.
So I sat out at the cemetery last weekend and told Chuck that I need to choose to start letting go. I told him that I can't go on being this miserable. It really is no way to live. No way at all. And it's something I don't want to experience for one more day. It not only hurts me, but it hurts everyone who loves me. Of course if I could have anything in the world, it would be to have him back here...to have our normal lives back. I would choose to not be in this situation of making these choices in the first place.
But I am.
And so I must.
I can only hope that once our spirits are separated from our bodies, we gain a new understanding. That it's all about love and wanting those we love to continue to grow and laugh and love...and live. To live fully and completely. You see, I still worry about hurting him. If there was even the slightest chance that he'd come back, I would sit here and wait. I wouldn't change a thing so that way our lives could pick up right where we left off. Even if I had to wait 50 years, I would be okay just simply waiting. The hope I would feel would be enough to keep me waiting patiently. But there is no hope of that. So my only hope is that he truly loves me enough to let me go. That he trusts in me enough to allow me to move on. That he wants nothing more than to see me happy. He swore he would die for me. I wonder if he would've ever agreed to let me go if that's what I truly needed to be happy. Selfless concepts. The ultimate sacrifice. All in the name of true and undying love.
So on Monday, 265 days after I lost him, I made a conscious decision to do something I never thought I would do. I took off my wedding ring. For the first time in 13 years. My first, perhaps biggest, step in letting go.
I cried. I told myself that it's a trial. That if I got too panicked, I can always slip it back on. I was sure it would be back on within hours. I haven't put it back on yet. It's sitting there on my dresser...just in case.
From the very beginning, I swore I would always wear it. Until the day I die. It's strange how much grief changes you. Or at least changes your way of thinking and seeing things. I love that ring. I love all that it stands for. (Not stood for...stands for.) It's meaning and symbolism haven't changed. Which is why I felt the sudden need for removing it. The love still survives. The bond will always be there in my heart. But the marriage is over. It's over in the eyes of the law and it's over in the eyes of God. Until death do us part. We fulfilled our vows. We saw our marriage to its completion. I'm so proud of both of us to be able to say that. We made it to the end. But now it's over.
To continue wearing my ring would mean I'm trying to grasp tightly on to something that doesn't exist anymore. Not him...the marriage. I don't need a physical object to remind me that he existed and that we loved each other. That part is embedded in my heart. He is part me and I am part him. If I continue to mourn him every minute of every day until I die, will that somehow prove to everyone how much I loved him? I don't feel the need to prove anything to anybody. I will always know the love in my heart. To let go proves something though. It proves that I've taken everything I've ever learned from him, especially his strength and perseverance, and am applying it to my life. It proves that I am beginning to understand that our love was so much more than a marriage certificate and a couple of gold bands. Our love made me the person I am today.
I don't want to live my life in a way in which, when I die, people will say, "She never moved on after losing him. She never stopped wearing her ring. She cried every single day for what she lost and she was never truly happy after that. She had 20 great years with him and that was it. She actually stopped living the year that he died." Instead, I would like people to be able to say, "She lived through one of the worst things that could ever happen to a person. Sure, she changed. But she didn't become jaded. She learned how to enjoy things in life again...maybe even more than before. She talked of him fondly and often...smiling and laughing as she recalled all of the years they shared together. Even through her pain, she was so grateful that she had him for as long as she did. And then she made the decision to get back out there and live. She knew that his influence on her life could only make her future brighter. His legacy lived on through her."
I used to think that letting go of the intense grief meant getting rid of the memories and trying to forget the love. But I'm learning that letting go doesn't mean getting rid of anything. It's not about giving up or giving in. It doesn't signify weakness. Letting go is quite the opposite. It takes strength and a quiet determination. It signifies a desire to stand up and live again after being knocked down. It's about being secure in knowing that the love and memories will always remain. And that you don't have to hold on to them so tightly anymore because they aren't going to disappear...no matter what. The love will always be there. With or without a ring.
Whatever the future brings, I hope he will be out there...somehow guiding me, encouraging me and cheering me on. When he was alive, I believe he wanted what was best for me. Why would that change now? He didn't ever want me to suffer. He didn't like to see me cry. He knows I need to start letting go. I think he understands. Our marriage has come full circle. The love behind it is never ending.
It's time for me to start living forward now.
It's time to start laughing, seeing, going, doing, experiencing, enjoying, smiling...
It's time to let go.
I've been trying to dip my toes in the water a little more lately. I really do want to engage in life again. I sat at the cemetery last weekend and thought about so many things. Mostly I thought about how my life has been since that horrible day in the hospital. I thought about the path I have taken so far. I thought about my choices I have for the future.
There are literally hundreds of different choices I can make that will alter the course of the rest of my life. But it actually boils down to only two general directions. I can stay miserable, sad, despondent. I can do that while still appearing to function. I can just "show up" to life without participating. That's exactly what I've been doing for the past 8 months and 3 weeks. Sure, I've had a few fun times during that period. But for the most part, it's been a torturous experience....breathing, existing, surviving. And then repeating it again tomorrow.
Then there's my other option. I can begin the process of letting go. I have no doubt it's a very long and complicated process. And a very difficult one. But if I want to live again, if I want that excitement and joy in my life that I used to have, if I want my smile to reach all the way up to my eyes...well, then learning to let go is my only choice.
So I sat out at the cemetery last weekend and told Chuck that I need to choose to start letting go. I told him that I can't go on being this miserable. It really is no way to live. No way at all. And it's something I don't want to experience for one more day. It not only hurts me, but it hurts everyone who loves me. Of course if I could have anything in the world, it would be to have him back here...to have our normal lives back. I would choose to not be in this situation of making these choices in the first place.
But I am.
And so I must.
I can only hope that once our spirits are separated from our bodies, we gain a new understanding. That it's all about love and wanting those we love to continue to grow and laugh and love...and live. To live fully and completely. You see, I still worry about hurting him. If there was even the slightest chance that he'd come back, I would sit here and wait. I wouldn't change a thing so that way our lives could pick up right where we left off. Even if I had to wait 50 years, I would be okay just simply waiting. The hope I would feel would be enough to keep me waiting patiently. But there is no hope of that. So my only hope is that he truly loves me enough to let me go. That he trusts in me enough to allow me to move on. That he wants nothing more than to see me happy. He swore he would die for me. I wonder if he would've ever agreed to let me go if that's what I truly needed to be happy. Selfless concepts. The ultimate sacrifice. All in the name of true and undying love.
So on Monday, 265 days after I lost him, I made a conscious decision to do something I never thought I would do. I took off my wedding ring. For the first time in 13 years. My first, perhaps biggest, step in letting go.
I cried. I told myself that it's a trial. That if I got too panicked, I can always slip it back on. I was sure it would be back on within hours. I haven't put it back on yet. It's sitting there on my dresser...just in case.
From the very beginning, I swore I would always wear it. Until the day I die. It's strange how much grief changes you. Or at least changes your way of thinking and seeing things. I love that ring. I love all that it stands for. (Not stood for...stands for.) It's meaning and symbolism haven't changed. Which is why I felt the sudden need for removing it. The love still survives. The bond will always be there in my heart. But the marriage is over. It's over in the eyes of the law and it's over in the eyes of God. Until death do us part. We fulfilled our vows. We saw our marriage to its completion. I'm so proud of both of us to be able to say that. We made it to the end. But now it's over.
To continue wearing my ring would mean I'm trying to grasp tightly on to something that doesn't exist anymore. Not him...the marriage. I don't need a physical object to remind me that he existed and that we loved each other. That part is embedded in my heart. He is part me and I am part him. If I continue to mourn him every minute of every day until I die, will that somehow prove to everyone how much I loved him? I don't feel the need to prove anything to anybody. I will always know the love in my heart. To let go proves something though. It proves that I've taken everything I've ever learned from him, especially his strength and perseverance, and am applying it to my life. It proves that I am beginning to understand that our love was so much more than a marriage certificate and a couple of gold bands. Our love made me the person I am today.
I don't want to live my life in a way in which, when I die, people will say, "She never moved on after losing him. She never stopped wearing her ring. She cried every single day for what she lost and she was never truly happy after that. She had 20 great years with him and that was it. She actually stopped living the year that he died." Instead, I would like people to be able to say, "She lived through one of the worst things that could ever happen to a person. Sure, she changed. But she didn't become jaded. She learned how to enjoy things in life again...maybe even more than before. She talked of him fondly and often...smiling and laughing as she recalled all of the years they shared together. Even through her pain, she was so grateful that she had him for as long as she did. And then she made the decision to get back out there and live. She knew that his influence on her life could only make her future brighter. His legacy lived on through her."
I used to think that letting go of the intense grief meant getting rid of the memories and trying to forget the love. But I'm learning that letting go doesn't mean getting rid of anything. It's not about giving up or giving in. It doesn't signify weakness. Letting go is quite the opposite. It takes strength and a quiet determination. It signifies a desire to stand up and live again after being knocked down. It's about being secure in knowing that the love and memories will always remain. And that you don't have to hold on to them so tightly anymore because they aren't going to disappear...no matter what. The love will always be there. With or without a ring.
Whatever the future brings, I hope he will be out there...somehow guiding me, encouraging me and cheering me on. When he was alive, I believe he wanted what was best for me. Why would that change now? He didn't ever want me to suffer. He didn't like to see me cry. He knows I need to start letting go. I think he understands. Our marriage has come full circle. The love behind it is never ending.
It's time for me to start living forward now.
It's time to start laughing, seeing, going, doing, experiencing, enjoying, smiling...
It's time to let go.
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