A Legacy of Movies

In about an hour I will have lived an entire calendar year without you.  I'm sure you knew that I could do it and by the grace of God the kids are doing okay.  It seems like just yesterday we were together.  Weird that it feels like that but every day this year felt like an eternity.  I can't really explain that.

On our trip to Branson this year Sophie picked up a stuffed Beta Max doll from the movie Big Hero 6.  You introduced her to that movie and watched it more nights than I can count to get her to go to sleep.  Your mom teared up just a little when she saw it.

Today, Sophie wanted to watch Jack Frost.  She hadn't watched it since the last time she saw it with you.  When I asked her where it was (Netflix, Vudu, etc...)  she said "I don't know.  Daddy always knew how to find it for me."  We talked about you a bit and the movie and then we watched it together.  God how I miss you.

Another Christmas

Another Christmas without you.  I hope I did okay because the depression I felt all day was almost suffocating.  Last year I had a sense of pushing through and making things as normal as I could for the kids.  This year I knew what it would be like.  I knew the quiet.  I knew that I would have no one to lock eyes with as the kids opened their presents.  I knew there would be no snuggling together for a Christmas nap.  I knew.

It was hard to hold our traditions together this year.  Joey wasn't interested and Sophie is slowly becoming a homebody.  The Festival of Fried Foods didn't really even happen.  It makes me sad.  I tried, but it felt almost impossible to keep "our" traditions alive this year.  So the inner struggle begins.  Do I keep trying?  They were important to me, but were they important to you?  To the kids?  You know how I am with holidays.  The anticipation is just as fun as they day.  This year?  bleh.

I wonder what you would say about this.  Would you tell me to do the things we loved?  Would you laugh and tell me to do what feels right?

I don't know.

I found an email from you from several years ago.  It made me cry.  You said that if you went on before me that you would be hanging out in our mansion and getting it ready for us.  You said that I should remember you love me and have a great life.

Wow.  I am so thankful that you said and wrote things like that.

Here's What I Know

It has been more than a year.  It's weird to say that.  It feels like yesterday.  It feels like a few hours ago.  The pain is not gone, but it is not always the same as it was this time last year.  Here's what I know:

1.  God is still with me and I know that he is working.
2.  I can do hard things.  Sometimes without help.
3.  The kids are alive and healthy and although I'm pretty sure I am screwing them up in various ways and am constantly second guessing any of my decisions relating to them, they are alive and healthy.
4.  Social media and the friends I talk to there has been a greater blessing than I ever could have imagined.
5.  Some nights when there's nothing to do and nothing on and I am feeling lonely, there's a sweeping wave of suffocating grief that I still can't control, so I don't.  I cry.  I feel sorry for myself.  I ask God "why me?" Sometimes I open Marco Polo and try to connect with a friend.  Other times I just walk around the house taking big deep breaths and thinking about what you might say to me.  Other times I get Sophie to bed and cry myself to sleep.
6.  Going back to that funeral home caused a moment of panic. Like I couldn't walk in.  I had a little freak out.  I think they should warn people about this event.  Like...take a Valium before you go back there kind of thing.
7.  I cry about a lot of different things that I've never cried about before.  I think this is just they way I am now.  It doesn't make any sense and although I used to hate crying about nothing, now I just do.
8.  I have very little time to deal with bullshit.  It's amazing how much clearer I see different situations, ideas and people.  They are just not really important like I once thought they were.  I spend more time thinking "What's really important?" and then doing that.

Things You Shouldn't Say to a Widow

Things you shouldn't say to a widow in the first year (maybe never):

"Well at least he's not in pain any more."   No, thanks, but I am.  You suck.
"You're young.  You can remarry."  I'm grieving and this is insulting.  You suck.
"At least you had all of that time together."  Whaaaaat?  How is that helpful? Look at all that time you had and now its all over so uhm...yeah.  You suck.
"Are you still really that upset?"  Yes, jackass, I am.  You suck.
"You've got to stay strong for the kids."  This doesn't make me feel stronger.  This causes a great deal of stress and anxiety.  I have never been more aware of my responsibilities than I am now.  You suck.
"Everything works together for good." (and/or quoting Romans 8:28)  How about Proverbs 17:27? An intelligent person restrains his words...   Widows don't need to hear this.  Believers know and maybe someday they will even be able to claim it out loud, but this is NOT comforting when their life is crumbling around them or they are struggling in every way to rebuild it.  You may mean well, but you suck.
"God just needed another angel."  What the hell?  We don't turn into angels.  Why would you think we turn into angels?  Did you learn theology from Tom and Jerry?  God doesn't need anything.  You think he's got some kind of  heavenly GoFundMe thing going on?  We give our tithe, our time, our worship for His glory, not because he has a deficit that we are filling.  Maybe you didn't know this.  I don't know.  You suck.


Things to say only if you really, REALLY, mean it:
"If you need anything just let me know."
This one is tricky, because it is often the most heartfelt.  The thing is, I'm not going to let you know.  I'm going to nod and say that I will, but I'm not.  I'm going to suffer through it.  Pay someone to do it.  Cry in frustration because it was something he always did and I can't figure it out.  Do without.  If you really mean this, they you are just going to have to do/provide things you THINK I might need.  Yes.  Sometimes mind-reading is necessary when dealing with widows.  I don't think I'm the only one that does this.  Sometimes it is just hard to be that vulnerable with others.  Even people that I know love me.
"Is it okay if I check in with you every now and then?"
Yes.  I'm going to need you to that for a couple of years, so...you know...be persistent.


What widows need to hear:
I love you.  I'm praying for you.
This helps.  We know you don't know what to say.  We don't know how to help you through this and we shouldn't have to.
I don't know what to say.
Yeah, I don't either, but you are here and you are saying things and I love you for trying.
I'm sure he will be deeply missed.
This speaks to the loss without making crazy assumptions.  This is safe.  This is good.
His name.
I so desperately need to hear his name in conversation, in stories about him, in reference to special times.  Don't omit his name because I might get upset.  It is much more upsetting to think that you are forgetting him.

I'm Just Not Healthy

It is back to school time.  I miss you.  I want to tell you dozens of stories and watch your face as you approve of my Star Wars classroom.  I am exhausted and I am so incredibly lonely.

I feel terrible.  My blood sugar is insane and although I'm taking measure to improve my health I feel awful.  It's more than just physical.  It is really depression creeping into every part of my life.  Sundays are so hard that I just can't make it to church every time.  It feels like a weight on my chest most times lately.  Sitting there without you.  It is tough.

Worship hurts sometimes.  I love God.  I don't blame your death on Him.  Sometimes finding the strength to open up for worship is overwhelming.  It makes me feel vulnerable in an entirely new way.  Is that what I have to do to feel healed?  I don't know.

Spiritual, emotionally and physically...I'm just not healthy.

I've stopped counseling this summer and decided to spend that money on laser hair removal.  That seems healthy, right? ;-)

Hello and Goodbye

It's your birthday.  I hope you are running and playing football and laughing and hanging out with Dr. Guimon, your dad, my dad...all of those people that I know you found.  I don't know how the whole timeline thing works in Heaven or if that's even a thing.  Regardless of how time works there I bet you know that your friend, Greg Pipkin is there too.

Today was a pretty terrible day.  I've been dreading it.  Hating it.  Crying just to think about it.  I can't even imagine what your mom feels like.  It is just too much.

I cried through most of church.  Lots of people did.  Greg had gone downhill really fast.  Everyone was sad.  The feelings of that first week without you swirled around me, suffocating me.  I couldn't stop thinking about Greg's wife.  I could feel it all over again.  The pain, the shock, the fear.  The visitation for Greg was tonight.  I must have talked myself out of going several times, but eventually I just went.  Joey went too.  When we got to the front his wife whispered "I've been avoiding you."

Yeah.  I get it.  I'm sure that following our story seemed to be prophetic in some ways.  In terrible, awful, dreading ways.  And then I got the hell out of there.  I just couldn't take it.  The familiarity of it all is too much.

We went to the cemetery.  Your sweet mama brought you a card and a pack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  More tears. 

This is not the way it was supposed to be.

Some day I hope that your birthday will find me and the kids and other people that loved you at Imo's eating a Jason's Special and laughing as we remember good times together.  That isn't this year.  I can't even smell Imo's without crying.  Maybe next year.

Happy birthday.  My love for you is without end.

I Can't Hear God's Voice

Sophie:  Mom, I can't hear God's voice.
Me:  What?
Sophie:  I'm trying to hear God's voice and I can't because it is REALLY loud in here.

and then we prayed together.

and then she sang this song:

In my dreams I talk to you

I hope someday it will come true

I hope you will be proud of me

I’m helping other humans find a place

I wish that I could see your face

Because I have so many stories

I’ll meet you in my dreams

I know that you love me

I love you too.

You’ve missed so much since you’ve gone

On this day I carry on

Holding you close in my heart

I can dream of you….

I can dream of you….

She is smart and sensitive and just amazing.  She is so you.
We miss you some days so much it is hard to think of anything else.

Functioning

It's my birthday month.  God, how I miss you.  My birthday was fine.  Mother's Day was fine.  *sigh*  No, it wasn't.  Nothing seems fine without you.  I've heard and read so much about the first time of everything without you will be tough.  Yep.  It feels like part of me is gone, dead, buried with you.

The biggest miss?  Sophie graduated from Kindergarten with a fist full of awards.  Joey was a great big brother and the grandmas were there.  You would have been so proud.  You would have hated the ceremony though.  I'm pretty sure it was about 110 degrees in there.  I had swamp ass and swamp tits and swamp everything.  I had to go and CHANGE before I went back to work.  *giggle*

I've made it through the school year.
I've filled up my summer with stuff to do.
I've been in counseling for a few months now.

Counseling has helped.  I was really haunted by that last day.  She's helping take the trauma out of that memory.  I mean, I'll never forget but seeing and hearing and smelling our last minutes together repeatedly, all day long was really starting to interfere with my ability to function.

So I guess that's what May has brought me.  I can function.
There.  I said it.
I can function without you.

And I hate every single minute of it.