My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

6 months ago I blogged about what would have been my 13th wedding anniversary. Then I stopped blogging. I spent the last couple of months of 2010 being enveloped by a dark cloud mostly consisting of anger and depression. It really hit me on Mike’s birthday in November and then didn’t let up until after the 3rd anniversary of his death in January. Truth be told, life isn’t much different than it was 3 years ago. The only difference is that the sting of his passing isn’t as painful as it once was, I am no longer shocked to know that he’s gone and I don’t expect him to come walking through my door anytime soon. Honestly, my day to day living doesn’t include sitting here pining away for him. Part of that makes me sad because I want to hold on to that part of our marriage that was wonderful. But part of me is relieved. It’s exhausting to mourn. I’m tired of it. I am sick of being sad. And I’m so wanting to be over being mad at him.

So… I have been putting my energies elsewhere. I am still at home helping my mom. Her recovery from her stroke has been long and difficult – mostly for her, not me. It has taxed my patience though. There are times when I feel like I have none. But I have to remember she’s starting many things over from scratch. She is frustrated and angry too. It’s very hard for her to resign herself to the fact that things can’t get back to the way they were and she needs someone here to do the basic necessities because honestly she’d just forget to do it otherwise. So, I’m it. She gets her medicine, breakfast and her bathing from me. From wake up to lunchtime it’s just us. Then Dad comes home and takes over – just in time for me to pick up the kid from school and do a different kind of mothering.

Speaking of the kid, she’s grown – A LOT – this year. I hardly recognize the little girl anymore. She’s turning to such a young lady. She’ll be a flower girl in her first wedding this May and is very excited. This morning we went to a bridal store to pick out her dress and get it pinned for alterations. She’ll have shoes dyed to match too. I got a brief glimpse today of what it will be like to go prom shopping and someday, wedding dress shopping with her.

Let’s see…what else is new?? Well, the weight loss thing… I started on this journey in January of last year. I was doing really good until about Mid-May when Mom got sick. By that point I had dropped about 42lbs. And then things just came to a screeching halt. I stopped going to the gym as I couldn’t leave Mom alone for extended periods of time and finally by the time I could, I had gotten out of the habit. I was fortunate that I only gained back about 5lbs but I knew that when the new year got here again this year, I would really want to step it up again so I can at least reach my goal by this May. Will it happen? I dunno. As of this morning I am down about 11lbs since the first of the year. That’s good but not GREAT. I see-saw give or take about 2 lbs. The good news is that when the rubber band stops bouncing, I am usually lighter than I was before. It’s just not by a lot. But I’ll keep trying. I am drinking water and trying to not eat a lot and I am going to exercise. I HOPE that I can be where I want to be by the wedding in May. No. NOT MY WEDDING. Ugh! As if! Look at that picture above? That wedding the kid is in, I am in too but I am a bridesmaid and I want to look good in my dress. Seriously I didn’t even try this hard for my own wedding. Hmm.. wonder why that is? *shrug*

Okay so the big BIG news of this year is that I will be going on the Rick Springfield cruise in November. Hence the reason for the new look to the site. I intend on blogging from the ship (if I can get an internet connection) and sharing my experiences with the world (and the family back home). This is a mega-big deal for me so be happy for me! I am pretty excited and so is Michaela who will be my companion. Mommy & Daughter are going on an adventure and we couldn’t be more excited!

Between now and then, however I have a wedding in May, front row (!!!!) tickets for Rick Springfield in June, a trip to California with Michaela to visit with some friends in July, a possible trip to Mike’s family in August and Michaela’s 9th birthday to look forward to. It’s going to be a busy 2011.

Still hard to believe.

Still can’t sing that hymn in church.

Still see you in her eyes.

Still find it easier to live in denial.

Still feel rushes of sadness overwhelm me.

Still think of you every day.

Still won’t eat at that place I got lunch the day you left.

Still remember how cold it felt to kiss you goodbye.

Still get mad at myself for feeling this way.

Still missing you.

still sucks.

I once saw a person eat a tomato like it was an apple. There’s nothing wrong with that. I am sure that if you’re a tomato person (and I am NOT), it can be an enjoyable experience. But if you have ever seen a tomato – and I am sure you have – and if you have ever tried to slice a tomato with a dull knife, you will undoubtedly know that it can be a messy thing. The same can be said when someone bites into one. The person that I witnessed engorging themselves in tomato bliss, although enjoying themselves, fell victim to the tomato. Most if it ended up on their shirt instead of inside their mouth. It was a mess. The only thing worse than watching this person obliterate the tomato all over their shirt was watching a lady in the car next to me at a stop light pick her nose and then eat her new found treasure. True story. But that’s another blog post. So why even mention this? Well, I always thought that I wouldn’t ever want to be such a slob. I mean, I am no beauty queen. I am about as graceful as an ox on a frozen lake. But I wouldn’t want to prance around town with a tomato stain on my shirt either.Then I became a mom.I don’t know exactly when it happened for the first time. But I started to notice that I had a drinking problem shortly after the birth of my daughter. No. My vice isn’t alcohol. I just can’t for the life of me take a drink of water, milk, soda – anything without it dribbling out the corner of my mouth and dripping off my chin. Inevitably if I eat spaghetti, for example, I will leave the dinner table with a new design on my shirt – polkadots made of sauce. Or pizza? I may find an olive, dried up and shriveled and STUCK to my shirt an hour later. My personal favorite is popcorn….I keep a treasure trove of that in my bra. My mom once told me that it was what happens when you become a mom. It almost sounded like a badge of honor that I should be proud to wear. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE being a mom. I just don’t like looking like I am 4 months old and can’t hold my rice cereal. My mom has accepted that this just comes with the territory. In fact, it doesn’t even register with her that a Cheerio from 3 days ago can be a snack for later on today. What’s so wrong with that?So, anyway, what’s the point? I was just thinking about it as I was washing off the chocolate milk that I dribbled down my shirt a few minutes ago. I was thinking about how different my life has become. I’m not complaining…well, not really. Some parts of my life really suck. Actually, ONE thing really sucks. My husband is dead. It is a reality that I live with daily. What’s weird is that sometimes I forget that part of it. I just get so busy and although that’s really great to be busy, it’s a huge depression of my mood when I realize, “Whoa! Mike is DEAD! When did THAT happen?” But I digress….this isn’t supposed to be some wo is me post. It was only spilled chocolate milk, for Heaven’s sake. I shouldn’t cry over it (ha ha). I never really understood what it meant to be one of those frazzled – do everything Moms. At one time, I had a partner. He and I shared lots of the responsibilities – mainly getting Michaela to school, picking her up, etc. For years I would get up in the morning, get dressed and go to work. I’d work the 8-5 job and come home. Some nights Mike was there cooking dinner when I got there. Other nights when it was his turn to work, I would pick up Michaela from my Mom’s and do the nightly ritual of dinner and put the kid to bed. It was a ritual. It was the same every day. It was comfort.Now, it’s different. Now there is a sense of urgency in my day. Now there is a nagging need to make sure that I do it all. Sure I am bringing it all on myself. Gimme a break. I’ve never been through this before. I have heard people talk about how humbling it is to give service. Try letting some one render you a service. Those chocolate milk stains won’t seem so bad…

I don’t post a whole lot about this these days. Usually I wait til those waves of grief are overpowering which is what it was like early on in this new journey of mine. *Sigh*… I say new… It’s been 20.5 months. I supposed I should be used this feeling but there is always something that brings things back…stark reminders of what was and will never be. Today some good friends lost their baby. They were only a couple weeks away from delivery. I saw her at church on Sunday and all seemed well. She looked ripe-ready to pop at any moment. They have all girls – 5, I think and this was to be their first boy – the long awaited son and they were excited, I could tell. And this morning all of that changed. I don’t know the details other than he never had a chance to be born. I am guessing that she was at a doctor’s appointment which is routine towards the end of a pregnancy and something went wrong. I really don’t know but it doesn’t matter how he died. The main thing is that he never had a chance to live. And that to me is a difficult pill to swallow – much like the death of Mike who although an adult with issues, he was recognizing what they were at the end and seemed committed to fixing them. He was taken before he could even give it a try. So today is marred in sadness. Because I grieve again for another loss – one that was unexpected and senseless …just like Mike’s.When I get reflective like this I usually head over to the widow bulletin board to commiserate with all the other sufferers out there and today I found a letter. The letter is something the writer said was something that we widows could give to a DGI. DGI stands for “Don’t Get It”…it’s an acronym given by widows to people misinterpret their feelings and say inappropriate and insensitive things. It’s the first time that I have found in words exactly how it feels to be grieving. Now, all grief is different. Losing a child is very different than losing a spouse. But BOTH hurt terribly. I would not venture to assume that I know what kind of pain my friends are going through. I can’t image losing a child. But I know what it feels like to lose my life’s partner and this describes it to a “t”. So, in case you were wondering.. here it is…

HOW YOU CAN HELP MEPlease talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is morecomforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talkabout him, and I need to do it over and over.Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Getcomfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never knowwhen my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.Don’t abandon me with the excuse that you don’t want to upset me. Youcan’t catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraidto call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when Imost need to be cared about. If you don’t know what to say, just comeover, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, “I’m sorry.” Youcan even say, “I just don’t know what to say, but I care, and want youto know that.”Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how Ifeel only if you really have time to find out.I am not strong. I’m just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feelthat you don’t see me.I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I’m not sick. I’mgrieving and that’s different. My grieving may only begin 6 months aftermy loved one’s death. Don’t think that I will be over it in a year. ForI am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I waswith him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching ourchildren and grandchildren grow, the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget myloved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life andlove into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be,and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear.Both are okay.I don’t have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it hashappened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are justnot acceptable.When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost andalone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don’tmake it worse by telling me I’m not doing this right.Please don’t tell me I can find someone else or that I need to startdating again. I’m not ready. And maybe I don’t want to. And besides,what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren’t. Whoever comesafter will always be someone different.I don’t even understand what you mean when you say, “You’ve got to geton with your life.” My life is going on, I’ve been forced to take onmany new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you thinkit should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. Soplease, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love andsupport, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forgetand there will always be times that I cry.I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, yourhugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I needto know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief inmy own way, and in my own time.Please don’t say, “Call me if you need anything.” I’ll never call youbecause I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you coulddo for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give yousome ideas:(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.(b) Send me a card on special holidays, his birthday, and theanniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can’tmake me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me theopportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reachout on this difficult day.(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. Imay so no at first or even for a while, but please don’t give up on mebecause somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you’ve given upthen I really will be alone.(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples,to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable.Please don’t judge me now – or think that I’m behaving strangely.Remember I’m grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feeldeep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I’mexperiencing a pain unlike any I’ve ever felt before and one that can’tbe imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.Don’t worry if you think I’m getting better and then suddenly I seem toslip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don’ttell me you know how I feel, or that it’s time for me to get on with mylife. What I need now is time to grieve.Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience.Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding. Thankyou for praying for me.And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss – when you needme as I have needed you – I will understand. And then I will come and bewith you.

And for the record… I’m doing better now. Really, I am. But there are still times when I feel like I am losing my mind. This too shall pass… I just don’t know when. So just bare with me…k?

The realtor called today. The buyers have finally accepted the terms of the sale and now all I have to do is wait. They had hit my last nerve the other day with all of their demands and then had the nerve to want me to lower the price even more. I was about to throw in the towel and keep the house. It just seemed like it was worth more to me than them. In many ways it feels like a chore to go there. It’s a good 20 minute drive to get there. But then once I am there, it’s home. I lived there with my husband and child for 4 years. When I stand in my living room, I would think that I would feel immense sadness because that is where Mike drew is last breath. But, I don’t. Nothing about the house creeps me out. If anything, I feel closer to him there. And now with the sale of the house appearing to actually happen, it’s the so called proverbial start of the next chapter. I feel like I am closing the book, though. I mean, if my life before all of this was Chapter 1, that is one heck of a long chapter.We go through periods in our lives that see changes. We have our birth. Our adolescence. Our teenage years. Our 20s. Marriage. Children. And I would think that if you stick on that same course, you’re within the same book. But when you face the death of a spouse, all of a sudden your whole outlook changes. Who are you as an individual? Are your goals the same? Do you want the same things as you did before he died? What do you want to be? What is your path? Nah…this certainly doesn’t feel like a new chapter to me. This definitely feels like a new book. My old book will end with the sale of my house, I think. It’s my last material connection to Mike.Of course, he’ll always be with me. Every time I look at Michaela, he’ll be there looking back at me. Every time she bites her nails I will be cursing him through clinched teeth because that was one of his bad habits that drove me crazy. She looks just like him doing the same thing and what’s ironic is that she didn’t get the habit until after he died.  *sigh*To some degree, the idea of starting new is a little exciting. There are a lot of possibilities. But on the other hand, it’s scary. I look at that picture at the top of this post and I remember that moment so well. And I end up missing him so much. And it makes me want to keep that old dusty book open so I can re-read some of those chapters. But you can’t go back…Here’s to looking forward.

Note: I started to write this on Valentines day which can explain a lot. And I didn’t want to publish it because at the time, I just needed to “get it out.” But today is different. I have been reading a lot of articles online about last night’s episode of American Idol. A lot has been said today about Danny Gokey. Frankly, the comments have been mean. The references to his deceased wife have been offensive. And it has had me thinking a lot about who we are and where our humanity has gone. It’s not in a good place, let me tell you! So, I’m publishing these thoughts anyway. But I preface this by saying to those who have been with me the past year, have made an effort to communicate with me and have offered support, this post is not a reflection on you. You know who you are. And if for some reason what I say touches a nerve, um..well, all I can say about that, is think about why it has and promise yourself you’ll do better. I don’t need to know about it. I don’t even need to know who you are. Just take it for what it’s worth…There is a term that is used on the widow website that I lurk on – Don’t Get It – or DGI. This is what widows call people who do something or say something that is insensitive to the widow. I have contemplated writing about this for a while and haven’t done so because (1) it can sound petty and (2) I don’t want to offend anyone who would think I am singling them out as a DGI. Heaven forbid! But this topic keeps surfacing in my thoughts and today it did again for no particular reason although I think it was because today was Valentines Day and although I don’t think much about this day in general, I can’t help but think about what’s not in my life any more which leads to thinking about other things of which includes some of the stupid things that have been said or done that I have taken in a way much differently than I would have taken them had I not been a widow. Still with me? I have decided that becoming a widow completely makes you lose your mind. You can get pieces of it back from time to time but most of the time you are in a state of freak out and how you process information is totally and completely different than how a “normal person” would process information. Yes. I am being deliberately vague. Deal with it. There should be a handbook of instructions for what to say and do (or not do). Because unless you’ve been there yourself, chances are you are going to say or do something that will make the widow feel as if her beloved’s died all over again. I can’t say that you’ll never walk in my shoes. Other than taxes, nothing else is sure other than death. If you’re married or with someone, odds are that either one of you will die before the other. But until then, I can best liken widowhood to losing a limb – ripping your heart from your chest – taking your breath away – having no identity – being awake but not alive. It is the opitomy of loneliness and pain. And the very last thing in the world a widow needs is abandonment of his/her friends. A widow feels abandoned enough already. It’s only worse when those who promise to be there, aren’t. Or when asked by and old “friend” who may not be aware of your new reality, “what’s new?” and you tell them your sad story, the only response you get in return is the sound of crickets. It’s times like this when you find out who your friends really are. Now… to the obvious people who will read this, take heart… This is NOT about you. I for one, am so grateful that despite my grief and dwelling on the unfortunate reality this is now my life, you have stuck around anyway. Like I said, you find out who your friends are. I am grateful beyond words for the love and support I have been given. But… In searching for who I am, I have looked backwards to friends and acquaintances of old perhaps to recapture some of the magic of my youth and yes, I have heard crickets. Is it the fear of saying the wrong thing? Is it this fear that I’ll dump all my crap on you? Or is it just simple avoidance of the awkward and uncomfortable? I dunno. But it’s left me wondering if had the roles been reversed would I react in the same way? I would hope not. I would hope that I would reach out my hand say that my heart aches because you, my friend are hurting. I would hope that if I offered anything to you, my promises wouldn’t just be hollow rhetoric. I would hope that I would treat you no differently than I had before your tragic loss. I would hope that I would count you among my friends. Someone you could turn to to just have a simple conversation with. We wouldn’t even have to talk about the bad stuff but if we did, I would listen. I would hope that I would be that friend for you. I have been fortunate to witness some amazing things these past 13.5 months. I consider myself one of the lucky widows who has had wonderful family and a close group of friends to love and support me in my time of need. I read often of the plights of others who have suffered similar tragedies and aren’t as lucky. I read with amazement how so many are tortured by in-laws who go after inheritances or speak ill of the widow(er) freely or worse. I am not one of those people. I haven’t experienced anything as horrible as that. So, I am blessed. I know that. But that isn’t to say that I haven’t had my disappointments this past year. And as disappointed as I have been in some, I am thankful for the opportunity it has given me to acknowledge the imperfections in others so that I may rise above the imperfections in myself and one day, if given the opportunity, I can extend the hand of friendship to someone who is lonely and in need.