A Year of Firsts...

I can't believe it's been a year already. On this day, 1 year ago, I kissed my husband for the final time and told him that I would be alright without him. Well, that was a complete & utter fabrication, but here I am. Still alive, still breathing, still feeling my way around this new landscape of widow-hood.



I've made it through all of the "firsts". The first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, his birthday, Valentine's Day, Easter, Mother's Day, Memorial Day, my birthday, Father's Day, 4th of July and now the first anniversary of his death. The year was full of highs and lows, what if's and if only's. The constant, "John would say" or "my husband this or my husband that" echoed in all of my conversations.



I can't tell you how many times I've said "I miss you John" over the last 365 days. I don't know how many tears I've cried or how many memories I've replayed in my head. I don't know how many times I've wished he were here with us. Nor can I explain how a person can be so lonely in a room full of people. But I can tell you that I don't like being a widow.



I know he's no longer trapped, in a less than perfect body, by the illnesses that took him from me. I understand that he's free. But I also live without him every day and that hurts. I long to touch him, to look into his eyes and to hear him say, "honey, everything's gonna be alright." He was right, everything is alright. Everything except me that is. I know I have to let him go but how do you let go of the one thing that you'd struggled to keep for so long?



Now reality settles in. He's really gone. I'm really a widow. I'm really alone. I'm not "his wife" any longer. Til death do us part....How do you just stop it? How do you exist without someone who was instrumental in shaping the person you are today? It's far from easy. The heart has a mind of it's own. It feels what it feels and it pulls me there over & over.



Memories. They play like a movie in my head. I close my eyes & I can see him, hear him, touch him. How I miss those moments. Moments that only he & I shared. Moments that you can't describe to others because you don't have the words or you can't lend it justice with mere words.



It's a rough road. But one well travelled. I know I can make it but I wish I didn't have to. It's inevitable. If not me, then it would've been him and I know that I'm more equipped for the journey than he would've been.



I miss you my dear. My life will never be the same. I'm thankful to God for having been able to spend a portion of my life with someone as wonderful as you. I know you're saving me a place and I'll be there by & by. Until then, I'll continue this journey with you in my heart instead of by my side. I'll see what's at the other end of this long, lonely highway. You'll always be in my heart and I'll hold onto those memories for the rest of my life.

RIP John. You were my joy. Thanks for being who you were.

I love you, I miss you and I wish you were here.

I'll see you when I get there Baby!

Love,

Me

"Doin' Me..."

I've heard this phrase hundreds (or what seems like hundreds)of times over the past 8 months. "It's time for you to do you.", "You just have to do you now.", "You are just gonna have to learn to do you." and my personal favorite, "Girl, it's time to do you and keep it moving!".

I listened and didn't listen at the same time. Every time someone would say that, I would think to myself, "well who is that?", or "how do you do that?", or "who am I and what do I do?". I don't know who I am anymore. It's been so long since it was just me, I can't remember who 'me' is. I went from being me, a 18y/o, graduating senior to Uncle Sam's sailor to John's "old lady" (I hated that label), to Nicole's mom to Derrick's mom to John's wife to grieving mom to John's caretaker to John's widow (hate this one too). Where am I in all of that? I don't see my name listed anywhere. I know I'm there somewhere in that big pile of love, pain, laughter, tears and happiness that is my life. But for the life of me I can't find me. I don't like being a widow. I don't like being the surviving mother of a child lost to violence. Unfortunately, those 2 labels I can't escape.

I know I'm a child of God. I know that's the ultimate label. But how do I incorporate me in to everything else? When folks ask me to go places, I find myself hesitating because I feel I should be doing something more purposeful. But how do you do you when you don't know who you are?

I didn't think I was defined by my husband. And on some level, I wasn't. But he had always been here for me, with me and beside me. Part of me is gone. So how can I do me if part of me isn't here? I feel selfish sometimes. Guilty, even. I do know that these feelings will pass with time. But I still have to figure out how to do me after spending over half of my life doing others first. A monumental task for a natural born caretaker.

I miss him. John, the part of me that I knew.

Un-Happy Valentine's Day

My husband & I were never big on Valentine's Day celebrations. I can probably count the number of times on one hand that we actually exchanged gifts. One year, he gave me this huge bouquet of roses and a card, but only after being " overly encouraged" by my friends and co-workers. I gave him a pair of silk boxer shorts and a basket of "love items" one year. He got a big kick out of that. Over the past few years, I bought him heart shaped balloons and a variety of stuffed animals along with cards. Last year, I gave him balloons, a stuffed bear and a musical card. He thanked me and liked the balloons. He and I always felt that we didn't need a specific day to show our love for one another, we did that on a daily basis. Why spend money unnecessarily?

This year marked the 1st time in 26 years that I didn't have him to at least wish me a happy valentine's day. So I wasn't very happy needless to say.

I took 2 balloons, (1 for me, 1 for him) and tied them to the mini flag pole that I had placed into the vase on the headstone this morning. I stood there. Looking at his name looking up at me. Trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he's really gone. I still don't quite believe it. But I know it's all too real. I was there when he drew his last breath.

If he were here today, he would have woke me up with a kiss and a "Happy Valentine's Day honey" whispered in my ear. Then he would have added, "want to mess around?" I would have laughed and said, "Where are my flowers?" "In the store where they belong.", is what his answer would have said. "Why buy flowers, they will die in a week." Why, indeed. But it wasn't the flowers that died, it was him. My brother-in-law said to me yesterday, "he left you, you know." I said, "no, he died there's a difference." He asked me what the difference was. "He didn't choose to go." His response was, "but isn't he still gone?" I didn't know what else to say. He was partially right. He is gone. And I have to learn to live with it. But I don't have to like it and I don't.

I miss him. John, my funny Valentine.