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.

Happy Birthday to You in Heaven

I often thought over the years about people and their birthdays after they die. Especially over the last 9 years. These years have been particularly difficult for me. I lost my Dad, my mother-in-law, my son, my grandma and my husband in those years.

My husband's 71st birthday is today. February 3rd. A day that I've acknowledged and celebrated with him for the last 25 years. Last year this time, he was in a nursing home. I carried him balloons and a card and sang happy birthday to him. He thanked me but with little enthusiasm. I wondered if he had even remembered it was his day.

This year, I remembered. I took the balloons to the cemetery. Tied them to the vase on our headstone. Sang happy birthday to the ground. What a difference a year makes. I left feeling empty and sad. Wishing for one more smile from him. One more anything from him would do.

So I paused, remembered, and acknowledged his birthday for the 26th time since he came into my life. It was different. I looked up. Smiled to the heavens and said, " Happy Birthday baby. Hope it's better in heaven than it was here for the past few birthdays." As a tear rolled down my cheek, I heard his voice in my head say, "It is my dear, it is."

I miss him. John, my birthday boy in Heaven. Drag racing on those streets of gold must be one sight to behold I bet. See you when I get there. Until then. I'll be loving you.

The Scent of a Memory

My husband was a wonderful cook. He loved to eat and he loved to see other people enjoy what he prepared.

He did the majority of the cooking during our relationship. I usually picked up the spatula duties on the weekends. My cooking skills were no where near the level of his. So said he. He cooked using techniques passed to him from his mother and from a friend who once was a short order cook. He used salt, pepper and sugar in most of his dishes.

One of my favorite dishes of his was smoked neck bones. He'd put them into the crock pot when he got up in the mornings and they would cook slowly all day. When I would walk into the house after being on the job, I would inhale that aroma and know that he thought of me on this day when the cooking started. Diving into that crock pot after a hard day's work was one of my guilty pleasures. Lucky for me, I watched and learned. My neck bones can hold their own against my memory of his. So I cook them every so often.

I cook mine overnight. Yummy! I put some on last night. I fell asleep to that scent. I awoke to it. I told my daughter upon returning home from church, "it smells like your dad's been in here cooking." She smiled and said, "Yeah."

Funny how something as small as the smell of a certain food can bring back some of my most fondest memories. Many a day I came home to be greeted with the smell of smoked neck bones jumping in the crock pot. Many a day spent laughing and eating my favorite food with my favorite guy.

Those days are long gone from my world now. Never able to make a new memory with him. But as long as I have my memories and my neck bones, he's never that far away. Each time that I cook neck bones for dinner, I will think of him.

I miss him. John, my chief cook and bottle washer.

Smoked neck bones will always be good to the taste but they will never be the same in my heart.

Dream a Lil Dream..

I had dream #2 about my husband on yesterday morning (Jan. 9, 2009). I hate dreams in the morning hours because they always seem to be a bit on the "weird" side for me. The strangest dreams I've ever had have come in the wee hours of the morning. Usually something that jolts me out of my sleep. This was no different.

The content of the dream really had me upset. I knew instantly that this was not a "visit" from John just because of what happened in the dream. I woke up mad at him. Yes! Mad at him. He's not even here and I was mad at him for something that didn't even take place in that dream. How ridiculous was that? You can say it. I did.

I'll spare you all the boring details and give you the Cliff notes version. He had been working on a car (one that he drove when we first met and starting dating). He went into the house, took a shower, put on some fresh clothes(not his normal attire though)and doused himself in some smelly cologne (also something he didn't do normally). I met him in the hallway of this house as he was following behind a woman with that "look" on his face. I knew the instant that I saw that "look" what was on his mind. I recognized that look as I had seen it literally hundreds of times over the course of our 25 year relationship. He thought he was about to get "lucky". However, he apparently forgot he was married to me and so I gently reminded him of this by pushing him against the wall and with my finger poking him in the chest said, "If you lay a hand on her, I will kick your a%&." He then says, "I don't know why you're saying things like that, I haven't done anything, you know I wouldn't do that kind of thing." I woke up. Madder than a wet hen so to speak. I turned to his side of the bed and thought, "you idiot, he isn't even here anymore. How pitiful are you? Being mad at your dead husband for your dreams about him making a play for someone else." I laughed at myself out loud. But I felt out of sorts the rest of the day. Angry with myself for being angry with him. So I went to the cemetery and told him about the dream. Cried. Laughed. Answered my questions in his voice. Laughed some more. Cried some more and then left. That helped but I still felt like an idiot.

My husband had never given me any reason to believe that he ever "cheated" on me when he was alive. I never entertained that idea for any reason. I had no reason to believe he did that at any time during our relationship. It never even entered my mind. So why in the world did I have a dream like this after he has died? I was just flabbergasted. No answers. No one to confide this in. If he were here, I would have discussed it with him. We would have laughed and we would have moved on. I don't have that anymore. In that dream, for the first time in our 25 year relationship, that look on his face, the one that indicated he was about to get "lucky", wasn't directed at me. That was more than I could take in that moment. But I know that was a moment of weakness exploited by the great pretender to make me question the loyalty of the man that I loved after he was gone. They can't get to John's mind anymore, so they've started working on mine. I know I'm stronger than that. But I am only human. I have weak moments. Like when I'm asleep.

I know that John would never have done those things. I know that he loved me. I know that he loved me enough to not do that to us. I also now know that if I would have ever caught him doing things like this, I would have fought to the end. I always thought that I would have just walked away. But after that dream, I think I would have kicked arse and took names and worried about the rest later. I would have been crushed. And I would have lashed out. Not a good thing and perhaps that's what had me so messed up. Maybe I'm not the woman I thought I was.

Dreams are powerful things. If you're not careful, they can make you do and think things that you wouldn't normally think or do. Prepare yourself. The enemy knows our weaknesses and he has no problem using them to his advantage. And he gets the results that he wants by our reactions to his workings.

Glad that one is over. It was nice to see him tho. Although I threatened to kick his arse, at least I had something to kick it for. Love. I miss him.

Becoming "Un"-Married

Technically. Legally. Spiritually. I became "un"-married on July 22, 2009. Emotionally speaking......not so much.

I never thought about how daunting a task this would be. When you take the vows, you never think about what's going to happen when you have to live the vows. You know the part I'm talking about. 'Till death do us part' Yeah. That part.

It's coming up on 6 months since I've lost the love of my life. So I've decided that I should be trying to wean myself from wearing the wedding ring. The funny thing about that is every time I go out w/o it on my finger, I feel like I'm doing something wrong. I know that it's perfectly acceptable for me not to wear my wedding ring. I've asked others who have been down this road, "how long do I continue to wear my ring?" "You'll know when to take it off.", "Whenever you're ready.", "There's no real time frame." , "There's no need to rush anything." Those were a few of the answers that I got. So...no real answers.

So how do you get "un"-married? The feelings that led me to marry John are still here. I still love him very much. That didn't die with him. It still lives inside of me. That's why I feel like I'm betraying him when I don't wear the wedding ring.

How do I move on if I'm still in love with my husband who happens to be dead? This is not the way it was supposed to be. But it is what it is.

As for me, I still feel married. I'm venturing out without the ring because I know I can't wear it for the rest of my life. But is my love for John in the ring or in my heart? The ring is merely a symbol of our love and the vows that we took. My love for him still beats in my heart with or without the ring. I still love him. And I don't think that will ever change. But I'm also still IN LOVE with him and I can't move on if that's the case.

To wear the ring or not to wear the ring. That is the question. There are no hard & fast rules. It's a personal journey. One that I wish I didn't have to embark on but also one that no one can avoid.

I miss him. John, my "un" husband.

Flashbacks...

I have them all of the time. I could be in the middle of work and BAM!, flashback! Quick, lil "clips" of our lives together. Some make me laugh. Some make me feel good inside. Some bring tears to my eyes.

As I sat on our bed tonight and told our daughter of some of the early days of her father & I's courtship, I found myself smiling. Smiling as I remembered, with stark clarity, how easily this relationship took shape. I told her how he asked me out the first time. How we met for breakfast and laughed the morning away together. I told her how I enjoyed almost every moment of our 25 years together.

Then, as I looked at the collage of photos that resides above our bed, the tears welled up. I then told her, "your dad was a good man. He was good to me and he loved you very much. I know in my heart that if your brother hadn't gotten killed, your father would probably still be here today." And with a level of maturity that I didn't realize she possessed, she said, " I know Ma. He loved us very much and losing Derrick was too much for him." My baby isn't a baby anymore.

I told her, "your dad was a special, one-of-a-kind man." She agreed. We both know he's where he should be. Reunited with our baby boy and his mother. She then says to me, " I often wondered what it was gonna be like without both of them here." I said, "it's no fun." She agrees again.

I proceeded to wipe away the tears and she got up to leave the room. We both said, "I miss them."

Flashbacks. A private life movie that belongs to only me. I need flashbacks to survive this journey.

I miss him. John, my flashback star.

A 'New' New Year..

It was different this year. There was no phone call at the stroke of midnight.
"Happy New Year Dear! Whatcha doin still up at this time of night? Don't you know it's
past your bed time? The kids in bed yet?"
I didn't spend this new years in a hospital by his bed so that my face was the first he would see in the new year. We didn't do the countdown together to usher in this new year as a couple nor did I get my new years kiss.

For 25 years, my New Years Eve was spent doing those things in some form. Not this year. The kids are no longer kids. There's only 1 and she's 23 now. My husband's not in the hospital nor is he at work this time. No, he's far from that. And I'm alone with my life for this New Year.

Bringing in the new year without the person whose meant the most to me for such a long time is far from the usual. It's odd in every way. I can't really explain it. Everything seemed just the slightest bit off. Out of whack. Off kilter. He was like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle that made the picture complete. Without him, I'm incomplete. It's a reality that I must come to accept if I plan on moving forward. And I do.

In the meantime, I have to find a way through this maze called grief. It will be a hard fought battle. Progress and set backs. 2 steps forward, 1 step back. It does get better. I know this to be true. I've been down this road a time or 2. I'm no stranger to the throes of grief. So I know all too well that this is but a season.

2010 - I still find it hard to believe that a new year has come. I dreaded it and embraced it at the same time. When I finally do get back to being me or I should say find out who I am without him, that, too will make me sad. I'll then realize that I have moved on and left that part of my life behind. But the memories will linger in my head and in my heart for the rest of my life. No matter how long or short that life will be.

I miss him. John, my happiness in the "Happy New Years" of life.