The Dream

It was very quick, but it was him. I'd been waiting for him to come visit, and I hope it wasn't just my mind playing tricks on me. But it seemed so true to what has been happening.

I saw him last week, early in the morning. He was laying down and looked much younger (around 22 maybe, clean shaven). He had his hands behind his head.
He looked at me and said "I can't believe this has all turned out to be about money". Which to me is his way of half cracking a joke and talking about all the fundraising and benefits that have been going on for our family.
I looked at him and said "Don't you think that I'd give every dollar back just to have you back here with us???". And he started to cry. His eyes welled up and he had tears streaming down his face. And he said "I'm so sorry. I love you more than anything."
And I looked at him and said "You're the love of my life, and I'll always love  you - forever". And just like that he was gone.
It had to be him. 

Things that are hard

Ugh. What isn't hard these days? I will choose just a few to talk about today. Some of them surprise even me. I am hoping that by talking about these things here, they will start to become easier or help me understand them so I can at least deal with them better. At the end of the day there is very little that isn't difficult and doesn't remind me that Mike is no longer here with us. Every minute of every day there is something that reminds me he's gone. But there are a few things that end up being more difficult than others.

1. Seeing/being around couples.

Being around people who are in love, or married, is really difficult. Especially when I see them being affectionate with each other or talking to each other closely. Immediately I am wishing he was here when I see this happen, and reminded that I don't have that anymore. Even if they are arguing about something I'm thinking 'I really wish he was here so I could give him a hard time about something'. Or I want to tell the couple to take a break and remember that they love each other and one of them could be gone at any moment.What a downer I am. That doesn't mean I won't be around them, since that would mean I can't be around most of my family and friends. But I find myself walking away when being around them starts to be hard for me.

2. Thinking about the future.
I'm typically a person who thinks about the future a lot. I'm a planner, by nature. I like to look out on the horizon and know what we've got going on in the future. Trips, events, major things we wanted to or should do. House projects and kids stuff. On 4/20 my ability to do that crumbled. I have a hard time even looking ahead to the end of the current day, let alone think about tomorrow, next week, next month or next year.  Because he is no longer a part of the future, except in spirit. So now when I think about the kids birthdays, holidays coming up ,or other things it's a reminder, yet again, that he won't be here for any of it. And rather than plan and think about it, I choose to ignore it. Just a warning to most of my family and my kids: This year is going to suck for birthdays and major holidays in general. I know I won't be able to plan much for any of it, so they will not be major productions.

3. Striking up conversations.
 It's hard to make small talk now with people who don't know me well, or at all. I am reminded of this when I'm in out in public because casual conversations always seem to go the way of family (since that's a huge part of all of our lives). Many times I simply talk about my husband as though he's still here with us. Because the other option is to tell people what happened and bring the entire group down with me, and then the conversation will center around that for the rest of the time which is exactly what I don't want. So when someone says "Are you married?" the answer is yes. "What does he do for work?" he's a mechanic. But it's really hard to sit and hear people talk about their husbands or boyfriends and plans they have or things they are doing together because I can't be a part of that conversation. And again, I get reminded that he's not here anymore. Most of my plans coming up all have to do with things we are doing to memorialize Mike.

4. Being in public places or at events around my town or work.
It's inevitable living in a small town and having worked at a place for a long time that most people know what's happened. And they talk about it. A lot. And that's OK - if this happened to someone I knew I am certain I would do the same thing. But when I'm out in public, or at events, or at work I know and can tell it's the first thing that is on peoples minds and that they are talking about me. Not in a bad way mind you, but in that shock value way where no one can believe what's happened and they are curious and wondering about me, about the kids, about everything. And there are times I feel like the entire room around me is moving in slow motion and I am standing in the middle with no escape. And I can see people lean into each other and look my way. "Is that her?" "Yes, it's so tragic". I'm "the one who lost her husband". And that is hard, and uncomfortable. And I look forward to a time when I'm not 'that person' anymore, but know that it will probably last for quite some time.

There are plenty more things I can add to this list, but for now these 4 are big ones I've noticed the past few weeks. 

New Shoes

A friend (she knows who she is!) sent me a link to this song not long after I started this blog and said that when I was talking about Mike's stuff still being around the house, and not wanting to move it, this song reminded her of me. A big thank you to her, because I love it and am going to buy the track so I can listen to it any time.

You can hear it here. It's amazing. http://meghancary.bandcamp.com/track/new-shoes

The singer Meghan lost her fiance suddenly and wrote this song about it. She came home and called a friend and said that his new shoes were sitting on the floor and she just didn't know what to do with them. And this song is very much where I am at right now.  Except for maybe the being at peace with it being his time to go. I am not sure I have made that peace yet. And is he with me in spirit? I'm not sure either. I hope he is. I keep looking for signs of him. I've had some glimpses, but are they in my head and am I just reading too much into things? I joke that he's probably right in front of me with his arms waving, angry as hell that I'm not catching anything he may be sending my way - because he always said I wasn't paying attention to anything and head my head in the clouds. I still haven't really moved anything. His towel is hanging on our bedroom door.  I still sleep on the same side of the bed. I talk to him. His pillow now has a shirt he wore that smells like him, but that's starting to fade. I can't bring myself to change the bedsheets (gross, I know) but they are the sheets we had on before he died. He slept on them. His shoes are all over the back porch. His lunch box remains on the kitchen cart. His work clothes are where they always were. His truck is just as it was the last time he used it, I haven't cleaned it out or moved anything. I know someday I'll be OK with cleaning up. But for now, they bring me comfort. They remind me of him. My home has become a sort of museum or memorial of Mike. And I don't want to touch or move any of it. And I think that's one of the hardest things of a life cut short so quickly - there's this instant they just aren't here anymore, and everything is left just as they had it when they were living.

Your new shoes are still sitting
In the middle of our bedroom floor
Your robe still hangs upon a hook
On the back of our bathroom door
I know they’ll come a day
When I put them all away
But for now
I need them there somehow

I’m at peace with the idea
That it was your time to go
But was it my time to lose you?
Is what I need to know
And my friends all say you’re with me
Forever now
Their words keep ringing in my ears
“In spirit anyhow”

I still sleep on the left side
Of our big old double bed
I whisper “Bear I love you”
When all my prayers are said
And I know they’ll come a time
When I leave that all behind
But for now
I need it all somehow

I’m at peace with the idea
That it was your time to go
But was it my time to lose you?
Is what I need to know
And my friends all say you’re with me
Forever now
Their words keep ringing in my ears
“In spirit anyhow”

Your guitar is still perched upon its stand
And I haven’t yet decided
What to do with our wedding bands
But for now
I need them all somehow

I’m at peace with the idea
That it was your time to go
But was it my time to lose you?
Is what I need to know
And my friends all say you’re with me
Forever now
Their words keep ringing in my ears
“In spirit anyhow”

And my friends all say you’re with me
Forever now
I believe them
In spirit anyhow

Our Anniversary

 5/19/2014. Our 7th wedding anniversary. 7 years ago today we gathered with family and friends and make a lifelong commitment to each other. And today I sit here alone, without him for a month now, wondering what to do with the pain and sadness. This will the the first of many anniversaries without him. But today will always be our anniversary, and I will keep counting the years because no matter what, today is the day we married. Even without him here, it will continue to be our anniversary forever. Looking back on this day, though, I never in a million years suspected this is how things would turn out for us.

It was a wonderful day. We were married at my grandfathers farm house in Gilford, NH. We almost had to move the ceremony to the reception location at Gunstock, since it was a rainy day. But we made the call at 2pm that rain or shine the wedding would be at the farm. We had bagpipes for music, a tribute to my late grandparents and Scottish heritage. Loki our husky was our ring bearer. After the quick ceremony (performed by my Uncle Park), we took off in the back of a pick up truck for the reception. It was very 'us' :). Then we ate, drank, and danced the night away. It was perfect in every way. I know they say that no matter what, something will go wrong on your wedding day. There will be some glitch, something you planned and it didn't go quite right. I don't recall anything like that happening at our wedding, though. Oh, except for maybe the bar running out of Jack Daniels... we warned them they would need a lot! And the possible rain. But all in all, not too shabby.

I was so happy, honored, and proud to call Mike my husband. He was an amazing person in so many ways. That doesn't mean that our marriage was a fantasy book - it came with its share of ups and downs. I don't want anyone to think that we had this absolutely amazing relationship that was so perfect. We didn't. We had our struggles - both individually and as a couple. As some have reminded me recently we fought hard and we loved hard. Which is very true. Mike wasn't always an easy person to love. And I wasn't either. And I probably could have been a better wife in a lot of ways - but hindsight is always 20/20. I didn't make things easy on him, I'm stubborn and hard headed. And so was he - what a combination! For better or worse is right - and there were times I felt like 'the worse' far out numbered 'the better'. But at the end of the day we loved each other. And no matter what was to come, I knew that I would love him forever. We had been through a lot together both as a couple and as husband and wife. And we made it through together, which says a lot.


We never did much for our anniversary - might go out to dinner or something like that. But we weren't huge celebrators of birthdays/anniversaries etc. This year, though, we had planned a trip in late June to New Orleans together to celebrate. Neither of us have been there before, so we thought it might be a fun get away for a few days.  I'm still going to go on that trip. I know he'd want me to go... and I'll bring some of his things with me and hope that he joins me.

Gunnar knows what today is, and has assured me there will be 'lots of hugs' for me, and I hope that some of those will be from Mike. Adella sees these photos and lights up at seeing daddy. And when she does I see his eyes. He's always with me I know, because I have them - he lives on in both of them. And today I'll go back down to the crash site and talk to him. Wish him a happy anniversary. Say I'm sorry. Remind him of how much I love him. Ask him to help me get through this. And try to figure out why this all happened.

Our wedding song, True Companion by Marc Cohen.


Annie's Song - John Denver - Almost our wedding song!

You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,
like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,
let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms,
let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.
Come let me love you, come love me again.

You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,
like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

4 weeks

Almost to the minute. It was exactly 4 weeks ago that he left this world. Gone in one second. I'm heading down to the site in a few minutes to talk to him.
Tomorrow is our anniversary, I will have a bigger post then.

I'm not sick.... I'm grieving.

Throw mama from the train! Cathedral Ledge, NH circa 2006.

How to help the grieving, continued...
"I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I’m not sick. I’m grieving and that’s different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after
my loved one’s death. Don’t think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was
with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for watching our children 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 my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love 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 am unsure if I've started grieving yet. I'm probably still in shock, especially since I have so many moments when I'm waiting to see him again or hear from him. If anything, I am lucky for a couple of reasons - because I was in charge of the finances for our house, I am able to navigate the financial situation we now face fairly easily. My day with the kids runs about the same as it used to - I did daycare drop off and pick up the majority of the time. I'm thankful for that, because our schedules are able to stay 'normal' and 'routine' and that gives us all comfort I think.
But I'm reminded on a daily basis that the person I am, and have been since we first got together, is now changed. And I will always miss that. I miss the person I was being Mike's girlfriend, fiance, and wife. I miss the security he gave me being with him. I miss everything we enjoyed doing together - from having coffee on our front porch to fishing and being outside. And I think I'm most concerned for my kids. That they now will grow up without their father. And that when they get older they will not have their father there to celebrate graduations, weddings, grandchildren. They have been robbed of all of that by this tragedy. And so now I am working to create as many things as possible that will remind them (and me, I suppose) of their dad so that they can look back and remember him in as many ways as possible. Photo collages, journals with their thoughts and memories of dad, a scrapbook of memories and thoughts from those who knew and loved Mike. Memory boxes of things that were special to him that I divide up between the three of us to be kept and gone through when they are older. Somehow I feel like the more things I do the more they will have to hold on to and remember. Especially Adella who may very well end up not remembering him much, if at all, being only 2. And why should any child have to endure that? She still asks me for him daily. She will start to cry, especially at bedtime, and tell me she wants her daddy. And all I can do is hug her and tell her that I do too, but that he's gone and he can't come back now. But even if she doesn't remember so much when she gets older, I am making it my mission to make sure both of my kids know how amazing their dad was, and how much he loved them. I will make it a point to incorporate his life and love into our lives daily. And hopefully that will keep his memory alive in all of us.

And right now, I'm having a VERY odd feeling of deja vu. Remembering sitting where I am right now, seeing this photo of us, and writing about his death on this computer. Surreal.  

The weight...

On our honeymoon in St. Lucia - 2007

A friend sent me a screenshot recently from another friend of hers who had lost one of her young babies earlier this year. My heart sinks when I think of something like this, because I think of what I'm feeling and times it by a million. Maybe more. Losing a child, no matter what age, is not something anyone should have to go through.
The screenshot was a facebook post that her friend had put up following the death of her child. And it went something like this "Sometimes I wish I could ask someone to hold the sadness for me, just for a minute, just so I can remember was it was like to really breathe without the weight of it."
This is probably the most accurate description I can think of for what I feel right now. The weight. I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest all day long. Some days the elephant is heavier than others. There are moments when it's so heavy I'm not even sure if I can breathe. And others when it lifts a little and I'm OK for a few minutes. Or an hour. But it's there, all the time. When I wake up, as I go about my day, when I go to bed, all night long, when I look at my kids. The weight of my sadness and grief is there and it is impossible to escape. And I wonder when it might ease up a little bit. I don't think I will ever get out from under it. When something like this happens, you don't ever lose it. The loss is so great and so immense that nothing will ever make it 'go away'. The weight gets heavy when I see his picture, see something he would wear, think I see him somewhere. When I get home from work and settled in, only to realize he's not coming home. When I go to pick up my phone and call him, or I think of something I want to tell him... 'honey you'll never guess what Adella did today!'... find something he wrote, see a show he loved. And for a brief second I am thinking that he's still here. And then it's over and the weight of him being gone settles in on me like a tide rolling in off the ocean. Smothering me. Drowning me. And I am reaching for the shore, but keep getting pulled back in. It's inescapable and it's suffocating. And for one day - an hour or a minute even - I'd like to have it taken off of me. Lifted away so I could feel 'normal' and really breathe again.

My overwhelming gratitude...

I would be remiss if at this time I didn't acknowledge the hundreds - possibly even thousands - of people in our lives who have shown their love and support for our family in these past few weeks. I honestly don't even know what to say other than I am overwhelmed with everything. We have gotten gift cards for groceries and meals and restaurants and stores. Donations to an online fund set up by some close friends, as well as to a bank fund set up by my in-laws - all to help support my kids. Cards. Jewelry. Letters - of grief, of support, of sorrow. Meals cooked for us, meals brought to us, food delivered to our doorstep. A hand made quilt from a church group in Nevada. Friends and family have simply told me they will take the kids and do fun things with them so that I can get things done, or have time to myself - no questions asked. You name it, I'm thankful for it. If it wasn't for the love and support of our friends, family, and community then this entire experience would be that much more unbearable. I cannot even imagine doing this alone or with little support. It has been needed, helpful, overwhelming, and amazing. I never in my life would have thought that I would be in this situation, and if you know me well then you know that asking for help is NOT my strong suit. Not by a long shot. I'm a *fairly* independent person who wants and needs to do things on her own and for herself. If Mike was here, he'd have a few stories about this side of me, I'm sure :) One thing is for certain, however, this kind of tragedy is not do-able on your own. This grief is not able to be navigated on my own. This life changing event is not manageable on my own. And it has taken me these 3+ weeks to realize that. To finally get it through my thick skull that I need everyone in my life. I need everyone around me to let me cry, to talk to me and have meaningful conversations with me, to help me with the kids, to cook meals, to help me with this transition into uncharted waters. Even when I don't want to ask. I need to. In these days when I feel as though I'm just barely keeping my head above water, and fighting like hell to stay afloat, I need everyone to keep me there so I don't drown.  So this is a huge and overdue thank you to everyone - even if it's just a note you sent me on facebook, or a card - anything. Everything. Thank you.

Some more thoughts today:
Mother's Day was Sunday. That was a hard day. I was lucky to spend most of it with my in-laws and my kids. It was my first holiday without him. We never did much for Mother's Day - it was more a get out of jail free card for me :) no bugging mom, just love her and Dad takes care of everything. This was the first holiday of many to come this year that I will be reminded, yet again, that he is in fact gone. It was so obvious there was something missing that day. It was so sharp, a knife in my heart. I felt the need to visit the site where he died (as I felt daily since April 20th). I've only been there a few times, mainly because I worry about bugging the people that live there, and also because most days it's too much to handle. But I went, and I am glad I did. I feel him when I am there. It's the last place he was when he was alive, and there's something special about that to me. But all in all, it was a good day. Despite missing him a bit extra that day, despite the kids driving me a little bit insane. It was a good day.
The next big date comes this Monday. It would have been our 7th anniversary. Scratch that - it IS our 7th anniversary. That date will always be our anniversary for the rest of my life, even if he's not here to celebrate it. I'll post about that one separately, because it may very well be the toughest day I will have of them all. 

From http://onefitwidow.com/how-to-help-the-grieving/
 This article has so many great things in it, I find it helpful to go through them and talk about them.
"Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good." - On the outside I think most days I look fine (minus some major dark circles under my eyes). But on the inside, I'm not OK. Not even close. I do a great job at appearing good, though. And I think that's important for a number of reasons - for my own sanity, for the sanity of those who are around me a lot (co-workers and family especially) and for the sanity of my children. Most days I'd be content to wrap myself up in a sweatshirt of Mike's and just stay in bed for the day. The very act of waking up (or going to sleep) is exhausting. 

"I am not strong. I’m just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel
that you don’t see me." - I appreciate people telling me how strong they think I am. In some ways it reminds me that I'm doing what I need to do to survive. Especially for my kids, who will not in any way benefit from having their one remaining parent curled up on the floor unable to function. So if not doing that is strong, then I guess I'm that. But I don't want people to think that I do not care about what happened or I'm not 'sad enough' or 'grieving enough'. I do believe that most of what appears to be 'strength' is in fact being 'numb'. When I speak about what's happened or what's going on, it's almost as if I'm a robot repeating facts most of the time. As a survival mechanism to deal with this entire situation, my mind is having to shut out a lot of emotion and feelings. Sometimes they come through, and when I let them fully show I'm usually in the quiet of my own home, after the kids have gone to sleep or right when I wake up in the morning, and I let it all out. That's where I'm most comfortable letting it out. But mostly I walk around with this numb feeling on a daily basis where I'm more or less in a daze - immune to the strong emotion of everything and protecting myself from going into a downward spiral. It's not strength (not that I don't think I'm strong - I think I am generally a strong person... again Mike would have many stories to insert here, I'm sure, haha!). My attitude and appearance is entirely due to the fact that I'm just starting to scratch the surface of what this experience all is for me, and I'm only letting myself go there so often. I'm not offended by it at all, and I appreciate that people think that highly of me... but I just don't think it's actually an accurate description of what I am right now.

Listening to the music

Oddly one of the hardest things I've experienced lately has been listening to music. Every song that plays wherever I am reminds me of him in some way. It might be a song he liked, it might be the lyrics - somehow they all remind me of him or us. OK, except most rap music... which he didn't care for much :) but see? even that reminds me of him!

Yesterday on the way home "Only the Good Die Young" came on my radio. Seriously. I haven't heard that song in years. And there it was on my radio.

One of my favorite songs now has a very personal meaning - If I Die Young by the Band Perry...  "The sharp knife of a short life..."a sharp knife is right.

Garth Brooks was one of Mike's favorites. He'd always wanted to see him live and never got to. "If tomorrow never comes" will always remind me of him. "And if my time on earth were through, and she must face the world without me. Is the love I gave her in the past gonna be enough to last... If tomorrow never comes" Tomorrow never came for Mike after Easter Sunday. His love will last my whole life, though. And it gets me through each day that I now face without him.

And then there's "When you come back to me again" -
"On a prayer, In a song, I hear your voice,
And it keeps me hanging on.
Oh, raining down, against the wind.
I’m reaching out, ‘Till we reach the circle’s end.
When you come back to me again."

Our wedding song was "True Companion" by Marc Cohen. And strangely at the end of the song there is this line "Then when I leave this earth, I'll be with the angels standing. I'll be out there waiting for my true companion. Just for my true companion"

Andy Griggs "She's More" was a song Mike played for me after we'd first started dating and he said it was his song for me. And when I listened to the lyrics I couldn't believe it - like the song was written for us.

"I like blue eyes, hers are green
Not like the woman of my dreams
And her hair's not quite as long as I had planned

Five foot three isn't tall
She's not the girl I pictured at all
In those paint by number fantasies I've had

So it took me by complete surprise
When my heart got lost in those deep green eyes
She's not at all what I was looking for
She's more

No, it wasn't at first sight
But the moment I looked twice
I saw the woman I was born to love

Her laughter fills my soul
And when I hold her I don't wanna let go
When it comes to her I can't get enough

So it took me by complete surprise
When my heart got lost in those deep green eyes
She's not at all what I was looking for
She's more

More than I dreamed of
More than any man deserves
I couldn't ask for more
Than a love like hers

So it took me by complete surprise
When my heart got lost in those deep green eyes
She's not at all what I was looking for
She's more"

Eric Church "So we sit on his headstone with a fifth of Jack D. Here's to a long line of sinners like me" That's Mike, alright. "'Cause guys like me drink too many beers on Friday after work. Our best blue jeans have skoal rings. We wear our boots to church. So rough around the edges, It's hard to believe that girls like you love guys like me"

And then there were some really funny memories.
~Pink's "True Love" was one that I heard one day last year and immediately had to play for Mike exclaiming 'it's our song!' - just a sample lyric 'You're an asshole, but I love you'. It was us to a T.
~When one of us would say 'I love you' the other would often answer 'you better, you better, you bet'. (Thanks to the Who for that one).
~Our kids LOVE the song Wagon Wheel. We'd dance around the living room to it together as they both yelled at us to stop. We were so embarrassing for a 2 and 5 year old!
~Mike liked David Allen Coe (yeah, I know, not very PC :)) and we'd always quote the Rodeo song when we had bad days  "Piss me off, fucking jerk, get on my nerves!"


Then one night we got in a HUGE discussion, somewhere we heard 'Money for Nothing' and were singing along. And Mike says 'Who sings this?' We played that game a lot - the 'who sung it' game. I say 'Dire Straits'. Nope, you're wrong he says. Ah *cough* no, I'm right I say. He says no, its Phil Collins. Honey, no it's not, this is Mark Knopfler and Dire Straits. Yes it is. NO IT'S NOT. Finally I got my phone out and showed him. And he says, pull up the live video. And Goddam if Phil Collins wasn't playing the drums in the damn video. So he conceded that I won that argument, since it was, in fact, Dire Straits. But I had to give him points for the Phil Collins, lets be honest.

These are the things I realize on a daily basis - how many things remind me of him constantly. How big a part of my life he was, and is. 

The Path

I saw this posted on FB recently and it hit me... hard
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Path

You leave behind such memories
That loved ones will hold dear
They'll take them down the path of life
Though that path may seem unclear

It's missing that bright sunny warmth
And those skies of blue
That always seemed to be there
When they walked the path with you

Today they gather together
As you watch them from above
And learn to walk a new life path
Now lit with just your love

They start out with uncertanty
It's not the path they knew
When they walked life's path before
Hand in Hand with you

Your light will never really fade
It gets brighter every day
As you lead them down the path
And you show them the way

So guide them with a gentle hand
Down that Path Unknown
And help them with the twists and turns
As they make their way back home

Those last few steps may be quite hard
And difficult to bear
But the path ends at Heaven's Gate
And they will find you there

So begin your journey today my friends
Keep pushing through the pain
He waits for you at Heaven's Gates
And you will be together again

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now anyone who has known me for a while probably knows I'm not a particularly religious person. Do I believe in Heaven and Hell? I'm not certain. I'd like to think that there's something out there. That when we die there's something else - another life, another world, a Heaven, a presence. Something. But I don't know - I'm a very scientific person and if I can't see it or I don't have evidence of it then I remain skeptical. I definitely hope that when it's my time to leave this world, Mike is there waiting for me with open arms. Because at that moment I'll finally be able to tell him everything I've wanted to say since that day. How much I love him, how much he means to me, how much I'm sorry for the fights and arguments and stupid stuff, how much he means to his kids, how much he means to his family and friends, how genuinely loved he is, how so incredibly proud I am of him, how much I appreciate him. There's so much I want him to know. There's so much I didn't get to tell him. And now I'm left with it, sitting in my head, without him to hear it. So if you are reading this, and you have things unsaid with anyone you love, do me a favor and TELL them. In one second everything can change and you won't get the chance again. Don't live life thinking that you will tell them some other time. Do it now. Even if it's just an email or a letter or a quick I love you to someone you haven't told in a long time. Just do it.

The days after...

In the days following Mike's death, there was a lot of chaos and things got pretty crazy. Crazy in a good way with lots of family around and support coming from all corners of the Earth. Food galore - when people die the first instinct others have is to give them food so they don't have to worry about cooking or shopping. And probably so they actually eat something, because I can tell you this, I didn't have an appetite for one thing for days. if not weeks. I still feel sick to my stomach most of the time, so eating is hard. My kitchen was scrubbed from top to bottom, and looked better than I had ever kept it (I started joking that Mike wouldn't recognize the place if he were there). I had to tell the kids what had happened - we waited until Monday to do that, so that I could read a little bit about how you tell kids about the death of a parent. Not light reading like reading People Magazine, that's for sure. That is a conversation I will never forget. For Adella, she's still too young to understand. I just told her that there was an accident and daddy is gone and he can't come back. Gunnar understands a bit better. He understands at a minimum that daddy is dead and he can't come back, and that when people die their body stops working. He knows it was a motorcycle accident and daddy hit a tree and when that happened he hit his head. But then came the questions. How did it happen. Why did it happen. Detailed questions, the mind of a 5 year old can only think up. Questions I don't have the answers to, and probably never will. We now have daily conversations about missing daddy, asking for daddy and having to explain over and over again that he's gone and he can't come back but that he's always with us in our hearts. We read books (thanks to many friends who sent them!) about being connected to our loved ones even when they aren't physically here. We look at pictures.
Then arrangements started to be made. The service and calling hours would be Friday 4/25. Another date etched into my memory now. There were a lot of decisions to be made. Cremation or burial. Where. What. How. A blur of decisions (thank God for family to help make them, I couldn't have done it on my own). We needed photos to put up. We needed clothes to put him in. There were (and still are) piles of logistics to get through. Mike didn't have a will. There's probate, and insurance claims, and decisions to be made about lots things. There's a truck, a tractor, a house - all of which were a part of 'us'. Which is now just 'me'. And what do I do with it? There's a lot of stuff - if I've learned anything about my husband these past few weeks it's that he saved a lot. Scratch that, he saved everything! And most times I just sit and laugh about it - especially since in a recent argument I remember him telling me how there wasn't any room for his stuff because my stuff was everywhere... Nice one honey. But I am afraid you win 'the most stuff' game!
His laundry is on the bedroom floor. His photos are all over the house. His lunchbox is on our kitchen cart where he normally kept it. His toothbrush is in the holder. His soap is in the shower. He is everywhere and I don't want that to change. Not yet. And mostly, at this point, I'm not ready to part with any of it. They are constant reminders to me that he was here with us. That he existed. And perhaps I'm not quite ready to concede to the fact that he really is, in fact, gone. I can say it. I certainly feel it - it's as though an elephant is sitting on my chest and I can't quite breathe. And that stays with me 24 hours a day. But I'm fairly certain that there's a little part of me still hoping it's not true and that at some point I will wake up from this extremely long nightmare (which is what this feels like) and he'll be right there - walking through the door from work, or in bed next to me. And I'll look at him and say 'you will NOT believe the dream I just had about you!'. Because I have had this dream before, when he was living. I would dream every now and then that he had died and would jolt out of sleep to find him there next to me. And in my mind I'm hoping that's what will happen again. But each day I wake up and it's not a dream. It's reality.

In One Second... everything can change

It's been 3 weeks today since Michael died. It's taken me 3 weeks to even think about starting this blog and figuring out if it was something I wanted to do. With all the thoughts that have gone through and that continue to go through my head, I think this will be helpful. Even if no one ever reads it. Even if it's just for me. At this point, I think anything will help.
Exactly 3 weeks ago was Easter Sunday. 4/20/2014. A date that is now forever etched in my memory and in my life and in the life of my children. It started out like any normal Easter in our house - kids eating candy at 7am and bouncing off the walls. We did our egg hunt and Easter baskets. It was a normal day. We were going to my brother-in-law's house for Easter dinner once the kids were done with naps/rest time that day. Michael had gone down to our neighbors while the kids rested to help them with a project. Around 1:35pm he left on his motorcycle to go for a ride. Michael never came home. At around 1:40pm he lost control of his bike and hit a tree about 2 miles from our house. And in one second he was gone. In one second his life was over, and that spark burned out. In one second I lost my husband. My kids lost their father. His parents lost their son. His siblings lost their brother. And the world lost a great person.
At about that same time I was getting into the shower, my daughter was still asleep and my son was on the couch watching a movie. I was thinking about what I needed to bring to Easter dinner. Wondering when Mike would be home to get ready. When I got out of the shower and dried off, put on my robe and I opened the door and Mike's brother was there. Surprised, I asked what was up but knew something was wrong by the look on his face. He asked me to come into the kitchen, where I saw a police officer. I remember very little about what happened next. I remember the police officer putting his hands on my shoulders and telling me there had been a motorcycle accident and that Michael was dead. I didn't understand, and I didn't believe it. He was at the neighbors house he wasn't on his motorcycle. There must have been a mistake. I had heard a motorcycle around the time they had left, but I didn't think it was him. But there was no mistake. It was Michael. And he was gone. And in one second my entire world collapsed. The man I had spent the last 13 years with, who I had married and who was the father of my children was simply gone. There was no goodbye. No last I love you. No last words. No last kiss. Nothing. There was just me, left with 2 small children wondering how this happened. In all my life I don't think I'll ever make sense of it. I'll never understand why he was taken away from us so young. Why his children will grow up without a father. Why I am a widow at the age of 38 and left with nothing but memories of an amazing man who I loved so much. Left to try and carry on without him.