I Never Told You

Sometimes you hear a song and it just completely speaks to you. That happened yesterday when this song came on my radio.  Although I think it's more about a break-up, it definitely says a lot of what I'm feeling now that Michael is gone. God, there is so much I didn't get to tell him.

Colbie Callat - I Never Told You 

I miss those blue eyes
How you kiss me at night
I miss the way we sleep
Like there's no sunrise
Like the taste of your smile
I miss the way we breathe

But I never told you
What I should have said
No, I never told you
I just held it in

And now I miss everything about you
I can't believe it, I still want you
After all the things we've been through
I miss everything about you
Without you, whoa...

I see your blue eyes
Every time I close mine
You make it hard to see
Where I belong to
When I'm not around you
It's like I'm not with me

But I never told you
What I should have said
No, I never told you
I just held it in

And now I miss everything about you (still you're gone)
I can't believe it, I still want you (And I'm lovin' you, I never should have walked away)
After all the things we've been through (I know it's never gonna come again)
I miss everything about you
Without you, whoa...

But I never told you
What I should have said
No I never told you
I just held it in

And now I miss everything about you (still you're gone)
Can't believe it, I still want you (And I'm lovin' you, I never should have walked away)
After all the things we've been through (I know it’s never gonna come again)
I miss everything about you
Without you, whoa, no, no...

Father's Day

Note; This was started before Father's Day and finished after, so it jumps around!

 It's been 7 weeks since the crash and now it is Father's Day. Oh boy. This is a tough one. My kids from now on will know this day as a day to remember a father they no longer have. Doesn't seem quite right or quite fair. But it's life. And no one said life is fair, did they?
"Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." - Princess Bride

We made it through the day - but of all the days and holidays I think this one was and will be the hardest. This day was a constant reminder that he's not here anymore. Everything about the day was a memory; What we miss about him, what we normally do for Father's Day, seeing families with their fathers reminding us of him. There are no new memories to make with him, only what was in the past.  I won't lie, I'm happy it's behind us now. And I already dread  next years Father's Day.

Our day was nice - surrounded by family. We did our normal Sunday morning coffee on the porch with Mike. Then we decided to do a balloon release for him and send some memories and messages up for him. I got balloons the day before and after everyone left from coffee, I decided that the 3 of us would do our own balloon release. We attached notes to the strings of 3 balloons and told daddy we loved and missed him, and let them go up as we watched them fly up to him. Of course I cried. Later in the day, we did dinner at my in-laws and let the kids play since it was a beautiful day. It was really nice. We did another balloon release with my niece and nephews and let them go (only to get caught in the trees... we misjudged the wind! haha! Balloon release fail!). We toasted him. I visited the crash site with his mom and talked to him for a little bit. I'm unsure if I have cried so much about all this since that first week he was gone.

I had photo books made for each child that has photos of them with dad and some quotes, and I gave them to the kids on this day. They weren't that impressed, but I know that when they are older they will be so glad they have them. That evening I went home, had a glass of wine after the kids were in bed, and decided that I would open up his ashes and fill the necklace I had gotten (it holds a small amount of cremains in it). I was heading to North Carolina the next weekend for Ashley's funeral, and wanted some of Mike with me to be there for her. And I wanted it ready for our trip to New Orleans as well. So I got him out, and finally opened the black box that has held him since April. He's heavy. The box is probably 15 or more pounds of ashes. The ashes are lighter in color than I thought they would be. The box has his name and a number. That's what's left of an entire person. It's unreal. I got some ashes into the necklace. And then I put some in one of his old flasks that smells like Jack Daniels still, and has his initials on it. And I put that flask on my bedside table, it will be next to me at night forever. And then I put him away again until the next time we have something to do with him (we have lots of plans for him!). He's kept in his gun safe. I'm pretty sure he's smiling about that....

Being thrown into single parenthood

Someone mentioned to me the other day this concept of having been thrown (unwillingly) into single parenthood when you become a widow. It's mind boggling to me, really. How all of a sudden where once we were partners in crime for this journey of parenthood, now I'm alone for it. I'm Batman without my Robin (OK, Mike was Batman, let's be real here). I'm David without Goliath. Wayne without Garth (Kate, are you reading?!?!) I'm half of a whole set of parents  - I now need to be enough to cover both bases on my own and wear both hats - and it's utterly exhausting. I'm mom and dad. Good cop, bad cop. Yin and yang.
And unlike parents who in some ways 'choose' to be single parents (by divorce, or just wanting kids but no partner etc.), it's not something I chose or wanted. That doesn't mean single parents whose partners are absent for other reasons have it better or easier - not at all. It's hard no matter what. But it is different. I was thrown into this immediately, unexpectedly, and unwillingly. This wasn't a gradual loss. I didn't want him to go. I'm not happy or better off because he's gone. My kids aren't better off without him. Which brings an entirely different angle to the single parent life - dealing with grief and loss while wearing the hats of 2 parents. In one instant I became a widow and a single mother. These labels say a lot in some ways. And at the same time say so little. Widow is always something that made me think of old people (I know, I'm no spring chicken - I'm talking like 80 years old, old - not a 38 year old woman with 2 small children). Then single mom can at times have such a negative connotation with it (and so many assumptions that go with it. Did I leave dad? Did I choose to have kids on my own? What's the story here?). I still wear my wedding bands (and plan to keep wearing them for a long time) so that the assumption is that I am still married (I still feel married, and I still consider us married - I always will). But then there's always the awkward conversation that comes up with people who don't know me well just trying to make conversation. 'Oh what does your husband do?'. Do I go along and just say he's a mechanic? If I do, then there's more questions to answer about him. Or do I just do the blunt 'actually he passed away' route. I've done both - neither are great options. One makes people cringe and leave you alone, not knowing what to say. And the other prods more questions making me need to talk about him as though he were still alive which hurts even more. Imagining that he is here. Not dead.
There are things I could never teach my kids that Mike would have. He was so smart about so many things. He knew how to fix anything. I'm SO not that person. So I will have to rely on others for these bits of wisdom. Good thing I know some good people who will instill it in my kids, but still - have I mentioned how much I hate needing help from others?!?! ;) Speaking of which, I need to get some light bulbs and figure out how to get the bathroom fan cover off. I like to think Mike would be proud of me for just taking life by the reigns and figuring all these things out... but he may also be laughing at me knowing how much I really relied on him for so many things. Who am I kidding, he IS laughing about that with an 'I told you so' attitude. And his memory - I now need to keep that alive for my children. That is a heartbreaking job to have. But it's necessary in situations like this.
Now whenever there's an event that is for a Dad my children will have to relive the reality that their Dad isn't here anymore (as if day to day life without him isn't hard enough, right?). And feel that they are in some way 'different' because of it. How do I handle these situations - do I go in his place? Do I send a close male relative to stand in? These are things I'm still trying to figure out. Where's the handbook? Much like when I had kids, I felt like there should be a manual. I'm feeling that way now. I need a manual that can tell me how to do all this stuff, and do it in a way where my kids and myself have SOME chance of being OK down the road, you know? There are a million ways that I can mess all this up, and I'm sure that I'm doing a great job of messing it up right now. My definition of success will be my kids growing up into happy adults whose hearts and minds continue to have their father live on in spirit. If I can do that, I will have succeeded.

Why

So in the midst of losing Michael and recovering from this major life event - that is in many ways unrecoverable - more loss seems to be happening around me. And I'm struggling with a lot of things because of this. Was it not enough that I had to lose my husband at the age of 32? That my kids now have to grow up without a father? A father and mother without their son? No, obviously not.

Bill Forrester

On Sunday June 1, Bill Forrester was killed in an auto accident in Pennsylvania. I've known Bill since around 2001, when I got back into rock climbing and was living in the DC area. We spent many a fond weekend climbing in VA/WV/PA areas. He was a USMC vet and a kind heart. Bill and his wife Judy were at our wedding in NH and it was so wonderful to have them there with us. He leaves Judy and his children behind. Heartbroken and trying to figure out why this happened. And in an amazing gesture, Bill's family is requesting that in lieu of flowers donations be made to our children's fund. They could have chosen any charity, any organization, anything. But they didn't. They wanted to help our family. You see, all these people in my life that I have known through the years from all different walks of life and different times I have gone through - they are amazing people. And I know how lucky I am to have them all (which really is you all reading this!), believe me I do. Many say that it's just a reflection of who I am, the kind of friend I have been, that people around me are so kind and generous. It reflects on the kind of person Mike was, and who we were as a couple. That might be true, but I truly think I've just been blessed to have wonderful people in my life (my husband included) - it's not necessarily a reflection on who I am - but much more how lucky I am to have crossed so many amazing paths over the years. I certainly cannot take credit for the kind of people others are. But I can be thankful that I've had the chance to have all these people in my life, and know and recognize that I'm blessed.

Ashley and Mike at our wedding.

So then, on Saturday, I got the call I was dreading, but expecting. Ashley Shaw - the flower girl from my wedding and daughter of my good friend Anne- passed away after a long hard fight with cancer

(Osteosarcoma). She was 15 years old. 15. WTF?!?!? The kicker? She lost her dad when she was about 3 years old. To the same cancer. How does this happen? In what world is this OK? How is a mother who already went through a loss like mine - losing a husband far too young with 2 young kids to raise - now lose her daughter to the same disease that took her husbands life. There is no explaining this. There is no rhyme or reason.

Ashley was a dreamer. She asked a million questions, and she loved to hear stories. I got to see her last month when they came to visit even though she was very sick. They had stopped treatments, since she wasn't going to make it through them and they were killing her. they had decided that for her remaining time, they would LIVE. And I'm so glad she visited. She got to see my children, who she'd been wanting to meet for years. We got to talk about everything. She asked me to tell her stories, so I told her about how Mike proposed to me. And about how we met each other. We shared stories of when she was younger and we took so many rock climbing/camping trips together. She loved to hear stories. Anne and Bill and I were all rock climbing friends - so this is now full circle. Bill loved Ashley so much, and so did Mike. She was always angelic. And I can just see Mike and Bill and Jeff (her dad) waiting for her when she crossed over. We're laughing about whose lap she wanted to sit on first (see above photo for why - she was ALWAYS sitting in someones lap!). And whose ear she is now talking off constantly!

Now to the heart of my post. Why? Why are people around me dying in such high numbers right now. Did my luck run out after some years of a 'good streak' where no one close to me passed on? I mean it's been like 5 years since I really had a close relative or friend pass. Is there something going on I'm unaware of, and myself and the people around me just are getting dealt a shitty hand now? All this love and all these amazing people who are a part of my life and we somehow get to experience loss after loss now? The cliche sayings are everywhere.
"God needed a few more angels" - I'm sorry but I refuse to believe that any God is responsible for these things. God doesn't need more people dying. I do not believe for a second that God is picking off people in my life like a friggin sniper to fill some kind of imaginary quota.
"They were needed more in Heaven" again, I refuse to believe Heaven needed any of these people more than we needed them here. However much Heaven needs people, for whatever reason - WE NEEDED THEM MORE HERE.
So please don't tell me these good people were meant to meet there ends so soon. There is no reason for it. I've always been an 'everything happens for a reason' kind of person. And I still am in many ways. But I will never, in all my life, find the reason for these deaths. Never. Because they are all meaningless and untimely and tragic and unexplainable. 

If I sound angry, good. Because I am. Angry others have to experience these losses. Angry that there's nothing I could do. Angry that they all died too young and before it was their time. They should be here. They should all still be here with us.

A pain unlike any other

More taken from "How to Help the Grieving":

Please don’t say, “Call me if you need anything.” I’ll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you some ideas:

(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, his birthday, and the anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can’t make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the
opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I may so no at first or even for a while, but please don’t give up on me because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you’ve given up then 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 feel deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I’m
experiencing a pain unlike any I’ve ever felt before and one that can’t be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.

I should preface this by stating that if you have said 'call me if you need anything', don't be offended. I seem to be doing a good job at offending everyone around me at some point or another right now - because just about anything I say or write is something that people around me have said or done recently. I'm not picking on any of you or calling you out, I promise. I'm just talking through how some of these things are impacting me, personally. No one is in the wrong, it's just me babbling on about whatever is in my head currently. So if I am writing something that you are taking offense to... well feel free to not follow this anymore :) There I go again. Am I being too offensive? I'm sure I'm just getting started - haha! Oh and if I fly off the handle unexpectedly over something that seems mundane? Yup, it's just me, not you.
It is very true that I don't know what I need right now. So if you ask me if I need anything the answer is, 'I'm fine' and 'I don't need anything' or 'we're good'. Or I can't think of anything. Because I really and truly don't know. What I need is what no one can give me. I need him back here with us. I need to tell him things, I need to see him again. No one can give that to me. So there's nothing else left.
The guilt. I feel very guilty for a lot of things going on - I don't feel like I have a right to be happy or have fun or celebrate things because there's a huge part of me that's missing. Where once I was whole, now I am broken and incomplete. And when I do find myself happy or having fun I almost immediately am reminded that he's gone and the feeling quickly fades to sorrow and sadness. I feel guilty that we fought a lot that week. That I wasn't a better wife. That I wasn't able to help him more. That I was too hard on him a lot of the time. That he possibly died not feeling fully loved by me. I feel guilt on an ongoing basis right now.
I am afraid - I am afraid of moving on with my life without him. I'm afraid of all that is to come without him here. I'm afraid for our kids and what their future will be like without him.
Over 6 weeks in and I think I'm finally starting to enter more of the 'angry' part of grief. Deep rage is a very appropriate way of putting it. I'm angry that he's gone. That it happened so fast without any chance for goodbyes or I love you's. That the person I was supposed to grow old with left so young and there is so much unsaid and undone between us. That his kids have now been cheated of a life with their father. To grow up with so few memories of him, and live without him being at all of their major life events. Graduations, weddings, heck even first lost teeth. They will have all that without him. That they will come to know his picture on a wall better than they were able to know him as a person. Our children deserved better than that. I'm angry that on Easter he was not with us, but instead decided to leave and go for a ride. Why didn't he stay home with his family? I'm angry that I still don't know some details of his death. I'm upset that while some people may be trying to protect me from hurt or pain, they are keeping things from me about his death, which really bothers me. Possibly not realizing that the not knowing is causing me more pain than anyone can imagine. The not knowing is much much worse for me - much more painful than any truth I could know. And I don't need to be protected. I'm not a glass statue. I will be OK with whatever I learn. I'm angry that I now need the help of others to get through this life, even if just temporarily. If I need to go anywhere alone, I need to find a sitter or family to take the kids. If I want some down time to myself, I need help. If I want to do any home improvement projects beyond the basics, I'll need someone to come in and help. Things that used to be just shared between us and easy to accomplish are now impossibly difficult most days. And I'm not the kind of person that likes to rely on the help of others so much of the time.  I'm angry that forever turned out to by just shy of 7 years (well 13 total).
Above all I'm angry that things like this happen to anyone at all, not just me. It's not fair. And I know life isn't fair, but this is one event I will never be able to make sense of or comprehend. It's far too senseless for my brain to wrap around.

The Bucket List

I've been inspired by a website that one of my cousins directed me to shortly after Mike died - One Fit Widow. She is very inspiring - she lost her husband suddenly a few years back and was left with two very small children, and loves fitness (sound familiar?).
One of her inspiring stories is how she is living out her bucket list each year - a list of things she and her late husband had wanted to do together but never were able to. She now is doing them in his memory.
http://onefitwidow.com/making-a-difference-2/team-mitch-adventure-weekends/
Live the List is a part of the non-profit that will help widows achieve items on their own bucket list in honor of their late husbands. The non-profit will sponsor widows to take part in their bucket list adventures. I can't think of a better way to honor Mike - and I know that he would want me to do things for him/with him now that he's not here.
So here goes my bucket list - for you, my Michael. I'll keep adding to it as I remember things we wanted to do together, or that you wanted to do that I now hope to do for, and in honor of, you.

1. Alaska - he would want to hunt bear.
2. Italy -to see where his family came from.
3. Africa big game hunt - he actually was torn on this one. He'd been to Africa but not a very nice part of it. I think if given the chance he'd enjoy a big game hunt even though he wasn't sure about going back there.
4. New Orleans - this trip will happen next month. We had bought the tickets and booked the hotel. I am still going and know he will be with me. He wanted to eat alligator. I'm guessing this means I'll have to give it a try!
5. Grow a garden again - I will do this next summer and Mike will have his own little spot there.
6. Sturgis Bike Rally - this one will take some time, and I don't anticipate going on a bike. But man did he want to go and see it in person.
7. Retire to Montana. Who am I kidding - he wanted to move there years ago. But I always tried to convince him retiring there would be the way to go. We'll see how that works out in 25-30 years :)
8. Gillette Castle with our kids - he had been when he was young and wanted to bring our kids there. This will happen this summer.
9. See Garth Brooks live. He never got to - Garth was his all time favorite country music performer.
10. See Reba McEntire - Mike's 'older woman crush' was Reba. He loved that woman! It would be so awesome to see her live. **UPDATE! She is coming to CT in the Fall and Mike's mom got tickets!!! **
11. Go on 'The Amazing Race' - we loved that show and always thought it would be fun to do together when the kids got a little older. We'd talk about strategy and how we'd be so much better than the other teams.... and how much we'd fight with each other doing it so we would obviously  be good for the ratings! And it turns out they are coming to CT next week for a Casting Call so I'm trying out with my sister in law. We'll make a good team - Team Hoss :)
12. Teach both kids gun safety and how to shoot. I've got a few folks who will help with this when the time is right :) He'd probably of liked to teach them to bow hunt as well.
13.Build a log home for our family. I definitely still want to do this someday!