Dating again...

So here I am. Over a year out, and I decided it was time to put myself back out there. No expectations, no real plan except to meet some people and see where it may go. I have said many times I don't plan on spending the rest of my life alone. But when is the right time to start seeing people after losing your spouse? I haven't dated since I was 25 years old. Things are different now. I'm different now. Having a relationship will be complicated - I have 2 kids who lost their dad and I don't plan on bringing just anyone into their lives. If I date someone they will need to understand and respect the fact that Michael is a huge part of our life. That I will always love him, even though I believe I can love again. That my kids will always love and remember him. We will celebrate him. We will remember him. We will continue to have a strong relationship with his family. And I need someone who is OK with this, and even embraces it, in order to be OK being in a relationship with them.
Dating again as a young widow is a tough situation. When is the time right? How far out is too soon? What will other people think? How will the kids react? How do I balance dating and having 2 young kids? Thinking about it makes me what to give up before I even start.
But the truth is, I feel it is time. It is time for me to get back out there and have some fun and meet some people. Because life is far to short to be lonely and sad for the rest of my time. If the situation were reversed, I would want the same for Mike. If I was gone, I would want him to try and find love again - keeping his memory of me alive for the kids and his love for me in a special place in his heart. That won't ever be replaced. A part of me died that day he left us - and I won't ever get it back. A piece of my heart went with him, never to be returned. But we have big hearts capable of many loves. I've heard some widows describe loving again similar to having more than one child. There is room enough for another, and you love them deeply and not any less or more - just differently. Then there are others who believe they cannot love again and that when their spouses died that was the end for them. I'm not one of these people. We all have our own paths to walk. And mine is mine alone. Not everyone will agree or thing it's right. And that's OK. It's not their path. I will do the best I can for me with my kids at the forefront of the decisions I make. I want their lives to be as normal as possible.
So I have gone on some dates now, and I have to say... this shit is tough. I enjoy meeting people, and talking and flirting. So that's a good sign, right? But it's also a constant reminder that Mike is not here. Every time I think about someone else in any kind of relationship way, his memory is there with me. Reminding me he's gone and what I lost. The excitement of starting to have feelings for someone else is tainted by this huge scar I now have that won't ever go away. But the excitement is there, and that's good too. Another sign for me that I think I'm ready to begin again.
In many ways I find myself gravitating towards guys who are like Mike. They were in the military, work regular blue collar jobs, like the outdoors and hunting/fishing etc. And I am making a conscious effort to not choose to seek those people. Mainly because I cannot replace Mike. And this isn't about replacing him, it's about opening my heart and life up again. Someone very much like Mike would just be a constant reminder that he's not here and I'd constantly compare them. So I've been specifically staying away from those guys who seem to be very similar to Mike.
What am I not enjoying? The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing how people really feel about me and not having any kind of security in a relationship  yet. Going from married to casually dating (and not by choice) is daunting and exhausting. Texting is new to me with dating. It's easy to misinterpret things and blow things out of proportion. And what are the rules for all this? How much correspondence is too much and how much is not enough? Where's the fine line between too aloof and crazy stalker girl?  When I call or text someone and don't get a response for hours should I be concerned? This is ridiculous. I feel like I'm a hormonal teenager back in the throngs of high school. And it's demanding and tiring. If I've learned anything so far it's that I'm really not good at this dating thing. And I really and truly miss the security and comfort of a steady long-term relationship. But I won't give up on it. I do believe I will find happiness again and find someone to share my life with again - someone who will be compassionate about my situation and understand how important Mike will always be in my life. And if he looks like Channing Tatum, you won't find me complaining one bit.... :)

Reminds Me Of You - Van Morrison

I miss you so much, I can't stand it
Seems like my heart, is breaking in two
My head says no but my soul demands it
Everything I do, reminds me of you

I miss you so much, in this house full of shadows
While the rain keeps pouring down, my window too
When will the pain, recede to the darkness
From whence it has come, and I'm feeling so blue

Ain't goin'down, no more to the well
Sometimes it feels like, I'm going to hell
Sometimes I'm knocking, on your front door
But I don't have nothing, to sell no more

Seems like the spirit, is pushing me onwards
I'm able to see, where I tripped and went wrong
I'll just have to guess, where my soul will find comfort
And I miss you so much, when I'm singing my song

Ain't goin' down, no more to the well
And sometimes it seems, I'm going to hell
You'll find me knocking, on your front door
But I don't have nothing, to sell no more

Seems like my spirit, is pushing me onwards
'Til I'm able to see where, I tripped when I went wrong
I'll just have to guess, where my soul will get comfort
I miss you so much, when I'm singing my song

I miss you so much, I can't stand it
Seems like my heart is breaking in two
My head says no, but my soul demands it
And everything I do, reminds me of you
Everything I do, reminds me of you
Everything I do, reminds me of you

1 year ago today...

4/20/14. The day our lives changed forever. I'm unsure how to get through this day. I try to relive that day so often, trying to remember everything that we said and did that morning, and I remember so little of him on that day. This photo to the left is the last photo ever taken of Mike alive. He was working on our neighbors patio while I was at our house with the kids. Not long after this photo was taken, he took his motorcycle out for a ride, and crashed it about 2 miles down the road. I stare at it in awe, wondering what could have been different if we had known what was going to happen. It's a bittersweet photo for me. He was helping someone - which he loved to do. He died doing something he loved - riding his bike. And he's flipping the photographer the bird, which just shows his personality so much. His 'who gives a fuck' attitude at its best. In a couple of hours his life stopped. He ceased to exist. He was just gone. And in that brief second, I lost everything. His family lost everything. My kids lost half of their parental unit. I lost my person. Please think of this when you are fighting or arguing with your husband or wife. Stop and think for just one second - what would you do without them here? What if they walked out the door and never came back. Just gone - poof! What would life be like then for you? If it helps to put things in perspective, I'm glad. If it helps someone realize how much they really do have and how much they take for granted, then that's a good thing. Because I know how it feels to lose all that - and it's not pretty.

Easter morning 2014 - the last photo I have of Mike and the kids.

What has this year been? It's been a constant struggle to stay afloat. It has been hurt, pain, fear, loneliness, sadness, heartbreak and insecurity. It has been falling to the bottom of a deep dark hole and trying so hard to crawl back out of it - but every time I get close to the top I slide back down and have to start over. I have seen amazing highs, and done some amazing things as I discover what life is really all about and how precious it really is. I've smiled wider than I possibly ever have in my life. And I have sunk lower than low into depths that most only dream about (and then they wake up sweating, so glad that it was just a dream - except I can't wake up from mine. It's my reality.). It's been finding out who my real friends are and aren't. It's been sleepless nights followed by never wanting to wake up. It's been a journey of self discovery without my other half. About finding out what I am truly capable of. It's been making mistakes - lots of them - but owning them and working through them. Learning from them and moving ahead, not back. It's been being alone in rooms that are full of people, unable to see clearly. It's been being told I'm strong, but feeling like the weakest most vulnerable person on the planet. It's been a roller coaster of every emotion imaginable (and some not imaginable).

I've been alive around 14,300 days. I'm 39 years old. Since 2001, I have had around 5130 days and nights with you being mine, Mike - starting from our first date. I was with you over 1/3 of my life up until now. And I've now gone 365 days without you here. It seems surreal.  Most days I think I've convinced myself it's not real, and that's how I get through it. Today it was all too real. The first anniversary of your death, and the end of my year of 'firsts' without you here by my side. I made it to the first anniversary, and there were many days I didn't think I would.

So today, I did the only thing I knew to do. I had coffee with you on the porch. I brought flowers to the crash site and your grave. I talked to you. Asked questions you couldn't answer. And I cried. Pretty much all day. I allowed myself to let go of all the emotion I've been bottling up and really just let it all out for the day. I chose to spend most of it alone. I really and truly needed to be by myself today and let myself feel the pain of your loss. My children's pain. My pain. I own it - and most days when it starts to come out from my depths, I acknowledge it and then I fold it up neatly and put it away for another time. Today I did not do that. I let myself be mad, sad, angry, and feel complete and total despair. The kind of despair that only comes from losing a spouse. From having what you saw as your entire future shattered into a million pieces. Many of those pieces are of me as well - parts of our life that were woven together until there was no beginning and no end. Little by little I try to pick some up and put them back where they belong - but I will never be the same person I was up until 1:40pm on April 20th 2014. Nothing will ever make me whole again. A year out and I finally can start to see through the fog, and the first thing I can clearly see is my own reflection. But it looks so different from the reflection I used to see that I hardly recognize it. So this is what a year as a widow looks like. It's no better than the day this all happened. If anything its worse and harder as the reality of this all continues to settle in. I lose you every day - every day I wake up without you, and go to bed missing you. Every day I want to call you and tell you something exciting or funny. Every minute I think of you or the kids ask about you. I lose you over and over again each and every day, knowing I can never get you back. I miss you now more than ever, babe.

Easter Sunday. 2015.

The day has come. Easter Sunday. Lucky for us 4/20 and Easter Sunday won't fall on the same day again until 2025 *sarcasm*, so we get to celebrate and remember Michael's death 2 days in April every year - at least for the next 10 years. Easter and then the 20th. Like with most things, the anticipation of the day was far worse than the actual day. I had decided for my own reasons that this year I wanted some time to myself. I find that I don't say 'no' enough and do what I know it is I need and want. Instead I worry about everyone else's feelings and what they want. This holiday I was going to take for me. I was going to visit the cemetery and do some other things after the kids did their baskets and stuff in the morning. As fate would have it, I ended up in the ER Saturday night with Gunnar who had a terrible case of strep throat. So I was home alone with him Easter afternoon instead. Adella when to Mike's parents where she took part in their dinner and Easter egg hunt. Gunnar would have gone as well if he was better.
It was a nice relaxing day. But it was a long day. A day I couldn't wait to be over with, and when I looked at the clock and it was 9am, my stomach turned thinking to myself how much more of the day was yet to come. The replay of that day going through my head over and over. And as I tried to remember and to forget all at the same time it occurred to me that much of that day is blocked from my memory. I barely remember Easter morning when Mike was at home. I know he was there but I don't remember a single thing he did or anything we might have said to each other. I remember him saying he was going next door, and that was the last I saw him. I don't remember what he was wearing or if he said anything. I remember laying down on the couch to rest and I remember hearing motorcycles. I remember falling asleep and hearing the door open, then making a comment like 'do you think the neighbors could not rev the motorcycles up when our kids are napping?' but I didn't physically see Mike, and he said nothing back to me. He left.
The next thing I remember is being in the shower and thinking of what I had left to do to get ready for dinner. And I remember coming out of the shower and seeing Mike's brother there telling me I needed to come into the kitchen. And I remember there was a police officer there and he put his hands on my shoulders and told me that there had been a motorcycle accident and that Michael was dead. And I remember looking at both of them and just saying 'no, you're joking' over and over again. I don't remember much after that. I was upstairs getting dressed saying over and over 'this isn't real, this isn't happening'. But it was. I remember going to my brother in law and sister in law's house where my kids where taken and hugging them, and trying to just figure out exactly what had happened. But I couldn't make sense of it. I remember going to the crash site that night and seeing the tree he hit. I had to see if for myself. I remember seeing water on the driveway where he had been. Where they had cleaned up. And I stared at the spot knowing that's where he was. I needed to see the last place he was. I needed to have in my head a picture of what that place looked like and try and go through the accident in my head. I remember going to bed that night, not having told the kids yet what had happened. Trying to figure out what in the hell we were going to do. What would I do without my husband? What would the kids do without their dad? How were we supposed to go on? I remember not sleeping, and just laying in a daze staring at the pillow next to me in disbelief. Wishing and hoping that I would wake up in the morning and this day was all a bad dream. No luck there. But there are hours missing from that day for me. And from the following days, as everything zoomed by. Funeral arrangements, logistics, paperwork, the tasks were non-stop. But above all what I felt that day and what I feel now really aren't all that different. I've learned to cope and live with the loss a little bit day by day. But I lost my person. I lost the one person in this world who I was everything to. I was his world. And he was mine. Despite everything that we have been through. And that is what I miss the most. Still today. I miss being someone's everything. The first person they can't wait to call to tell something. The person they say good morning to first, and kiss good night last.The person they can vent to, laugh with, cry with, or get pissed at. Sure I have lots of family and friends who care about me. And my kids - they are my world, of course. And I'm very lucky for that. I have people in my life who will drop everything and come be with me if I needed it. And that is wonderful. But they all have their own lives and loves. I'm not everything to any of them. I lost my everything that day. And now I can be surrounded by people, but still be alone. I go and I live my life with a huge piece of myself and my life missing. But I don't have anyone to share it with anymore. To share my bad day (or my good), frustrations and triumphs. I sit down at the end of the day and I am alone. My everything died that day.

Happy Birthday, baby.

What do you say or do on the day that would have been your 33rd birthday? 33. You never even made it to see 33. The thought of it is almost too heavy to really and truly comprehend. I try to remember last year. What did we do for your birthday? I don't even remember. These are the things I wish I could recall. The little things. Which really are the big things when you think about it. I remember stupid things like song lyrics. But I can't remember what we did for your birthday when you turned 32 - not knowing it would be your last one with us. That you'd never get to live past the age of 32. I could probably find photos around that time and piece it together. if I try. But I think as with many things these days everything just kind of muddles together. The memories from before your death are sometimes hard to recall. I don't like it.
So the question remains... what do we do on your birthday? We celebrate is what we do. On your actual birthday, January 14 - we got together with your family for dinner and sang happy birthday with an ice cream cake you would have loved. The kids blew out the candles for you. I took photos of it. I wanted to remember this one. And two of the photos had something very weird happen in them.

 Megan was taking photos at the same time so I thought maybe the flash from her camera did something. But these are very clear distinct lines in the photos.
I'm a skeptic with things like this. But it's hard to explain it. My phone had never done this before. And it hasn't done it since. So I doubt it is a camera malfunction.
The weekend after we all celebrated at the East Side German Restaurant which is where I planned on taking you for your birthday this year (at least I remember what I PLANNED for your next birthday right?!?). It was bittersweet. And I won $5 on a scratch ticket - on the number 17 no less. 17 was your hockey number. And it was the 17th of January I won it. So many coincidences....  it's hard to ignore them.
Look at those two faces. They miss you, Mike. Their lives have been completely and totally devastated with your loss. And I can't fix it or make it better. This is the life they now have. And as a parent I want to be able to change it for them. But I cannot. They talk about you, they ask for you, they want to remember you. And most of all they want you back. We all just want you back.

My rings

So the time came for me to take my wedding rings off. This is something that is a highly personal decision and one of great 'debates' amongst widows, as it happens. Some take their rings off immediately. Others keep them on forever. Some decide to leave them on another finger/hand and get a 'widows ring' for their left hand. Whatever you decide, it's a very personal decision and there is no 'right' or 'wrong' - only what feels best for you individually. There have been a number of times in recent months that I started to be a little uncomfortable wearing my rings. As if I was holding onto something a bit too much. False advertising or something. I'll always be 'married' to Mike, but technically I'm not really married anymore, am I. Wearing them at times did spark some conversations that made me uncomfortable as people I didn't know well or had seen after a long time and were unaware of the situation would say 'oh you're married - tell me about your husband!'. Um, yeah. Where to start?! The conversation could head one of two ways. I pretend nothing happened and act like Mike is still here. Or the truth comes out and the conversation comes to a screeching halt. Either way, it made for some semi uncomfortable conversations or comments. Not that I should mind, right? It's my story and a huge part of who I am. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes, when talking to people I've just met, it's nice to not have the centerpiece of the conversation be about my husband dying and me being a widow. Because that's where the attention goes to when it comes out. "What happened? How long ago? Do you have kids? Oh my God they're so young. I'm so sorry. That's terrible. How ARE you?" Yeah, it is terrible and believe me you don't want to know how I really am, so can we move on? Debbie Downer. And if you know me, you know I'm not a person who wants everyone feeling sad for me and having my tragedy be the center of everyone's chat.


Another reason was that wearing the rings can also cause them to be damaged or, God forbid, lost. I plan to get the rings inspected and cleaned at our jeweler soon so that they are in good shape. I worry about losing the diamond off of the engagement ring, and then not having it at all. There's huge memories attached with those rings. I vividly remember picking out the diamond and setting with Michael. I will never forget the exact place and time that he proposed, and how when he tried to put the ring on my finger my hands were so swollen that it wouldn't go on. We'd just hiked up a mountain and my hands were all puffy. Then finally getting it on my finger back down at the car when the swelling went down. Staring at it as I tried to drive home. I'd waited for that moment for almost 5 years. And I'll never in all my years forget the day he put that wedding band on my finger. And I'll never forget putting his on him, either. As we said our vows at the farmhouse in NH. More reasons not to wear them now - Adella or Gunnar may want the rings later in life to use as their own. I want to make sure to preserve them.

Right now, it feels pretty odd to not have them on. But like all things I think it takes some getting used to. I won't feel 'right' right away. After wearing them for over 7 years my finger has a huge dent in it anyhow. I rarely took them off for anything, I wore them pretty much constantly. When we got engaged it felt very weird to wear a ring all the time - I'm not a big jewelery person. So like that, not wearing it now will take time to get used to as well. There are probably some who find it offensive - like I'm out looking for someone else now or something. That couldn't be further from the truth. It has nothing to do with being perceived as single or available. It has everything to do with learning to live this new life that I have been handed. I still keep them close. I have a necklace my in-laws gave me to hold them around my neck. I wear them often - close to my heart. All together, as they should be. And many times I find myself putting my fingers in Mike's wedding band. Remembering the meaning and symbolism behind such a simple piece of metal. That he was mine, and I was his. Imagining him still wearing it. Knowing that his ring is one of the only things I have left that he was wearing the day he died. It was on his finger that morning when he was alive and it was still on his finger after he was gone. There is a strange sense of peace in that.

Christmas.... and New Years.

"We made it". This is my mantra for the year, really. We made it through another milestone. Another first. Another 'without Mike' event. Christmas was in New Hampshire, and it was a good distraction to travel with the kids (despite the stomach bug finding me on the way...) and it was wonderful to be surrounded by family and friends. Bittersweet small moments followed me. My sister, who is amazing, had a stocking for me on Christmas morning. At the bottom? Swedish fish. My favorite - and exactly what Mike would have put in my stocking. Filling the stockings and putting out presents for our kids... alone without Mike to share with and laugh with. Or complain with (especially when they wouldn't go to sleep!) Seeing the kids eyes fill with wonder as they got up Christmas morning. Sharing smiles as we gave and received gifts with my family. The kids both received a gift from Dad this year. As they will continue to get over the years. Something I know he would have wanted them to have. A gentle reminder that he is still with us, and still loves them, and is to be remembered.
New Year's was Christmas with Mike's family. That was a tough one. Some thoughtful, heart wrenching presents given and received. His absence felt continuously. To make some light of the situation, I wore a shirt his mom had given each kid a few years back that says 'Mom loves ME best' on it. I then proceeded to put on his red union suit that was given to him another year. Two things that reminded me of Mike and the holidays. Reminding us that he is always with us, as his memory lives on forever with all of us. I will never get tired of talking about him and sharing stories of him.
New Year's was even harder than I had thought, as I have awaited 2015 for so long. So ready for 2014 to be over with and the year to be in my history books. Then 2015 came, and I realized what I was leaving behind in 2014. I was leaving behind the last year Michael was here with us. 2014 will always be the year he was still here. The year the kids still had their dad, and I had my husband. 2015 is here now - a year that Michael will never be present in. All this time I was so looking forward to leaving the year behind, only to realize that as time goes by, Michael gets further and further from my rear view mirror. I'm moving forward in the vehicle of life and he's stuck on the side of the road behind me. I'm always looking back making sure he's OK and he's still there. Always have my eye on him. But the view gets smaller and smaller over time. Days go back to 'normal'. We go to work, we go to school, we go home. We wake up and do it all over again. The sharp pain of the loss is there in my rear view mirror when I look back. Hitting me like a knife in the heart right into my soul. But as time goes on, I realize that I don't need to look back quite as often. I have begun to look forward to things in life. I am reminded daily of how important it is to live. Not just for me and my children. But for Mike. His life was cut short far too soon. The least I can do is live a full, good, happy life for him - something he didn't get the chance to do. So my resolution for 2015. Ah, forget it, I don't do resolutions. I do hopes and dreams. My hope is that I never forget, in all my years on this Earth, how precious the gift of life is. And my dream is that I continue to live life for Mike. Do things he would he would have wanted us to do. If he can't be here to do them, I will do them for him.

USMC birthday and Veterans Day

11/10 and 11/11
2 very important days in Mike's life. As a Marine 11/10 is always a day to celebrate - the birthday of the United States Marines  in 1775. We were lucky enough to attend a few Marine Corps Ball's over the years to celeb
rate this event. The pride in Mike's eyes knowing all he had accomplished as a Marine was immense. It is safe to say that Mike lived to be a Marine. From a young age it was apparent to his parents and siblings and friends. As an adult he was proud of his service above just about everything. Except possibly his kids :)
Veterans Day 11/11. I feel like this sequence is a double whammy for me this year. Two days I would have been telling Mike how proud I was of him. 2 days we would have celebrated together. Now only me celebrating.  Gunnar had an assignment to bring in something for Veterans Day to school. So of course he brought photos of his dad. As both the kids will probably do for many years. Their pride in their father overflowing. Their own private hero.
I think they hit me out of nowhere. I didn't expect these days to be difficult. But grief does that to you. Comes up and bites you right when you least expect it.