Saturday, March 28, 2015

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.

Monday, March 9, 2015

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.