New Years Eve, a time for rejoicing and starting new. A time when all hopes and dreams seem not only possible but plausible. A time to believe in the promise the future holds. Last New Years Eve Brian and I cuddled on the couch and watched t.v. together. We talked about how 2011 was going to be a better year. We believed that 2011 was going to be the year that we could get the cancer to go away (which it was) at least for a little while.....little did we know our lives would be turned upside down, inside out and backwards within a couple of short weeks.
2011 was not a great year as a whole, but there were good times. We were able to take our kids to Universal, Seaworld and Disney World. It is a vacation that they still talk about with a glimmer in their eyes. We went camping not once, but twice in June. Once with Brian's aunt, uncle and cousin, and once with his mom. The kids refer to the last one as the invasion of the raccoons and laugh about how NaNa scared them away with her canoe paddle.
I woke up this morning thinking of the different New Years Eves I spent with Brian, 25 of them. While I don't remember ALL of them there are ones that stand out more than others. One year, before I was of drinking age we decided to go to a bar for the night. The only one we knew we could get into was a gay bar. As my friend Tammy and I were out on the dance floor, Brian was getting hit on right and left. Even though he seriously could not dance, he finally came out and started just so the guys hitting on him would know he was with ME, it was really pretty funny. 1992 into 1993...the year we were getting married, we were both so excited. 1998 into 1999, he had just graduated and was getting ready to start working, the hopes and dreams we had at that point were incredible. Y2K...remember Y2K? This was one of the best New Years Eves EVER! We were expecting our first baby in February. There were all kinds of celebrations throughout Madison. Brian and I went down to the lake, cuddled on a pier and watched the fireworks over the Capitol at Midnight. 2005 into 2006, we had added three more babies to our Y2K one and were in Alabama with Brian's dad and step-mom. Another year full of promise. We were hitting all of our goals at our Chiropractic clinic and FINALLY were feeling some financial freedom. I remember that Brian went to bed early that night. He wasn't feeling well.
When we got home from Alabama Brian went to his doctor to find out what was wrong. His pancreatic cancer diagnosis took almost two months to confirm. We were told that he had "A year, probably not two". 2006 was not starting out well and 2007 was looking pretty bleak from a distance. We fought, hard, and in November of that year Brian had surgery to remove his tumor, which at that point was nothing more than scar tissue. The pathology showed NO remaining cancer, NONE. 2007 wasn't looking so bad after all.......and it wasn't, 2007 was a great year. New Years Eve 2008 was again a year of hopes and dreams. We were again starting to believe in the promise of a long future. We took our kids to a huge celebration at the Monona Terrace (where our 4 year old son wandered off in a crowd of thousands...THAT was scary!) and watched fireworks with them from the car. 2008 was not the year we had hoped for. Brian's cancer was re-diagnosed and he went through two surgeries, radiation and more chemo that year. Again, the cancer pulled back and we were able to enjoy 2009. 2010 was a hard year, though we greeted it as we had all the others, with hope and love for one another and our kids. No matter how hard things seemed, we always had hope, we always believed that he would get better and we dreamed of our future.
New Years Eve 2012, the first one in 25 years that I have not spent with Brian. The first of many. The beginning of our first full year with out him. There will be no romantic kiss for me tonight, that is something I will miss the most. The kids and I will bring in 2012 at my parents house. We will watch Harry Potter movies in our pjs and have cheese fondue for dinner. It will be a quiet (well, with 4 kids, nothing is EVER quiet!) night and one I'm sure that will bring sadness at the thought of what it truly means. As I wind my way into 2012 my hope is for a better year, one that brings happiness to me and my kids. A year that I can once again start to believe in something. A year that I can dare to dream again.
To everyone who reads this, I hope that 2012 will be everything you want it to be......and more.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
*Sigh* Firsts.....
We made it through Christmas. The first one of many without Brian. I have always been adamant about the kids waking up in their own home on Christmas morning. One year, six years ago to be exact, (just before our lives fell changed forever) we went to Alabama for Christmas to spend it with Brian's dad and step-mom. That was the one and only year we did not stay home for Christmas.....until now. I just couldn't be home this year, I could not wake up on Christmas morning without my Brian next to me in bed. I couldn't do it, so the kids and I packed our stuff and spent Christmas Eve and Christmas night at my parents house. I am so glad we did.
While I did everything I could to make Christmas special for our kids, and my parents did everything they could to make it special for me, it was still such a hard day. I actually held it together pretty well, at least until just after dinner. I admit, I did take a long nap to avoid part of the day, but that was nice, I felt like Brian was with me. When my dad tried to wake me up I went back to sleep, I just wanted more time with him. That was just before dinner, which is probably why I fell apart afterwards. He wasn't there, he will never be there again. Even I sat at the table with my family, with the people that love me the most in this world, I felt SO very ALONE. I looked around the table and saw the faces of those I love, my parents, my kids, my brother and sister and their spouses, but I was alone, maybe not alone, but terribly lonely. Widowhood is lonely. After dinner I sat at the table, alone, and quietly sobbed. I missed my Brian. Soon, my brother and sister came and sat on either side of me, neither saying a word, just being there for me. I love them for that.
We've had a lot of firsts in the short 3 1/2 months since Brian died. Our daughter's 10th birthday, two weeks to the day after Brian died. She said "I'm glad dad didn't die on my birthday, and I'm sad he won't be here to see me get my ears pierced." November was a hard month, lots of firsts there. Brian's birthday, which we made into a special day by going to Build-A-Bear Workshop and making bears which we put vials of Brian's ashes into, we had many of his favorite foods for dinner that night then we sent balloons with messages on them to Heaven for him and I gave the kids memory glass necklaces with Brian's ashes in them that I had made for them. The next day was Thanksgiving, Brian's favorite holiday, so I struggled through that one, two days later it was my birthday, which was SO much harder than Brian's. In rolls December and with it our son turned 8. That day was also the same day that Brian and I started dating, we would have been together 25 years on that day. Christmas was the hardest of all though, at least so far, but, like I said, we made it through. On the other hand, did I really have a choice? There will be more firsts coming soon, our oldest daughters 12th birthday in February and our baby's (she will be 7) in April....then there will be a reprieve on special occasion firsts until August 7th, which would be our 19th anniversary. The kids will be at camp that week.....maybe I'll find somewhere tropical to go and hide.
I have heard from other widows that the first year is hard, the second year is harder. I mentioned this to my dad and he said to me "Can you imagine things being any harder than they are now?" No, I really can't, so I hope that means that next year is a little easier. So, as of right now we are headed towards another first.....New Years Eve.....and I have NO idea what the kids and I are going to do. I'm sure this next first will bring back a flood of memories of all the New Years Eve's we spent together, 25 of them, and all of the hopes and dreams we shared. New Years Eve.....2012.....it HAS to be a better year, I don't think it can be much worse.
While I did everything I could to make Christmas special for our kids, and my parents did everything they could to make it special for me, it was still such a hard day. I actually held it together pretty well, at least until just after dinner. I admit, I did take a long nap to avoid part of the day, but that was nice, I felt like Brian was with me. When my dad tried to wake me up I went back to sleep, I just wanted more time with him. That was just before dinner, which is probably why I fell apart afterwards. He wasn't there, he will never be there again. Even I sat at the table with my family, with the people that love me the most in this world, I felt SO very ALONE. I looked around the table and saw the faces of those I love, my parents, my kids, my brother and sister and their spouses, but I was alone, maybe not alone, but terribly lonely. Widowhood is lonely. After dinner I sat at the table, alone, and quietly sobbed. I missed my Brian. Soon, my brother and sister came and sat on either side of me, neither saying a word, just being there for me. I love them for that.
We've had a lot of firsts in the short 3 1/2 months since Brian died. Our daughter's 10th birthday, two weeks to the day after Brian died. She said "I'm glad dad didn't die on my birthday, and I'm sad he won't be here to see me get my ears pierced." November was a hard month, lots of firsts there. Brian's birthday, which we made into a special day by going to Build-A-Bear Workshop and making bears which we put vials of Brian's ashes into, we had many of his favorite foods for dinner that night then we sent balloons with messages on them to Heaven for him and I gave the kids memory glass necklaces with Brian's ashes in them that I had made for them. The next day was Thanksgiving, Brian's favorite holiday, so I struggled through that one, two days later it was my birthday, which was SO much harder than Brian's. In rolls December and with it our son turned 8. That day was also the same day that Brian and I started dating, we would have been together 25 years on that day. Christmas was the hardest of all though, at least so far, but, like I said, we made it through. On the other hand, did I really have a choice? There will be more firsts coming soon, our oldest daughters 12th birthday in February and our baby's (she will be 7) in April....then there will be a reprieve on special occasion firsts until August 7th, which would be our 19th anniversary. The kids will be at camp that week.....maybe I'll find somewhere tropical to go and hide.
I have heard from other widows that the first year is hard, the second year is harder. I mentioned this to my dad and he said to me "Can you imagine things being any harder than they are now?" No, I really can't, so I hope that means that next year is a little easier. So, as of right now we are headed towards another first.....New Years Eve.....and I have NO idea what the kids and I are going to do. I'm sure this next first will bring back a flood of memories of all the New Years Eve's we spent together, 25 of them, and all of the hopes and dreams we shared. New Years Eve.....2012.....it HAS to be a better year, I don't think it can be much worse.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
All I want for Christmas....
Well, that is pretty obvious, and it is equally obvious that I won't get it.
This season has me thinking of all the years we spent together, all the Christmases together. I remember the very first one, we had been dating less than a month and I got a phone call from a mutual friend who told me that Brian had bought me a Christmas present. So, there I was on Christmas Eve, out shopping to buy this guy that I hardly knew something for Christmas. I bought him a shirt....the funny thing was, he bought me a shirt too! One that I had pointed out at the mall when we were shopping one time and mentioned that I liked it. That was Brian, always remembering things I noticed. He would buy me things that I would casually mention that I would like to have. He always tucked it away and at Christmas time, there were things I didn't even realize I wanted and/or needed under the tree.
One year I broke my tree topper, the one from my childhood and I was devastated. That same year, Brian bought me an angel for the top of our tree. It was a Madame Alexander doll, which I collected. He wrote me a card and told me that he wouldn't have made it through that year (he was a student at Palmer College of Chiropractic at the time) without me. He said to "look up" that my Christmas present was so special I couldn't miss it. There she was on the top of my parents tree. I keep that precious card in the box with her and read it every year.
As years went by, and finances got tighter he became a little bit more of a Grinch at Christmas, not totally green, mind you, but more careful. One year I bought him a Grinch stuffed doll, I laughed hysterically when he opened it, he didn't think it was so funny.......Last year I remember being in the car with the kids and the Grinch song came on, I said "Listen kids! It's dad's theme song!" and giggled. Again, he wasn't laughing, but he did smile a little...... I know that in the years after his cancer diagnosis that he was even more careful at Christmas time, always telling me to not buy the kids as many things (yes, I do tend to go overboard!) but I couldn't help it! I mean, c'mon, our four kids were dealing with something that no child should ever have to deal with, so I over compensated. This year I again went all out, but I have to admit, as I was checking out with my loot at Walmart the other night I had tears in my eyes and could barely talk. I could just hear Brian "They don't need all that stuff, how MUCH are you spending?!?" I seriously wish he were here to chastise me for it, but he isn't, so I am again over compensating!
While Christmas was not Brian's favorite holiday, mostly because of the amount of money spent, every year since his diagnosis he made it his goal to be here for the next one. This summer, a few weeks before he died, he had a brain bleed and was talking incoherently. Though there was not a lot that we could understand, the one word we COULD understand was Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. He knew he wanted to be here for it. I am so sad that he is not.
I know this year as I put my beautiful angel on her perch there will be tears in my eyes. I know that as I wind the ribbons that flow from beneath her around the tree that I will think of Christmases past with both joy and sadness. Those ribbons will wind around all of the memories that are hung on the tree. Our First Christmas Together ornament, Santa Fred, picture ornaments of our babies, pictures of our family cutting down our Christmas trees and the one I made tonight, an ornament with the year 2011 on the bottom of it and on top of it an angel dressed in blue, praying, with a picture of Brian in it. This Christmas those ribbons are as symbolic as they are decorative. They will not only wind through my past with Brian, but this year there will be new ornaments added to the tree, and the ribbons will wind around those new memories as well. I hope as those ribbons wind their way down the tree that we are able to smile, even laugh at the memories they pass. I hope that as we wind our way through our first Christmas without Brian that the day is not remembered as a completely sad day, but one that we filled with laughter and love for one another. That is what Brian would want.
This season has me thinking of all the years we spent together, all the Christmases together. I remember the very first one, we had been dating less than a month and I got a phone call from a mutual friend who told me that Brian had bought me a Christmas present. So, there I was on Christmas Eve, out shopping to buy this guy that I hardly knew something for Christmas. I bought him a shirt....the funny thing was, he bought me a shirt too! One that I had pointed out at the mall when we were shopping one time and mentioned that I liked it. That was Brian, always remembering things I noticed. He would buy me things that I would casually mention that I would like to have. He always tucked it away and at Christmas time, there were things I didn't even realize I wanted and/or needed under the tree.
One year I broke my tree topper, the one from my childhood and I was devastated. That same year, Brian bought me an angel for the top of our tree. It was a Madame Alexander doll, which I collected. He wrote me a card and told me that he wouldn't have made it through that year (he was a student at Palmer College of Chiropractic at the time) without me. He said to "look up" that my Christmas present was so special I couldn't miss it. There she was on the top of my parents tree. I keep that precious card in the box with her and read it every year.
As years went by, and finances got tighter he became a little bit more of a Grinch at Christmas, not totally green, mind you, but more careful. One year I bought him a Grinch stuffed doll, I laughed hysterically when he opened it, he didn't think it was so funny.......Last year I remember being in the car with the kids and the Grinch song came on, I said "Listen kids! It's dad's theme song!" and giggled. Again, he wasn't laughing, but he did smile a little...... I know that in the years after his cancer diagnosis that he was even more careful at Christmas time, always telling me to not buy the kids as many things (yes, I do tend to go overboard!) but I couldn't help it! I mean, c'mon, our four kids were dealing with something that no child should ever have to deal with, so I over compensated. This year I again went all out, but I have to admit, as I was checking out with my loot at Walmart the other night I had tears in my eyes and could barely talk. I could just hear Brian "They don't need all that stuff, how MUCH are you spending?!?" I seriously wish he were here to chastise me for it, but he isn't, so I am again over compensating!
While Christmas was not Brian's favorite holiday, mostly because of the amount of money spent, every year since his diagnosis he made it his goal to be here for the next one. This summer, a few weeks before he died, he had a brain bleed and was talking incoherently. Though there was not a lot that we could understand, the one word we COULD understand was Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. He knew he wanted to be here for it. I am so sad that he is not.
I know this year as I put my beautiful angel on her perch there will be tears in my eyes. I know that as I wind the ribbons that flow from beneath her around the tree that I will think of Christmases past with both joy and sadness. Those ribbons will wind around all of the memories that are hung on the tree. Our First Christmas Together ornament, Santa Fred, picture ornaments of our babies, pictures of our family cutting down our Christmas trees and the one I made tonight, an ornament with the year 2011 on the bottom of it and on top of it an angel dressed in blue, praying, with a picture of Brian in it. This Christmas those ribbons are as symbolic as they are decorative. They will not only wind through my past with Brian, but this year there will be new ornaments added to the tree, and the ribbons will wind around those new memories as well. I hope as those ribbons wind their way down the tree that we are able to smile, even laugh at the memories they pass. I hope that as we wind our way through our first Christmas without Brian that the day is not remembered as a completely sad day, but one that we filled with laughter and love for one another. That is what Brian would want.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
I used to be......
There are a LOT of ways I could complete that sentence, but this is the one that is on my mind the most. I used to be happy. I used to be a wife. I used to be Brian's wife. Right now, I am not any of those. Happiness sneaks in on occasion, but not often, and the other two....well, there is nothing that can be done about that at this point.
All I ever wanted with my life was to be married and have kids. Truly, that was my goal. I met Brian when I was 17 and was a senior in high school. I remember him looking at me one day after we'd been dating for just a couple of months and saying "I'm going to marry you someday." I thought at that point, yea, right! Little did I know..... We got married 6 1/2 years after we started dating and were married for 18 years and 27 days. In my opinion this is about 40 years (give or take a few) too short. I had what I wanted in my life, a loving husband and 4 great kids. Now, it is just me and the kids and I feel really lost without Brian, without his love and companionship. I am SO VERY lucky to have the kids, because they truly are reflections of him in one way or another. They are my stars, for they are helping to guide me through the darkness.
Brian and I had one of those relationships where all big decisions were made together. Where we worked out our disagreements before we went to bed, so that we wouldn't go to bed mad. We loved each other completely and were very trusting in one another. I largely defined myself as a wife, as Brian's wife. That is not to say I did not, or do not, have my own identity, but Brian's death has certainly put that into question. All of a sudden I DON'T know who I am or what I want to do. I find myself just trying to keep busy and looking forward to bedtime, knowing that the end of this day means I am one day closer to being with him again. It is going to be a LONG 40 (give or take a few) years.
We didn't have a perfect life, there were hard times, but I know that he loved me no matter what. I knew that he would never leave me, at least not in any way he could control. I know that I was his reason for living, his reason for fighting. He loved me so much that when he was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer he told my dad that if he died, he wanted me to get remarried someday. He wanted me to find someone that loved me and our kids as much as he did, and that it was my dad's job to make sure I never felt guilty about that. One night he told me the same thing. He told me that I was too beautiful and too good a person to be alone for the rest of my life. That to me is the essence of love. Brian and I fit together well, he grounded me and I gave him wings. I hope that the things he taught me help me through the next few months and years, and I hope the wings I gave him have him flying high as an angel in the clouds.
I love you Brian, and I always will. I hope that as I wind my way through widowhood that I again find happiness. I hope at some point that I am able to find love and be a wife again. Before that happens I need to figure out who I am. For now, I am a mother and truthfully, I am still Brian's wife.......
All I ever wanted with my life was to be married and have kids. Truly, that was my goal. I met Brian when I was 17 and was a senior in high school. I remember him looking at me one day after we'd been dating for just a couple of months and saying "I'm going to marry you someday." I thought at that point, yea, right! Little did I know..... We got married 6 1/2 years after we started dating and were married for 18 years and 27 days. In my opinion this is about 40 years (give or take a few) too short. I had what I wanted in my life, a loving husband and 4 great kids. Now, it is just me and the kids and I feel really lost without Brian, without his love and companionship. I am SO VERY lucky to have the kids, because they truly are reflections of him in one way or another. They are my stars, for they are helping to guide me through the darkness.
Brian and I had one of those relationships where all big decisions were made together. Where we worked out our disagreements before we went to bed, so that we wouldn't go to bed mad. We loved each other completely and were very trusting in one another. I largely defined myself as a wife, as Brian's wife. That is not to say I did not, or do not, have my own identity, but Brian's death has certainly put that into question. All of a sudden I DON'T know who I am or what I want to do. I find myself just trying to keep busy and looking forward to bedtime, knowing that the end of this day means I am one day closer to being with him again. It is going to be a LONG 40 (give or take a few) years.
We didn't have a perfect life, there were hard times, but I know that he loved me no matter what. I knew that he would never leave me, at least not in any way he could control. I know that I was his reason for living, his reason for fighting. He loved me so much that when he was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer he told my dad that if he died, he wanted me to get remarried someday. He wanted me to find someone that loved me and our kids as much as he did, and that it was my dad's job to make sure I never felt guilty about that. One night he told me the same thing. He told me that I was too beautiful and too good a person to be alone for the rest of my life. That to me is the essence of love. Brian and I fit together well, he grounded me and I gave him wings. I hope that the things he taught me help me through the next few months and years, and I hope the wings I gave him have him flying high as an angel in the clouds.
I love you Brian, and I always will. I hope that as I wind my way through widowhood that I again find happiness. I hope at some point that I am able to find love and be a wife again. Before that happens I need to figure out who I am. For now, I am a mother and truthfully, I am still Brian's wife.......
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Sadness, snuggles......sleep
I have found in the last three (plus) months that children's grief does not follow the same winding path that widowhood does. Their grief is more like hairpin turns. They seem fine one moment then desperately sad, angry or tearful the next, and within minutes they can be giggling again. I am almost jealous of the way they can do that.
Last night was one of those hairpin moments with my 10 year old. She was overwhelmingly sad, crying uncontrollably and saying that she wanted her Daddy. That in itself was awful, but it got worse. She said that she wished that she had never been born. When I asked her why, she said that if she hadn't been born that her dad would have never gotten cancer. What?!? I immediately said to her "You know that it wasn't your fault that Daddy died, right?" She said "Yes it is! I didn't love him enough! I didn't talk to him enough because he was always so cranky!" As I snuggled into bed with her, I told her that there was nothing that any of us did to make him die, and there was nothing that we knew of that would have saved him. I reminded her of how on the day he died she sat with him and held his hand and told him she loved him. I reminded her of how he squeezed her hand while she talked to him, and that I knew he could hear her. I told her how MUCH her Daddy loved her. Can you IMAGINE the guilt this little one has been feeling? It was heart wrenching to think that she has been blaming herself for all this time.
She settled down and started talking about the last big trip we took as a family, which was to Disney World, Universal and Sea World. She quietly remembered how her dad sat next to her on every scary ride and held her hand. Shortly thereafter she was giggling at another memory of her dad. I laid there next to her, snuggling and dozing off myself, until she finally fell asleep. As I climbed out of bed I asked Brian to please come to her in a dream and let her know how much he loved her. This morning when she got up she came to me smiling and told me she had the BEST dream.....no, it wasn't Brian, she dreamed that she was a mermaid swimming with dolphins. I'd like to think, though I know this is a stretch, that swimming weightless through the water as a mermaid means the enormous weight of that guilt has been lifted from her.
I know that in the next months and certainly for years to come that I will encounter these hairpin turns with my children. They too are grieving, they are just better at setting it aside and LIVING while they do so.
Last night was one of those hairpin moments with my 10 year old. She was overwhelmingly sad, crying uncontrollably and saying that she wanted her Daddy. That in itself was awful, but it got worse. She said that she wished that she had never been born. When I asked her why, she said that if she hadn't been born that her dad would have never gotten cancer. What?!? I immediately said to her "You know that it wasn't your fault that Daddy died, right?" She said "Yes it is! I didn't love him enough! I didn't talk to him enough because he was always so cranky!" As I snuggled into bed with her, I told her that there was nothing that any of us did to make him die, and there was nothing that we knew of that would have saved him. I reminded her of how on the day he died she sat with him and held his hand and told him she loved him. I reminded her of how he squeezed her hand while she talked to him, and that I knew he could hear her. I told her how MUCH her Daddy loved her. Can you IMAGINE the guilt this little one has been feeling? It was heart wrenching to think that she has been blaming herself for all this time.
She settled down and started talking about the last big trip we took as a family, which was to Disney World, Universal and Sea World. She quietly remembered how her dad sat next to her on every scary ride and held her hand. Shortly thereafter she was giggling at another memory of her dad. I laid there next to her, snuggling and dozing off myself, until she finally fell asleep. As I climbed out of bed I asked Brian to please come to her in a dream and let her know how much he loved her. This morning when she got up she came to me smiling and told me she had the BEST dream.....no, it wasn't Brian, she dreamed that she was a mermaid swimming with dolphins. I'd like to think, though I know this is a stretch, that swimming weightless through the water as a mermaid means the enormous weight of that guilt has been lifted from her.
I know that in the next months and certainly for years to come that I will encounter these hairpin turns with my children. They too are grieving, they are just better at setting it aside and LIVING while they do so.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Mornings and Bedtimes........
First written on Nov. 10th
Mornings and bedtime, the two hardest parts of the day. Hard for so many reasons. Waking up to not having my handsome husband next to me, and going to bed completely exhausted yet unable to fall asleep. Instead I wake up to one of four kids next to me in the bed, having stolen my covers during the night, something Brian never did. He always made sure I was covered if he was moving around. At night I blow a kiss into the air and tell him "goodnight, I love you". I did this last week thinking my daughter was already asleep, then from the other side of the bed I heard a whisper, "I love you too, Mama". That created a smile wrapped in sadness.
Mornings and bedtime. The two times of the day that the fact that he's gone is SO much more evident. Kids that won't go to bed. I get one child to do what I ask and the other three scatter like mice. Get child number two under control, and child number one forgets what they were supposed to be doing and joins three and four....you get the picture. The late bedtimes then translate to HARD mornings. An 11 1/2 year old that WILL NOT get up, which means she misses a ride with the neighbors. A 10 year old that most of the time gets up and gets ready on her own, but if one thing goes awry she has an anxiety attack and starts running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. An 8 year old that just simply moves at his own pace.....turtle slow, and thankfully a 6 1/2 year old that gets ready and does what she's asked when she's asked. It is this little one that said to me at orientation (in response to the teacher telling us how IMPORTANT it is to have our kids to school ON TIME) "That's going to be hard for you, isn't it Mama?"
Mornings and bedtime. Morning's were Brian's thing with the kids up until earlier this year. He would get them up and take them to school. He would let me sleep in, knowing that I loved to do that. He was a great dad and an awesome husband. Bedtime was the time where we would sit on the couch together and watch an hour or two of t.v. that we had recorded. Right now I think I have almost 40 hours of shows waiting for me and by the time the kids are finally in bed I am too tired to watch them. I know that I can't stay up late like I used to because now it is up to me, and ONLY me to get the kids up, dressed, fed and to school.....hopefully ON TIME. I get home every morning after dropping my kids off at school and most days I just sit in my car looking at my house. I know it is empty. I know he is not in there waiting for me. I know the tears will fall as soon as I walk through the door. If I had to pick, I'd say that mornings are harder than bedtime, because once the kids are off to school, I am alone. Completely alone. It is up to me to make something out of the day. I used to go back to bed, it was such a good escape, but now, I don't do that, I guess that's a good thing.
Mornings and bedtime. The times when I miss him SO VERY much. Crazy times. However, I am so very lucky to have my four kids to make those times crazy. I assume (HOPE!) that at one point we will fall into some kind of routine that will help these times be less crazy and hard. Right now there are five of us dealing with the loss of husband, dad, and friend. As time goes on, things will change. Emotions will be less raw. The loss will forever be there, and I know it will sneak in when we least expect it, but we will make it through this, one morning, one bedtime, at a time.
Mornings and bedtime, the two hardest parts of the day. Hard for so many reasons. Waking up to not having my handsome husband next to me, and going to bed completely exhausted yet unable to fall asleep. Instead I wake up to one of four kids next to me in the bed, having stolen my covers during the night, something Brian never did. He always made sure I was covered if he was moving around. At night I blow a kiss into the air and tell him "goodnight, I love you". I did this last week thinking my daughter was already asleep, then from the other side of the bed I heard a whisper, "I love you too, Mama". That created a smile wrapped in sadness.
Mornings and bedtime. The two times of the day that the fact that he's gone is SO much more evident. Kids that won't go to bed. I get one child to do what I ask and the other three scatter like mice. Get child number two under control, and child number one forgets what they were supposed to be doing and joins three and four....you get the picture. The late bedtimes then translate to HARD mornings. An 11 1/2 year old that WILL NOT get up, which means she misses a ride with the neighbors. A 10 year old that most of the time gets up and gets ready on her own, but if one thing goes awry she has an anxiety attack and starts running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. An 8 year old that just simply moves at his own pace.....turtle slow, and thankfully a 6 1/2 year old that gets ready and does what she's asked when she's asked. It is this little one that said to me at orientation (in response to the teacher telling us how IMPORTANT it is to have our kids to school ON TIME) "That's going to be hard for you, isn't it Mama?"
Mornings and bedtime. Morning's were Brian's thing with the kids up until earlier this year. He would get them up and take them to school. He would let me sleep in, knowing that I loved to do that. He was a great dad and an awesome husband. Bedtime was the time where we would sit on the couch together and watch an hour or two of t.v. that we had recorded. Right now I think I have almost 40 hours of shows waiting for me and by the time the kids are finally in bed I am too tired to watch them. I know that I can't stay up late like I used to because now it is up to me, and ONLY me to get the kids up, dressed, fed and to school.....hopefully ON TIME. I get home every morning after dropping my kids off at school and most days I just sit in my car looking at my house. I know it is empty. I know he is not in there waiting for me. I know the tears will fall as soon as I walk through the door. If I had to pick, I'd say that mornings are harder than bedtime, because once the kids are off to school, I am alone. Completely alone. It is up to me to make something out of the day. I used to go back to bed, it was such a good escape, but now, I don't do that, I guess that's a good thing.
Mornings and bedtime. The times when I miss him SO VERY much. Crazy times. However, I am so very lucky to have my four kids to make those times crazy. I assume (HOPE!) that at one point we will fall into some kind of routine that will help these times be less crazy and hard. Right now there are five of us dealing with the loss of husband, dad, and friend. As time goes on, things will change. Emotions will be less raw. The loss will forever be there, and I know it will sneak in when we least expect it, but we will make it through this, one morning, one bedtime, at a time.
The Hug
I wrote this last week, but think it is worth sharing here.
It has been 3 months since my Brian took his last breath. I can not explain it, nor am I going to question it, but I have felt better this last week, more like "me". Fewer tears, more energy, I have actually been thinking about Christmas.
Then it happened, the hug.
We were at the Chiropractors office, a friend of my husband (who was also a Chiropractor) and as we started to leave my 8 year old son turned back and gave Paul a hug. It was a simple gesture and so very sweet, but it spoke volumes. This is my child who does not talk about his dad and has rarely shed a tear since his death. This hug, this simple gesture had me in instant tears. Tucker misses his dad. I know that all of our kids do, but that hug just showed how much.
I wish I could take their pain away. I wish I could fix this for our family. I can't do either of those things. What I can do is make sure they know that I love them enough for both of us.
What I can do is make sure I give them more hugs.
It has been 3 months since my Brian took his last breath. I can not explain it, nor am I going to question it, but I have felt better this last week, more like "me". Fewer tears, more energy, I have actually been thinking about Christmas.
Then it happened, the hug.
We were at the Chiropractors office, a friend of my husband (who was also a Chiropractor) and as we started to leave my 8 year old son turned back and gave Paul a hug. It was a simple gesture and so very sweet, but it spoke volumes. This is my child who does not talk about his dad and has rarely shed a tear since his death. This hug, this simple gesture had me in instant tears. Tucker misses his dad. I know that all of our kids do, but that hug just showed how much.
I wish I could take their pain away. I wish I could fix this for our family. I can't do either of those things. What I can do is make sure they know that I love them enough for both of us.
What I can do is make sure I give them more hugs.
Three LONG months
It has been just over three months since my best friend, my husband, took his last breath. Three LONG months. It has been three months of figuring out how to "go it alone". Three months of being an only parent to four kids. Three months of trying to figure out what to do with his things. Three months of loneliness.
I find that I don't really dream about Brian, though when I do I'm not sure it is a good thing. I wake up longing for the life we were supposed to have. I wake up missing him more, though sometimes I feel less alone if he has visited me in my dreams.... The funny thing is, when I dream of him, he isn't necessarily healthy, but in the dreams we have more TIME to work with. TIME to make him healthy. I guess it is my subconscious feeling guilty about not doing more, though anyone you talk to will tell you I did EVERYTHING possible to try and save him.
I miss my Brian. Last week we would have been together for 25 years. 25 years, well over half of my life. I started dating Brian when I was 17 and from that point forward, there was never anyone else. We "grew up" together, became adults together, did all of our significant "firsts" together. We brought four beautiful babies into this world together. 25 years is a pretty significant chunk of time, though it amazes me to think that there is the possibility that I will spend more of my life with someone else......I wonder how THAT works when we get to Heaven? The last 25 years has molded me into who I am today....though on this particular day, I'm not sure WHO that is. Brian taught me to be strong and independent, the strength I appreciate, the need for being independent I'm not so thrilled about......
Three months. A point where I find that the tears are no longer constant. A time where I am starting to feel more like "me". What is it I have been told a thousand times in the last three months? Oh yea, "Time heals all wounds". Though if you talk to a WIDOW they see it differently. The wound never heals, it just hurts less. Three months without Brian is a drop in the bucket compared to the last 25 years of life with him. The pain is unreal, for me and our children. We miss him, and we will miss him for a long time, probably for the rest of our lives. We are trying to heal, trying to "re-frame" our family structure. Three months feels like forever, but in reality we are only at the beginning of this journey. I hope as I wind my way through widowhood that I find peace, happiness and love along the way.
I find that I don't really dream about Brian, though when I do I'm not sure it is a good thing. I wake up longing for the life we were supposed to have. I wake up missing him more, though sometimes I feel less alone if he has visited me in my dreams.... The funny thing is, when I dream of him, he isn't necessarily healthy, but in the dreams we have more TIME to work with. TIME to make him healthy. I guess it is my subconscious feeling guilty about not doing more, though anyone you talk to will tell you I did EVERYTHING possible to try and save him.
I miss my Brian. Last week we would have been together for 25 years. 25 years, well over half of my life. I started dating Brian when I was 17 and from that point forward, there was never anyone else. We "grew up" together, became adults together, did all of our significant "firsts" together. We brought four beautiful babies into this world together. 25 years is a pretty significant chunk of time, though it amazes me to think that there is the possibility that I will spend more of my life with someone else......I wonder how THAT works when we get to Heaven? The last 25 years has molded me into who I am today....though on this particular day, I'm not sure WHO that is. Brian taught me to be strong and independent, the strength I appreciate, the need for being independent I'm not so thrilled about......
Three months. A point where I find that the tears are no longer constant. A time where I am starting to feel more like "me". What is it I have been told a thousand times in the last three months? Oh yea, "Time heals all wounds". Though if you talk to a WIDOW they see it differently. The wound never heals, it just hurts less. Three months without Brian is a drop in the bucket compared to the last 25 years of life with him. The pain is unreal, for me and our children. We miss him, and we will miss him for a long time, probably for the rest of our lives. We are trying to heal, trying to "re-frame" our family structure. Three months feels like forever, but in reality we are only at the beginning of this journey. I hope as I wind my way through widowhood that I find peace, happiness and love along the way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)