THAT Guy... THE Guy (?)... I guess not

How many times can I do this? Dating. I don't understand WHY it has to be so hard at this age!!! I have been "dating" on and off since I ended my relationship with Anthony almost a year ago. In that year I have met a handful of guys, I have talked to a lot more, but it never goes anywhere and the conversation eventually just tapers off. I went out with three of them a few times each. Two disappeared (ghosted) without a trace (I found out later that one of them does this habitually to women, it is just beyond my comprehension how you could so easily treat someone like that) and one said he "couldn't give me the time and attention I deserve", I had a couple of "meet and greets" there was just no connection... but the last one... all I can say is WOW... I felt like I had finally met THAT guy... maybe even THE guy...

He messaged me on a dating site on July 4th. I took one look at his smile and knew I had to reply... then I read his profile and I DEFINITELY had to reply. Self employed, flips houses, dad... He said he wanted to know more, I said "you had me at flips houses". We messaged back and forth all day and later that night he gave me his phone number. I rarely give mine out that quickly, but this time I did. He asked if he could call me and we proceeded to talk for over two hours, I think it was 1 am by the time we hung up. That 2 hours went by quickly. There was never a lapse in our conversation or an uncomfortable silence. Before we hung up he asked me if I would like to meet, I said yes and we planned on meeting the next day. I went to bed with a smile on my face that night. This felt different then other men I have talked to. In the course of those two hours we talked about our families (he has 4 kids too and their ages are not a lot different than mine) our pets (he has a dog named Ivy too) our careers, which go hand in hand and past relationships. We definitely have a lot in common.

We met in Lake Geneva (he lives in IL, 2 hours from me) for a late dinner the next day. Again, the conversation flowed as though we had known each other for much longer than a day. After dinner we went to the lake, he had brought chairs with him so we sat in those and talked some more. At the end of the night he gave me an "air hug" because we were both dealing with kids that had been exposed to Covid (both tested negative, but we didn't know that at that time) and we said good night.

The next two weeks consisted of us talking every day for hours. We rarely texted and it was SO NICE to be able to get to know someone this way. He was attentive and often called me just to see what I was doing. At some point during the second week I asked him when I was going to see him again, his response "not soon enough". We met in Lake Geneva again and hung out in a small bar all night. I watched him play pool and we talked all night. It was not the most romantic second date, but it was relaxing and fun. He walked me to my car and when he kissed me good night I have to admit that the thought ran through my head that if that was my last first kiss I was ok with that. He smiled at me and said "you're going to be thinking about that kiss all the way home". He wasn't wrong... As he walked away he turned back to look at me over his shoulder and smiled. I drove home telling myself not to fall for him... but even as I talked to myself I knew that it was too late, I was already there.

The next day I texted him and said I was still thinking about that kiss... no response. I called him that afternoon, he didn't answer. That all too familiar feeling of being ghosted was creeping in and I was pushing it away as hard as I could (that is what happens when guys decide that it is easier to just disappear then to TELL you they aren't interested. It makes it SO hard to trust the next guy) he finally texted me and said that he couldn't stop thinking about how I had been on the dating site we met on, talking to other guys WHILE we were on our date! Wait... WHAT?!? No. I wasn't. I finally met a guy that seemed to check ALL of the boxes and he thought I was talking to other men. Not only was I NOT talking to anyone else (I did answer one text that night and that is what he saw) I had told everyone that I was talking to that I had met someone and I wanted to see where that was going. I hid my profile so I would stop getting messages. I even cancelled a date I had set up earlier in the week because I didn't feel right about meeting anyone else. I tried to call him, he wouldn't answer. I texted him, he responded but it was clear that he had made up his mind. In two short weeks I felt more potential for something real than I have ever felt with anyone since Brian died. I've felt potential before, but this was different, VERY different. 

It has been almost 2 weeks since I have heard from him. I have sent him a couple of texts trying to open that communication up again, but he has not responded. Even though this is over, I deleted my dating profile. I just do not want to meet anyone else. I met someone that I really wanted to get to know, a guy that when I told my daughter a little about him said "Mom! He is YOU in male form" LOL. This one stings, I saw something different and a lot of what I have been looking for in a man. We had a connection, I KNOW it was not one sided...There has not been a day in the last two weeks that I have not thought about him. Every day I hope that my phone rings with the ringtone I have just for him... but it doesn't. Today was particularly hard though. This morning that image of him looking over his shoulder at me as he walked away popped into my head. It brought tears to my eyes, and for the rest of the day I was on the verge of tears. I finally went to a park by a lake to watch the sunset and let myself cry. Tears for the hurt this has caused. Tears for the "alone" feeling I have. Tears for realization that I may NEVER find THAT guy. Tears simply because I REALLY like this one... My friends tell me that it is his loss, but I feel like we are both losing out on something that could be amazing and it makes me sad.

As I left the park tonight there was an elderly couple sitting in lawn chairs watching the sunset. I thought how lucky they are to have each other. I want that. After all I have been through I DESERVE that. Brian wanted that for me. I want something just like this was starting to be...

😢😢😢😢

 

 

"Alone"

The winding path of widowhood is never ending. Brian's death 8 years and 8 months ago put me on this path that I will be on in one way or another for the rest of my life. The one thing that never even crossed my mind 8 years and 8 months ago is that I would still be on this path "alone". When I say I alone, I don't mean that literally, I have four beautiful kids that have been my sidekicks on this journey. I have parents that have been here for me every step of the way. I have friends that I cherish beyond measure. When I say "alone" I mean that I never thought that I would be single over 8 years after Brian died.

Before Brian was diagnosed with his cancer he was at a pre-op appointment with my dad. We knew he had pancreas cancer, but every test that had been done up to that point had not come back with cancer cells. They couldn't treat what they didn't know, so he had to have laparoscopic surgery to type his cancer. My dad went with him for support because he didn't want to be alone.  He told my dad that day that if he died from this that he wanted me to find someone that would love me and love my kids as much as he did. He told my dad that it was his job to make sure that I NEVER felt guilty about doing that. There sat my 38 year old husband, knowing the likelihood of him dying from this was extremely high and he was thinking about ME and MY future happiness. At some point during our cancer journey he told me the same thing. He told me that he wanted me to find someone to be in my life. He said that I was too beautiful of a person to spend my life alone. He will never know what an incredible gift those words were.

I have been in two relationships since he died. The first was a colossal mistake, one made by a widow that had zero idea how to date and had no thought that people could be so awful. It was an abusive relationship, not physically, and not emotionally in the typical way, but he was narcissistic and manipulative and he drew me in in a way that even when I wanted to be out of the relationship I didn't know how. The only good thing that came of that relationship was that I learned that I had the capacity and the ability to love someone besides Brian. That was a powerful thing.

Relationship number two started out much more cautiously. It took me a long time to let him in. One day I realized that I was holding back and I finally gave in to the feelings. I loved him. I thought I would marry him, but he just never seemed to be what I needed. At first he was, but then at one point it just changed. He stopped helping around the house. He didn't spend a lot of time with me. I kept waiting and hoping for things to get better and they just didn't. I finally ended that relationship just over 3 years into it. That sent him into "self correction" mode and he started doing things to improve his life. I chose to give him another chance a few months later, but, for me it was too late. I was going through the motions but the feelings were different. I wanted more for my life than I was getting, so I ended it again in August of last year.

Dating since then has been... ugly. I do not have a job that I go to every day, I don't go to church or belong to any clubs or organizations. There is not a lot of opportunity in my life to meet men... so, online "dating" it is... Online dating does not really include much "dating". It includes a lot of talking that never leads anywhere. I've met 3 men in the last 7 months, 2 of which disappeared without a trace (known as ghosting in the dating world) after 3 and 4 dates, and let me tell you, that SUCKS! It fills you with self doubt and makes you question what you did wrong... when in reality it is an immature move by someone who would rather take the easy way  (for THEM) out.

Recently I started talking to someone who is widowed, someone I have had some very in depth conversations with about life, death, love and widowhood. It has been open, honest and real. I wanted to meet him... but... we are not in the same place. He says that he is broken, that he doesn't know if he will ever be able to be with someone else again and that I can do better. I said "maybe... maybe not"... but, I guess we will never know. I understand that feeling all too well, but I know that our hearts are capable of loving again... if we let it. I didn't meet him, and I can't help but feel disappointed that I won't get the chance to. Unfortunately this is an all too familiar feeling.

8 years and 8 months. It feels like forever and yesterday all at once. The longer I remain "alone" the more I get the feeling that maybe Brian was my one and only chance. I've always thought that Brian was the first love of my life... but I'm starting to wonder if maybe he was the only love I will ever truly have (que tears at the thought of this). Maybe I am broken too. Maybe it just isn't meant to be. I try to remain optimistic and hopeful, but the hurt that comes along with "dating" can easily drag someone with a huge heart down.

Brian's words echo in my head... "You are too beautiful of a person to spend your life alone." It hurts, and I don't like it, but I know that there is nothing I can do if someone is not willing to take the steps, do the work, or take the chance. So, for now... and for the foreseeable future... I will continue to wind down this path of widowhood "alone"...

Resilience

8 years ago life as I knew it was coming to a screeching halt. Brian had fallen in our room and in that fall he fractured his neck and had a brain bleed. I was sure he was going to die on our bedroom floor as I watched mini-strokes go across his face. The next 7 weeks were a blur of fighting for his comfort and survival... comfort came to some extent, but survival did not.

The years since his death (almost 8) have held different challenges.

The Chiropractor that we had employed literally picked up and moved her practice down the street (telling me the LAST day we were open before being closed for 2 weeks over Christmas and New Years that she wasn't coming back), taking ALL of our patients with her and tanking the sale price of the business Brian and I had spent our entire adult life working towards. We had no life insurance, so that money was crucial to our well being. I worked with Brian, so not only did I lose my husband and best friend, I lost my job and my business.

I became involved with a man that was an emotionally abusive, narcissistic, pathological liar. It took me a LONG time to untangle from that. In my widowed brain I thought I had found love again, but none of it was real. He was not capable of love. I all but severed my relationship with my parents whom I love dearly because of him. Thankfully, they loved me enough to stick with me and our relationship is just as close today as it always was.

I was let go from a job that I really liked because I "seemed too busy" to work (yep, only parent and my kids came first) and I didn't seem to be "catching on" fast enough. In other words, my widow brain (yes, it is a real thing) was not allowing me to retain everything I needed to. Having never been fired in my life this was a huge blow to my ego.

My mother-in-law (who called me the Devil after Brian died) took me to court for grandparent visitation rights, even though I was NOT withholding or keeping the kids from her. I spent well over $10,000 (again, money that was crucial to our survival) defending my children's rights to CHOOSE if and when they wanted to spend time with her. In the end she got visitation. Brian, who KNEW she would do something like this had it in his will that she was to get no visitation or placement of our kids unless it was deemed in their best interest by me or their guardian if I was no longer alive. She didn't care that he had put this in writing and went against his wishes. This lasted a year, and when she filed for "make up" time if one of the kids couldn't make it I said no... and back to court we went. The guardian ad litem ruled in the kids favor and said that it was not in their best interest to be forced to spend time with her.

Most recently, I lost my very best friend, the best friend I've ever had and I don't even know why. She was my rock, my soul mate in female form and the loss of our friendship has been soul crushing. It has created a new form of grief for me. I used to tell her that if anything ever happened to her I would feel widowed again. I wasn't wrong.

Why am I writing all of this? Because I SURVIVED. Not only have I survived, I'm... HAPPY. I'm sitting in a Starbucks drinking an iced chai tea latte in CALIFORNIA and I'm LOVING my life. I walked here, by myself... something I never would have done 8 years ago. I started my own business and I ROCK at what I do. I am strong. I am loving. I am kind. I am generous. I am creative. I am LIVING. I. Am. Enough.

The Winding Road of Widowhood takes many turns, but today it has me in sunny California with a smile on my face.

#longlivelove

#widowedlife

#creatingalifeILOVE

#Iamresilient

#Stager

#Stagingmylife

#InsideStoryStaging

I deserve...

I've said it again and again... being widowed is painful. In fact, it is the single most painful thing I've ever been through, and I've given birth 4 times, twice with no pain meds. It is a different kind of pain than childbirth, though there is definitely a physical component to it. The emotional pain that comes in waves at the most random times even years after Brian's death can still reduce me to instant tears. It has been 7 years since I held him in my arms as he took his last breath. It was time, he had no more fight in him, his life was no where near what he deserved. In that moment, though family was in the room, it was just us. His death was as it needed to be. I laid next to him in his bed at Hospice as he took his last breath, my eyes were squeezed shut tight because I couldn't bare to watch the love of my life leave me. When I opened my eyes his eyes were open, for the first time in 3 days his eyes were open and he was looking at my face. A single tear was on his cheek. He loved me... I loved him. Death doesn't change that, sometimes I actually think it makes it stronger. He didn't deserve to die at 43. I didn't deserve to be widowed at 41... but, what DO I deserve?

I had an incredible love. We had a life plan. All of that changed in an instant. I have had to recreate myself over and over since that day. I had to learn to be Sheryl without Brian. After 25 years I wasn't sure who that was or how to be anyone or anything but a wife and mother. Since that day I have worked hard to learn who I am as a person, as a widowed person. I know that Brian would be proud of the mother I have been and the direction I'm going with my life. Our kids are great, my business is growing, but I am missing a huge part of what is important to me. Things are good, but, I'm not completely happy. I've been in a relationship for 2 years now, but the longer we are together instead of feeling content and happy I still feel like something is missing. I feel like I am trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Don't get me wrong, I'm with someone who loves me, but the truth is he doesn't take care of me the way I need. I constantly have this feeling of "this isn't quite right, but it COULD be... IF..." There is a huge lack of physical intimacy in our relationship. Financially he has nothing, which means I am supporting him. I have a lot invested in this relationship. My heart is invested, my kids hearts are invested. Truth be told though, I keep thinking what do I DESERVE? Because I'm not getting what I need or what I deserve.

I deserve to be happy again, unquestionably happy. I deserve to have a man in my life that wants to take care of me. That may sound old fashioned, and I'm ok with that. I have been a "caretaker" my whole life. If you look at my closest relationships starting in high school my friends were always the ones that "needed" something. I've always been the one who is there for everyone. It can be tiring. I am SO ready for someone to take care of ME. Someone where I never have to question if I am in or if I'm out. Brian took care of me as much as I took care of him. I want that again. I DESERVE to have that again... I think that any widowed person deserves that chance... the chance to be happy again... to feel that sense of security that being with someone who loves you brings. I miss that. I miss being part of a relationship that just works naturally. He is out there... I KNOW he is... he has to be. My happy. My safe place. The next love of my life... I will come across him as I travel down my winding path of widowhood...

7 years... and another first...

It is a hard time of year... the "countdown" to the 7th anniversary of Brian's death has begun. My body knew it before I did. I'm tired, sad, and just not myself. As stupid as it is to say, I wish Brian had NOT died over Labor Day weekend. Not that there is a good time, and it goes without saying that I wish he hadn't died AT ALL... but he did. The beginning of school is also around Labor Day. Each school year brings excitement for what is to come and sadness for what was, all at once. It is not an easy balance. This year it brought something new, something that I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around. Something I didn't want to happen. Something I wasn't ready for. Something that has me crying non-stop... Hannah, my first born, my high school graduate, my college Freshman has moved out. I feel more broken now than I have in a long time...

I should be happy and proud that I have raised a daughter that is independent, mature, and is working hard for what she wants. I AM happy and proud, but, I am also devastated that she is gone. I literally can't stop crying. I've watched on Facebook as her friends parents are dropping their kids off at colleges hours away and I have NO idea how they are doing it. Hannah is going to school in Madison, and her apartment is no more than 20 minutes away. Still, not having her HERE is incredibly painful. More so than I would have imagined. My heart hurts in a way that I didn't expect.

Hannah was born on Feb 5, 2000. She was born on my grandpa's birthday and named after my grandma. She was my third pregnancy and first born. I had her name picked out long before she was a true thought, and I bought her nursery bedding years before she was born. For as long as I can remember I wanted nothing more than to be a wife and a mother, so Hannah was my dream come true. After she was born I would hold her for hours...
         

I never wanted to put her down, and this is a lot like that. I wasn't (am not) ready to let her go, but, this is what she wants. Hannah is mature beyond her years and has been for a long time. Losing your dad at the age of 11, after watching him die from cancer will do that to a kid. I'm IMMENSELY proud of who she is and I know that because of who she is she will be able to accomplish whatever she sets her mind to. She is like her dad that way. I always knew that Hannah would be my child to spread her wings and fly, not because she is the oldest, but because of her drive and determination. Again, she gets that from her dad.


This morning as I was texting with my best friend Jane and telling her how broken I feel she said this: "Things are changing and they are going to keep changing because that's how life is. It doesn't have to be a bad thing though. Kids grow up and have to go out on their own. I know your heart is breaking, but it is what Hannah wants. She is happy to be moving out. So... you just have to support her and try to be ok with this. And you will be in time. You just have to get used to her being gone. She's not gone forever like Brian. Hannah is still here. She's just minutes away from you. She's not in another state. You gave her the wings to fly... now you have to let her use them. It will be ok. It won't be the same, but it will be ok." True words from one widowed mother to another. I know she is right, but I can't help but wonder how this would feel if Brian were alive and well. I know it would still be hard, but I suspect it wouldn't feel like as big of a loss.

Fly my little dragonfly, go far in this big beautiful world. Just know that home is where your heart is, and YOU are my heart. You have been my constant companion on my winding path of widowhood and I made it to the sunny place in part because of you. I love you Hannah Kathryn.

The story of Tink

This car is a 1992 VW Cabriolet. Her name is Tink. It literally is my dream car, and I had wanted one since high school. In 2007 I started looking for one. Brian was doing better (his cancer at that point was no evidence of disease) and things felt like they were getting back to normal. I told him that I was looking and his response was "Your sister is getting married in Costa Rica... do you want the car or to go to her wedding?" Well, of course I picked the wedding! Fast forward several months to 2008... Brian had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, had it removed and underwent radiation... then a week later we flew to Costa Rica for my sister's wedding.

Later that summer he met a woman who had lost her husband to pancreas cancer. Her car? A VW Cabrio, the newer model of mine. He asked her if I had seen her car and she told him yes. She then said " My one regret is that I didn't buy it while my husband was still alive. He would have loved to see me drive it!" Brian came home that day and said "If you can find a car you like and we can afford it you can get one." The search began immediately!

I ended up finding my car in Michigan. We drove to Milwaukee, took the ferry over to Michigan, took the car for a test drive and brought it home. It was my 15th wedding anniversary present. This Sept I will have had Tink for 10 years. It is my most prized possession. I love it just as much now as I did then, maybe even more. I get compliments on her every time I drive her anywhere.

Our 25th anniversary is this August, and it will be my 7th without Brian, but EVERY TIME I drive my car he is there with me, joining me as I continue to wind my way through widowhood.

#longlivelove
#windingmywaythroughwidowhood

The Only One...

You know, I'm tired. Physically and mentally tired. It has been almost 6 years since Brian died. 6 years. I remember feeling like time just stopped 6 years ago... I have no idea how I made it to this point, but I did... and I'm tired.  One of the hardest thing about being widowed is instantly becoming an only parent. Not a single parent... an only parent, and it is exhausting. Having to make Every. Single. Decision... by myself. Knowing that if I screw something up there is no co-parent to help fix it. Keeping track of appointments, school schedules, weekend activities and every other coming and going of four kids is a lot to do. On a regular basis I feel like a failure as a parent because I wasn't there for this kid or didn't get something done for that kid. It happens... a LOT more than I would like to admit.

Tonight was one of those moments and it had me in internal tears, I felt like my soul was screaming for help and, right or wrong, I was angry that Brian is dead. As I sat with all four of my kids, having a discussion that I have had with them umpteen times just this summer alone, I felt that feeling of despair creep in. I just want a clean house. I'm not asking for a miracle (though I guess that is relative, if you saw my house you may think I am asking for a miracle!) I just simply want my house to not constantly look like a tornado has gone through it. The mess stresses me out more than I want to admit.  It blocks me from doing things I want to do and stops me from doing things I need to do. It creates an inactivity and anxiety within me that I can't seem to overcome. So, as I'm having this conversation AGAIN about how I need HELP to get the house clean, most of what I get back is static and bickering between them. This, I will admit sends me over the edge and my anxiety level reaches a point where I feel like I can't breathe... and again I am overcome with the fact that I am alone in this thing called parenting.  How being alone makes me feel guilty I because I can't provide the things for my kids that I want to. How I struggle financially to make ends meet and  still make sure that everyone has what they need. Guilt because I can't be everything for everyone. All of this guilt because something happened to our family that I had no control over.

This conversation led to my oldest daughter telling me how stressed out she is about going to college. How she wants OUT of our house because she can't stand being here, with us. How she feels like her grades aren't good enough to get into a good college, and even if they were we have no money for her to go to college. She brought up how we JUST had her tested for a learning disability (which she has, the same as her dad) and I STILL haven't contacted the school psychologist to help her get accommodations for the ACT test... and I think to myself how I failed her. How I should have gotten her tested sooner. How I should have already contacted the school psychologist. How SAD I am that she hates it here so much... how I screwed up and I can't fix it. I know that if Brian were alive he would have had this stuff done. He knew she was like him, he would not have let her struggle and in my grief and my aloneness I failed her... and all of this came about because I just simply asked for help to get and keep our house clean. It hurts to feel like I have not done everything I could as a parent, even though I know I have done the best I could given the circumstances.

I'm thinking that part of it is the time of year, no matter how long it has been the memories of 6 years ago creep in, and those memories are hard and painful. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who hurts. My kids hurt too and it comes out in different ways. Today it came out in anger, fear and frustration all directed towards me (because, you know, they can't yell at their dad because he's not here!) and making me feel like my best isn't even close to good enough. It is really hard to be an only parent...

So tonight, as I wind my way through a darker part of my path of widowhood, I am still wallowing in self pity and wishing I could do more for my kids to make their life feel safer and more complete. I have to say, widowhood is NOT for sissys, and no matter how long it has been these moments of incredible self doubt and sadness creep in and sit for a while, and given that the anniversary of Brian's death is less than two weeks away I'm sure this feeling will unfortunately linger.  I used to think that my winding path of widowhood would eventually come to an end, however in the last almost 6 years I have come to realize that it will NEVER end. I will grieve Brian for as long as he is dead. Grief. It is the price we pay for love...

Cancer... Me??

November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness month.
It is also Lung Cancer Awareness month.
It is ALSO the time of year that I get my annual mammogram.

Though the recommendation is to have a mammogram once every two years, my Doctor has them done yearly for me. Not because there is anything that is being "watched" but because she is sensitive to the fact that my husband died from Pancreatic Cancer. So, Monday I had my annual screening... and Tuesday I got a phone call saying that the radiologist wanted additional views, so an appointment was set for today (Friday). The morning didn't go great. My van is in having the rear brakes replaced, I couldn't find a ride so I had to drive my convertible. Mind you it is NOVEMBER in WISCONSIN and though the weather is unseasonably mild, it was still only in the 40's. Which means the top on my convertible, is cold... and hard... and wouldn't go up. So, I wore a winter coat, gloves and a hat and was thankful there was no wind or rain and drove to my follow up appointment... in my convertible (her name is Tink, in case you're wondering).

I get there, change into the beautiful pink kimono thing they have you wear and wait for my screening. Once in the room, the technician tells me that if needed I will have an ultrasound following the mammogram. Ok... but I'm not concerned and I'm not going to need that...

When we are done, she says that she is going to show the images to the radiologist, but she thinks he will want an ultrasound. Wait... WHAT?!? He did in fact want an ultrasound, so I'm told to get my things out of the locker they were in because I will not be coming back to this area. I do that, sit down in the waiting room, and text my best friend Jane "Talk me off of my ledge. This might not be nothing" that is the point that it hit me. Cancer. The possibility of breast cancer, the possibility of ME having breast cancer. Tears started to trickle down my cheek. Then as that thought sunk in the tears became actual crying... the technician saw me crying, sat down and asked me what was wrong. All I could get out was "my husband died of cancer" at which point the crying became uncontrollable sobs. My kids. My four beautiful kids who have already been through SO much. NO! This HAS|to be all right... for them. I'm an only parent. I'm crazy busy because I do it all alone. HOW will I be able to do this alone? Brian had me... I have... I have friends, I have family, I even have a boyfriend who loves me, but none of those people live with me. I can honestly say that in that moment I felt very, VERY alone.

I can not put into words the paralyzing fear. Because of my experience, the thought of having cancer is 1000 times worse. The anxiety, sadness, confusion and fear all rolled into a huge lump in my throat and uncontrollable sobs. I was immediately escorted into a nurses office. Her name was Lara, and she was amazing. When they were ready for my ultrasound she walked with me down there, and she stayed outside the door until it was done. The conclusion? Dense tissue that was easier to see because of my recent weight loss. Nothing suspicious. I don't have cancer. But that fear is still hanging on. I know I'm fine, but that FEELING has left me drained. I've ridden this roller coaster before and I don't EVER want to do it again. I went into that room sobbing and came out telling them how I had frozen my butt off driving Tink there and by the time I left I was laughing. Lara walked me out and hugged me goodbye. I'm still reeling, my head hurts, but I'm ok. Thankfully, I'm ok. Now, I just need to get my aforementioned boyfriend to quit smoking so that I never have to recognize November for lung cancer awareness month... oh, and so I can stay OFF of the cancer roller coaster.

This was definitely a sharp turn on my winding path of widowhood. One that I hope never to repeat!

3 - 2 - 1.....

The countdown is on. I can feel "it" coming. The memories from 5 years ago are creeping in, like a dark fog swirling around my legs trying to trip me and take me down. The problem is... it's working. I'm moody and short tempered. I cry at pretty much anything. I'm trying to hold it together, but those memories, the bad ones, are creeping in.

5 years ago was the "beginning of the end" for us. I know that a lot of people saw the end coming loooooong before we did. In fact, at one point someone very close to me said "When Brian dies..." and I corrected him and said "if"... he then said "No honey, it's when at this point". He said it as gently as he could, but even then I didn't believe it. I wasn't ready to give up on hope. I knew if I did that Brian would too, and then it really WOULD be "when".

About 5 years ago Brian fell in our room (I'm sure that in a few short days a "memory" will pop up on Facebook and remind me of the exact date, but at this point I don't remember it, which might be a good thing) he was taken to the hospital in an ambulance... and he never came home again. THAT was OUR beginning of the end. I don't know if I've ever written about that day, the day he fell, the day that is haunting me at the moment. We kept a lot of what was going on at that time very private. Brian's cancer had spread to his brain, and the brain tumors were causing problems, including the loss of the use of his left side. He had a hard time walking, so we finally got a wheelchair for him. The morning he fell he had gotten up and made his way to the bathroom. Shortly after he realized he had to go again. I went and got the wheelchair for him. I told him I would take him to the bathroom and come get him when he was done. He was mad. He was frustrated. He grabbed the arm of that wheelchair and FLUNG himself at it. He missed, and instead he hit the wall, HARD and then the floor. Two things happened at that moment. First, he had a brain bleed, second, he fractured his neck... (come to find out later that he had a tumor in his neck vertebra that had weakened the bone)... and he was in instant, horrible pain. The fear in that moment was unreal. I wasn't ready for him to be gone in an instant. I wasn't ready for him to be gone at all.

It was early morning, the kids were all home. I don't even remember who came over to watch them that day. In the hospital, once he had a room, we were told that if the brain bleed didn't stop he wouldn't make it through the night. There was nothing they could do to stop it, it either stopped on it's own or he died. The bleeding stopped... but, the decline from that moment was hard. 7 weeks. He was in the hospital for 3 weeks, improved to the point where he was transferred to a rehab facility, was there a couple of weeks... had another (worse) brain bleed... went back to the hospital... and then... Hospice. 7 weeks. I don't even know how I made it through those 7 weeks. Our kids were all over the place. I never knew where they would be or who I could ask to take them. I was never home, or so it seemed.

The memory of the day he fell is one of my hardest, most painful memories. To see his anger and frustration and then to be MAD at him (yeah, I said it!) for not being CAREFUL. For not just standing up, getting in the wheelchair and letting me help him. That day haunts me... the "what if" for that moment will forever be in my mind. Would he still be here? No. But would his final weeks have been less painful? His death deferred? Maybe... but I'll never know. That's the black fog swirling around my ankles, the memory of that day. The day that starts the countdown to the day he died... Almost 5. Years. Ago. 

Almost 5 years have gone by, yet, I find that my path through widowhood still has some twists, turns and dark forests... I am still very much winding my way through widowhood...

Pictures....

Yesterday the kids and I tromped through a tree farm to find the perfect Christmas tree. It is the first time we have done this since Brian died.

Last year, one of my my daughters said "We don't have enough pictures of Dad on our tree!" So, being the mom that I am I went out and bought an ornament to put his picture in. Here I am sifting through a drawer full of pictures... a drawer full of memories to find the perfect one. Then it hits me... AGAIN... that there will never again be a chance to take a perfect picture of him. All we have is a drawer full of pictures and the memories in our heads. How I wish I could take those memories and make them into reality.

Reality of a beautiful life. A life gone much too soon. A life that left those of us who love him with nothing more than pictures in a drawer and memories in our heads. I wish I could freeze those memories and print them so we wouldn't forget... because the truth is, memories fade. Brian is part of our "what was" and will never be a part of our "what will be". Pictures help to keep those memories alive, but it is so hard when looking for that "perfect" picture to know that we have a finite amount of them...

Christmas and the holiday season is hard. Though the weight of Brian's absence is never gone, it is especially heavy at this time of year. As our family makes new memories he is here in spirit. Yesterday as we traipsed through the tree farm looking for that perfect tree, I told the kids stories of some of the tree hunts that Brian did together. They laughed at some of them and I hope that I was able to weave a little bit more of Brian into their memories of this Christmas.

As my winding path of widowhood journeyed through the tree farm yesterday and memories of Christmases past, we also created new memories as we found the perfect tree... and on that perfect tree will be a new ornament showing our never ending love for him... long live love...

Angel Day - Year 4....

September 3rd, 2015. It's Angel Day. On this day 4 years ago my family's lives were forever changed when Brian died. He was a great husband, father, son, son-in-law, brother, brother-in-law, uncle, friend, Chiropractor... the world is NOT a better place without him. We miss him and there have been a lot of tears in our home the last few days. I am taking my kids out of school early today and we are going to go to Devils Lake and have a picnic, maybe swim or rent a kayak (I always feel closer to Brian when I'm on the water). We will eat steak sandwiches (one of his favorite foods) and send sky lanterns with messages to Heaven. We will let him know that our love for him is still very much alive.

 This is a day of reflection for me. Ive been thinking about how my life has changed. One of the biggest things that helped me to be where I am right now is Camp Widow. I LOVE Camp Widow! At the most recent Camp, in Michele Neff Hernandez's (founder of Soaring Spirits International) key note address she said some things that really made a difference to me, things that made me think.

"You will not outgrow your widowhood, but you will grow into it."

I HAVE grown into it, in fact, I embrace that it has helped mold me into who I am today. Strong. Independent. Loving. Aware.... Don't get me wrong, I HATE being a widow. I HATE that my husband died. But I don't hate the word widow. To me the word widow says I loved and was loved, I still do, and I still am. I am at a point in my winding path of widowhood that it is time to pay it forward. I am starting a Soaring Spirits Regional Group to help other widowed people to feel the love and support of our widowed community. I never imagined 4 years ago that I could be in a place to to something like this.

 "You have to evolve into what you love about you"

This is a hard one... especially for someone who is widowed. So much of my life was changed when Brian died. From the time I was 17 it was always "Brian and Sheryl" "Sheryl and Brian". After 25 years it is not an easy thing to all of a sudden be just "Sheryl". It has been a process to evolve into who I am at this moment. I continue to evolve. I am proud of who I am. I love who I am. I am (relatively) happy with my life, there is still some tweaking to be done, but I'm getting there!

 "You have the choice to create and craft your future and how you want it to look"

There is no question, my future is significantly different than what Brian and I planned it to be. Our plan was always to get his clinic to a solid stable place and then I was going to be able to do whatever I wanted with my career. It would have been SO much easier to do what I want with him encouraging and supporting me. It would have been easier knowing I had his income to rely on while I created and crafted my dreams. SO many things would be easier if he were here... Creating and crafting my future is, well, TERRIFYING. I have the opportunity to do whatever I want, but along with that opportunity comes the fact that that task is VERY BIG. Most of the time it is still too big for me to even think about. It is scary. I am starting small, and the good thing is that I am finally starting. I know how I want my future to look and I am starting to create that.... I have some ideas... and finally feel like I'm in a place where I can start putting them into motion.

 "I love you so much that I will live for you"

This one is my FAVORITE. You know how people say "I love you so much I would die for you!"? Well, let me tell you... if that happens THEY AREN'T DOING YOU ANY FAVORS! Brian and I used to have the same argument, he'd say "I could die from this!"and I'd say "If you do that means I have to live the rest of my life without you!" I don't think there was ever a winner to this argument, because neither option was good, but I can sure say that living without him has been the most painful experience I have ever had. Instead of the cliché "I would die for you" I am saying "I love you so much that I will LIVE for you!".

I will continue to live my life. I will be happy. I may even find love again someday. I will create and craft my future the way I want it to look. I will continue to evolve into a person that *I* love. I will do all of these things because that is what Brian wanted for me, and... I deserve it. I will live my life in color.

 My winding path of widowhood is no longer as windy, but it is a path that I will forever be on. There are still occasional twists and turns, but most days are filled with sunshine and the days of the deep dark forest are behind me. I will continue to live... because I love him enough to live for him and I love ME enough to live in color!

Widow Rant

Warning... widow rant coming...
Everyone always says that I'm so strong... but I wish I were stronger. Maybe it is because Brian died which threw me into a life I wasn't prepared for, or maybe it is just who I am, but I am so easily hurt. I wish I could just brush it off, but often I can't. I find it hard to trust, but once I do there is no going back and it rocks my world when I feel that the trust has been broken. I miss that feeling of security that my husband provided... I miss knowing that no matter WHAT happened he would always be there. I hate days like this... the ones where all I do is cry and feel completely alone... it's a bad widow day...

Is it over yet?

December 29, 2013... The kids had a good Christmas... I cried.  The kids are enjoying their break... I am curled up in my bed, crying.  New Years Eve is coming... I am dreading it... and crying in advance.  I am apparently back in the throes of grief.  I am missing my life and feeling terribly alone. People like to remind me that I have my kids, they tell me I should focus on them... that they love me, which is true... but the love of my children does not fill the hole in my heart.

The New Year brings the promise of new beginnings... and in the beginning of this year I was deliriously happy with the direction my life was taking... I had a new man in my life and there was instant chemistry, I was once again in love... but as time went on I discovered that he was not what he seemed.  Sadly, he created another hole in my heart... As the new year approaches I am viewing it with dread.  I don't see the promise of new beginnings. I WANT a new beginning... judge me all you want... but this is honesty speaking... I WANT a man in my life.  The RIGHT man.  Brian gave me the gift of a complete love.  He gave me the gift of telling me that he wanted me to be happy after he died,  that it is OK for me to love someone else.  I want that complete love again.  I miss it, and I know full well that new love does not replace the love I have for Brian, but instead adds to the beauty of my life.

Don't get me wrong... I have beauty in my life.  I love my kids to the moon and back.  I have GREAT friends that have listened to my drama over and over and over...  many of whom are widows as well so they GET me.  I have a supportive family that sticks with me through thick and thin.  All of these people in my life are amazing... but they don't fill that hole, and for some reason right now that hole feels deeper and more raw. 

I know from experience that grief is clouding my vision... sooner or later the cloud will lift and I will see the possibilities that 2014 will bring.  For now though I have come to a dark forest on the winding path of widowhood.  I will eventually emerge from the forest and see the beauty and the possibilites... and who knows? Maybe there will be that perfect man standing in the sunlight just waiting for me... ;)

That song....

It has been 18 months since Brian died.  A year and a half....I am amazed at how far I have come and how much I have changed in that amount of time.  I no longer cry all the time and I don't feel "raw" anymore.  I have a wonderful man in my life who loves me and my kids.  I am happy.  Does all of this mean that I am "healed" or that I am no longer grieving?  No.  Even now there are still those moments that make me freeze and bring instant tears to my eyes.  This morning was one of those moments.

I walked into my room and the song playing on the radio was Nicklebacks "Far Away" and that song ALWAYS makes me cry.  The lyrics of this song cut deep and grab my heart. 

Some think that because I have a new love in my life that instances like hearing a song shouldn't affect me the way it does.  I will be the first to tell you that new love does not replace the old, it does not replace the loss.  It is an amazing addition to my life and it is clear that the ability to love another so completely is a natural thing.

New love though does not take away all of the widow moments.  Thankfully I have a man in my life that is not threatened by my love for Brian.  I have a man that holds me through my tears and even cries with me sometimes.  This morning while that song played he held me tight....he loved me through the moment.

Later this afternoon, while I was out and about, another song came on the radio.  This one is also one that grabs my heart, because it is the song that Victor sent to me one day.  It is the song that he says portrays exactly how he feels about me and about us, Jason Mraz "I won't Give Up". 

This time, instead of tears I smiled and I thought about how lucky I am to have had the love of not one, but two wonderful men in my life.  How I am so thankful to have the chance to love and be loved again.  I thought about how while I am and will always be Brian's widow, I now have a new title....Vic's girl...and I love that....

It just....IS

I was ready to give up....this whole dating thing wasn't going my way.  I was meeting people, some I even thought had the possibility of becoming someone important in our lives, but it wasn't happening.  I decided to do what all of my friends were suggesting...just date and have fun, stop looking for the next love of my life.

The funny thing is, when I stopped looking I found him. His name is Victor.

I saw this man's profile and thought "Woah! He's new on here and CUTE!"  Now, my experience had been that anyone I was interested in was not interested in me, BUT, I was in a sassy mood that day so I took a chance.....I sent him a quick note...."Can I just say....WOW! ....Nuff said....."  You see, this guy was attractive and a bodybuilder, WAY out of my comfort zone.  I never imagined that he would respond to me....but he did....in all of three minutes!  We spent that whole day messaging back and forth.  We messaged and texted for about a week and a half, and he kept saying that he'd like to meet me but then would back off.  Finally one day I asked if he really wanted to meet me, he sounded surprised and said emphatically "Yes!"  I told him that he had better ask me out then....and he did....

We met for a drink (and when I say drink I mean diet cokes, LOL!) on a Sunday afternoon, went for a short walk and then (hold on to your seats) went to Walmart because I had errands to do.  Romantic, huh?  On the way back to his place he looked at me and asked "So, what are the chances of me seeing you again?" Wait!  Did he just ask me that?  THAT'S a first!  My response?  "What are the chances you'd LIKE to see me again?"  His reply "100%, that's why I asked!"

The next day his car broke down so I gave him a ride to the gym, the day after that he went with me to do errands again (I know, so very romantic, but hey....I am an only parent of four and I have to get my errands done while they are in school!) and the next day, Dec. 5th, he went with me to the Dells to get a kitten.  We talked the whole time.  It was Tucker's birthday and I broke the biggest rule I had made for myself when it came to dating (not introducing anyone to my kids until I knew they were going to stick around)....I invited him over for dinner.

It got late and I didn't want to leave the kids to take him home, so he slept on my couch that night.....and he never went back home.  Wait!  What?!?  Did she just say that?  Yep, I did.  It wasn't exactly what either one of us expected to happen, but it just....did.  I have tried to rationalize it and explain it, but the best I can come up with is: It just....IS.  We just happened.  It...just...feels...right...

Wanna know the crazy thing about this?  The day we first started talking was Nov. 23rd, Brian's birthday and the day he came and stayed (the day we are considering our "anniversary") was Dec. 5th, which was the same day Brian and I started dating so many years ago....Coincidence?  I don't think so.  I had always believed that Brian would hand pick the right man for his family, and the more I get to know Victor the more I realize that if he and Brian had met they would have been really good friends.  That comforts me.  I truly believe that he was Brian's birthday gift to me.

Time will tell if this is something that will last a lifetime, but for now it is good....no, it is better than good....it is pretty awesome.

Happy... :)

The other day I got one of the nicest compliments that I have ever had.  I was at my yearly physical, and my nurse looked at me and smiled and said "Happy looks really good on you!".  Awww....that was a great thing to hear, and you know what?  The best part is that it is TRUE.  I AM happy.  I have been traveling on this winding path of widowhood for 14 months now, and happy is not a word I felt like I would have used to describe myself for a LONG time.  I never imagined that I would actually be able to smile again the way I used to before Brian died, but I can, and it is a genuine smile, not the fake one I displayed for so long.

There are a lot of things that have contributed to this feeling of happiness and well being that I feel.  I have done a lot of things for myself in the last 14 months.  I lost a significant amount of weight when Brian died and I have kept it off (though I never recommend my diet!) and I have been walking daily to help keep it off and ward away my anxiety.  I joined a young widows support group, went to Camp Hope (three times) and twice went to Camp Widow.

I have to say that Camp Widow was one of the BEST things I could have ever done for myself.  I went to the first one feeling numb and the people I met and the classes I took (being at a resort on the ocean didn't hurt either!) helped me to come out of my cocoon.  The second time I went I know that my butterfly wings grew bigger, brighter and more beautiful.  I came home feeling....different, and that feeling has stayed and grown.  I am doing my best to nurture myself and continue to heal.

"Happy looks really good on you!"  You know what?  Happy is an AWESOME feeling....

Daylight savings

As of yesterday I have been a widow for 14 months.  It is hard to believe that it has been that long.  Today, for whatever reason, I am having a BAD widow day, missing my Brian more than usual.  I can't explain it, sometimes the crushing sadness just hits for seemingly no reason.  Though even in the sadness, there are funny memories that make me laugh, and today daylight savings brought one on....

Several years ago Brian and I spent a Sunday doing things around the house.  No tv, no radio and we didn't go anywhere.  We just hung out at home.  9:00 pm comes around so we sat down to watch the X-Files, one of our very favorite shows.  The X-Files was just ending, and I remember saying to him "Maybe they showed an extra one for some reason".  Then the news came on, huh?  We looked at each other in confusion and then realized that it was daylight savings and we had "sprung foward"!  We lost an hour in a matter of seconds and both laughed hysterically at the fact that we spent our whole day not knowing what time it was!  Of course, then we were really bummed that we had missed our show, haha!

I miss my Sundays with Brian.  I guess today I am missing him just a little more.....My winding path of widowhood is a little curvier today and I have cried enough tears to form a stream next to it.  But then I remember the silly, goofy things like not knowing it is daylight savings, and a little smile crosses my face through my tears.  Tomorrow will be another day and hopefully my path will level out and the sun will make my river of tears sparkle....

I did it again....

"Once in a while, in an ordinary life, LOVE gives you a Fairy Tale". 

This is another one of those "stand before you naked" blogs.  I promised myself when I started writing these that I would be honest and true.  That regardless of the situation I would tell my story, no matter how painful or embarrassing it may be...so here I go again....

Dating....I have to say that this is not an easy adventure and I am not sure that I am enjoying the experience.  I am actually questioning my sanity and whether or not it is worth continuing down this path!  There is a steep learning curve on this dating thing, and just when I think I might have it the curve shifts and I fall off.  Yet, for some reason I continue to move down this slippery slope....

So, I did it again....I fell again....and this time I fell harder than the first....I met someone that at first I said no to.  Why did I say no?  Because he is 6'4 and for those that don't know me I am all of 4'10 (and a half!).  I told him I couldn't meet him because he is a foot and a half taller than me and I was sure I would look like a little kid next to him.  One Saturday morning one of my friends and I were talking about this situation as we walked around the Farmer's Market. She was trying to convince me that I shouldn't turn someone down because of his height.  There happened to be a man about that height nearby, so I looked at her and said "Let me demonstrate".  I sauntered over to this man, stood next to him, turned around and smiled.  My friend couldn't help but laugh.  She agreed that I did indeed look tiny....but still said that I should take a chance....

As this guy was trying to convince me to meet him, he suggested that we go out to dinner sometime and he could sit across from me where he wouldn't look so tall and we could discuss this height issue I had.  He said that way I "could try on the shoe to see if it fit (fairy tale reference)"....how sweet was THAT?  Given the fact that he didn't give up when I said no, and instead took it as a challenge, he wore me down and even after everything I have been through I still believe in fairy tales and happy endings, so I decided to take that chance....

It didn't take long for me to realize that this man was someone that I wanted to get to know better.  He talked with such pride about his children, which was one of the first things to make me soften.  He would text me good morning and call me regularly.  In the beginning we would talk for hours, sometimes we would just sit in silence on the phone and somehow that was never uncomfortable.  He had this way of looking at me that made me feel like I was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.  He looked at me with a smile on his face at the end of our first meeting and said "What's the date? September 1st, remember this date, it is going to be a good one for both of us!".  When he kissed me for the first time I have to admit, it was one of the most incredible kisses I have ever had....I floated through the rest of the day with a smile on my face....

For our second date he made dinner for me.  We had an awesome night.  We talked about dating and the fact that he hadn't dated for a while because he had decided to get a dog.  I joked and told him to let me know if and when my status was more important than the dogs.  I really liked spending time with him.  He just felt....right.  For as big as that shoe was, I liked the way it seemed to fit.  However, what I didn't realize was that the shoe I was trying on was a running shoe....

What happened?  I....have....no....idea....  The last time I saw him he talked about "the next few times we get together"....and I haven't seen him since then.  I left his house that last time feeling like things were good, feeling confident that he would not do the same thing to me as the other men I had met had done, and that was to just disappear.  I must be really naive, because that is exactly what happened. 

The hardest part for me is the lack of closure, the fact that I don't know WHY he never called again.  I don't understand how you can look at someone the way he looked at me, talk about "the next few times", tell me that "there is definitely a physical attraction" and then just be gone.  He seemed to have such integrity, I truly didn't see it coming.  I realized the other day that part of what makes this so hard is because with Brian I didn't have a choice, I had NO control over the situation.  It didn't matter WHAT I did, because there was nothing I could do to save him.  With dating, I keep wondering "what if I had done this", "should I have done that?", "maybe I shouldn't have done this".  The woulda, coulda, shoulda's are brutal, and in the end I am left struggling, hurting and wondering what happened. 

I really (I mean REALLY!!) liked this man, and truth be told, I still do.  I miss him, and it both amazes and scares me how he got into my heart THAT fast.  I thought there was something there, like there was the potential for something real with him.  I don't want whatever it was becoming to be over.  My friends are again telling me that he isn't worth another thought, that it is his loss.  They keep telling me that I am going to kiss a lot of toads before the right man comes along.  I didn't think he was a toad....I thought he was Prince Charming....  One of my daughters asked last week "Mama, has ***** called?".  When I said no, she said "That's too bad Mama, he just doesn't know how great you really are!".  Apparently he doesn't.....let's see: dog....girlfriend....dog....girlfriend....I guess he picked the dog....

The first year is hard...the second year is harder...

The first year is hard, the second year is harder.  Just after Brian died this is what I was told by another widow.  It was the kind of encouragement I DIDN'T need.  That statement scared me half to death because I couldn't IMAGINE feeling any worse than I did at that point. As of today I am 52 days into my second year....do I think it is harder?  No, but it is different. 

Some widows have said that the second year brings on the realization that he is never coming back.  I have never questioned that....I have never expected him to walk through my front door.  I know he is gone, at least in a physical sense.  One widowed friend said that with each passing day she misses her husband more and more.  I miss Brian, but the pain of missing him has lessened. 

For me though, the second year has brought on incredible feelings of loneliness.  For as long as I can remember all I wanted was to be a wife and a mother.  I had that, and I was happy.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being a mom, I would not trade my kids for anything, but I miss being a wife.  I saw a sign the other day that said "I don't need to be a good cook, I'm a trophy wife!".  I had to laugh because I am NOT a good cook and Brian ALWAYS called me his trophy wife, in fact that is what he had programmed into his cell phone for me...Trophy Wife.  I almost bought the sign, but then I realized it didn't fit anymore...I am no longer a wife.  I don't mind being alone, but I hate being lonely.

The second year is different.  I honestly didn"t expect this.  I knew that the anniversary of his death would be hard, and it was, but I didn't expect the whole month of September to be so hard.  I couldn't wait for it to be over.  Well, we are well into October and I am still in a funk.  Maybe it is because we have the holidays just around the corner.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years...His birthday, my birthday and Tucker's birthday are all coming up quickly.  This is the year I will be the same age as Brian when he died.  He would tease me on my birthday about me getting older and I would always reply "I'll never be as old as YOU!"  This year I will be, and that hurts. 

The first year was hard.  Adjusting to life without Brian, adjusting to life as an only parent.  Accepting that this is the way it is.  The second year....well, it has only just begun, and while I am sure that I will survive the second year as I survived the first, I hope it has some better things in store for us.  I do know this....the second year is NO WHERE NEAR as hard as the first.  I am sure that along the path of widowhood in this second year that I will encounter some deep ravines, but I also know that there will be more breathtaking views.....and along the way there will be reminders of Brian and the incredible man that he was....

Say his name....

Brian.  My husbands name was Brian.  I talk about him all the time.  I do not refer to him as my "late" husband, I simply refer to him as my husband.  I talk about him in the present tense, about things he liked to do and the things he did with the kids and how he wanted to raise them.  I guess I talk about him that way because he is still here, in my heart.  He will always be in my heart.

So many people ask me how I am doing, how the kids are doing, but they don't talk about Brian.  No one wants to make me cry.  I am here to tell you that it is okay for you to talk about him.  I WANT you to talk about him.  He was my husband, my best friend, the father of my children.  There is nothing that you can say that will make me cry.....that doesn't mean I WON'T tear up, it just means that you are not the cause of those tears.  In fact, it makes me more sad when you don't mention him.  He will forever be a part of me.  He was funny and quick witted and one of the smartest people I have ever known. 

Say his name....while it may bring tears, it will also bring happiness.  Happiness at the fact that he was loved not only by me, but by others too.  He was here...he existed...he loved and was loved...he is missed.

Brian...say his name with a smile on your lips as you remember your favorite memory of him.

B - Beautiful
R - Respectful
I - Interesting
A - Amazing
N - Nice (but sometimes Naughty!)

D - Dad

P - Polite
O - Outrageous
C - Cute
H - Husband
E - Energetic
L - Loving

Brian...my husband's name was Brian...and I will love him for the rest of my life.