Unspoken Vows

March 8, 2013

My brother was married today to a wonderful woman whom I admire and adore. I was so happy to be a part of their special day and to partake in the emotional union of two people who have through all the muck and bilge in the world, sifted through the crumbs and found each other.

I paid special attention to this ceremony of love and trust, especially the vows. Each of the words carefully chosen by our cousin, Carl who officiated the ceremony. There were many religious references and credit given to God and Jesus for this pairing.  Being of the non-religious sort, I didn't get too caught up in all the Jesus speak, but could appreciate the solemnity of the words my cousin so meticulously and artistically chosen. I loved the bits of laughter, the wiping of tears and the blessings of the rings which would serve as a symbol to the world of their union. As they placed the rings on each other's fingers, you could barely hear the vows spoken to each other in hushed tones sprinkled with so much emotion about loving, honoring and cherishing - until death does part us.

That is where I was shoved into the back of my chair and stopped dead in my tracks. Until death parts us?? Does this mean when I spoke those vows, I was saying that all the love, honor and cherish part just automatically goes away once death has parted us. I don't think so! Who came up with this crap so long ago? Who made the assumption that the vows spoken on the day of joining two lives ends upon death? Is this a contract that becomes null and void once the heart stops beating? Are we no longer held by the constraints of the bonds of marriage because the breath ceases to exist?

I was completely dumbfounded to realize that the vows so often spoken in wedding ceremonies all over the country were a load of hogwash. I did not stop loving Ron when he died. I did not stop cherishing and honoring him because he was buried beneath the earth. I may have loved him a little more because he was gone, my love was actually more concentrated because I had to love enough for both of us. He was not a part of the equation any longer and yet I did not stop loving him.

My thoughts drifted to the life we had expected to live. We had a vision of our older years sitting in the swing he built on the back porch of our home looking over the vast expanse of our backyard with our grandchildren and great grandchildren frolicking about in white batiste clothes. It was such a dreamy vision that gave me a sense of peace and content. My life was supposed to be this fantastic plan but Ron's death turned that plan inside out.

When we took our vows 11+ years ago, how could be have known I would be sitting alone on that porch swing, wistfully trying to recapture the feelings of that special day so long ago, when we became man and wife, in the very same backyard and our love was sealed with a kiss.

 

Awakenings

February 28, 2013

I was walking around my bedroom looking at all the things that have remained untouched since that terrible day in June.  The pile of his laundry, still unwashed in the hamper.  The closet full of his clothes, including the suit he wore to a wedding just 2 weeks before he died, still perfumed by his manly cologne.  The medicine cabinet has been stripped of all the many medications that sustained him for years yet the space where they sat is filled with the memory of fear, anxiety and waiting - for the worst. Now, the worst has already happened.



It has been 8 1/2 months since Ron died and I still can't bring myself to open the drawers to his dresser let alone clear out his belongings.  Why is it that the process of cleaning and clearing out his personal effects feels more permanent than seeing his body placed in the wooden casket and lowered into the ground?  The silent slumber as I caressed his face on the last day I laid eyes on him?  I search my mind, heart and soul for the source of my reticence to let go and I can only find a scared, lonely girl child who just wants to be loved, and to love in return.  It is a stab to my soul to think all his belongings are just waiting there, in the drawers, closet, cabinets.  Waiting for him to pick his attire for the day.  His socks, underwear, t-shirts.  Shoes all in a row.  And the hardest to face, his ties.  Those magical ties chosen so carefully with his personality and business needs in mind.  The strong colors of the power ties for big business meetings.  The fanciful, fun ties for going out, or to weddings.  The softer, yet dramatic ties hand picked by our daughter to coordinate with her festive frocks for the Father-Daughter dances.  They all sit, waiting.

Part of the letting go process means that a new awareness must be developed.  An awakening of the heart to accept the next phase of what is to be, what is to become.  There are times when I feel the fluttering of this new experience and am ready to open myself to the unknown and even feel hopeful that I will survive Ron's death.  That hope is far too often dampened by the mist of rememberance and the cloudy fog attempting to forget. 

I attend my Young Widow grief groups and see other widows and widowers as they go through exactly what I am experiencing, but they all do it differently, in their own way. The fact there must be a special group for us, being young and not crotchety old folks who bid their spouse of 65 years adiou after passing in their sleep is comical.  We didn't live out our expected lives together, it was taken from us without permission and without a warning for most.  They all have shared a process that worked based on their situations. Some cleaned out their spouse's clothing and personal items right away.  Others haven't touched their spouse's toothbrush or hair brush and everything remains just as it was the day they walked out of the house for a Sunday bike ride or to work in the garage or head out to work for the day.  We all experienced our spouse's deaths differently.  Some after an illness and others so suddenly, it is almost like they were snatched from the earth without a sound.  Regardless of HOW it happened, each of us are finding our way down this winding path of uncoupling ourselves from the marriage, life and love we expected to live until long past our aging grey hairs took over the pigments of our youth.

These little awakenings to my new reality and new normal are roused by each sunrise as I awake yet again, seeing his side of the bed empty.  It shivers when I see his picture and ask out loud "where are you?  WHERE ARE YOU?"  It is the silence and lack of an answer that awakens me again.

I fight that space between slumber and awake, thinking to myself "I am not just Ron's widow, I am me, Nicole."  I must awaken completely so I can fully discover the new dawn, sunrise and start of tomorrow, yet I am not ready to fully escape the slumber, sweet dream state of pretending.  Pretending I am not alone and he is only temporarily away.  Do not awaken me too soon, or I won't have the strength to stand and face the bright sun.  I want to close my eyes and dream, dream of you my love. Maybe it's better if you awaken me tomorrow, Today I will dream.

King of Hearts

February 13, 2013

I have been looking at pictures of Ron the past couple days and instead of seeing his smiling face with those deep dimples and twinkling eyes, I could only picture him lying in his plain pine casket, frozen in time.  From somewhere deep inside my soul, someplace in the far reaches of my heart came an unexpected, racking sob.  I felt empty and alone in a way I hadn't remembered since the night he died.  I remembered the coolness of his hand in mine as I said my final goodbye and the roughness of his stubbly face against my cheek as I kissed him for the very last time.  It is a body memory that stays with me to this day.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the day of hearts and flowers and sweetly wrapped sparkly surprises.  Tomorrow is the day for love and lovers.  There will be red hearts everywhere I look.  Red hearts which used to represent the bond of two people joined together by love, time and history. Now, hearts represent betrayal and loss.  You see, it was a heart that betrayed our love - not the esoteric wanderlust heart, but the muscle and sinew of the pumping orb that sustains life heart.  The four chambers and valves that together create the tick-tock of ones life-force.  It was, in the end, a heart that took him from me forever. 

Tomorrow is also the 14th.  The anniversary day of Ron's death.  It will be 8 months - not a particularly remarkable milestone but it still brings up so much hurt, pain and sadness.  It's been 8 months already!  I miss that man so much.  His silly antics, determined way he would go about a project, the way he scratched my back and helped me calm at night so I could sleep.  I miss his hugs - and we hugged a lot.   I miss the way he looked at our beautiful daughter with such overwhelming love.  He has missed so much as well.  Our life - the one we were supposed to live together until old and grey, he is missing.

Tomorrow, I will miss his secretive escape to the store to buy flowers for his girls and for me.  He always brought my older daughter a dozen roses - always.  When she was 9 yrs old when he bought her very own flower vase.  He handed the roses to her and said "I always want you to know how special you are and how you deserve to be treated by a man."  Her eyes would sparkle and her smile lit up the room.  She had never received flowers before for Valentine's Day.  Ron set the bar and he set it high.  When Alexandra was born, he started with a single rose in a bud vase and soon she had her very own flower vase too.  It became one of those expectations that still gave us all a spark of excitement. We knew we were getting flowers, but the color was a surprise.  After a few years, he created a rose color code.  Ron would say - "Mama gets red because she is the Goddess/Queen of the house.  Megan gets a darker pink because she is an older princess and Alexandra gest either white or light pink - for the little princess."  It was so special for all of us but Ron loved it most of all.  He, after all was the King of his home and he loved nothing more than to see us happy. I have debated whether or not I should continue his tradition or just leave it with his memory.  I almost can't bear to see Megan's face handing her a dozen roses knowing that it would be a reminder of the thorns and how delicate and painful such memories can be.

Tomorrow, I will do my best to smile and allow others their special day of love, but inside I will be mourning again the loss of love and innocence of the heart.

Cleansing Breaths

 

As a Registered Nurse who has helped hundreds, if not thousands of women through the labor & birthing process and taught hundreds of childbirth classes, I have touted the benefits of the cleansing breath many times over the past 20 years.  The transformation that takes place as you combine the act of drawing in clean, pure, white light air to fill your lungs along with imagery of how that air and light bring with it healing and the ability to grab hold of the dark, scary, toxic elements that reside in every cell.  Then, the exhale that takes with it the toxins and debris, ridding the body of negativity and darkness that pollutes ones intention and purpose.  I have preached the importance of that simple deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, knowing the next contraction could be strong enough to take the breath away.  The grief process, much like labor contractions, come in waves. That breath in between the surges can mean the difference between maintaining control and consciousness and completely losing yourself to the overwhelming pain of loss, diving into the darkened water-filled caverns of fear, anxiety and depression.

I wondered to myself in the days and weeks after Ron's death would this pain ever go away?  Would I ever again be able to think about tomorrow without my heartbeat increasing, jumping into my throat and sweat forming on my brow?  When might I finally be able to think and process like a normal person again?  When would I have the chance to put my head above the surface and take a breath?  It seemed like the storm surges were coming one after the other and I was slowly drowning, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss.  I am grateful for my ability to breathe through the pain of Ron's death as I can stand today saying, "I am not a victim of the deep, I am still walking in the sunlight, occasionally allowing a song to move my feet in dance."

These past two weeks, I have had to take numerous cleansing breaths to get past the waves of anxiety and anger that have come up while dealing with my older daughter and her struggle with heroin addiction and recovery and the realization that I am having to face this immeasurable fear alone. The fear of her choices and the potential deadly results should she take her sobriety and recovery lightly and relapse. I do not have my husband to lean on and I must seek my own inner strength to get through the moments and days ahead.  I fear this thing called addiction and what it can do to someone so seemingly normal and perfect - my child.  It provokes the most animal like behaviors of base survival and avoidance of society.  It turns the sweet into dangerous and sickly sour.  Her addiction bleeds into my life and those around her because we are all somewhat enmeshed in her choices and results.  We all want to see her happy and successful.   So, we wait for the other shoe to drop.  I wait, and wonder will she make it?  Will she live?  Will she CHOOSE to live? Again, I am ever grateful for the tools I have learned along the journey of being a Multi-Generational Mom.  I do not attach myself as much to my children's results, while I do have fear and anxiety,  I can separate myself from the choices knowing that I do not cause them and therefore I can not cure them.  I am an observer and spectator to her life.   I do not get to dictate or decide for her, I can't make her change.  The only person I can change is me.

As I am dealing with my daughter and her addiction/recovery, I am also dealing with my own "addiction" issue - sugar.  I have been eating clean going on 4 weeks now and I dealt with my own setback a couple days ago.  My younger daughter's school is doing a See's Candy Valentine's fundraiser and I thought it might be OK to have "just one" piece of chocolate.  What I learned is one is too many and a thousand isn't enough.  I had three pieces, felt like crap and threw the box away.  I have some information that I didn't have before - more definitive information - sugar is not my friend.

From this information, I am now having to dig a little deeper into some core issues and how sugar used to act like my friend and comfort me when life was not so sweet.  I used sugar to cover up the icky feelings of stress, anxiety, fear, disappointment and loss.  Even though I feel like some things in my life are not so "sweet", I know that I can no longer use sugar for medicine.  My new choice is to look again at breathing, paying attention to my body's clues and messages and taking care of me in a new and extraordinary way.  With my Radical Shifts Journey, I am now adding exercise!  Exercise will invoke the need to breathe - deep cleansing breaths to fill up the spaces and gaps left behind by the pain of Ron's sudden and unexpected death and the anxiety over my daughter's addiction.  Those two perfect storms crashing together that had the potential to take me to the depths of despair.  Exercise will generate the positive feedback and endorphins to lift me above and beyond the chaos and sadness.  It will help me on my journey to be healthier and fit.  I choose to live too.  Not just to live, but to LIVE HEALTHY.  I will not allow these storms get the best of me.

Of course, as storms usually do, the clouds have cleared somewhat and the surges settled.  I feel like the waves of grief and anxiety come less often these days and I am able to take those nice deep cleansing breaths, regenerating and rejuvenating my mind, body and soul. I will survive Ron's death and my daughter's addiction/recovery because I am a survivor.  I will survive because I choose to LIVE.

Namaste.

What Dreams May Come

                 

1/20/13

What Dreams May Come.  If you haven't seen the movie - you should.  This movie was one of our favorites as it was our story, our life, our journey as soulmates across thousands of years. If you have ever been in love or been lucky like me to find your soulmate, this movie is about you too.


I have had many people make comments to me that I am lucky to have found such a love and experienced the time I had with my soulmate - as if they themselves have not had the same opportunity.  I feel sad that so many people feel they are not with that one person the Universe, Cosmos or God intended for them.  This life is not a dress rehearsal and you don't get to go back and do it over.  Each day is a blessing and if you think the person you are with is not "the one true love" after all, then you have two choices.  1.  Get out of the relationship and move on.  2. Find your way back to the place of wondrous love and excitement and  joy you once knew with the person you are currently with.  Time has a way of softening or even dulling a relationship and making it seem unfulfilling and lackluster.  Looking out across the landscape of the world, so many others seem to be more exciting, sexy, fun, interesting -  you know, "The grass is greener" syndrome.  If you have been with one person for a long time, you have heard all the stories, know all the history and there isn't much left to discover. I get it, I felt that way sometimes with Ron and I would feel like AUGH! I'm bored!   I do not get to go back and fix those missed moments - and neither will you. Life and death go in one direction and there is no reverse.


I have spent the past 7 months in various stages of grief, often tears, despair and sadness prevailed. I also did a great job outrunning many of the feelings that came from losing someone I loved so deeply.  All the projects I started and chaos from the many disasters around the house were great distractions and kept me from doing my grief work.  Like a hamster on a running wheel, I had to fall off and get to a place of breakdown before I could experience the wonder of breakthrough.   Now, I find my days are less filled with the tears of sadness and more with the happy memories of our life together.  I speak about Ron and realize I almost speak as if he is in the other room, like he is still alive.  I feel like I can now speak of him and not always feel that desperate emptiness.  I wonder when I say things with a smile on my face or express my happiness that people must think "wow, she's over him".  Far from it - it's just that I don't want to live in sadness and I am purposing to be a happier person.  To be healthy, I need to live my life in the moment, live in today.  With that recognition of what I "need" to do, there is that part of me that still wants to search heaven and hell looking for Ron.  If you know the love for which I speak, you know you would do the same.  I feel him, know he is nearby reaching out for me and wrapping his arms around me like Patrick Swayze to Demi Moore in Ghost.  We had that kind of connection.

Thinking about dreams and dreamlike thoughts. The strangest experience happened the other day and it is still tipping me off balance.  I was looking at a few pictures of Ron and thinking about him when he was alive, how he felt, looked, how he smelled, tasted, moved, smiled and spoke.  I suddenly had a thought overtake me - it was that his being alive, being his wife and all that we had experienced together was the dream and these past 7 months of foggy dreamlike nightmare were really what I had lived all along.  It was a scary, unsettling feeling because it made me wonder if I was going to erase him from my memories like so many other dreams I have had in my lifetime.   What if my memories of Ron become so clouded and distant that I can't rekindle them again?  This thing called grief is such a fickle creature.  Dashing in and out of the shadows like Robin Hood, taking and giving as he sees fit then getting whacked on the back of the head with no warning at all, just when life feels at its most stable and secure.  It's a game of tag where nobody really wins, just a lot of yelling and running about until all the players are exhausted and collapse.  Grief likes to play games.

In the movie, the beautiful images of heaven were actually their dream home where the family is reunited once again after they have all transitioned from this earthly life.  They joyfully came together recognizing the love and devotion each shared for one another, celebrating being a family once again.   I see that possibility for Ron and I.  I imagine he is spending his time at the BBQ, fixing things and preparing our dream home, waiting for me to arrive.  Just as he did most days while he was alive, waiting at the front door, or on the front porch of our home with that big smile on his face.  Welcoming me home.

Until then, I will see you in my dreams my love!

Cleaning Up My Act

 

1/14/13

Today is 7 months since Ron died and I just got an email telling me that his memorial stone or grave marker is complete and has been placed.  It's now official, Ron is dead, buried and sealed into eternity with a bronze 16" X 24" slab reciting his vital information and the lasting words "A Man of Integrity Greatly Loved and Missed".  This is what he wanted on his gravestone - A MAN OF INTEGRITY.  He truly believed that was his greatest attribute.  Integrity is defined as "Doing the right thing, even when no one is looking".  That was Ron for sure with just about everything - but his health.

After Ron died, we had to clean out his car to get it ready to sell.  This was the task of his younger son, Steven.  I handed him a bag and he went off to do his deed.  Steven came back into the house saying "Are you ready to get pissed off??"  He had in his hands no less than 10 fast food bags and there were more in the car.  He had this look on his face like someone had slapped him.  It was difficult to watch as he tried to process what this meant.  Having the evidence that his father was still eating so much fast food and not attending to his dietary needs and restrictions was like being told his father committed suicide.  Now, nobody really thinks that by eating junk food they are going to drop dead one day, but for Ron along with major health problems and a family history that is exactly what happened.  It is not easy to look at the life of someone you love and see that they made so many poor choices, especially when so much of what Ron did was amazing, wonderful and giving.  He was what so many would call a happy, loving and generous man.  He made eveyone feel good around him and would laugh and joke and stump us with his library of facts and figures.  He was a wiz at math and could add a lengthy list of numbers in his head.  So many qualities that made him a man of great love and integrity, and now all that is lost forever.

I will visit my husband's grave and yell at him a bit (or a lot) and get really mad at him for making the choice to have a shorter life and be angry and stomp around a bit.  I will cry and scream for the loss of my love and partner.  I will caress his new grave marker and then I will pull myself together because I have work to do.  Today I begin the next phase of my Radical Shift and eliminate processed sugar, flour, gluten and dairy from my eating regimine.  I am cleaning up my act, my refrigerator and pantry.  Today starts a CLEAN FOOD ONLY regimine for me and my home.

For breakfast, I began with a clean shake of coconut water, almond milk, blueberries, raw cacao powder, 1/2 avocado, spinach/kale, a scoop of protein powder and a tsp of almond butter.  It was delicious and filling!  I am excited about this process of cleaning and cleansing my body.  I look forward to the benefits of not loading myself down with all the junk, wheat, sugar and other foods that do not provide me with energy and healthy satisfaction.

I am also working on shifting my 7 yr old daughter to a cleaner way of eating.  She LOVES her carbs!  Pasta, bread, ice cream, sweets oh my!  For lunch, I made her a clean sandwich of brown rice cake, almond butter a sprinkle of flax seeds and a little spread of almond/cacao butter.  She was THRILLED!  That along with her fat free yoghurt (She gets dairy as she is a child and not yet lactose intollerant), snow peas, hummus, berries, dried fruit, and her ice water.  To be honest, I usually pack her a healthy lunch, but now we are shifting to clean eating and trying to eliminate the wheat.

I am making a conscious choice to LIVE.  Not just live but live healthy.  I have a long ways to go but since I am declaring it here - I hope my new Village (that's YOU) will keep me accountable and keep me moving forward.  When I feel like sliding back to old ways, I will think to myself "How in the world am I going to explain THIS one on MOAMM?

I will close with my "I am " statement that I created years ago.  This is my power, my strength and my mantra.

I am a B-E-A UTIFUL, Strong, Intelligent, Courageous, Creative and Inspirational WOMAN!

Namaste

Tragedies and Triumphs

1/10/13

When I originally began this blog a couple years ago, it was meant to give me a place to speak about the contrasts in parenting a young child/toddler and teenage to adult children.  It is unique position to be in and yet one that is becoming increasingly common with blended families and new children being brought into those blended families.  I took down much of what I had written back then and when Ron died, I needed a place other than Facebook to pour out my thoughts, feelings and ramblings.  This blog remains a place to reflect on my unique parenting experience as I navigate the tragedies and triumphs that come my way.

Losing Ron was definitely a tragedy, no question.  It altered every plan and expectation I had for my life and my youngest daughter's life.  It created a ripple effect through the older 6 kids and they are still trying to figure out how to rationalize such a loss.  While Ron's death was somewhat expected as his health was always a topic of concern and conversation, it still shakes me to the core on a regular basis.  Despite all that has happened, I am in a relatively good place today, mainly because I am a strong women with the insane ability to tuck my tail between my legs, pull my coat a little tighter around my body and turn into the storm head first.  I just plow through and deal with all that comes my way.  I am discovering more of what has become my "new normal" and even coming up with plans for what might be next in my life.

Of course, just as I think I have things pulling together and in some semblance of order, once again my life is suddenly jolted off its foundation and I am forced to stop and acknowledge the icy winds, sleet, bolts of lightening and swirling storm that become a part of my world.

I don't want to get into the details of specifically who this is about, but let's just say that one of my 7 children is now dealing with a drug addiction issue and is in a court ordered 30 day inpatient rehab after an arrest.  I pray this was caught early and from the ashes of despair, the Phoenix will rise again in triumph.  This child has been down a darkening path for several years now and I knew I was going to receive one of two phone calls, either from the police or the morgue.  Thank goodness it was the police. 

I have been through this before, a child with addiction.  One of my older stepsons dealt with it as a teenager.  It was easy to deal with him because he was a minor.  We whisked him off lickety-split to a boarding school in Utah and 20 months later, he graduated the program and began his life of sobriety.  I am happy to say, 8 years later he is still clean and sober and a college graduate!  I know there can be happy endings and I will hope and expect for nothing less this time.  Thanks to the intense addict/enabler education our family received, I am equipped with a great toolbox of skills that will help me get through the next days, months and years.  I am not saying I have perfected the tools, just that I know I have them, how to use them and how to get to them when I need to. My challenge is to use those tools and not slip back into old ways.

There is a bit of a difference from when the older one presented with his drug addiction and this go round.  Not only is this child an adult, I am dealing with it alone and without my rock, Ron.  I must stay strong, not enable or rescue and keep my head clear and in my own "hoop" so I can be in support but not go down with her.  That's the thing about a kid who is drowning, it sounds simple and very appropriate to throw them a life preserver, but what if that isn't enough?  Do you jump in with them and try to pull them to shore or yell to them from the shore to "Tread water or DIE!!!"  You are not going to like the answer.

I can't and won't jump in to save her.  If I do, she will do everything she can to grab on to my life force and suck me dry until I sink to the bottom of the dark dark ocean.  I will love her, support her positive choices and hold her capable of handling her recovery on her own, or with the resources she will gain through the 12 Step NA program.  I can't do it for her.

I was lucky, I learned the skills of sitting back and being an observer of my children's choices and results early on.  I learned a very important word - "BUMMER" in response to their constant so-called emergencies.  When they would call from school in a panic "I forgot my homework at home can you bring it to me or I will fail!!!"  "Bummer".  "Mom!  Can you please drive me to school, I woke up late and now I'm going to be late and I will get detention again!"  "BUMMER - have a nice walk".  Natural consequences.  Better to learn that within the safety net living in a parent's home rather than out in the big bad world!  I once again find that I have a child who needs to re-learn these natural consequences and experience the "BUMMER" until she is ready to live her life on purpose.  I will sit on the sidelines as her biggest cheerleader, but if she trips and falls, I will not rush to her side to help her off the ground - I will be yelling "BUMMER!  Now get up, dust yourself off and let's GO!" She is strong.

Having a child arrested for drug possession and usage of drugs is definitely a tragedy and has the potential to destroy a family.  I am grateful our family meets such events with love, compassion and strong unwavering support.

I refuse to allow the tragedies in my life to define who I am and will turn these tragedies into my greatest triumphs.

A Balancing Act

December 28, 2012

“So be sure when you step, Step with care and great tact. And remember that life's A Great Balancing Act. And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed) Kid, you'll move mountains.”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go! 


As I move through the weeks and months following Ron's death, I find that I have been experiencing my life as if I was a character in a play or TV show, watching myself perform in an ensemble cast or alone on a stage like a side show host.  I must constantly move back and forth between the two parts, one the more "normal" life-like persona and the other masked like the phantom, covering the emotion, sadness, anger and frustrations of being a widow and single mother.  I have exuded the essence of  the magical balancing act persona most of my life as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, nurse. It is through the act of balancing all the elements in my wacky, complicated life that strength is gained.  I am strong - Who boy am I strong.  I could take on the world with my strength, and I have.

Navigating through this year learning to be a widow and single mother, I find I am forging new ground on a daily basis.  I have a 7 year old daughter who has a set of needs, wants and emotions that must be dealt with in a calm, protective, nurturing manner.  She needs to be taught, guided, disciplined and given boundaries in order to find her place in the family and this world.  She doesn't have years and experience to back up what she is doing, she is new, green and still needy.  I need to balance her basic needs along with the unknown, new territory of a grieving child.  Caring for her is a full time job for two parents and now I must carry this responsibility alone.  I never intended to be a single parent again.  I loved parenting with Ron. We were a great team and when one was at capacity, the other took over.  I do find myself giving so much that by the end of the day, I don't even have the energy to open a bottle of wine and relax!

 A 7 year old child who is grieving does not go about it in a way one might imagine.  She has never broken down, crying and asking for her daddy.  Some may think this is terrible and she didn't love him, that is so far from the truth.  Often a child will not grieve at first because to them, the world is all about what is happening right now.  Her reality is that her daddy is dead, not coming back and she has me and her siblings left to make up her family.  She is able to find peace in that because she isn't mature enough or ready to deal with the enormity and permanence that death represents.  She fully understands death and that people who die do not come back, but beyond that she doesn't get all the life happenings that will forever be different without her daddy.  She will never again have her daddy at a Father/Daughter dance, her daddy will not be there when she graduates high school and college, she will never have her daddy walk her down the isle when she gets married, her daddy will not be there when she becomes a mommy.  These are the things we as adults think about and the profundity of death is hard enough for us, how could a child possibly take all that in without becoming catatonic?  So, for now she plays, laughs and acts out on occasion and all I can do is love her, comfort her and give her a safe environment so she can one day express her grief openly.  Even in my own grief, imagine navigating the needs of a grieving 7 yr old and the other 6 adult children who each have their own grief path.  They all need support, but they need it differently.  Balance - in theory a wonderful goal, in reality almost unattainable.

My life has been further complicated (enhanced??) recently by three of my adult children moving back home.  One lives here consistently, one sort of moved in, but rarely sleeps here and the third uses my house as a way-station and laundromat and occasionally falls asleep on my couch in between 48 hour shifts as an EMT. So the dilemma is that I must keep the boundaries of "No TV" during the day for the 7 yr old, when the 22 and 24 yr old plop down on the couch and turn on the tube any time they want!  I am teaching the 7 year old to clean up after herself, help with trash, animals and dishes and the older two leave clothes, shoes and dishes all over the place!  Ok, so this is starting to sound like a bitch session, not my intention.  The point is that I need to shift from being "mommy/teacher/mentor Mom" to "landlord/Mom" and back again several times a day.  I need the 7 year old to see that just because you are an adult, you don't get to bend the rules.  I also need the adult children to take special care to do the right things and be a good example so I don't have to nag or bitch all the time.  It's hilarious at times because there are sometimes arguments between the 7 and 22/24 yr olds about who did what, who didn't do what and the inevitable "MOOOOOOMMMMMMMMY!!!!!!"  Hollered from down the hall when they can't sort it out themselves.  It's amusing to see two individual who are siblings with the age difference of many parent/child relationships, fighting like siblings!  I am a Multigenerational Mom, something I see more and more these days.  I am parenting children in two different generations.  My oldest 6 are actually old enough to be my youngest child's parent.  I get to see all the good and bad of my previous parenting and apply it as needed to my youngest daughter.  But to be a good parent, I need to still be fair and not give or do too much to one or the other.  I need to balance my love, time and attention across the board.  The older ones don't require as much nurturing so it is easier, but they still want me to pay attention to the things going on in their lives.

This balancing act is not just about balancing what is happening outside of me, but finding the balance within.  I have always spent my life giving and doing for others.  It's just part of my nature, who I BE.  While balancing my home, children, job, business, friendships and other activities I am involved in, I rarely stop and give just to me.  I am really not sure what that is supposed to look like.  I know what other people do - get massages, read a book, sit in the sun and meditate, go to a movie, go to the gym, eat healthy.  I just don't know how to translate that into my own day to day living.

I blogged earlier about creating a Radical Shift. This is another step - Balance and Harmony.  Keeping true to my inner needs and setting aside what others have come to expect of me.  Each day doing one thing just for me. Loving me just as much as I love others, loved Ron, love my children.

A Radical Shift = bringing on Balance and Harmony.  It's time for me. 

Nicole's New Year's Top 10 "Advice to Those Supporting the Grieving"

December 31, 2012

I am posting this not as a dig or put down to those who have tried to be helpful and supportive during the last 6 1/2 months, I am writing this as a service to those who find themselves in that awkward position of trying to comfort the grieving either immediately after a death or during special occasions and holidays and don't have a clue what to say.  I will start out with "What NOT to Say" and finish with the top 10 "What to say or do".  This is not information from a therapist, this is my belief based on my experience being in grief and also from information I have put together from others who have dealt with many types of grief, losing a parent, spouse, child or other loved one.

I hope this helps others to know what a grieving person needs.  Plan ahead so you are not caught off guard.  Speak from the heart, but don't patronize.  The grieving person does not want to feel better, replace, forget, move on or be told how to grieve. All of these things will happen on their own time an no amount of words will cause them to happen sooner.  Do not offer advice on how to grieve - it's personal and nobody will grieve the way you might want or expect.  They want you to love them, spend time with them, offer to lift a burden or two or just give a call and talk about the person who died.  Mostly they want to know that their loved one will be remembered.  Sometimes the grieving person will need to vent and tell you things about the person who died that drove them crazy or made them angry - that is normal and should be supported just as if the person were still alive.  A grieving person still has all the feelings towards their loved one after death they had before, it's just not as acceptable to discuss frustrations or anger.    Do not offer advice on how to be happy or become happy.  Grieving people can sometimes be happy, but it will be different and it will happen when they are ready. 

Nicole's 2012 Top 10 things NOT to say to the grieving...

10. "When God closes a door, he opens a window.  Something good will come from this. "
9.  "God never gives you something that you can't handle"
8.  "At least he/she went quickly and didn't suffer"
7. "At least he/she isn't in pain any longer"
6. "You will find love again/have another child"
5.  "Try not to think about it, think happy thoughts"
4.  "At least you will always have your memories, he/she will be in your heart forever."
3.  "Count the blessings in your life."
2.  "At least you were lucky to have someone to love"
1.  "It's time to move on and forward with your life, you have to let go at some point."

Now, I will say that there are times when you will need to give the grieving person a push or a shove to get them out of a long standing funk, say they have been in bed with the covers over their head for a month - then you get to be a little more frank.  But if we are having a bad day or difficulty dealing with a special day, a milestone after the death or a holiday or anniversary - well, give us a break.  We just need to be allowed to feel sad.  Anniversaries, holidays, birthdays, special occasions and sometimes random events will bring out the sadness - that's just how it is going to be.

Nicole's 2012 Top 10 things you CAN say or do...

10.  Ask how we are doing and mean it.  Wait for the answer even if it takes a few minutes.
9.  Sit quietly, allowing the space of silence.  It is sometimes nice just to have someone there, holding our hand, without the chatter.
8.  Bring a meal weeks or months after the death and sit down and eat with us.  Most often, mealtime is where the loved one is missed the most and having company can be comforting.
7. Speak about the person who died.  It's ok, you are not going to cause us to fall apart just because you speak their name.  We WANT to hear your memories, stories and thoughts.  It makes us feel that our loved one's life had meaning to someone besides us.
6. Ask "What can I do?" and mean it.  Only ask if you are willing to actually put yourself out there and follow through.
5.  Acknowledge our feelings.  Don't fix, just affirm that you hear us.  Sometimes it's best to just repeat what you see expressed "I see you are feeling sad", "This is really rotten", "It really isn't fair you are going through this".
4. Take us out of our routine.  A night out with friends can be an amazing catalyst to happiness.
3.  Call or visit often. Even months or a year later! It can get lonely when people avoid us because we are the person whose spouse, child, parent, etc died.  Death isn't contagious - it's just a fact of life.  We might want to isolate ourselves, but don't let us - it isn't healthy for long periods. 
2.  Hug us, we really miss the physical contact most of all.  Hugging helps us connect to life outside our own.  It helps us feel loved.
1.  When all else fails, and you can't think of anything else to say - use this phrase.  "I am here and I don't know what to say, but I didn't want to say nothing."

Peace be with you and may the New Year bring about a positive change in our world.

Namaste,

Nicole

I'll Have a Blue Christmas Without you...

December 25, 2012

Christmas without you is just not the same. All the lights are hung, but don't shine as bright. The tree is decorated, but isn't as grand. The mistletoe is perched high above and yet you are not here to steal a kiss. The packages are wrapped and fill the space under the tree and yet the emptiness of your absence echoes in my heart. I have been cheery and bright because that is what I must do for our daughter and the rest of our children, yet it feels like I am somehow betraying you and our love when I laugh and get lost in the joy of the holiday. Despite the occasional festivities with various friends & family, these nights alone feel insurmountably lonely.  Merry Christmas my darling, I am trying to be brave and face this day knowing it will come whether or not I am ready. I would welcome the ghost of Christmas Past transporting me to a happier time to remind me of the glory of Christmas night with you.  Your Santa hat will sit empty Christmas morning and yet the day will be beautiful and magical and special and there will be happiness and joy and packages and wrapping paper will fill the air along with the laughter of our children - because that is what Christmas is all about.  Why can't Santa visit me tonight and grant just one Christmas wish?  Let me steal one last kiss, one last hug, one last caress of your face.  Alas, Santa will not visit me this year, it's just Christmas without you...another of many firsts I must endure.

    Ron was dressed as Santa for her school Christmas Party

How happy is she to have her daddy as Santa?

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I did well today, all things considered.  I think my friend of the day was actually the annoying head cold and chest congestion that kept me fuzzy headed and focused on breathing rather than my sadness missing my husband on the first Christmas without him.

I stopped at the cemetery on the way to my Mom's house with my 7 yr old daughter.  We sat and talked to him, wishing him a Merry Christmas and placing an amaryllis flower at his grave marker.  I didn't have the overwhelming waves of emotions I expected, just numb, mindless stares at the grave marker with his name.  It was as if I was not truly comprehending that he was buried 6 feet beneath me, the body of the man I had loved, held and caressed.  How strange to be so close to him - a mere step or two really, and yet all I could feel was the cold, moist earth soaking into my jeans as I kneeled at his gravesite.  I am sure a little part of me let go today.  I was able to allow myself to celebrate the day with our children rather than stay stuck in the magnitude of my loss.

A quote from today: This is pertinent to myself and so many others this holiday season. "We have no right to ask when a sorrow comes, "Why did this happen to me?" unless we ask the same question for every joy that comes our way.  Match our celebration and loss with the same depth of gratitude."

It is with gratitude for the life and love of my husband that I can move forward each day, taking grander steps towards my new normal.  I ask only "what next" with all hope and expectation for a positive and fulfilling response.  I am gearing up for a major change in my life in the next couple weeks and one of the next steps I need to take is to begin cleaning out the clutter and excess in my life. This is not only a physical letting go but an emotional one as well.  Ron isn't coming back. He made his decision a long time ago to have a shorter life and it is my task to live my remaining years (all 45+ of them!) with zest and vigor.   Letting go of the "stuff" in my home will allow me to also metaphorically let go of the excess bulk in my physical self.  The two are correlated for sure.

Soon, it will be time to ring in the New Year of 2013.  I intend to do so with less clutter in my home and less clutter within me.

A Radical Shift

December 16, 2012

So, here I sit two days after the 6 month anniversary of my husband's sudden and (unexpected??) death from a heart attack and I am thinking about the next 6 months, year and life ahead.  What is it that motivates me to keep going and keep moving in a forward direction when I am constantly being pulled back by the memories of our love and life together.  I am starting to see the world a little more clearly now as the fog and haze is constantly lifting, but I am held still and unmoving with the tethers of my past.  With each passing day, it feels like I am pulling teeth from their sockets and ripping flesh, nerves and tendons that try to hold everything in its place.  I want to move on, but I feel guilty for leaving him behind.  I do not want to let go of my love for him or any of the wonderful memories we shared, but there is something I do have to realize if I am going to be healthy emotionally and physically going forward.  My Ron was not living a healthy life and everything he did was the antithesis of longevity.  He ate what he wanted, sat around and did not have a regular exercise routine.  He indulged himself any time he wanted and made no apologies for his behaviors, just excuses and reasons.  He would say to me as I was working out with my trainer "I love hard work - I could watch it all day!".  He would mumble through bites of a double bacon cheeseburger "I would rather have a shorter life eating cheeseburgers than a long life eating tofu!".  This attitude permeated our relationship and gave me permission to be fat, lazy and indulgent as well.  I allowed myself to be sucked into poor eating, lazy and sedentary life.  I get to suffer with the results today as a 46 yr old woman who is carrying an extra 100+ lbs of weight.  It is not Ron's fault this happened, it is completely mine and I have to own it.  With the owning comes the responsibility to do something about it.

I loved my husband deeply and neither of us were svelte, shapely or athletic looking, we sunk into a life that kept us from becoming individuals in our best health and fitness possible.  Now, he is dead based on those choices and I need to make a different choice for my life if I want to live.  I need to make a radical shift and envision a life of health and fitness that is just as satisfying and fulfilling as a life of indulgence.  Nothing else will create change - only adopting and buying into the new vision.

My challenge, purpose and intention is to create a vision that I can get excited about, buy into 100% and work towards each and every day.  I am going to start with a tool that I know works in any situation where a radical shift in my life needs to take place.  A Vision Board or Dream Map.  To make a vision board or dream map, you take a large sheet of paper or poster board and a pile of magazines.  You start by writing down things like "where do I want to be 6 months from today, 1 year from today, 3 years and 5 years".  This is basically a 5 yr plan.  You then find pictures that align with your vision for yourself in 5 years.  Once you create the vision, you can begin laying the stepping stones for getting there.  If everything you do is in alignment with your ultimate goal, you can't go wrong!  It's pretty cool and I know if one truly wants to create change, then this is the way to do it.  This is how I am going to put my life back on track for fitness, health, business and personal achievements.  My first goal is to release the weight that has been holding me back for years and keeping me from my true potential and to create cardio fitness that will sustain me through my golden years.  I will post a picture of my Dream/Vision map when it is completed!

Now comes the hardest part of weight loss.  Getting started.  It's the holidays - the perfect excuse for indulgence and taking on the "diet starts January 1st" mentality.  I know it is virtually impossible to make a radical shift when everything around is filled with sugar and cream so I am going to give myself permission to enjoy the holidays and the sweetness of the season this year and eliminate the stress of dieting.   I will create my Vision Board/Dream Map before the end of the year then get ready for an incredible journey!

The Sands of Time..

December 12, 2012

A year ago, I was so unaware how that joyful season was going to be the last time I would share a Christmas kiss with the man I loved. We kissed our little magical girl on her 6th birthday, two parents who were completely, 100% in it together.  A year ago, everything seemed to be ahead of us, doors and windows opened wide and we let abundance fill our lives. A year ago, we planned for a future traveling the world, enjoying our home, family and friends - together. What a difference a year makes.  While I really want to sink into the sadness and grief over losing my husband, I have to find that part of me that can move forward with the same joy, energy and expectations for a life of new experiences.

It is in my nature to draw inward when life becomes sad or stressful.  I tend to become a bit of a hermit and stay home rather than socialize in times of despair.  I am working overtime to change this habit and move into the mainstream of life and find my spot in the sun.  I need to change a lot about me to do this, but I'm almost 47 years old and change is not so easy to consider.

I posted something on Facebook last night, the night before the very last time we will see a repetitive date 12-12-12 and it was just my musings about the end of the world as we know it.  Joys, regrets and expectations we set upon ourselves:

If today was the last day you would be here on this earth, and the world ended tomorrow... what would you regret? What would you have done differently or better if you knew tomorrow was the end? What relationships would you have healed - or not destroyed in the first place? Who would you have called to say hello, I love you, I need you, I want you - or just stopped by to visit? Where would you have traveled to and with whom? Can you lay your head on your pillow tonight, content that yours was a life well lived? Does your legacy speak for itself? Does the thought of unfinished business leave you anxious and sad? What will you choose if the sun comes up tomorrow and the day is full of life and opportunity? Will your first thoughts be on intention and purpose or apathy and repetitive fear based patterns? I'm curious - will the magic of tomorrow and the unique numerology of the day create a positive shift in mankind? I'm ready for transformation - are you? You have one hour to decide.

 I am making changes daily and strive to keep changing and evolving as I move into the second half of my life.  I will not allow the sudden and tragic loss of my husband dictate a life of sadness and despair.  I will powerfully take a stand for purpose and intention and create amazing experiences so that on my last day, I can look back with a smile and say "Ya done good girl!".

Anniversaries and other such occasions

November 25, 2012      

Today would have been my 11th wedding anniversary. Instead of a day of special hugs and flirty kisses, I will visit the cemetery and his grave, resting my head on the ground so I can whisper "I love you" to the musty earth. I will busy myself with the hum-drum dealings of daily life and do my best to hold the floods of tears, so available these days, from creating a river of despair. I will remember our 12 1/2 years together, the beautiful home we created and the amazing blended family of 7 children that is the legacy of our love. I will remember the cold, crisp November day when we stood in our backyard, under the beautiful white chuppah he made, dressed in our wedding finest, amongst our children, family and friends and promised to love, honor and cherish each other through good times and bad, sickness and health, forsaking all others, until death do us part. We did honor our vows each and every day, loving each other amongst the trials of raising teens, running a business, jobs that came and went, the ever present water leaks that began the day we were married. We rode the waves of life hand in hand occasionally running from an unexpected high tide or rogue wave, but returning to the shore to view the sunset at the end of the day, knowing our life together was good, special, meaningful and blessed by the Universe. I love you so much Ron Weiler! Happy anniversary baby, you were my best friend, my partner, my lover and soulmate.

************************************************ 

The weather on the morning of our wedding was shaping up after the torrents of rain we had experienced for days on end.  The sky was clear with no threat of precipitation.  It was cold though, crisp and cold like a beautiful Fall day.  People were bustling about setting up tables and chairs, flowers adorned every nook and shelf space in the backyard.  The Chuppah proudly made by Ron stood in the corner of the backyard awaiting our vows. The kids had the sense of impending change and excitement as they dressed in the rented tuxedos and special gown for the ceremony.  Our guests arrived and took their place in the rows of chairs on our lawn.  A magical harp began singing in the background, summoning my arrival on the ceremonial carpet.

I was so nervous and excited at the same time.  I was taking a huge leap marrying a man so very different than I.  He was nearly 13 years my senior, a New Yorker and a Jew.  We had so many things about us that were different, but those differences seemed to draw us in and make our curiosities grow.  We were so interested in each others lives, upbringing and history that it was those differences that helped define our relationship.  We always had our little saying "The Wonderful World of We".  It was going to be he and I and our kids against the world.  Nobody was going to get in between us.  We had each others back and love would see us through anything.

We had written our vows, designed our rings and took a leap of faith right into each others arms.  We were in love and everyone could see it.  The ceremony was beautiful with the most spiritual and meaningful service conducted by a Rabbi.We danced and laughed and kissed every time we got near each other.  Our love had a magnetism that drew us together passionately.

We ended the evening with my gift to Ron - a bottle of Camus XO Superior Cognac straight from France and a couple fine cigars.  We sat in our wedding clothes sipping cognac and puffing on cigars stealing flirty glances and planning a very long life together.

Til death do us part.

Through the Looking Glass

November 22, 2012

It seems the holidays are a mirror for what is working or not in your life.  The stress and pressure brings out the subtle nuances of one's personality putting a magnifying glass to each quirk or character.  When you add to it a recent loss of a loved one, the smallest issues can quickly explode out of proportion and cause complete break down.  The stress of a holiday can also highlight the hidden strengths and powers often set aside when unused or not needed. 

Yesterday was my first Thanksgiving without Ron.  It is important to point out that Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday.  He loved the food, the welcoming of people into our home, the football games and of course, the annual Thanksgiving Poker Tournament.  At the beginning of the holiday meal, he would stand at the head of the table looking down the two rows of guests, usually around 35-40 people in all, raise his glass and say "I just want to thank you all for coming today and sharing on this, my favorite holiday.  It's my favorite holiday because I get to look down this table at so many people, family, long time friends and friends we are just meeting.  This is is a home where everyone is welcome!"  He would then begin our gratitude chain.  He would say something he is grateful for then it would go around the table with each person expressing something they were especially thankful for.  It was a real feel-good moment where we all were in a place of contentment.  We would acknowledge those who were not with us any longer or who were temporarily away, due to wars and deployments overseas, logistics or other obligations.  He would sit and smile, give me a kiss now and again and enjoy the wonderful selection of foods.  Mostly, he would smile a lot.

Long before the meal, there were days of preparation that took place.  Both Ron & I would do the shopping, meal planning and  make sure we had enough of everything to feed the masses.  We did it together, as a couple and we were good.  I look at all I had to do to prepare for Thanksgiving this year and realize, I am a strong woman.  I am strong and capable.  I CAN do it all, but when Ron and I were together, I didn't HAVE to.  We were such a team sharing responsibilities and dancing our duet in the kitchen like old pros.  We knew how to move to allow the other to respond in kind.  Sometimes bumping into each other, then stepping back with a smile.  It was as if we choreographed our dance eons ago.

This year, it was all on me.  I did an extraordinary thing - I planned ahead!  I started my food preparations on Tuesday  and by Thanksgiving Day all I needed to do was complete the appetizers and enjoy!  The food preparation was also made easier with the help of my two daughters.  It was hysterical watching them fight over who got to do what in the kitchen.  One is 6 and the other is 22 - you would think there would be no conflicts, but the two prattled on like they were 4 and 7!  It was oddly enjoyable watching them learn to make pie crust, helping with pie fillings and all of the other dishes while arguing over whose turn it was to push the button on the food processor.  This was a first for me, having my two daughters helping with the Thanksgiving meal preparations.  I had longed for a day like this for many years.  Bittersweet.

Thanksgiving morning, I awoke early, around 7:30, but decided to stay in bed for a bit.  I had been up until 12:30 am the night before putting the final touches on the pumpkin cheesecake I made.  The first thought as I opened my eyes, as it was on most mornings, was that Ron was not lying next to me in bed.  He wasn't in another room or downstairs making coffee.  He was gone, dead, never to be again.  The tears erupted without sound and soon soaked my pillowcase.  I looked over at my sleeping angel daughter and hoped she would stay asleep a little longer so I could just sit in my sadness, thinking about my empty, aching heart.  I needed this time, when all was quiet, to feel - really FEEL my loss.  "It's going to be a long day" I thought to myself.

Soon, I rolled out of bed, dressed and headed downstairs to make coffee.  Coffee was my morning jewel and ritual.  It summoned the day to do it's best and take a stab at me - cuz once that first cup went down the hatch, I was fired up and ready to tackle anything that came my way.  I went about the morning finishing up the last minute details and giving instructions for clean up and set up in the patio.  The ovens were on, turkey was cooking and the beautifully decorated appetizer and dessert table was set.  I poured myself a glass of wine, looked around and smiled.   

As the time to put dinner on the table came closer, I felt a twinge of sadness and excitement at the same time.  I missed him so much and I knew I would have to be the one to raise my glass and make the toast in his absence.  I didn't want to break down and sob while all eyes were on me, but I knew there was no stopping the inevitable tears.  At the same time, I was a little excited and had such a sense of accomplishment.  I had done it.  I had put together Thanksgiving Dinner for 23 people and everything was cooked to perfection and all came to the table at the same time.  I always felt the only way I was able to do this all these years was because Ron and I did it together.  I did have plenty of help, but the core of the meal and coordination was on me and I did it!

As I think about all that I love and have lost when Ron died that day, I  know I am so lucky that I was and still am a strong woman who can accomplish anything if I set my mind to it.   As I take a long look into the "Looking Glass" of life, I know the reflection that stares back at me is that of a beautiful, strong, intelligent, wise, caring, compassionate and loving woman who will take on the second half of my life with the same grit that got me through the first 46 years.  I thank Ron for being a part of my life and for blessing me with his charm, smile, wit, intelligence and most of all unconditional love.  I thank him for standing strong beside me and allowing me to either flex my muscles or lean on him.  I am grateful for our life together and the gifts he left behind.

The Mourning After

June 20, 2012

It had to come, the endless days after the funeral.  In the Jewish tradition, the first 7 days are called "Shiva". This is an official time for friends and family to come and pay respects or pay a "shiva call" to the family of the deceased.  There are rules that go with sitting shiva and I was trying to comply as best I could even though Ron wasn't a completely observant Jew.  I covered the mirrors and lit the yahrtzeit candle. I stayed home, not driving or going shopping.  I mostly just rested and cried.  The table in the kitchen had an array of pictures of Ron throughout his life, but mostly our life together.  It was my shrine to our oh so short time together.  I would walk past the table and caress the photo of his face, and sometimes an overwhelming urge to place my lips to his would come over me.  I knew it was only going to be the cold glass kissing me back.  I so longed for his warm, sweet kiss.  As the day dragged on, occasionally, someone would knock on the door and walk in exploding with tears as they hugged me.  I often was able to keep it together until such a visit and then I would break down and cry yet again.  Other times, I had been crying so much that I had nothing left and couldn't join in their emotional greeting.  When I was shut down like that, it almost made me want to laugh that they were so sad and I felt nothing, numb clear to my soul.  This constant swing of emotions was exhausting and sometimes I wanted to go into my room and sleep, but I didn't.  I refused to allow myself to completely shut down. I was going to be tough and get through it like I did every other obstacle in my life by taking one step in front of the other.

I found myself moving through daily events like a robot.  Obeying the social commands to stand when someone entered or left the room, join in on conversations sometimes about Ron, sometimes not.  I was starting to dread the inevitable, the shift to being alone and figuring out my life without him.  I was so surprised by my deep deep sadness and how much I missed him.  We had been together 12 1/2 years after all and, well to be honest there were things he did that made me a little crazy.  It's horrible to say that at times I would think "just go away already!".  Oh if I could have only known and not wasted a second on such negativity.  I know it happens, my goodness, I realized we had spent nearly every moment together since we made our relationship official.  We worked together, played together and lived together every day.  Now, the silence was deafening.  At night, the horrific ear shattering sounds of his snoring were nothing in comparison to the intensity of this silence.  I missed the sound of his feet pounding up the stairs at night, or pounding down the stairs when I walked in the door during the day.  I missed his constant phone calls, so often within minutes of us parting ways.  I found myself reaching for the phone to text him or call him to share an interesting piece of news or a funny antic I witnessed with our daughter.  I wonder when that goes away?  When do you stop thinking your loved one is still alive?

Far too soon, the well wishers and friends start to go back to their homes and their lives. We had buried him on a Tuesday and Friday was my first day alone.  It wasn't the full 7 days, but everyone else had to get back to their lives.  Summer was starting and it was time to celebrate the new season.  I was bitter and angry about this.  I didn't dare say anything out loud and appear ungrateful for all that had been done for me, but deep inside I really wished someone would have stayed with me a little longer and allowed me a few more days to put reality aside.  It wasn't to be, and here I was alone and needing to find something to do with my life.  That Friday morning, I cleaned up the house, showered and dressed myself and Alexandra and prepared to enter back into the world, the world of the living.  I walked past my shrine of photos with the burning yahrtzeit candle and said an apologetic "see you soon" to my Ron, locked the door behind me and drove off to meet Kerrie and her daughter to see a movie.

What a normal thing to do, go see a movie on a Friday morning, the first Friday of the summer.  I agreed to this only because I didn't want to sit alone in the house all day and it was the most reasonable thing to do with a 6 yr old.  We went to see Brave and while I tried to keep my eyes open, I just kept falling asleep.  Believe me, that is NOT an easy movie to fall asleep in.  It is LOUD, violent and annoying when you are not in the mood for a meaningful story line.  I kept trying to follow what was happening, but all I could think of was how horrible this movie was!  Wow, Disney really missed it on this one.  BAD, stupid movie!  Finally the torture was over.  I was completely exhausted despite sleeping through most of the show and all I wanted was to get in the car, drive away and be in my refuge, my safety zone, my home.

As each day moved into the next, it was apparent I was going to survive and I was going to make it to the other side of my grief and horrible loss.  I rarely had a day without tears, but there were more moments I was smiling.  I was even laughing on occasion, although the sound of laughter felt like a betrayal of my love for Ron.  I had so many people telling me it was OK to live my life and even experience joy on occasion.   I was doing my best which was better than anyone had expected.

At the one month anniversary, I posted this on Facebook:

I never thought I would make it through the first week let alone the first month without my beloved Ron. I have reflected over and over from the instant I heard his gasp on the telephone, to being his heartbeat and breath and finally to my ability to say "Stop" - how can this have happened? How can it be real? I am amazed by the Divine Providence that aligned with the Universe to put everyone in exactly the right places at exactly the right times to do exactly the right things - yet still have this horrible outcome. The gift of strength is my curse knowing I shouldn't be given more than I am strong enough to handle yet wishing I was too weak to take on such a heartbreaking task. I now must navigate through this new journey alone, but not alone, with a village of people, love, support, being open to the generosities of friends and strangers. I'm ready to declare a mission to uphold his name and memory and BE his ever glowing candle. It's through the manifestation of a new passion and purpose that I will get through the next weeks, months and years. I pray my village continues and sees me through.

 I need my Village now more than ever.