Difficult Days

     When my sweetheart was diagnosed with a rare airway disorder called tracheal stenosis I joined a Facebook support group filled amazing people who knew the same struggles that we were facing.   When he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, I joined several more.   So, a couple weeks after he passed I thought that joining a support group for young widows was a good idea.   The first group I joined was terrifying and not a good fit.  There are some very heartbreaking stories of how people have lost their loved one, and it was just too much for my already broken heart.   It did help me deeply appreciate several things, especially my faith.   I'm so grateful that I know that I will see my sweetheart again.   Death is just temporary and one day we will be together again.   But for those without that belief or knowledge, death is even more agonizingly painful.  Don't get me wrong, its agonizingly painful even with that knowledge but I at least feel like I have hope.   

     I joined a second group for those that shared my beliefs, hoping for a better fit.   But found that group was much more focused on finding their "second chapter."   Definitely not on my radar at this point in time, who knows if it will ever be.   My husband is the only man I've ever kissed and my heart is content to leave it that way.   I recently came across a journal entry from my sweet husband that said "I never want her to be alone. Ever. I hope I can visit when I am gone."  Me too my love, me too!   But unfortunately I've spent more time alone in the past 2 1/2 months than ever in my entire life.   I'm grateful for the young woman who is staying with me, but she's not always here and even when she's here it's obviously not the same as my previous roommate of twenty two years.  

     I've learned that sometimes it's good to be alone with my tears, but other times the silence is suffocating.   I've tried to find YouTube playlists to help cover the silence, with only mild success.  I probably should just create one of my own as there are often songs that can take me from functioning just fine to tears in a matter of moments.    One in particular is a Disney piano list, which is relatively safe but whenever this song from Toy Story comes on, I have to quickly skip it... 

When somebody loved me

Everything was beautiful

Every hour spent together

Lives within my heart

And when she was sad

I was there to dry her tears...

Just she and I together

Like it was meant to be

     How I wish that he was here to dry my tears.   I am very grateful for the numerous other family and friends who love me, but life is just not the same without him.  One thing that I recall from one of the groups was a discussion about how long does life and grief feel overwhelming hard.    Many people said the first year was the hardest.  That seems logical to me.   But, I've learned already that grief is anything but logical.  There have been days where I feel like I'm doing OK, only to be blindsided by something unexpected that shows me otherwise.   When my husbands team made it to the playoff's, numerous people reached out to me letting them know they were thinking of me/us and that they were sure he was in heaven celebrating.   An outpouring of love, should be good,  right?  Illogically I sobbed, tears streamed down my face and soaked my chest.      When his team WON the Super Bowl, same thing, but at least time I anticipated my reaction.   I'm so grateful for everyone who is reaching out in love, it just is crazy that it accompanied with such tears of profound sadness.   Describing it to one of my aunts, she perfectly described it.  Bittersweet.   Grateful to be loved, but wishing to be celebrating with the one I love.  You know that baking chocolate that you found in the fridge as a kid and thought you would  eat.   Yup, a lot like that.   It needs to be mixed with other ingredients to make it palatable, I just haven't figured out what those ingredients are.   

     In the discussion of how overwhelming, several also talked about how the second year was even harder.  Ugg... yet another thing I don't want to think about, but have come across more than once.   I'm still in the "surviving a day at a time phase" but trying occasionally to be prepared for difficult days by looking ahead.   When visualizing the coming year the thought of "landmine days" came to mind.   So when I came across a blog called Refuge in Grief that had this map I really liked it and it gave me more to think about.   I definitely relate to the mountain of tissues and waterfall of tears.   I think if I were drawing it, there would definitely be more than two landmines.   

 

     

     I've recently survived two of my "landmine days"  the Super Bowl and Valentine's Day, but having the two together was just too much.   The emotional strain manifested in a physical way with debilitating ocular migraines.    I grateful that somehow survived that week and this week as well, but this weekend I've just felt extra broken.   I've never been the best at asking for help, but it's even more difficult to reach out asking for help when I have no clue what, if anything could help me.  I've spent the weekend in my pajamas on the couch.  I've sat on the floor of the shower with water and tears streaming down my face.   I've prayed.   I've tried to study and learn and read things to find comfort.   I've felt broken.  But tomorrow is a new day.   Wish me luck.  

Morning Mourning

     As slowly the numbness that helped me get through these past difficult weeks, I feel there's been some agonizingly sad moments.   The most difficult moments each day seem to most often be first thing in the morning.   That moment where I wake up and realize it wasn't just a bad dream.  Probably a bit like the movie Groundhog's Day.    I think they are extra challenging, because sometimes they were often some of the best times of the day.   

    Two and a half years ago when my job changed to work from home, mornings became a bit more magical.   Since I didn't always have a specific time I had to be to work, sometimes I could stay in bed for just a little bit longer.   We once heard these lyrics one day many many years ago and they resonated with us "If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?"  

 

      Occasionally there was a golden moment in the morning, where I would be only half awake for an hour or two.   Awake enough to snuggle up next to my sweetheart, but not enough awake that my brain was thinking about all the things that needed to be done.   Thoughts of chemo, medications, appointments, errands, work, dinner... were held at bay.  It didn't happen every morning, but when it did it was bliss.  He would usually softly ask, often multiple times, for "five more minutes" and when possible I of course would be happy to comply.  These mornings were magical and very recharging for our souls.   

     One morning the week our lives changed forever, I woke up much earlier than normal.    I carefully snuggled up next to him in hopes of falling asleep for a couple more precious hours of sleep, hoping not to disturb him.   However, I was unsuccessful and he woke up.   I apologized for waking him and he gently replied with something like "Never apologize for waking me up to snuggle.  There is no better way to wake up."   Little did I know that just a few days later, he would be gone.   

     I find I deeply am mourning the loss of those magic mornings.       

     Now each morning, the first thing I often feel when I wake up is this indescribable feeling in my heart.   A horrible ache as my heart reminds me of what once was.   A reminder that it's trying to recover.    

  

      In the past week my mind has played cruel tricks on me.   One morning I thought I heard him quietly walking around in the bedroom getting ready to come back to bed.  Today I woke up and thought his hand was on my back.  It's hard to get up and face the world as it is, but extra challenging to do so on morning where your mind is playing tricks on you.   

    The movie Groundhog's day ends when Phil finds finds love.   Ugg... let's hope that's not the solution for my difficult mornings.   Because that sounds terrifying...

    

For another interesting read.  

In the Morning in the Mourning

The lyrics above are from a Snow Patrol Song called Chasing Cars

       

Never Prepared

       I don't remember when, but early on in his cancer diagnosis I came across this quote.   I printed it and hung it on the mirror in my bathroom.   Death was something that was on our minds regularly, but talking about it and preparing for it were challenging.   We tried... we met with the funeral director to start making plans.   But then, well...  life happened.  Specifically, trying to stay alive.   Trying to battle cancer and still have time or energy for other things was tough. 

      Then this fall again, when he faced death in the face again not once, but twice.   In a short time period we again realized how important it was to talk about and make those difficult decisions.   While in rehab on evening we spent a a little while talking about what he wanted at his funeral.  I jotted things down on a digital post it note and we planned to talk more in detail about things after Christmas.   It was a very small list which included songs, pallbearers, speakers and stormtroopers.  But having walked away from the edge of death, we thought we had more time.   But all we had was five short weeks.  I'm very grateful we had those weeks.   But those five short weeks were filled with building up the strength to walk again.  

     In all of the discussions we had over the years, there were many things to talk about.   Some of the most difficult were talking about not his death but in talking about me and the life after.   For both of us, it was difficult to imagine what that would look like.    The thought of me being alone was agonizing for both of us.    The possibility of me finding love again and marrying was difficult for either of us to imagine.   It was too hard to look past that.  

      Now here I am on the other side in the reality that we hoped would be many years still away.   While there are things that may have helped to make this easier, grief is hard.   That doesn't even take into account all of the other seemingly mundane daily tasks that must take place.   In a support group I read of a widow who had been very prepared, everything that could be was in place.   But she struggled because she wished she had things to do to distract her from the pain of her loss.   It really is a situation where you can't win. 

     Sometimes the difficult things come when you expect it.   Such as the necessity of getting in an elevator to leave the hospital the night he passed away.  That was excruciatingly difficult.   Clutching my pillow and focusing on placing one foot in front of the other as I walked out of the hospital without him.  The cold winter air was bitter, and the gut-wrenching feeling as I looked up toward the windows where I knew he was, will forever be a part of me.

      But many difficult things come when you least expect it, often with the most mundane of tasks.   I wasn't prepared for needing to check out the box for widow when my work had a new payroll system, or the fact that I needed to list an emergency contact other than my sweetheart of the past twenty two years.     After years of battling cancer, and picking up prescriptions for him I struggled to think of my birthday instead when picking up a prescription to help me sleep.     

     How and when to remove someone whose life has been intertwined so beautifully with mine is so difficult and often comes in unpredictable moments.   Some days it's hard just to see his name or a photo of him, a sad reminder that he is gone.   Other days pictures of him make me smile.   We often ordered groceries and fast food on an app, with both of our names listed together.   When placing an order at Chick-Fil-A one day, I updated the app because I knew that saying his name to the attendant in the drive through would make me cry.   But fast food is one thing and that choice was mine.   Often the choice is made for me.   I wasn't prepared to login a church app and notice that his name and picture was no longer next to mine in the directory.   That was hard. 

      So, all things considered could we have been more prepared.   Yes.   But honestly I don't know that you can ever really be ready.