Railroad Tracks

I don't really understand a lot of what people are talking about when they talk about grief. Especially when people get really existential. Phrases like "transform your grief", "you can be closer to your spouse more now than when he was alive", "people choose pain" and "the gifts of death,” confuse me and sometimes even anger me. When I read these things on Facebook or other websites for widowed people I'm probably looking at the computer with a glazed look on my face because most of this stuff makes no sense to me. I'm much more comfortable living in the concrete.

So once in a while, when something comes my way that does make me understand more of what I am going through, I'm thrilled because I'm really tired of not "getting it". Recently, I saw this on the web (and I do not remember where I saw it):

Living with grief is like traveling on a railroad track. One side of the track is sadness and the other side of the track is happiness. When a train travels on a track, it travels on both sides, simultaneously, like a grieving person lives their life, sad and happy, at the same time.

I thought that was great because it's a really concrete illustration of how I feel the majority of the time. It also really helps me because it allows me to give to others who've never been through this a clearer picture of how my life is now.

And it makes a lot more sense than that other stuff!!!!

Weekend in Bed

Don't get too excited, nothing X-rated going on over here.

Last weekend I started to feel like I was getting a head cold, so I got myself a supply of DayQuil and NyQuil and stubbornly plowed my way through the work week, wrongly thinking that if I ignored it, it would go away.

I was wrong.

By Saturday morning, not only had I only gotten worse, but now I had an upset stomach and nausea along with everything else. So I dragged myself to the doctor's office only to find out that not only did I have a sinus infection, but a stomach virus along with it. I was prescribed some antibiotics, (which the doctor warned may upset my stomach - and they did) stopped at ShopRite to get the prescription filled, went home, and crawled into bed. I stayed there until Sunday night when I had no choice but to drag my butt out of bed and take the kids to an important meeting for an upcoming trip they are taking.

Boy did I miss Bobby this weekend! I miss him all the time, but he had a great way with me when I was sick. No, he didn't sit by my bedside the whole time, but he was there to drive me to the doctor's, pick up my prescription, make me tea, bring me my meds, make me toast, and drive the kids to where ever they had to go so I wouldn't have to get dressed and leave my nice warm house in the middle of February. He would also suffer through re-runs of "I Dream of Jeannie" and "Charmed" just to keep me company when I was sick.

However, to give credit where credit is due, I must say that even though I had to pick up my prescription and drive the kids to their meeting, they did help me out when they were home. Of course, where Bobby would stop by my room every so often to see if I needed anything or just spend some time with me, my teens pretty much forgot I was there unless I texted them. Yes, I had to text them across a small three bedroom ranch house, but they did bring me something to drink when I asked, and my oldest even made me something to eat.

So even though I had some help, it wasn't the same. And again, it was one of those situations that magnified the fact that he is gone. And that pain is something that the antibiotics can't help.

Unexpected Surprise

Boy, did I get a surprise in my email the other day! It was from the Circle of Moms Online Community saying that this blog was nominated to the Top 25 Moms with Inspiring Families - 2012 list on Circle of Moms! I was so shocked, yet pleasantly surprised. If you're enjoying my blog, please vote for me every day between now and March 7. The link is to the right (the pink circle).

Thank you so much!!

Hearts and Flowers and Candy...Oh My!

Yes, I’m being sarcastic.

I’ve turned into one of those “single” people who considers Valentine’s Day a big joke. (I use the word "single" lightly since I really don't feel "single" either, but that is a subject for another post.) I can’t stand all the big giant red hearts all over the stores, and the advertisements showing the smiling perfect couple dressed in the perfect clothes at the perfect restaurant. It’s making me nauseous.

Not that Bobby and I were really big Valentine’s Day fans to begin with. Of course in the beginning of our relationship he would spend a month’s rent to send me 2 dozen red roses to work on Valentine’s Day, which quickly went the way of the dodo bird once we had a mortgage. After that, my gift consisted of whatever he could find at CVS on his way home from work, which was fine with me because I was at Shop-rite doing the same thing. All in the name of marital bliss.

This is not my first Valentine’s Day without him. (You can read about my first one here.) However, while I was sad last year, I am more disgusted this year. And maybe a little bitter, too, which I hate to admit to, but there you go. And I am typically not a bitter person! But I really miss those last minute cards and gifts from CVS. I hate being without him every day, and this is just another reminder that I am alone. And the last thing I need is another reminder!

Lisa Niemi Swayze

I recently read an interview with Lisa Niemi Swayze in the latest issue of "Ladies Home Journal". She talks about her memoir that she recently published called, "Worth Fighting For: Love, Loss, and Moving Forward". The memoir got great reviews, but I haven't read it. That's not why I'm mentioning it.

Lisa said many things in the interview that I was able to relate to, since we both had the honor of caring for the man we loved during his illness and last days of his life. But one thing that she said toward the end of the interview really resonated with me - "I'm usually such a positive person, but I found nothing positive about widowhood." (Miller, 127)

Like Lisa, I too, haven't found anything positive about widowhood, either. Has anything positive happened to me since he died? Yes, of course. But has anything positive happened to me as a result of being a widow? No, not at all! Anything positive that has happened to me or my family since he died would have happened even if he was still here. So Lisa really nailed it on the head.

I'll be writing more about Lisa in the future. Her interview was awesome.

Source: Miller, Kenneth. "Life After Patrick." Ladies Home Journal Feb. 2012: 122+.

Widow Wedding

Nope...not my wedding.

I ran into an old friend, Joe, who retired about two years ago. He was widowed about five years ago, and recently re-married this past summer. (This is a different "Joe" than the one I blogged about earlier from church).

I remember when Bobby was dying, Joe came and sat with me one afternoon and let me talk out my feelings. He just listened, and it was really good for me because he knew exactly what I was going through. His wife, Leslie, had also passed away of an illness, and he assured me that after Bobby passed away, that he would always be a part of my life. He told me that he still spoke to Leslie, three years later, every single day.

Since his retirement, I don't see him any more, but recently ran into him and congratulated him since I heard he had gotten remarried. The woman he married, Amanda, is a casual acquaintance whom I've met a few times through others. When I congratulated him, he told me how happy he was being remarried to Amanda and that everything was wonderful. I hugged him and told him that I was so happy for him, but remembered what he had told me two years ago, so I asked, "Do you still talk to Leslie every day?"

He smiled, "Of course I do."

This made me smile. Not because I'm running out to get married tomorrow (or anytime in the near future) but because it made me happy to know that no matter how happy he was with Amanda, he wasn't forgetting Leslie. But in my usual style, I blurted out, "Amanda doesn't mind?"

What he told me next really surprised me. "Of course not. Amanda doesn't expect me to forget Leslie, ever. I still have Leslie's pictures up in the house, along with Amanda's pictures and other family members. We remembered both Leslie and Rita at the ceremony at the church." (Rita was Amanda's sister who passed away).

I told him that I thought this whole situation was awesome. He thanked me for the well wishes, just as Amanda joined us. I gave Amanda a hug and congratulated her, too. They looked like they were still on their honeymoon.

I chose to include this story on my blog because there is so much written online about marrying widows and widowers and it is not necessarily in the best interest of the widow or widower. Much of it is all about the feelings of the second spouse, and doesn't take into consideration that the widow(er) is still more than likely in love with the late spouse. There are even books written about not marrying widow(er)s unless they completely purge the late spouse from their lives and heart.

In my humble opinion, it takes a very special person, and a very mature person, to love and marry a widow(er). This person has to realize and accept that he/she will never be the only one in the widow(er)'s heart, yet also be secure in knowing that if the widow(er) truly loves him/her, it won't take away from the relationship. If someone cannot handle it, then they need to get out of the relationship. Furthermore, if the widow(er) cannot commit to you or the relationship, it has nothing to do wth the widow(er) status...to use that old cliche, "He/she's just not that into you," and the person needs to get over it and move on.

I'm not dating. But I can tell you that if I was dating, I would not be comfortable dating anyone who wants me to purge Bobby from my heart; his memories from my every day life or his name from my lips. He has a permanent place with me forever. But since I cannot speak from experience that this works and works well, try reading any of these, where the late spouse lives on while the marriage with the current spouse is both happy and thriving.

• http://freshwidow.blogspot.com/


• http://mysaintedeadhusband.blogspot.com/


• http://hylamolander.com/category/blog/ (you have to scroll down, as Hyla has started to blog about other things in her life besides widowhood).


• I thought this was pretty good, too, (although most of the comments afterward go against everything I believe in): http://youngwidowsandwidowersblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/simple-rules-for-dating-widowwidower.html

Choice - Are We Blaming the Victim?

Hmmmm...another Facebook post to get my mind going.

There is a widower on Facebook whom I follow that posts inspirational messages for widows and people who have lost other loved ones. He posted on his page the other day:

Lynette posted: "There will always be a hole in my heart where my daughter used to be."

He replied "...if that is the experience you want to create for yourself, you will. But why choose that pain?"

Someone please explain to me why one would choose to create that kind of pain for themselves?

Well, I have no idea who Lynette is, but I can be reasonably sure that she is not choosing to create this pain. Talk about blaming the victim.

Yes, his post made me angry. I cannot and will not believe that anyone “chooses” to be in pain. I know I didn’t when Bobby first passed away. I was a mess. But given the choice, I much rather would have liked to smile and be happy. But according to this post, I chose to be a mess…it was my fault I wasn’t waking up the next morning and doing a happy dance.

I do believe that as humans, we have a choice to do happy things and create certain situations that will make us happy. My perfect own example is my trip to Paris, which I blogged about earlier. I chose to go on that trip, and it was an amazing experience. I chose to go to dinner at a friend’s house last night and had a great time. I chose to take my kids to Times Square on New Year’s Eve and it was awesome. But during all of these events, I, too, had and still have a hole in my heart where Bobby used to be. I did not choose for that hole to exist, it just does. Like the wind and the clouds and the moon, it is just there, and there is nothing I or anyone can do to change it. Humans don’t choose everything that happens, so I think the post was sort of harsh.

When the Oprah show ended last year, I came across an article written by two doctors who said that no matter how much good Oprah did, they were so glad to see her go off the air. Their reasoning was this: Oprah and her guests consistently talked about creating your own new life, and basically how if your life sucked, it was your fault. (Not Oprah’s exact words, but that was the idea). These doctors went on to reveal that their patients were blaming themselves when they could not dig themselves out of some sort of hole, and that it was hindering their healing. (If I remember correctly, these doctors were actually psychologists, but I cannot remember. If I ever come across the article again, I will post a link). I used to watch Oprah, and I never actually thought of it in that way. But it’s true, in a sense, it is blaming the victim.

I think everyone wants to be happy and choose to move forward with their lives, with the exception of a minor few. My gut tells me that Lynette is not in that minority. Part of me would really like to reach out to this woman, who is carrying that hole in her heart, give her a hug, and tell her that it is not her fault. Because it’s not.

I think everyone wants to be happy and choose to move forward with their lives, with the exception of a minor few. My gut tells me that Lynette is not in that minority. Part of me would really like to reach out to this woman, who is carrying that hole in her heart, give her a hug, and tell her that it is not her fault. Because it’s not.

Second Time Around

It is 11:32 pm, Christmas Night, and I got through my second Christmas without my love with me. It's hard to say how I feel. There is no word to describe it. But it's not good.

I made the Christmas Eve dinner last night like I usually did, and my extended family came over and we unwrapped gifts and partied. I laughed and smiled and drove myself crazy making sure everything was just perfect. Today I went to my brother's house to celebrate Christmas with my extended family and celebrate my niece's birthday, who was born on Christmas Day. Again, fun, laughter, jokes and a lot of wine.

But the whole time, and still, I have a nagging, troubled, and for lack of a better word, "yucky" feeling in the pit of my stomach, over the fact that he is not here. It's amazing how I can partake in happy times, yet be so sad at the same time! It's confusing and uncomfortable, and impossible to explain with mere words. And it's not that this only happens on Christmas, it just happens to be a bit magnified during this time.

So, since I can't really explain how I feel, I'll just stop writing for now. I miss him so much, maybe it is just time for a good cry.

Merry Christmas, my love. I miss you more than words can say.

It's Not My Fault

I was on Facebook the other day and I read a post by Hyla Molander, a widow/author/inspirational speaker. She was a young widowed mom about 8 years ago, and is now happily remarried with another child by her second husband. She often posts about how thankful she is with her new family and, in her words, “amazing husband”, in addition to posting about her late husband as well. She seems like a happy, upbeat person who has had her share of hard times and has gotten through most of them successfully. Something that most widows strive for after such a horrible loss, but unfortunately, don’t always achieve.

Well, the other day on Facebook, she posted, Just now, the yoga instructor had us open our hearts. When I opened mine, I realized it is still broken. I thought that was really profound, to tell you the truth. Here we have a woman who has seemingly got through and past the bad times to create an awesome and happy life for herself and her children, and then, unexpectedly while meditating, she opened her heart to find that it is still broken, after all these years.

She still misses her first husband. Even though she has built this wonderful life for herself, her heart still breaks for her first husband. And even though I was sorry for Hyla when I read the post, I was also relieved to have read this, because I’ve always thought that my heart will always be broken, no matter where this life takes me or what life I choose to create or not. It made me question myself as to whether or not I was really learning to move forward in my life, and I was starting to feel like it was my “own damn fault” that I am still nursing a broken heart.

Well, now I know it’s not true, and I know it is not my fault. The validation really meant a lot.

Chronic Pain

I was talking to some of my colleagues today, and one of them asked me, "How are you doing?" I said I was alright, but she clarified, "No, how are you really doing? How are things at home?" I said, "Well...I'm not over it. It still sucks."

"Has it gotten any better? Easier?" she asked me.

I had to think for a moment. Was it better? No, certainly not better! Was it easier? Hell, no, far from easier. "I'm getting used to it," I answered. That was the best I could do; I could not think of any other way to put it.

"Used to it?" she clarified.

"Yeah, used to it. You know, like when someone has chronic pain. Like my friend who was in a car accident a long time ago...she has chronic pain in her arm 24/7. That's how it is for me. It is a chronic pain, only the pain is in my heart. I've gotten used to it being there. I'm learning to live with it, but I don't like it. I never will. I wish it would go away. But I know it's never going to go away. So I'm getting used to it."

She got it.

Hats

If I can consider myself "lucky" for anything, it is that before Bobby died, we were able to say everything we needed to say to each other. Neither one of us had any doubt for the love that we had for each other. No issue was left unresolved and when he died I had no regrets as to something I should have said or done, or something that should have been discussed.

Until now.

Let me explain. Bobby never liked to wear hats. No matter how cold it got, he refused to wear a hat. We were together for 19 years, and I think it took me until our 15th year together to finally convince him to wear a hat one day when we took the kids to see the Christmas windows in New York City. It was a bitterly cold day between Christmas and New Year's, and the boys and I were bundled up with earmuffs, hats, scarves and mittens. Bobby had on his leather jacket, no gloves and no hat. When he started complaining about the cold, I did not say a word. Instead, I gave him a look which prompted him to take $5 out of his wallet and buy a black knitted cap from some guy on the street. Several minutes later when I asked him if he felt better, he smiled and said "Yes". Finally, he wore a hat! After that day, he would occasionally take out that cap to wear while shoveling snow or working outside in the cold, but for the most part, he never wore another hat again as long as I knew him.

Fast forward to about two weeks ago. I was in Florida and I met up with my stepdaughter, who gave me a bunch of pictures of Bobby from when he was in his 20s. (I met him when he was 35). In about half the pictures, he is wearing a hat! Cowboy hat, engineer's hat, baseball cap - all different types of hats. Yet when I met him, he said he hated hats and would not wear one.

So folks, here is my one unresolved issue. I knew I couldn't be that lucky to have NO unresolved issues with him. I'll never know why he decided he didn't like hats. But as far as issues go, at least this is a minor, and somewhat humorous one!

Me and Bobby and Bruce and Clarence

NOTE: For those of you who are not aware, I am a huge Springsteen fan. So if you know who Springsteen is, then most likely you also know who Clarence Clemons is. Not only was Clarence Springsteen’s sax player in his E Street Band for about 30 years, he was also Bruce’s best friend. Clarence died in June of this year.

I took my son to band practice last Wednesday night, and I was talking to the other moms while we were waiting for our kids to be done. During our conversation, one of the moms asked, “Did you hear? Springsteen announced a 2012 tour?” and one of the other moms looked horrified and said, “Really? So soon after Clarence’s death?”

That sentence struck me – being a widow, you would not believe how many people think that once you’re a widow, moving forward is equated with disrespecting your spouse.

Well, here is a newsflash for those of you who think so – we already feel guilty enough for just being alive when the person we love most in the world is not. You don’t have to make us feel even more guilty. And by “moving forward”, I'm not necessarily talking about dating and/or remarriage.

This past summer I took a trip to Paris with my friend Toni. She and I signed up for a writing course (in English) in the morning, toured the city in the afternoon, and ate A LOT of great food in between. I had a really great time and I'm glad I went. However, before I went on the trip, I was almost afraid to tell anyone, for fear of being accused of disrespecting Bobby. I told very few of my friends and family that I was even going. While Toni posted on her Facebook page all about the trip before, during and after, I never posted one word. I was actually afraid of what people might say! What most people don’t know is that I brought with me a framed picture of Bobby which sat on my nightstand in my hotel room. And every time I saw something, heard something or tasted something that I know he would have liked, I thought of him. (I also liked that Toni considered him to be "watching over us".)

People are quick to judge those of us who’ve lost someone, and then subsequently do things for ourselves to try to move forward with our lives. Well, they certainly don’t need to. We do a great job judging ourselves, thank you.

So just as I thought of Bobby multiple times every single day on that trip to Paris, Bruce will think of Clarence with every song that he plays. And when I get my tickets and go to the concert, I will be remembering both Bobby and Clarence, too.

Hold, Please.....

When it comes to grieving, 99% of the people that I’ve spoken to about grief agree that keeping busy is the best way to deal with grief. And I will admit, keeping busy does cause me to forget about my grief and deal with whatever the task at hand happens to be, whether it is work, the kids, taking care of the house, the cat, or a relative. Even going out with friends and spending fun times with family allows me to think about something else besides my grief. And this is a good thing, right?

Well, maybe not.

Here is a new take on the subject...if we are constantly dealing with other things, we are not dealing with our grief. Shortly after Bobby died, a good friend told me that the only way to deal with my grief is to walk straight through it. She told me not to try to go around it, under it or over it, because in walking through it, I can deal with it, and possibly make peace with it. But how can we do this when we are constantly putting it on hold?

I’m nineteen and a half months into widow-hood, and I truly believe that I have not yet dealt with my grief. So many other aspects of life, both negative and positive, have gotten in the way, and that darn grief is still hanging over my head like a dark rain cloud, waiting for some attention.

How do I know this? That’s an easy one...during the few and far between times that I do slow down, which is rare, the pain comes back to me all at once, like a punch in the stomach. I feel as though I am back in April, 2010, and Bobby has just passed away, and I immediately revert back to the big pile of mess that I was back then.

I wish I had a realistic solution, but I don’t. I’m painfully aware that my solution is not realistic, and will never happen, but I wish widow-hood gave a person a free pass to take a year off from life. A year to not have to work, have a free babysitter and personal assistant to take care of everything that needs to be taken care of, and no obligation to anyone or anything, so that we could walk through the grief and deal with all the feelings that go with it completely. It’s so hard to deal with grief while trying to deal with everything else that life hands out. It gets pushed aside, like everything else that is good for me.

Is there a realistic solution to this? None that I can think of. Life has gotten in the way of my grieving. I’m not done grieving; I want to be done grieving; and I cannot think of anything that I can do about it.

Every Picture Tells a Story

I'm having issues. I still can't look at pictures of Bobby.

It's been eighteen months, and I can talk about him to my friends and family and laugh over things he's said and done. I can wear his jacket and bathrobe and feel warm and cozy. I even have a recording of his voice on my computer, whenever I need to hear him say, "I love you."

But aside from my wedding picture, which hangs on the wall at home, and sits on my desk at work, it's so hard for me to look at pictures and videos. I was sorting through some pictures on my computer the other day, and came across a picture of the two of us at one of our son's birthday parties. We were so happy. I started to cry when I looked at him, standing there smiling, holding our son in one arm with his other arm around me. All of a sudden I felt so alone. A ball formed in my stomach. I wanted to be sick. I then looked at my own face in the photo, and I saw something in that face that I have not seen in AGES in the mirror.

It was light. Happiness. Contentment. Ease. How a person looks when they know they are loved. I almost want to say there was a "twinkle in my eye" except for the poor cliche-ness of it. Nowadays, even when I am smiling or laughing, there is still something missing. I wish I could get that look back in my face, but I don't know how! I thought it would just "show up", but so far, I'm still waiting. I wonder sometimes if I'll ever get it back.

Death, the Workplace and Psychopaths

I was recently made aware of a lawsuit that took place in NJ. To summarize, a woman had a photo in her cubicle of her late daughter, along with a pair of the girl's ballet shoes. Her supervisor told her to remove the items from the cubicle, and that she was no longer permitted to speak of her daughter at work because her daughter was dead. This caused the woman so much stress that she ended up in the hospital and having heart surgery.

She later contacted a lawyer, filed a lawsuit in New Jersey, and, she lost! (You can read the whole original article HERE.)

I am saddened that she lost this lawsuit, not just for her, but for all grieving people. I have a picture of my late husband and me on my desk at work. Many of the people at work have pictures of themselves with their spouses. If I were asked to remove mine, just because he had died, while my co-workers were allowed to keep theirs up, that would probably do a lot of damage to my psyche and set my healing process back by months.

This boss supposedly cited the reason as the photo being disruptive, and that co-workers were complaining that htey were uncomfortable with the photo.

How could a photo possibly be disruptive to the work place? It was not mentioned that she was not performing her duties poorly. And when the lawyer for the woman questioned the co-workers, nobody said that they were uncomfortable. I'm sure that it was the boss that was the one that was uncomfortable, so he took the "bullying" route and eventually caused her to resign.

The following day, I came across an unrelated article that basically states that according to research, 4% of bosses are certifiably psychopaths, while only 1% of the general population is. Also, by definition, a person with a psychopath's personality traits has the same personality traits as those who climb the corporate ladder. (You can read that article HERE.)

After reading the first article about the woman in New Jersey, I was not surprised by this one. That boss HAD to be a psychopath to attack that woman the way he did. We're so worried about bullying in this country among kids, that we forget that it takes place every day in the workplace among adults, and now it is attacking people who are coping with loss. In my opinion, if someone is doing their job effectively, then any family photo is fine in the cubicle.

Posthumous Awards

I used to have no understanding for posthumous awards. I mean, I thought they were nice gestures, but I also thought, “What good is it if the person is not here to get the award?”

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, my late husband and I worked for the same organization, although in two different departments. Our professional paths would occasionally cross, but not often. Yesterday I was doing some research and found a document that was posted to our Internet site explaining some of the technology innovations and visions planned for the organization. (My husband was in IT). There was a section that pointed out some of the major problems that the department was having, and my husband was cited as the man who pioneered the solution to several of the problems. It made me smile. Then I noticed that the document had been written in May of 2010. He died in April of 2010. I smiled even more.

Even though he didn’t get an “award”, the posthumous praise meant so much to me. So now when I see widows and widowers and children of deceased parents accept awards for their late loved ones, I’ll see that even though the honor goes to the person who has passed away, the pride and smiles go to those who loved him or her.

Now I know.

Invisibility

I have a Facebook Account, and quite a few of my friends have recently posted the following:

It's hard to explain to someone who has no clue. It's a daily struggle feeling sick on the inside while you look fine on the outside. Please put this as your status for at least one hour if you or someone you know has an invisible illness (MS, Bi-Polar, Depression, Diabetes, LUPUS, Fibromyalgia, Crohn's, Arthritis, Anxiety, Cancer, Heart Disease, etc.)  "Never judge what you don't understand."

I can relate to this sentiment.  Widowhood, although not a disease, is a traumatic event that causes an invisible scar on our heart that we have to live with for the rest of our lives.  It’s a sadness that will dwell within us for the remainder of our days.  Even if we go on to live a full, even generally happy life, remarried or not, with friends and family that love us, there is always a part of our heart that will never heal, no matter how many wonderful things may come our way afterward.


However, this does not typically show on the outside, and on the occasional day that it does show on the outside, I’m tired of people who think I’m crazy, weak, or just seeking attention.  Nothing could be farther from the truth.  When my pain does show on the outside, all I want,(besides an opportunity to crawl under the covers) is a little understanding for the daily struggle that I am dealing with, even if that understanding comes in the form of silence when you’re at a loss for words.  That would be much better than the look that says, “Here she goes again!”  It’s amazing how insensitive people can be.


What I don't really think people believe is that I really dread those days that grief rears it's ugly head when I'm in public.  And the amazing thing is, that it shows up without warning, without triggers.  I could be happy one minute and in the next minute, the grief is bubbling up inside me like acid reflux.  When it happens, I think to myself, "Oh crap" because I know what comes next...it's unavoidable...the misunderstanding and uncomfortableness of others.  Some avoid me, others give me a look that wonders what could possibly be wrong...I mean...he died over a year ago!  Aren't you past this by now?  They can't deal with my emotions, so they have to minimize them.  I'm sure it is some sort of defense mechanism on their part, but they have to learn that it is very hurtful to the one who is grieving.  And believe me, the last thing we need is something else that hurts.  It's like kicking someone who is already down.


So when a widowed friend or co-worker seems a little emotionally "under the weather" one day, for no apparent reason, depending on what is appropriate for your relationship with that person, give him or her either a hug, a sympathetic smile or just some space without judgement.  It is truly appreciated.

I Was One of THEM

When I was in my twenties (AKA part of my life when I was young and stupid), my father passed away. When he died, my mom was 49, (49 is old, right? Or so I thought back then.)  I figured after a year she'd be over it.  I mean, my life continued on the way I had planned, wouldn't hers?  When she wasn't over it in one year, I thought maybe I was wrong, she needed a few more years and she would be happy again.  A few years later, she seemed happy, so I figured I was right!  It just takes a few years and she’s over it.  Good for Mom!  (Did I mention that I was young and stupid at the time?)

Little did I know!  I hate to admit it, but I was probably one of those clueless dumb-asses who told people stupid things like, "At least he's not suffering anymore".   

I could not have been more wrong!!  However, it wasn’t until I became a widow myself, at 45, that I understood the depth and complexity of what she was feeling.  When my dad died, I lost my dad.  I was sad, upset and missed him terribly.  Who was going to help me pick out my next car?  Change the oil?  Take my car to inspection?  I didn’t even know where the inspection station was.  My dad made me feel safe and secure, and gave me a reason to hold onto my girlhood just a little bit longer. 

Twenty years later, I still miss my dad, A LOT.  But despite the fact that he was gone, my life went on like normal.  I finally did grow up, and I found the inspection station.  I got married, had children, got a mortgage and a job.  Even though some little things about my life changed, nothing about the course of my life had changed.

It’s not the same when you lose a spouse.  Anyone who has lost a spouse knows that the whole course of your life changes, whether you want it to or not.  You watch all the plans you made for your joint future go up in smoke.  I couldn’t see it in my mother when my father died.  I really and truly thought that she “got over it”.

I guess this gives me more of a sense of why when I talk about losing Bobby, that people think it is OK to say, “I know how you feel.  I lost my mom/dad/sibling/grandparent/dog.”  (Yes, an acquaintance at work compared my loss to the loss of her dog.)  And I won’t argue that these are losses, absolutely, because I still do miss my dad and my grandma very, very much.  But losing a spouse is a completely different experience that cannot be compared to any other loss, nor fully comprehended unless it actually happens to him/her. 

Hurricane Irene

I live on the East Coast, so I'm one of the "lucky" ones who gets to experience Hurricane Irene.

Preparation for a hurricane is hard enough, but this time I had to prepare my house & property for a hurricane without Bobby, and it was NOT easy. There is so much to think about!! Generators, sump pumps, water pumps, buckets, extension cords, shop-vacs, the electrical panel...I had to deal with it for the first time by myself. I miss the days where I never had to think about this stuff! This was all Bobby's domain. He would make sure that the house was safe for all of us.

I thought I had everything ready. But of course, nothing ever goes smoothly. My house has 2 sump pumps - one has a battery back up on it, and the other doesn't. The one that doesn't have the backup doesn't even work, but I did not find that out until after the rain started. So I ran upstairs and grabbed the pool pump, stuck it in the pit, and ran the hose up the stairs and out the door. Even though it worked, the water was pouring in so fast it could not keep up, so part of my carpet got saturated. Then the power went out on only one side of the house, and the battery back up never kicked in, so after a major overflow I ran an extension cord from the pump to the other side of the house that did have electricity.

Earlier, I also had emptied about 6 inches out of the pool, but the volume of rain that came down was so much that I had to pump water out of the pool as it rained. Luckily, for some reason unbeknownst to me, Bobby had purchased a second pool pump (even though the other one works fine). It was a blessing! I hooked up another hose and set it up to pump water out of the pool while it was raining. Then I noticed one of my gutters was clogged, and the water was pouring right on the deck over the corner of the house where the sump pump didn't work, so I rigged up a contraption to send the water off the deck away from the house using a wheel ramp, two Rubbermaid bin covers and a floor mat. It worked!

Needless to say, I minimized the damage that could have happened to my house and pool I was up all night (along with my 15-year-old who gets a lot of credit) and completely exhausted the next day. I just never thought for a minute that I could do all this stuff without him. I was missing him so much, wishing that he was there with me.

Now I'm cleaning up, with dehumidifiers set up and running in my basement and

picking up what seems like millions of branches all over my lawn, deck, backyard and the pool. However, the most annoying thing I have to deal with now a VERY LARGE tree branch that fell across my driveway. While I am really thankful that it did not land on my house or car, I can no longer get out of my driveway. I have to depend on someone else to get rid of it, because the kids and I tried and it did not budge. (This picture does not do it justice...the branch is a lot bigger than it looks.)

I hope he is looking down with approval for how I handled everything. But I'm not sure because this was a guy who would have a cow every time I walked by with a hammer and nail in my hand!!

Too Many Hamburgers

A few weekends ago, I had some of my extended family over for a BBQ. I make these really good hamburgers that I saw on TV (I think it was a Guy Fieri recipe, now I don't remember) where I put shredded cheddar cheese and real bacon bits in a little pouch inside the hamburger instead of on top. I've been making them for quite few years, and my family loves them. However, they come out really big, since they are stuffed, and even the men in my family can usually eat just one.

Before throwing the hamburgers on the grill, I took a count of how many guests I had, went back in the house, added in my own family to that number, put the hamburgers on a tray, then went outside to put them on the the grill. I took a recount once I got outside, and realized I had too many. So I went back inside, and took another count. Seemed correct, so back outside. Again, I was putting them on the grill, and there were too many. I went inside and I asked my mom to take a recount and she said, "No, that is the right amount." She recounted the guests, added herself and my family and confirmed again it was the right amount. I counted everyone and again came up with one too many.

Now, math was always my best subject in school, so this was literally driving me crazy. Not that I had too many hamburgers on the grill, (there were never leftovers of these hamburgers!) but that the count was coming out wrong when I was outside, but whenever I was in my kitchen, it would come out correct.

I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist reading this to realize that every time I counted guests, then went back in the house and added my family, I added in four burgers instead of three. I automatically counted in a hamburger for Bobby without even realizing it. However, whenever I went outside and took an exact count of guests, I wouldn't count him because he was not there. What was weird was that it literally took me about fifteen minutes to figure out why I had an extra burger on the plate. Ironically, my mother made the same mistake when she was in the kitchen counting the burgers as well.

Old habits die hard, and I miss putting four burgers on the plate. Fifteen months later, three still looks incomplete.