The Laundry Epiphany

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A few weeks ago as I was doing laundry, I noticed that I had already done a few loads of dark laundry, and still had more to go. My first thought was "that's weird, I don't ever remember washing this many dark clothes before."

For whatever reason, this thought took me by surprise. It may seem obvious to some of you, because we have 7 people in our house now, so of course I would be doing more laundry. But that wasn't the realization. It was because most of Steve's laundry is dark - he prefers darker colors. And I realized that for some reason, I was surprised that it wasn't like Jeremy's. And my subconscious automatically went to "before" meaning before Jeremy died.

What's weird is that I rarely compare Steve to Jeremy. They have a lot of similar qualities - mostly the good ones - which is why I love them both so. But they are very different. Whenever those thoughts come in my head, I try to be gracious to myself and to Steve to remember that not only is he different, but so am I. But, I'm human and I love two men both at the same time so I'm not so naive to think that those thoughts wouldn't creep in once in awhile.

Jeremy didn't do it that way. What would he say in this situation? Steve handled this so much better than Jeremy would have. Jer would have handled this better. Jeremy would have known what do about this problem. Jeremy would remember this reference. Steve hasn't figured this part out yet. Jeremy never figured that out. I wish Steve and I could have share this memory, too. I wish Jeremy wasn't missing this.

The truth is, these kinds of thoughts can plague widow(er)s in new relationships. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that I'm ok with wrestling with these things. Maybe it's because I won't ever apologize for loving and continuing to love Jeremy. Maybe it's because I won't apologize for loving Steve as much. Maybe it's because Steve is great about talking through these things with me without feeling threatened. Either way, these fleeting thoughts remind me that I have lived two separate lives that continue to overlap in my heart. And that's ok.

Today, as I was folding laundry, I remembered that thought from a few weeks ago and smiled. The bottom line is that I miss doing laundry for Jeremy and grieved a weird, tiny piece of my life that maybe I hadn't before. And I smiled because I was thankful to be able to do laundry for Steve, whether it was dark, light, or pink and polka dotted (ok, that might not be so great!). It's ok that it looks different. It should. They're both equally important and meaningful. One does not negate the other.

Sometimes all it takes is a silly moment of folding the laundry to change your world.

social media, grief, and letting go...

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It's taken me 4 months, 1 week, and 5 days to do it....

I finally changed my Facebook status to 'married to Steve Cunningham' instead of 'married to Jeremy King'. 

I realize that this was well overdue. I also realize in most circumstances, this probably would seem very strange, but for some reason, this was a very difficult change for me to make. Steve and I had talked about it many times - he didn't want to push me to do anything I wasn't ready to do, and I didn't feel right changing it OR leaving it the same. I even needed to make sure I ran it by Jer's mom first, to make sure she knew it was coming and to just hear that it was ok to feel so much stress about this silly little change.

The truth is, this was a new facet of grief I hadn't faced yet. And though it seems simple enough, it was hard for me to publicly admit that I am no longer Jeremy's wife (yes, I know I will always be his wife, but I can't be on FB anymore). I am so proud to be Steve's wife, but announcing that in a silly social network forum meant letting go in some weird way of Jeremy. It also meant that people looking for our story wouldn't easily find Jeremy on Facebook through me and visa versa. But knowing Steve had spent his previous marriage in a relationship with someone who didn't even want to acknowledge him, I knew it was important for Steve to understand how much I adore him and how honored I am to be his wife. And Facebook won't let me be married to them both (I know, the nerve!)

Sometimes I really hate letting go. But as Taryn so beautifully stated in her earlier post this week, "it isn't this horrible phrase consisting of forgetting those you love more than yourself...it allows you to love them even more and grasp the immense amount of love still out there " 

I am here today because of the love Jeremy taught me, and I get the privilege of paying that fierce love forward in my relationship with Steve. So, I continue to love Jeremy more while grasping the immense love I have now. That is a decision I feel good about.

And I can't help but wonder if grief before social networks was a little less complicated...

Grief for the people pleaser

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I am by nature, a people pleaser.

That's not a bad thing in and of itself. I don't like hurting anyone or being the cause of inconvenience for people. I like to make other people happy because that's what inevitably makes me happy. But when you throw grief into the mix, then it can become a problem.

I've noticed over the course of my grief journey, and especially over the last year, that you can never grieve right. You'll never grieve long enough or short enough or hard enough. You won't say the right things and people will give you too much space and then not enough. You can sacrifice your own happiness, but you will always let someone down.

On top of grief itself, this can be a dangerous mix for the people pleaser. Losing sleep because you're miserable about losing the most important thing in your life and yet worried about what everyone must think about it. You don't want to hurt anyone so you conform to what you think they want, and end up only hurting yourself.

Then, if you dare to find someone new, you have to be prepared to face a lot of judgment and opinions from other people. I discovered that remarriage is the people pleaser's nightmare.

The good news is, grief has also taught me to let go a little bit and not always worry about what everyone else thinks. Age has taught me that as well. I haven't perfected it, but I know that when I follow my heart and not what I think are the desires of others, I tend to feel better about my decisions.

Grief has this funny way (and by funny, I mean torturing and un-called for irony) of re-shaping you into someone new. Not something you could have ever imagined, but something stronger, more durable. Someone a little more content with what you still have left, and little more appreciative of good things that come your way. Someone who knows the value of life.

And when you understand the value of life, you understand that it doesn't matter if what you do makes everyone else happy. It matters that you soak up every moment with the people who support you, value you, challenge you to be better, and love you no matter what you do.

What would you like to know?

You may not all realize this, but I've censored a lot of my life over the last twenty months. Sure, I've had soul bearing moments and gut-wretching realizations through my own writing, but I've always weighed a lot of what I've had on my heart. Some words too dangerous to mention, some too angry, some too personal - but never at the sacrifice of my own truth. Maybe watered down a little sometimes, but real. And the moment I realized that this blog wasn't just for me anymore, I was much more aware of how to real but also meaningful with whatever I said.

I say all that to say the same has also been true for my relationship with Steve. I realize that my blog is more focused on my grief - which is ongoing and still relevant - but I know there are a lot of people reading, in the same situation in life, or just curious about a lot of different things. And I recognize that at such a big transition in our lives, we would love to opportunity to share our story, our love, and what God has been doing in our lives in a way we haven't before.

SO....Steve and I would both like to open this blog up for questions, directed for either one of us. Honest questions, tough questions, questions about our family, our unique relationship, and/or questions about grief - I know there are a lot of them out there. The only questions I will not answer are distasteful ones that are meant to bash either of us. And we all learned a few weeks ago how my amazing husband will handle anything like that :)

If there's anything you'd like to know - here's your chance.

Ask away.

The language of grief

Me and my new husband, Steve :)

Ever since Jeremy's death, I've noticed how much more careful I am with my words.

The months after he died, I couldn't muster up the energy to write anything with feeling (unless it was deep and utter sadness). Even my texts were void of expression. I remember posting something about not wanting to misguide people into believing I was better than I was. No exclamation marks. No smiley faces. When good things happened, and a lot did, I expressed my gratitude but never joy. Never happiness.

All my widowed friends understand what I mean. Everyone giving you the head tilt and asking how you are....I could no longer give a general "good" - I was far from good. I shrugged my shoulders and said 'ok' or more commonly 'I'm still here.' To me, that was the worst I could possibly be.

I have since continually felt like I couldn't really breathe in pure joy ever again. Sure, good things happen and I smile easier and I can say I'm good again most of the time....but every good thing in my life stems from one horrible worst-moment-of-my-life event.

Yesterday, I came home from a 9 day honeymoon in Jamaica. It was fabulous. Beautiful weather, beautiful scenery, beautiful company. It was a trip I will remember for the rest of my life. In fact, because of grief, I take moments in so much deeper than I used to, writing things down, taking more pictures...I just know how priceless life is now. And even though the trip was wonderful, I still grieved. One night, I grieved heavily and it came at me without warning. The truth is, I can only enjoy this amazing trip with Steve because Jeremy isn't here anymore. I can't think about the depths of that for too long or it'll drive me insane, but every once in awhile, the heaviness of it sits on my chest and threatens to suffocate me. You can only imagine the type of man it takes to sit beside his wife who's shaking and sobbing uncontrollably while grieving her dead husband.

Steve and I talked in depth about the trip and our favorite pieces and how much we enjoyed it, but I expressed how awkward it is to feel like grief has stripped away innocence from me. I will never again use the phrase "best day of my life" or "the happiest I've ever been" or "worst day of my life" without feeling like I would betray my life and love with Jeremy. Even though these phrases can be over dramatized or loose within context, I'm very careful to use other language.

The smilies and exclamation marks have long been back in my texts and writing. When people ask me how I'm doing or how my trip was, I can say without lying, "great." I don't know if the day will ever come, though, where I won't use a different language than everyone else when I carefully compare and contrast life. I call it the language of grief.

I guess that makes me bilingual.

Catch 22

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This will be my last blog post as a single woman....Saturday, I will be becoming Mrs. Steve Cunningham! The reality is sinking in, and I am getting so excited! It's really been a crazy ride, and a quick one, so I haven't had much time to really let it process that this is MY wedding I'm planning, not someone else's - that and I haven't really let myself get too giddy about it.

It's weird that in the midst of all the craziness and planning my wedding with Steve how much it has made me miss Jeremy. Not because I'm not excited or because I'm not in a good place, but because he has always been the person I share everything with and I have been desperately aching to just share the ins and outs of life with him, the way I always used to. But, I recognize the irony in that and know that both of those things - my life circumstance and sharing it with Jer - could never happen at the same time.

While I'm experiencing the very weird mix of excitement and grief, I realize what a unique and frustrating place it has put me in. I find myself holding back happiness so I don't appear too excited about my wedding, because people then think it means I'm over Jeremy, that I'm done grieving, or I'm being disrespectful in some way. On the flip side, I worry that if I show my grief too strongly or talk about it too much, people accuse me of not being ready to get married or not being in a good place. It's my catch 22.

When I get down about this predicament, it helps to know that these assumptions generally come from those who don't know me well, have not talked to me about where I am at with things, or people who don't understand grief. I don't know a lot, but there are a few things I am certain of:

1. I miss Jeremy every single day.
2. I will miss Jeremy every single day for the rest of my life.
3. I am head-over-heels in love with Steve.
4. I am excited about my future with Steve and our beautiful family.
5. My happiness and my sadness run side by side. And neither negates the other.

So this week I have tried to intentionally not worry about what everyone else thinks and allow myself both time to grieve what I will no longer have with Jeremy and celebrate what I am going to have with Steve. I am trying to soak up every good moment of the beautiful chaos in my life right now, because Lord willing, I won't ever have to do it again.