Ironic

Since just after Jeremy died, I've been writing on his Facebook wall every night. Partly because I wanted to let others know how I was doing, but mostly because I still desire to end my day with him and I wanted to remember some of the day-to-day things that I would normally talk about with him. It's been therapeutic and I've realized I now can't go to sleep without writing Jer first.

The problem with Facebook is that I only get 1000 characters to talk about my day with him, or to write what's on my heart. I write him messages as well, but 1000 characters is rarely enough space to get everything out like I want. I've been debating transferring my good-nights here, where I have unlimited space, the option of adding relevant pictures, and the added benefit of supporting my family with every person that visits this blog. Plus, they're easier for me to archive here. I've been thinking about doing it for over a week now, but the change scared me.

Ironically enough, Facebook is down tonight. And I can't sleep without saying goodnight and wrapping up my day with Jeremy. So, I guess I'll take it as a sign to start the switch now. To anyone who might be reading along (which is fine btw) I will try to still link them on Jer's page. And those of you who aren't following me on FB, you'll be seeing a lot more of me now and maybe hear a little more than you might even prefer from me.


Baby, I wanted to tell you that even though it's Tuesday (I think anyway, I never know what day it is anymore) I was aching for Saturdays this morning. At one point I was laying in bed with all three of our children and had to turn away and cry thinking about how we used to spend our Saturdays. If we had no plans, we'd lounge around in bed and eventually the kids would come in and bug us to play, so we'd wrestle in bed and I swear without fail you would always seem reflective and say something about how beautiful your kids were and how much you loved Saturday mornings that started like that. The way Faith will lay next to you and stroke your cheek or hold your hand. The way Caleb will look in your eyes and tell you how much he loves you. The way Carter fits snuggled on your chest. Sweet family moments I will forever cherish.


I tried to soak it in this morning for both of us. Tried to reflect on those rare moments and see what you saw. I see it baby - they're precious and beautiful and I love them more than life. I will do what I can to protect them with every source I have available.


I miss you baby. I miss rolling over on Saturdays and you still being there. Okay, I miss that everyday. 
I love you always and forever.

Surreal

I don't want to say much, I just wanted these photos to remember our trip to Jer's grave last week. The kids finally got to bring some things for daddy...they chose love balloons and put their names on them. Such a surreal place to be.

Life happens

I was walking to the car the other day after grocery shopping and had this sudden, eye-opening realization. Wow, I can't believe how much life has happened to me in the last 7 months. I mean milestone, remember-for-the-rest-of-your-days kind of life. It just suddenly occurred to me and I couldn't believe how much I had been through: I had a baby, bought a new house, travelled all over the place, and had some life changing experiences along the way. The most shocking revelation about the whole thing was that I did it all by myself. 


Then this whole spiral of thoughts flooded me. I did it all by myself. Even though I will never be the same, I will survive this. I did it all by myself. I'm a lot stronger than I realized. I did it all by myself. I'm so weak and still feel like I'm falling apart all the time. I did it all by myself. I don't want to go through life all by myself. This thought hit me hardest.

So much life has happened and all of it is because of Jeremy.  I often fantasize about what my day would look like if Jeremy was still here. But everything would be different. None of the great things that have happened would have occurred if he were still alive. But I pretend. How incredible life would be if Jer were here: I feel like I would be in a pretty great place. Funny how one factor is removed and everything crumbles.

Life keeps moving forward. I have no choice in the matter. All I know is even though I'm in it, it still feels like it's all happening around me. Like I'm watching everything go by while I go through the motions. Some days are fine and I get by, but I still feel so lost and when I put my head on my pillow at night and finally get a few seconds to myself, it's like a stabbing knife wound reopened every time.

How did I get here? How did this become my life?

The Public Widow

At Gulf Coast Getaway in Panama City, FL

A month or so after Jeremy passed away, I remember trying to read anything and everything I could find about grief and loss. One of the books I read talked about how the kind of widow you are affects how you grieve. Everyone's journey is unique but there are certain common experiences for widows. There are some categories that were defined as 'needing special support.' For example, losing a spouse when you're in an unhappy marriage, people who had very unstable childhoods, war veterans, losing someone to a perpetrator, someone who experienced more than one loss, etc.

I fell under two categories: pregnant and public

Because of the work Jeremy and me in the church, college, and community, I think I would qualify as "a public widow." And social media these days has created that platform as well. I'm not famous by any means, but my story ran further than I could have ever imagined and before I knew it, people from around the world knew of me and my situation. And everyone was following. Some still are.

It's tough to grieve publicly and feel like people are constantly analyzing what you're experiencing, or watching you non stop. But I think it's been more of a blessing than anything. It may be a little egotistical, but having so many people follow your grief journey really sets the stage for support. I've created an avenue of perspective for people who have no idea what grief is like. It allows them to see into my heart a little and perhaps customize their prayers and offers to help. This is a wonderful thing when you don't know what to ask for. I've had a few people tell me that the posts I leave on Jeremy's FB wall each night are the first things they read in the morning and it allows them to know what to pray about for me each day. What a blessing.

I try not to let the fact that people are watching really affect what I say or feel in this process. Have I censored some things? Hell Heck yes. Have I let out all my demons? Absolutely not. There are so many layers to grief, some that even my closest friends couldn't understand. But I won't apologize for how ugly my emotions can get. I obviously know that people are reading what I write to my husband every night. If I have something to say to him that others can't read, I'll send him a message. But the posts are not for everyone else. They're for me...to remember, to process, and to analyze what I'm experiencing each day. I go back and read what I wrote him all the time, just to remember how far I've come. It's also for Jeremy...my crazy way of still ending my day talking to him like I have for the last 8 years of my life. The things I want him to know about my day.

This is just me. If people get sick of hearing that I am STILL grieving and feeling awful, too bad. If my crappy situation reminds people of their own mortality, fine. I have good moments, but there isn't a day that goes by that I don't experience pain of some sort. And I have days where the pain is almost as bad as the day I found out, maybe worse. But it's the support of those who have stood beside me on this journey that has held me up and kept me going. For that, I'll take the public eye in exchange for heartfelt prayer any day.

With this ring...

It's been 7 months now since Jer died...

and I haven't been able to take off my wedding ring. Nor have I been able to take off my necklace with Jer's wedding ring on it. I think I left the house without my ring on once, and the second I realized it thought I was going to have a panic attack.

This has been on my mind a lot lately. I started reading a book by another widow who said she took her ring off immediately because she didn't want to pretend to be something she wasn't. And I instantly thought "Am I pretending? Am I trying to be something I'm not? Why can't I take it off?" I know there is no protocol for this. I know some people can take their rings off sooner than others. But I was wondering why I in particular have such a hard time with even the idea of parting with these pieces of jewelry. For anyone who knew Jer and I as a couple knows that my rings are important for a few reasons.

First of all, Jeremy proposed to me 3 times. That's right, three. The first time he proposed to me with the necklace I now wear with his ring on it. He had gotten me the necklace for Christmas, but the chain was too short. He went home to return it in exchange for money to go toward a ring, but he couldn't so instead he bought a new chain and proposed to me with the necklace. If you knew Jer, you knew he wasn't very fancy, or showy. It wasn't well planned out, but it was heartfelt and the excitement I saw in his eyes outside of DC at Rochester College that day is stored in my heart forever. I don't even think he got down on one knee, but I didn't even care. I was over the moon.

The second time was when he finally got enough money to buy me an engagement ring. I knew he was going home for the weekend, but he didn't say much about it I think in hopes to surprise me - like I'd forget something like that. I remember him calling me on the way back from Canada, and trying to get it out of him, but he wouldn't say anything. He just asked if he could take me out to dinner when he got back. So, of course, I'm giddy like a little school girl and we decide to eat at Applebees because it was our thing back then (we LOVED their ranch and mozzarella sticks and frozen kiwi lemonades) - and it was one of our first dates. This time I was actually expecting him to get down on one knee. But, he didn't. We weren't even sitting across from each other, we sat next to each other. So, mid conversation he just kind of pulls it out of his pocket and gives it to me. I could tell he was so nervous (even though, remember, he had already technically proposed and of course knew I was going to say yes) and to see a big guy like that so vulnerable was just about the sweetest thing ever.

I was never really upset about the informal proposals, but I loved to give Jer a hard time about it. I used to tease him that he never gave me a proper proposal. He used to say some day we'd travel the world, go to Europe and he'd have the money to buy me ring he thought 'I deserved' and give me a formal, fancy pants proposal. And I told him he could never pull it off - he'd be red up to his ears of embarrassment doing something so sentimental and romantic in public.

July 3, 2006 was one of the worst days of my life until Jer died. It was day I lost my wedding ring. We were boating in Houghton Lake and it fell right off into the water. I screamed, wailed, and hollered until everyone on the boat was crying too. The worst part was that Jer wasn't on the boat, he was on shore watching Faith who was only a couple months old at the time, so I had to tell him what happened. It was awful. I cried all day. I fell asleep that night in Jer's arms crying. My ring was hardly worth anything but it meant the world to me because there was much love behind it. Jer kept trying to reassure me that it was no big deal and we'd get another one but I was crushed.

The last picture of my first wedding rings...

October 1, 2006 Jer bought me a new wedding band (my engagement ring and wedding band were soldered together so I lost them both). It was waiting for me opened on the coffee table when I got home from grocery shopping. When Jer got excited about something, he couldn't wait to finesse a plan of execution...he'd end up giving it away. I could always tell when he was trying to do something romantic for me. Anyway, no proposal there and we didn't even celebrate it much because in my grocery bags was a pregnancy test that revealed we were pregnant with Caleb. Big day. But I remember calling all our family and friends that day and I kept looking over and my ring finger and smiling with a full, warm heart.

February 27, 2008 - my third and final proposal. We had just gotten our tax return back, and even though we had already determined what the money should be used for, Jer was driving home from Gander Mountain, passed a Jared's Jewelers and on a whim decided to buy me a beautiful engagement ring instead. He really was romantic. And in true Jeremy fashion, he was just too excited to wait to give it to me, so he had his friend Chris keep me distracted with his wife for the day (little did he know, it was Chris' birthday the next day, so we were decorating his office at work and trying to keep the boys distracted as well). It made for a funny scene, when the four of us saw each other that night, each of us with smirks on our faces from the surprises the others didn't know about.

I don't remember the details of driving home. I think Jer must have put the kids to bed for me, and told me to wait downstairs. I knew he was up to something, but I wasn't sure what. In true Chandler and Monica form (Friends was our favorite show to watch together), he led me up to our bedroom filled with lit candles. He turned around, got down on one knee, and showed me the ring. I was so shocked to see him down on his knee, I barely remember what he said! He said something about being sorry he never proposed to me properly, but that I was worthy of so much more. I smile and ache remembering how much that guy loved me. I've never known anything like it. The ring was perfect, the moment was perfect. And I had both the rings insured to make certain they could be replaced if something ever happened to them again.

The day after my perfect proposal. Third time's a charm

When I look at my wedding rings, I know why I can't take them off. I can't face that this is all really happening yet. I would tell anyone who would listen about my multiple proposals (how many girls can say that?!?) and looking at them remind me of how much that man loved me. It was such a feat to get these rings, how could I possibly take them off? But, it's also a wall that I'm comfortably staying behind. It keeps people at bay asking if I'm single. Maybe it wouldn't be so uncomfortable if I didn't have three kids in tow everywhere I go. I do not want the judgement that comes with a mother of 3 kids and no ring.

I don't know when I'll be ready to take them off. I've thought about just adding my rings to Jer's on my necklace, but I haven't been able to do that. My hand doesn't look right without them there. I don't want to pretend or be something I'm not, but right now I'm still living every minute for him, to make him proud, so I don't feel like I'm pretending. I know I'll have to remove them someday.

Just not today.

An update

I'm still here. I honestly hadn't opened my computer in over a week, things have been so crazy. My only connection was on FB via my phone. Let me give you all a little update:

I finally closed on a house! This has been a very long process, but I wanted it to be the right decision, and the right house. The house we're in now isn't safe or big enough for our family anymore. I think we've found something that suits us way more. We've been working on it (me and a ton of wonderful people) non stop for a few weeks now and every day it starts to come together a little more, and I am in love with it. It's perfect for us. The best part is, our next door neighbors are wonderful, they have a little boy named Caleb who is 2 days older than my Caleb - and they've all been connected at the hip since they met!

When I get a chance to finally sit down and play with my before and after photos (oh and get the house in order to actually have after photos) I will share them. I will tell you that I am pretty proud of myself for learning how to stain and seal hardwood floors (I had to call in help to sand the floors). There are flaws that will likely bug me more than anyone else, but overall it looks pretty good:

I have been ready to move out for awhile. More than awhile, Jeremy hated this house. Knowing he wouldn't want us here without him made the decision to leave very easy. I never thought twice about leaving it, that is, until this week as I pack up my things. As much as I am not tied to this house and am excited about starting in a better place, it's still painful to leave the last place Jeremy ever lived. Our last home together - our only home together. I can feel the anxiety of seeing it empty creeping up on me.

I have pushed a lot of grief to the back burner with everything going on. Not necessarily on purpose, it's just happened that way. But what I'm finding is that while every day gets a little easier, it also gets a little bit harder, and little more real if that makes any sense. Today has been the first day in weeks that I was just home, getting stuff done, no one around and I went grocery shopping for the first time in awhile. What a disaster. I was completely caught off-guard by the emotions I was going go through just slowing down and doing every day normal things. I cried harder today than I have in months.

There is so much on my heart and mind that I want to write down before I forget, I just don't know when I'll find the time to do it. All I can say for now is that prayers have never been needed more and I will never stop asking for them. Thank you.

How you can help me

I didn't write this, but I wanted to share it:

"How You Can Help Me"

Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk about him, and I need to do it over and over.

Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.

Don't abandon me with the excuse that you don't want to upset me. You can't catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I most need to be cared about. If you don't know what to say, just come over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, "I'm sorry." You can even say, "I just don't know what to say, but I care, and want you to know that."

Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I feel only if you really have time to find out.

I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel that you don't see me. I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving and that's different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after my loved one's death. Don't think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for our children, the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.

I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.

I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just not acceptable. When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don't make it worse by telling me I'm not doing this right. And remember, I was a capable adult before his death and I still am.

Please don't tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start dating again. I may not be ready. And maybe I don't want to be. And besides, what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren't. Whoever comes after will always be someone different.

I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get on with your life." My life is going on, I've been forced to take on many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.

I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in my own way, and in my own time.

Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you some ideas:

(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.

(b) Send me a card on special holidays, our wedding anniversary, his birthday, and the anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can't make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.

(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I may say no at first or even for a while, but please don't give up on me because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you've given up then I really will be alone.

(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples, to walk into events alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable.

Please don't judge me now - or think that I'm behaving strangely. Remember I'm grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I'm experiencing a pain unlike any I've ever felt before and one that can't be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.

Don't worry if you think I'm getting better and then suddenly I seem to slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don't tell me you know how I feel, or that it's time for me to get on with my life. What I need now is time to grieve. Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience.

Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding.

And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss - when you need me as I have needed you - I will understand. And then I will come and be with you.

--Author Unknown