Would I still be your Valentine?

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Jeremy was never big on Valentine's day.

He didn't hate it. We didn't ban it. He just wasn't overly romantic. He tried to be, and did some very sweet things, but most of the time we were too broke to really do anything anyway. And yet, on this Hallmark holiday celebrating love, it brings those little moments rushing back as if it were a big deal. Cause he was a big deal to me.

Our first Valentine's, while we were still dating, I cut up hundreds of hearts and wrote different reasons why I loved him on each one. Every year after that, I re-used them in different ways, and would add more reasons why I loved him in the mix. I was thinking today that I'm not sure what I would add this year, because he's not evolving or changing anymore, I love him for all the same reasons. He is and forever will be the 31 year old, handsome and strong husband and father in my eyes. But then it also made me realize how much I have evolved and changed since then, and pieces of me that Jeremy will never get to see. And it made me wonder if he would love the girl I am now.

I don't love the way I used to. I'm more careful with it, but I also cherish it so much more. I'm more comfortable in my own skin. I actually enjoy cooking (who would have thought?!), and I know how to maintain a household pretty well on my own. I'm scared of things I didn't used to be scared of, and unafraid of things that used to terrify me. My support system has changed, my friends aren't the same. My priorities have shifted. My dreams and goals have evolved. Would you still love this version of me that has been beaten, broken down, and built back together?

Of course, I know the answer. Even though I'm not the same girl I was before he died, I know that essentially, emerging from grief has forced me to be a better version of myself....probably the version that Jeremy always saw in me. And even though I've grown for the better, I'm still me. I'm still the girl who has to sleep on the left side of the bed, who tries to please people too much, who quotes Friends in my head on a daily basis and then hears his laughter in the back of my head affirming how funny I am. I'm still the girl who wants Faith and Caleb to love the things their daddy loved, who cries at nearly every movie, and who holds onto all the precious and unforgettable quirks that he had. I'm still the girl terrified of fish, loves all things cotton candy, rollercoasters, pink, and slurpees. I'm still the girl that wants to tell our story. I'll always be that girl.

Yes, I am still convinced that no matter how much time separates us, no matter how much change comes between us, I would still be your Valentine.

Everywhere

You have been everywhere lately. 

You know, I was dreaming about you almost every night for several weeks until Jim died. Now, I don't see you in my dreams anymore. I'm trying to make sense of what that's about. But now, you seem close in my every day things, more so than usual.

Maybe it's the sentimental time of year, maybe it's all coincidence, but I know better. I started playing "Song Pop" on my iPhone for Zada (she wanted to compete with me) - and it reminds me so much that you used to try to do that to me: play a few second clip of a song and I'd have to guess it. You were always so good at it, so I didn't want to play. And every time I answer one right that I knew you'd be proud of (you having been much more musically cultured than me), there's a split second I find myself wanting to show you and see that approval on your face. 

I finally cleaned out the utility room before our Christmas party last week. Going through your stuff is always challenging and emotional. I realize every time how much of my life is still very saturated with your influence and presence. 

I randomly found myself watching old videos of Faith and Caleb on the computer. Oh, how I ache to see you alive and moving - I always feel a deep yearn to reach out and touch you, just to make sure you were real. 

Yesterday, out of nowhere, I heard your voice singing South Park's Big Gay Al's "I'm super." I laughed remembering and realized it was one of those things I hadn't thought about maybe since you died. Steve had never heard it before, so of course, I had to look it up and play it for him. And I laughed more thinking about you singing it. And more importantly, the facial expressions that came along with it. 

Speaking of things I haven't done since you died, we drove down Mound yesterday past the park you used to play softball at. All of a sudden, I looked up and noticed where we were and felt a tiny panic set in because I hadn't grieved this spot yet. I instantly knew where we were and had to tell Steve why it was significant. I feel the need to share all our significant places to anyone that will listen. I need someone else to know how important these places are, and I never want to forget why. 

Carter and I spent the day shopping together earlier last week. I love spending one-on-one time with him, but the whole day I kept wondering what he would be like if you were still here. Would his personality be different because of your influence? Would he have picked up more of your mannerisms instead of mine? I know he's just the way he should be, but maybe that's what hurt about it. I wish just once, I could've seen you interact with him. 

I have shed countless tears for the senseless tragedy that occurred last week in Connecticut. Aside from the fact that it is inconceivable that someone could harm children like that, and aside from my momma heart feeling ten times more protective of our own precious children, I also shed tears of knowledge. The knowledge of intense grief. Of loss. Of those families losing hope, losing faith, losing memories and plans, futures and pasts. The ache to be with their loved ones and the hole that will never fill for those families. It's a pain I would never wish on anyone.

I can't believe this will be my 3rd Christmas without you. It doesn't seem possible. And yet our last Christmas together feels like an eternity ago. Faith and Caleb were so little. I'm so looking forward to Christmas this year, and celebrating it with people I love and new traditions and new family. But there's always a special place in my heart that holds on to the innocence of our Christmas' together. My sweet memories of life before grief. 

Thank you for staying close to me. I miss you more than I know how to describe. I felt the need to write it out and remember, and to tell you that I love you. Always and forever, I love you.




***Please don't forget that for the month of December, all proceeds from this blog will be donated to Amy Lewis, who lost her husband Jim suddenly just a couple of weeks ago, and has no life insurance. Each page impression makes a small amount, but if we all keep clicking, it will hopefully add up to something big. You can also donate more safely and securely at the top left corner of the page! THANKS***

Dream on

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The dream world has always been a funny topic for me.

I dream A LOT. Almost every morning I remember my dreams, usually more than one. They're sometimes crazy weird, sometimes scary, usually in some way incorporates things I've been thinking about throughout the day or weeks. 

Only recently have I discovered that I sometimes mumbled in my sleep (nonsense), giggle when I'm dreaming about something funny, or shake and breath differently when I'm afraid. Jeremy was such a deep sleeper that I don't think he ever noticed if I did these things (although I caught him talking in his sleep a few times, which was always hilarious). Steve, however, is one of the lightest sleepers I know and wakes up every time I move a muscle. He's had to wake me from a few bad dreams - I seem to be having quite a few lately.

Oddly enough, I've been dreaming about Jeremy a lot over the last few weeks. After he died, I dreamt about him often, constantly begging God to let me see him in my dreams. But it was never in the way I wanted. He was distant, never came close enough for me to touch him, but would give me these deep looks of pain and apology that would leave me aching in the morning. Then, gradually over time, my dreams would just come every once in awhile. I don't know why he's been coming back in my dreams so much recently. Perhaps getting past the 2 year mark was a big milestone and I was thinking about him constantly. Perhaps like the rest of my dreams, it's manifesting an understanding I can't work out when I'm awake or in real life. I don't know. 

What I do know is that Jeremy is changing in my dreams.

Has any other widow(er) had this happen? I feel like I always have this sense that no matter what the dream is about or where we are, I can feel him in real time - like he's opening my eyes to something. I've never been hokey about dreams before, but after Jeremy died, I knew there was purpose in me seeing him there. 

At first, he wouldn't come close. He would stay far away and apologize or I would beg and plead for him not to go from a distance.

Then, he finally got in close enough that he put his arm around me once. But the closer he got, the weaker he seemed and I always dreamt of the injuries he endured from the fall after his heart attack, or I would worry about his heart. Or I knew that he wouldn't be staying alive long and I needed to do or say as much as I could before he left.

Then he got closer and intimate enough to hug me and tell me he was so happy for me when I found Steve. And there was no pain, just that beautiful smile of his. What a gut-wretching blessing of a dream that was.

Throughout the changes in my dreams, though, I felt him grow. I felt any anger he ever had gone from him and he always seemed at peace, even if he was sad he couldn't stay with me. He matured somehow in my dreams, like the essence of Jeremy but in the form that God created him to be. It's hard to explain.

Lately, he appears in my dreams like a lot of normal characters in my dreams. He'll be along side me for an adventure, or trying to protect me from something, or won't do anything specific, but I know he's there.

Maybe someone else out there knows more about this area than I do, but I would be interested to know how the widowed community or anyone else for that matter views dreams of their loved ones, or what they think about the evolution of Jeremy in my dreams. Either way, and in no matter what form, he is always a welcome presence that I ache to see in my dreams. I love getting to see his face, and feel him living, even for just a moment and even if it's not real. It feels real. Those are the dreams that if I wake up prematurely, I try desperately to close my eyes and finish, just so I don't have to say goodbye. Just so I can squeeze one more second of time in with him.

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.

What's in a name?

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This post was written last week, as I am blissfully unaware of the real world this week enjoying a Jamaican honeymoon with my wonderful new husband!

Ever since the moment I knew I would marry Steve, I have felt so much peace about where God was taking us. Even in the way He brought us together; all the things I thought would worry me about getting married after losing someone I love so much turned out to be bearable issues that we worked out so seamlessly. Even the peace I felt against other's insecurities...it just all came together in the way only God can pull it off.

The only thing I ever felt unsettled about has been my name. Veronica King. It's who I am, who I have become, and who I want to be. When Jeremy and I got married, I couldn't wait to change my last name. I was proud to belong to Jeremy and take his name, I was proud to be a King and had waited my whole life to become a "Mrs." And I feel the same way about Steve: I am proud to be his and be a part of his family and take his name. The difference this time though, is that my name is also my connection to Jeremy. It's what keeps us connected, it's how people find him through me and visa versa. I am part of his legacy and he is a part of mine. It birthed my blog, Everyday Kings. I jokingly used to tell Jeremy that the only way I'd ever change my last name from King was if it were to become Queen instead.

When this issue arose, I felt so unsettled about it, like I had to choose who I loved more, and tried to find other people who had remarried after being widowed to see what they did with their last name and why. I didn't really have any luck figuring out what to do. I didn't know how to bring it up to Steve, even though I knew he would be understanding, because I didn't want in any way to make it seem like I didn't want to take his last name or that he is less important.

We finally talked it through and Steve, being the incredible guy that he is, was very understanding and let me take my time deciding what I wanted to do. The only solution that gave me any sort of settlement was to have my cake and eat it too.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce myself: I am now Mrs. Veronica King-Cunningham! :) It's a mouth-full and a lot to write down, but it incorporates the two things I love most and puts a smile on my face and peace in my heart.

For any of those reading who have been remarried, what did you do with your last name and why did you make that decision?

check it out

Today marks my first day as a writer on Widow's Voice...CLICK HERE and check it out!!!

I know it seems a little backwards to be excited about the opportunity of being an author on a blog whose sole purpose is to connect with other who have lost loved ones - no one wants to be in that club and I still hate that I'm in it - but in some way, it's a huge hurdle for me that I've crossed to get to a place where I'm not only willing, but anxious to let God use my story to help others. Especially in a forum that was so valuable to me during my heaviest grieving. If you know someone grieving, please refer them to Widow's Voice. It's an excellent resource.

Anyway, enough babbling, just go read it!

a big blog thank you!

I wanted to say a big huge THANK YOU to everyone who voted for me in the Circle of Moms Top 25 Most Inspiring Mom Blogs for 2012!!! It really is such a cool thing to even be on the list along with so many other incredible and inspiring stories, but to make the #1 spot is beyond amazing! I am so grateful for yet another way to reach others and watch Jeremy continue to change the world with his life and his love. A million times, thank you!

If you'd like to check out my interview from the top 25 blogs, click the link below. Also, look around while you're there....there are so many amazing and moving woman changing the world with their stories too!





I'd also like to announce that I've been invited to be the newest weekly author of Widow's Voice, which is an amazing blog and resource for those in grief. This blog was one of the first resources I found after Jeremy died and I literally became obsessed with it for weeks, trying to soak up other people's experiences to somehow explain my own. It continues to be a healing place for me to connect with other people in this huge community I never knew existed. Widow's Voice is read in 147 countries, and viewed over 35,000 times a month!! It's compiled of multiple widowed people from different walks of life, with someone different writing each day. My first post will be next Thursday, and I will continue to post every Thursday after that. This is an incredible honor, and I see how God has given me the opportunity to continue using our story to show His love and mercy to others who need it. While I still struggle with this concept as a whole, I'm taking every chance to use what God is putting in front of me.

Thanks again for all your support. You all rock!

dream

The other night, Jeremy met me in my dreams. It was lovely. I finally got to see him again, it's been awhile that I've had a full dream about him - he pops in my dreams here and there, but mostly just to remind me he's still watching over me. This time, he was present, talking to me, sitting with me, and even put his arm around me. I've only had one other dream of Jer where I've been able to touch him, and it was a simple hug...he's always been out of reach to me. This time, sitting next to him on a chair, I curled into his shoulder and he put his arm around me. I remember stopping briefly to listen to his heart beat, even though I knew in the dream he wouldn't be staying.

The dread of knowing he wouldn't come back made me concerned, and I turned to him and asked him what he thought about me dating Steve. (I'm not sure why I asked him this, because I have talked to him SO much about it, and have felt his blessing every step of the way) He smiled at me and in an almost teasing tone and big grin he said "What do I think about it?!" His smile turned warm, his eyes got serious and he said very slowly "Honey, I am sooo happy for you." And then I woke up.

It has taken me two days to type that out. I am sitting here in a puddle of tears just reliving it, and I have been every time I think about it. I woke up with peace, but also with sorrow. It's weird to feel released to let someone else in my heart while loving Jeremy completely still. I didn't think it was possible to have a heart big enough for both. But while I smiled knowing how genuine Jer was in his happiness for me, it was like another realization that he's never coming back. It will never be him again. Bittersweet is a word I always use when describing my life lately, but I can't come up with anything else to better articulate it.

I think about how much Jer has taught me about love. I remember thinking for a split second when I woke up that I wasn't sure I could be that selfless. That somewhere deep down, I wouldn't want to see him love someone else. But when I realize that he sees so much more of the big picture that I can't possibly comprehend, or when I think about him suffering even an ounce of the grief I've faced, I know it's not true. I would feel the same way. I would want him to find as much happiness as possible.

Throughout the course of dreams I've had about Jeremy, I feel like I've watched him grow. I watched him turn into what God intended him to be. He seems wiser, softer, and more peaceful. I know that sounds weird, but I feel it - like I'm seeing him in real time. And I love that he always gives me an opportunity to remind him of how much I love him. It's so significant to me.

I can't wait to really tell him, someday, face to face.







Honey, I hope you can feel how much it meant to me to see you, even for a second. I hold onto those small moments as invaluable treasures that I will never forget. Thank you for bringing me peace and comfort, and for never letting me forget that you're with me every step of the way. I miss you so very much. I love you always and forever.











Please keep voting!!! Only 7 days left, and the race is SO CLOSE! EVERY VOTE COUNTS and it only takes one click! Thank you for all your support!!!

love and be loved

Saw this today on Facebook and wanted to share:

"Happy Valentine's to all of those who feel like they are missing love, for those who are grieving love, and for those who are still searching for love. May God's unending love for you this day bring you comfort and peace."

I went back and read the Valentine post I wrote last year. Wow. What a completely different place I was in, and my heart was in such turmoil. It brought me back to those emotions and how raw they were...I was so bitter and broken. And again today, I felt a lot of sadness for not being able to share my Valentine's Day with Jeremy. I felt stuck in a place where I am happy to look forward to a future and thankful that I've found another Valentine that I am grateful to celebrate with, and yet feel an ache for the only other Valentine I've ever known. 

I haven't forgotten. But that ache has reminded me that there are so many people who need to feel loved. Not in a mushy, lovey-dovey way, but just knowing that someone cares. That's what this day is really about, right? Today, I am reminded of God's love and mercy towards me in my life over the last 15 months. It has filled me today.

I had a lovely Valentine celebration yesterday with my sweet date. He is very romantic and always treats me like a princess! But really it was just another reminder for me to love with everything I've got. And it has been my prayer, even long before I wanted to accept it, that others would be moved by my story to do the same.

My Valentine surprise yesterday...

Happy Valentines Day. May you love and be loved today.

how it's supposed to be

"What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it's supposed to be."

It's been such an emotional week for me. Everything makes me cry at the drop of a hat, and everything makes me miss Jeremy. And as quite a contrast, I've been blessed with some really good things, good friends, and very thankful to be in a relationship that is accepting of those times for me and in turn has helped me heal in so many ways. It reminds me of a session I had back in the summer where my grief counselor had painted a picture of life after grief. She described a railroad track, one side of the track representing grief and pain, and the other side of the track represent joy and happiness. They run side by side, constantly and you can experience them both simultaneously. I will say that it is very draining. I have felt so tired the last few days, just wanting to sleep away the stress, not wanting to think about anything, and just fast forward a few months where a new transition in my life wasn't so complicated anymore. I know it will get there, but patience is not my strong suit.

I've had this idea in my head that I've never spoken out. I've carried this burden that because I was closest to Jeremy, I should grieve the hardest and the longest. I think I've got hardest covered: to rock back and forth on your knees, screaming, dry-heaving, because the pain of reality is so consuming it physically takes over your body is a dark place I will NEVER forget. I've never been so scared in all my life. And I know I will grieve Jeremy the rest of my life. Just knowing that all the pain that still goes on in my life right now, all the struggling through transitions, all this trying to find my place comes back to the fact that Jeremy is dead and is not here anymore is a sickening reality to face. But there was this perception that I need to hold on to that dark place because I loved him so much. It's the root of my guilt to wanting to find happiness again...that other people might have the same perception and somehow doubt my love for Jer.

I know 15 months out doesn't seem that long to some to start dating. But when you lay in bed alone every single night without your husband, it feels like an eternity. I've asked Steve a lot about being a grief counselor and the things he sees on a regular basis....and I am always shocked when he tells me how many people get remarried within a few months of their spouse passing. But what it really comes down to is that the people closest to the deceased are the ones most secure in the relationship with them and know them the best. When you have felt great love and you lose it without consent, you crave that companionship cause you know what you're missing. I know where Jeremy and I stood in our relationship, and I have peace about that. I am still grieving a future that I will never get to have. I am still grieving the fact that I will never share certain things with Jeremy, or that our children will never get to experience him in their lives again. That will never cease to cause me pain.

I realized that maybe I've ignored that fact that tomorrow Carter will be one (holy crap, I can't believe it), and in a few weeks will be Jeremy's birthday, then my nephew's birthday, then Faith's birthday...all in a row. My body and my heart anticipate these hard days before my brain ever realizes it. Today, I couldn't believe how far I've come since last year but I also see that I still have a long way to go. Sometimes, I would really like a break from all this emotional turmoil, knowing that it will follow me around, in one form or another, forever.

This post is a rambling one, with no cohesion. But that's how I feel today. I am hurt, I am sad, I am tired, I am grieving. But I am also thankful, blessed, loved, and looking forward to a new day to try this thing again. That, and a long cry and heartfelt conversation with my best friend, along with opening the door to these beautiful flowers from a really wonderful guy can sure help a girl along in the right direction...

myths about love

First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone for your support and encouragement. This whole 'dating' thing - while a step in a good direction - has been very nerve-wrecking and emotional for me and I've been anxious about sharing it. Because of the way news travels on the internet these days, I wanted to make sure word got out from me, in my words, before it came out from someone else. And that came at the sacrifice of getting the chance to really share it, in depth, with everyone I wanted to. But the response has been very positive and I'm so thankful that people understand my heart and support this new step in my life. Thank you.

This is the first thing I've done since Jeremy died that is solely for me. It was hard to officially step out into a new world outside of widowhood, it's been my identity for so long. And while it's for me, I oddly feel Jeremy's blessing of approval on it, as if he had some say in the decision. Maybe he did. I'm okay with that.

This is all new territory for me. I have no idea how to navigate this, and I never in my life imagined I'd be standing in this place. Luckily, dating for me at the point is not like it was when I was younger. I've seen the best and worst in life, I've got a family to protect. Steve and I, in all the crap we've experienced, have at least one luxury: cutting through a lot of trivial stuff and getting to important matters. We both know what we need and want for us and our families. We both know what works and what doesn't. We've been able to share a lot of deep and meaningful pieces of our lives early on because that's just where we're at in life. This 'widow dating for the 21st century' as I've jokingly referred to it as, is quite bizarre. It's oddly strange and healing at the same time, while opening more wounds that I have to nurse in between. Like everything else in my life the last 15 months, it's been a roller coaster. A good one, but emotional nonetheless.

What I've discovered since Jeremy died is that I believed a lot of myths about death and love that I didn't even realize. I believed I'd never survive living without my husband, without my best friend, without my lifeline. Yet, here I am. Still breathing.

I believed that finding happiness was somehow disrespectful to my grieving and to Jer's memory. Even though in theory it's easy to say that Jeremy would want me to be happy, it's hard to really feel that way. It's like that old bit where an angel is on one shoulder, while the devil is on the other: the angel is telling me that joy is from God and is okay because you loved, while the devil whispers doubt and guilt in my ear, telling me that if people see me happy, they'll forget my loss, they'll forget my love. And yet, through relentless nudging from Jer's presence and prayer, and the patience of those around me, I'm discovering the real truth in understanding joy more because I've experienced deep loss. It's a work in progress.

The next has been the hardest for me to de-myth. I used to think I could never give my heart away to someone else, because it would compromise what I shared with Jeremy. I thought widows who never remarried were ones that loved the deepest and could just never love someone like that again. This is a myth that could only be broken by experience for me. What God has revealed to me is that what Jeremy gave me was a gift. He taught me how to love. I promised myself long before I met Steve that if the opportunity ever came for me to have a second chance, and I wanted it, that I would give all the love I can no longer give to Jeremy. I owe that to my children and to Jer because otherwise it'd be a waste of what he's shown me to be true in life: Love fiercely, there's no other way to do it. I can love deeply because I have been loved deeply. It's still a struggle to really accept this as truth, but I have no other way of explaining it outside of God shaping me and opening my heart to see that there is room for more. It was His timing, not mine. It's His healing, not mine. It is His plan, not mine.

So, I'm trying to make the best of the time I have left here. Using the lessons of life and loss and love that I've learned in life to bring healing in some way, to someone. And the image of Jeremy waiting for me with open arms and eyes filled with pride for using what he gave me for good is one that keeps me going every day.





I'm making my way to you, baby. Little by little, I'm picking up those pieces of truth that you have been leaving for me. My goal has been and always will be to make you proud. To honor your life. To pay forward the love that you have shown me in my relationships. It's not an easy path to take, and so many parts of me still want to run and hide and rock back and forth in my misery. It's hard to look forward when you ache for the past. But because you have loved me, I have no other choice. Because you gave me such beautiful children, I have no other choice. And because I am making my way to you, no matter what, I have no other choice.


Facing all this has been overwhelming and has made me miss you so intensely. I wish I could see your face and hear your voice, just to tell me that everything will be ok. 


I love you always and forever.

oh to be naive

Hello my love,


It's been awhile since I've been able to put my words down for you. But every once in awhile, talking to thin air doesn't seem to suffice. Sometimes I feel you there - most of the time, actually. And your presence has become one of comfort, instead of a reminder that you're not here with me physically. But not always.


The other night, I was rocking Carter before bed. He hardly ever lets me snuggle with him anymore, since he's gotten so squirmy, so I enjoyed my time just reading to him, rocking him, singing to him, and talking about you. This is always the most painful part. I told him about how much I wish you were still here for him so that he could know you and what an incredible man you are. I told him about how proud you would be of him, and how beautiful you would think he is. I told him how much you would love our new home, and all the great things we picked out for him.....then something suddenly occurred to me:


I would have none of these things if you were still here.


I wouldn't have this beautiful house, we'd still be in our tiny home that was falling apart in a horrible neighborhood. I wouldn't have my new vehicle - we'd still be driving the Explorer until it died and then we'd have to buy whatever we could afford, which wouldn't be much. I wouldn't have all the beautiful things we bought for Carter's room - I highly doubt that I would have had a baby shower for my third child if you were still around. I wouldn't even have some of the relationships I now have and cherish. This thought stung me.


I guess I've realized this before, but it never hurt me the way it did the other night. I wouldn't be who I am now if you were still here. I would still be a naive girl taking advantage of her charmed life. I guess that's part of the redemption of experiencing death so intimately: you are forever changed. It opens up realms of truth you didn't know existed and you watch the world from afar so differently. I would give anything to see you again, but knowing what I know now, I don't think I could go back. 


I don't think I could ever see myself in a place where your death seems justified. I don't think that's even possible. I think you should still be here. But the hardest lesson I've had to learn is to take things from where I am now and figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. I can sit around wishing for your return all I want, but I know it will get me nowhere. I just have to take you with me. 


I still have no clue who I am or who I want to be. But I am way closer than I was 14 months ago. You can't survive something so tragic without learning things about yourself. I know I've come a long way, and I know I still have a long way to go. It is still my goal every single day to make you proud.


I miss you, babe. I wish you could be here to celebrate Carter's first birthday in a couple weeks...I can't believe we're all still here, that we've made it this far.


I love you always and forever.

mosaic

I have been at a stand-still lately. Unable to form words, unable to express the evolution of my heart the last few weeks. I miss you so very much, and the freshness of it sometimes is enough to take my breath away. The moments get further apart, and the feeling of being blessed takes over, but you are always there as a reminder of how great a loss I've had. 


The other day, I started cleaning out the scrapbook area in the basement. It was the only section of the house that hasn't been unpacked yet. I uncovered so many things in those boxes: pictures, written letters, things the kids made for you, special things I had written down to remember. I was reading Faith's mini-album I made her for her 3rd birthday, and she told me she wanted to grow up to play ball like her daddy and that her favorite thing to do was wrestle with you. The most painful were the letters that you had written to the kids for their birthdays. I actually didn't remember you writing one for Caleb (I remember bugging you about it, but I didn't know you finished it) so when I found it in his envelope, it was like someone had punched be in the throat. Baby, for all that I have suffered and lost, I grieve so much more for our children. I could give you up if it meant our children could have their daddy back. You were such a wonderful daddy and the wound was ripped open new the other day going through it all.


After going through all that, I ached to find more of your things, read more of your things. I wanted to feel close to you and spend time with you and my memories of you. So, I went back through the box I keep next to my bed, full of letters and keepsakes over the course of our relationship. All the letters I wrote for you for different milestone anniversaries - I had finally opened them a few months back - and they twist the dagger in my heart as I realize I will never get to speak those words to you or read the letters to you. Then, I read the letter I wrote for you to read if I died before you. I've read it a few times (and I say very few, because it is too much most of the time) and have debated sharing it. Today, I am able.

Hello my love,
If you are opening this letter, it means that my life has passed before yours. I have always said that I would rather die before you so that I wouldn't have to live a day without you. Even though it's too late now if you are opening this, I know now that I would rather suffer without you than to make you suffer. I never want to cause you pain. I am so sorry if this is causing pain and suffering, but please know that it will be okay.
I have tears welling up right now while I am writing this just thinking about all of our memories. Words cannot express the joy and love you have shown me. I have never in my life found anyone who can make me smile that way you do, who can heal my wounds as quickly as you, and who can fill me up the way you do. I know that even if I lived to be a thousand, I would never find that again. Baby, I love you with all that I am, and no one can break what we share.
I want you to know that my life was such a blessing. God has blessed me with so much. Even if there was something that I didn't get to do, I know that it won't matter anymore. Now I can look down from Heaven and be satisfied knowing that you are moving on and being happy, and doing all the things you dreamed of. More than anything, I want you to be happy. No matter when I die, no matter how old, that is my wish for you. As hard as it is to say, I want you to be able to move on. Don't forget about me. but know that as long as you are happy, let your heart and God lead you.
Promise me one thing - let God take over in everything. If we have children, don't let a day go by without them knowing that I love them, and that God is the only one who can change their lives. If not, tell yourself that. I need to make sure that this is not the last time I get to see you.
I don't want to leave anything unsaid or unfinished, and I am sorry if I have. There is nothing more that I can think of to tell you other than that I love you. You are the love of my life. You are my one and only. Nothing is more important to me than that. Thank you for filling my life full of love and laughter and giving me so much to remember.
This is my chance to say good-bye. My prayer is that you will only remember the good things. I know that I'm not perfect and that I've had my moments of regret, but you far surpass any obstacle I could face. God gave you to me when I needed you the most, and He has let me keep you in my life as my husband. You are my greatest gift and my biggest treasure. You are my angel. I only hope that I have left with you half as many wonderful memories as you have given me. I know God has an awesome plan for you, so reach for the stars. When you get there, I will be waiting just beyond.
I will see you in Heaven, my love. I can't wait to see you. I miss you already. I love you with all that I am.
Love always and forever and ever and ever and ever,
Your Vee

A few things came to my mind when I read this. The first is how young I sound (20 is young, though). The second is how little I knew about loss and death when I wrote it. If I had to write it now, I might be more practical, and tell you how it might hurt to breathe and it's okay to curl up into a ball if you need to. Or I might write about how to take a break when taking care of 3 kids on your own becomes too overwhelming, and don't be afraid to ask for help. Or I would tell you to take things at your own pace and not worry about others and the way they grieve, everyone is different. Or I would tell you that there would never be anything more painful in your life than losing our love, but if you could survive that, you could survive anything. Or maybe I wouldn't change it because at the end of the day, the only thing there really is to say is that I love you and I want to see you again. 


But every time I read it, I tried to hear your voice in it. I remember wishing you would write me a letter like this just in case. I would have BEGGED you to if I had known, just to have something to hold on to. So I pretend you wrote this to me. Truthfully, I CAN hear you in most of it, I know you would say the same things. I know you want me to be happy, I have felt you telling me that a lot lately. I tell the kids every day how much you love them - they will never doubt that. And I have felt even to a greater degree after your death, how much you love me. Such an ironic experience to appreciate love and life in a way you could never possibly before and no longer have it to appreciate. 


I guess I just want you to know that I love you, and I am holding on to the pieces left behind. Like a mosaic masterpiece, all these little pieces that on their own are just useless, broken pieces of glass....but when all the broken pieces are put together can create something meaningful and beautiful. Slowly, I am putting something together piece by piece. I don't even know what it is yet, they still just seem like useless broken pieces of my heart, but I put them side by side and try to fill in the empty spaces left behind with love and memories, family and friends, and trust that a masterpiece is being created. It is not what I intended to do with my heart, and the pieces will never come together in the same way again, but I see now that it can still be beautiful and meaningful. 


Thank you for teaching my about life and love. I miss you every single day and I WILL see you again. I love you always and forever.

Holidays

Holidays.

Anyone who has lost someone close knows that dread that comes along with holidays. In fact, I remember prior to Jeremy's death how grateful I was to have never lost someone so significant to me to put a damper on my holidays, I always had so much to be thankful for. Oh, how much can change in a year.

I didn't get to write about Thanksgiving this year. It was Carter's first Thanksgiving, the first in our new home, the first year hosting, my first time attempting to cook a turkey....and the first without my brother.  As I was preparing the night before, frantically cleaning the house and baking cookies, butter tarts, and apple pie in Jer's honor, I felt his presence. I felt how proud he was of me for keeping it together (and for making his favorite Canadian food). The day of though, I noticed that the absence I felt stronger was my brother's. Perhaps because it was my parents and other brother who came for Thanksgiving that made the hole feel so deep. And perhaps it's because I deal with Jer's death every day and have become used to the fact that he's not around. But just like the reality of Jer's death took awhile to really settle in, I just can't believe I'll never see my brother smile again or play with my kids. I'll never hear "I love you sis" or hear his sweet voice call me on my birthday like he did every year. I'll never eat his famous chili again or play cards with him or ride roller coasters with him every Memorial weekend at King's Island. I really miss my brother.

The next day, I mustered up the energy and desire to decorate the house for Christmas. I used to jump up and down for the day when I could decorate the house with my little family. Even though it usually consisted of Jeremy tinkering with his itunes playlist to choose just the right Christmas music, which took him literally hours, while I hung up everything til he was done and ready to hold up a child to put the star on the tree - it was one of my favorite times. I think the only real pull for me to do it this year was because I have a new, beautiful house to decorate and two kids begging me to put 'toys' on the tree...it's hard to not get into the spirit for them. And truthfully, it felt good. I remember last year only putting the tree up for the kids and having Sarah help me so I didn't come unglued. I almost did. And it was completely meaningless for me, I was drowning in sorrow. This year, as I carefully unwrapped all the individual glass ornaments, I replayed our life together told through those pieces.
Jer's moose ornament.
The reindeer one he picked out when I worked at Pottery Barn.
Our first Christmas ornaments.
The fabric red heart with our picture inside.
The cluster of ornaments we got as a wedding gift from a friend my mom worked with, including a little bride and groom and a mailbox that is hand-painted with "The Kings" on the side.
And all the priceless ornaments the children have made.

I used to be picky about the tree, not wanting it to look 'tacky' with multi-colored lights and ornaments that were falling apart but I feel so differently now. I opened our new Christmas tree that was given to us by the radio station last year, complete with built-in LED colored lights, and it made the kids soooo happy! This tree represents our family: it tells our story of messiness, color, and memories. It's priceless. My whole life is up on the tree this year.

I felt like the old me for awhile as I got so excited to get a few new decorations for the house. I even created my own centerpiece with all the vases I've gotten over the last year:

The warm presence of Christmas is back in our lives. I'm trying not think about the fact that my brothers birthday is this weekend or the fact that there will now be two giant holes at Christmas time this year and how hard that is going to be. I'm trying to focus on something bigger. Something hopeful. I read this today in my daily emails this morning:

"One thing about being in grief is that your sorrow is certain, and your loss is so real you literally taste it to the depth of your being. You have to have a certainty that is bigger than the certainty of your sorrow."

I have to. I just have to.








Baby, I hope you feel how desperately you are missed and the void that can never be replaced. There is just no sense to be made of your death. All I can do is carry on with the certainty of something bigger and knowing that someday, when I see you again, everything will fall back into place. You are my compass. I will stand for our children, who are growing like weeds and still talk about you every. single. day. I won't have it any other way. We love you so deeply, you are forever woven in our hearts and souls. Please wrap us in your love and protection as this holiday season approaches for us and the feeling of your absence will magnify. And please, give my brother a giant hug from me and tell him how much I miss him.


I miss you too, baby. Deeper than I know how to express.
I love you forever and always.

Can I say this?

 

I carry your bible around in my purse. I love to open it and look at the old newspaper clipping of your grandfather and his 13 siblings that you used as a bookmark, or the piece of scrap paper that had a worship set scribbled on it - there is something about your handwriting that pulls at my heart.

Last Sunday, I found this. 2 Timothy 4:6-8 boxed and highlighted, with a note you wrote beside it. My heart always skips a beat when I see your handwriting, so I stopped immediately. Then I realized this is the very verse we used for your funeral, for the programs, and I believe the verse you used to write with your autograph at singing gigs. I sat and stared at it through tears, reading it over and over and over. 

I think you could have lived a very long life and still never quite felt like you fulfilled this verse. Maybe that's the point and any real Christian knows that we're always striving. And maybe I've had times where I doubted this in you (and myself) when you were here. But babe......oh, babe....what an amazing thing grace is. Look at what's become of your life and your legacy! Look at the lives that have been forever changed, forever benefited from your story and your love. You CAN say this and sometimes the image of you in Heaven makes me smile so big for you, cause I know you've found your peace. It's always a painful smile, though, as I selfishly wish you were still here. I'm humbled to watch how God has allowed grace to use an imperfect man to create beauty and life. Neither of us could have ever believed it the magnitude of it, but I am so proud of you. 

I guess it gives me hope. So many times in the last year, I've beaten myself up about how horribly I was handling everything, how much I was still hurting, the horrible thoughts and desires that would run through my head. But I recognize that God can use brokenness, doubt, even darkness to shine light. As long as I keep my eyes ahead, I have seen the true testament of what can become of life served for God. I'm trying, baby. I really am. 

Just know that I love you more than I can ever tell you and I miss you every single day. I don't know what to write here anymore sometimes, but my heart has gone through a roller coaster. But every single day, I'm thankful I got you - even for such a short time. I would never trade it. You did good, baby. You fought the good fight. You finished the race. I can't wait to meet you at the finish line.

I love you always.

one year

I remember thinking often, Where will I be at the one year mark? What will I say? What will I write?

One year has finally past since Jeremy died, and truthfully, I still don't know the answer. I really thought the anniversary would just be another day, not more or less painful than any other day since I live this grief thing daily. But as the weeks approached the date, all I wanted to do was get it over with. I thought 'If I can just get this dreadful day over with, then maybe I can breathe again.'

I remember where I was at 6 months - I was suffocating. For weeks up to that mark, I felt this anxiety so deep and heavy my heart wouldn't settle down. And then the day came, and the sky didn't fall and I was still alive - and utterly shocked. I came to recognize that the anticipation was worse than the actual day. So I figured the same would be true for this week. Only, I've been ok lately. As much as I hate to say that, everything has been ok. My kids are happy and healthy, my friends are amazing, and I've made it to a place where I can think about Jeremy without constantly breaking down into tears. As strange as it sounds, I hated feeling alright....grief is familiar, and people looking in connect my grief with my love for Jer...if I am ok, I must be 'moving on' right? But that's not it at all...I've just finally come to accept the fact that this is my reality and I can either live it and make myself miserable or live it in a way that honors my husband and what I know he would want for me and our children.

But then November 9th came and knocked me to the ground. I woke up feeling like someone was standing on my chest, had horrible back pain and dread throughout my entire body. I woke up weepy, which I haven't been in so long because I've built up so many walls. Yeah, I've been okay but damn it, I miss Jer. I miss my life with him. All I wanted to do was sleep - which is a rare luxury for me. A few wonderful people took the kids for me so I could do that. I barely moved most of the morning. I just stared off into space, eyes full of tears, aimlessly trying to figure out where I was and what I was doing - which is a state I'm familiar with from those first few weeks/months of grief. Basically November 9th sucked.

There was something very special that happened that brought me back to a place of peace. I received an incredible email....

Veronica, 

I know you don't know me and quite honestly I really don't know you - although it feels like I do as I saw you about this time last year at the Belpre Youth Rally (Awaken Event) just shortly after you'd walked through some of the hardest days of your life.  I think I sent you a note shortly after that just telling you how horribly sorry I was and that so many of us were committed to praying and that has continued through this year.  Your blog has made your heart and the heart of the one you lost so evident to so many of us and we are all better because of it.  

Several months ago I made a note on my calendar to remember this day and do something that I felt might possibly honor the life of Jeremy.  I know it won't make today hurt one ounce less.  I am so aware there is no "fix."  I just know that sometimes in the middle of so much of this, you are afraid that as time passes people will "forget" who he was or how kind he was or how amazing a husband or daddy, or just how stinking good a man he was.  I wanted in my own little corner of the world, in my own little way to be able to remind you that today we'll take time to honor his life.  

So...I am certain you don't remember, but at the Awaken Event, Called and Compelled Ministries was asked to be the beneficiary for the Sunday MorningContribution - where you all were leading worship.  We had the coffee shop in the lobby attempting to raise funds for a ministry which helps the poor and forgotten in the country of Honduras.  

Over the past 48 hours or so people who love and support the ministry have raised enough money to build a house today.  It is what I hope will be the first of annual builds on this day.  We have searched out - in a culture that doesn't encourage or regularly produce men who are good husbands and daddy's - thanks to God, we have found a family that we believe has a man who is attempting to do the best with what he's got to provide and lead his family well, but he needs a little help. 

In one of the roughest neighborhoods in this city, the house they're living in is falling down around them and so we're going in today to build them a home.  To celebrate this man who is wanting to be God's man.  He will receive a picture of Jeremy and one of your family (with your permission of course) and we will tell him the story of a man who loved his God, his wife, and his family and lived that out well - in the hopes that it will serve as an inspiration for this man to do the same.  

The family has 5 kiddo's all sleeping in a one room house in one bed - the wife just got a microfinance loan for a tortilla oven so she is making some money to feed her family by making and selling tortillas in her community.  We will send you some pictures of the build later today.  

We just wanted to do something to let you know that Jeremy's life and your story are worth remembering.  So while we pound every single nail today, we'll be praying for you and your family and we will be thanking God for Jeremy's life that is touching people even in other countries at this point.  

I pray that the heart behind this is conveyed.  Purely and simply we think Jeremy's life was an inspiration.  Thank you for telling your story so that others might know the kind of man that he was and might be inspired to follow in his footsteps.  

Today we build the first "Kings Quarters" house - the first of many I pray.  

Please know that people all over this world are lifting you to the Father today.  

On behalf of all of us at Called and Compelled...may God's hand hold you so tightly today Vee.  

Love and blessings, 

Jen and the other Called and Compelled folk :)

I sat and sobbed on the stairs, completely speechless. I know that I will never find justice in Jeremy's death, no matter how much good is done.....but how could I not be absolutely humbled and grateful for the life of my incredible husband?! Here I sit drowning in grief, in a beautiful home, with beautiful children - safe, comfortable, clothed, and fed - consumed and unaware of the tragedies on the other side of the world that Jer's life is bringing light and hope to. I felt such deep sorrow and honor at the same time.

In the evening, I attended our Wednesday church service, which was dedicated in memory of Jeremy and all those who have died in our congregation over the last year. I couldn't keep it together.

Do you feel the confusion of my day? The incongruity of events and the emotions I've gone through - there is such dissonance between my random mental state and my understanding of it. It was quite the roller coaster....as most of my life over the last year has been.

My conclusion is this: death sucks and hurts like hell. There is still such a void where Jer belongs, but I will say that grief is not all-consuming all the time anymore: I can smile without forcing it. I can be thankful for my blessings. I can recognize hurts greater than my own. I can appreciate the life my husband gave and led, while still feeling his protection over me - these are big steps for me. I haven't always been this way.

I'd like to say I came away with something monumental after surviving a year of living without the love of my life. I'd love to say something inspirational, something that will encourage or bring hope for others. Someday I will, I feel it brewing - but not today. Instead, I will borrow someone else's words that I'm holding on to today:

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."  -Lao Tzu

I love you babe.
With all that I am and all that I know and all that I have, I love you. There is no way to adequately describe my disbelief that I've lived an entire year without you. It can't be possible. The only explanation I can come up with is that the love we shared is still strong and evident, and has kept me going. You have somehow kept me going. 
Most days, I don't feel like I'm any better off than I was a year ago. But there are those few days here and there where you show me hope. You show me light, in the faces of our beautiful children and in the hearts of those around me.
I know I still have a long way to go. This journey will never end. I will miss you every single day until the day I see you again. Until then...I'll just have to wait.
I miss you.
I love you always.

see

I don't know what to say or write. My heart is heavy. Another widow blogger expressed what I'm feeling so well. "The procession of time and the procession of the heart truly do not move at the same pace." This is so true.


I'm stuck. But I leave here the lyrics that have been on my heart today.


I miss you baby.
I love you always.


Right now all I can taste are bitter tears
And right now all I can see are clouds of sorrow
From the other side of all this pain
Is that you I hear?
Laughing loud and calling out to me?

Saying see, it's everything you said that it would be
And even better than you would believe
And I'm counting down the days until you're here with me
And finally you'll see

But right now all I can say is, "Lord, how long?"
Before You come and take away this aching
This night of weeping seems to have no end
But when the morning light breaks through
We'll open up our eyes and we will see

It's everything He said that it would be
And even better than we would believe
And He's counting down the days till He says, "Come with me"
And finally

He'll wipe every tear from our eyes
And make everything new
Just like He promised

Wait and see
Just wait and see
Wait and see

And I'm counting down the days until I see
It's everything He said that it would be
And even better than we would believe
And I'm counting down the days till He says, "Come with me"
And finally
We'll see

Wait and see
O taste and see that the Lord is good
The Lord is good
The Lord is good
O taste and see that the Lord is good
The Lord is good

-SEE, Steven Curtis Chapman

ordinary moments

November 6:


I remember a few very specific moments or flashes from this day last year: Sitting in the break room at the gym, texting you with my new phone and being thrilled that I got reception with it. Pulling up to Max and Erma's to get us a table while you parked the car. A nice dinner with our sweet little family and watching your sexy smile all night. Going to Target to pick up Lady Antebellum's new Christmas CD. Sitting at the kitchen table while you texted me that 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas' made you miss your mom. 


Simple, ordinary moments. And some of my most prized memories. 


I am holding on to every single moment I can. I had too few of them.


I miss you babe. I can't believe this is still happening.
I love you always and forever.

surrender

Words have failed me lately.


I have so much going on in my head and my heart, yet I haven't been able to write anything or put any of it into words. I don't know how to describe this strange place I've found myself in.


I've found myself battling time. I still wish I could rewind the clock - just to see you, kiss you, hug you again, even just once. But sometimes I wish now I could fast forward the clock - fast forward to a place that doesn't hurt as much, past the plague of 'one year', past the loneliness and despair to a place where I can smile without pain and find contentment with the blessings I've still got in my life. I see those moments in passing, but if I'm going to be stuck here I have to believe there is a place where I can settle in with those kinds of moments some day. It's the sitting here in the now that's driving me crazy, unsure of where I'm going.


November 5. This evening last year we went out to dinner with Jodie, Gary, Chris, and Vicki at Rochester Mills and then headed over to pick up our brand new phones, and you finally got your iphone. I remember what shirt you were wearing. I remember you getting home and taking this pic with the kids:

That's you. You were here once. It seems hard to believe sometimes. And yet, a year feels sickening to say. If I let myself sit in the moment, if feels like yesterday. But an entire lifetime has passed since then. I know I'm a different person and I've come a long way in the last 12 months...most of it forced, things I didn't want to face, experiences I didn't want to have without you, strength I didn't want to find. But I survived it anyway. I grew anyway. I endured anyway. I thrived anyway. I didn't ask for these things, I resisted every moment and yet here I am, still standing and probably stronger than before.

What's weird is that I had convinced my mind that this week would be alright. The anniversary of your death would be ok because I've been ok. I don't know why, but I just want to get past it. But my body knew....I've been sooo tired and unmotivated. I haven't wanted to be social. I've been eating terribly and not caring, reverting to how I was a year ago. No matter how I much I had convinced myself that this would all be ok, my body does not believe my brain. It has anticipated this week.

So, I'm surrendering. Trying to stay low-key, taking time to talk to you and remember. Talking to the kids about you a ton. Just wrapping myself in you and how much we love you.

I miss you babe. No matter where I go or what I do, I've come to terms with the fact that I will always miss you.

I love you always and forever.

just get through today

We flew into Louisiana today. You always loved to fly. So do I, though I rarely get to. I was thinking that the last time I flew was in January on our way to Gulf Coast Getaway.


It was 2 months after you died.
I was 8 months pregnant.


All I remember was being on the plane and praying for it to crash. Maybe everyone could survive but me. Or I would find an eject button on my seat....I couldn't see past anything besides being with you. And I remember being so disappointed when we landed safely. 


Now, I can thankfully say I'm in a better place. I'm past that. I don't want to leave my children to become orphans - I know you would never want that either. I can't say that the future doesn't still scare the hell outta me, but I can say that today, I'm ok. If I can just get through today, I'll be ok.


We landed safely. I laughed a lot today with friends. I got through today. I think I'll be ok.


I miss you baby. 
I love you with all that I am.