Heartless

Today marks Day 111 of life without heart.  He was my heart.

Grief is NOT Linear

Honey,
I've been talking to you constantly, but I have yet to hear one word from you. That makes me sad.  Please find a way.  I miss you so much.  I'm trying to learn how to live, but it's hit or miss.
I had no idea how hard it is to be the "surviving spouse".  It requires more than I ever thought possible.
OH, that whole thing about stages of grief is a riot!  Not funny, like: Ha! Ha! funny, more like: funny insanity funny.

The Kübler-Ross model, commonly known as The Five Stages of Grief
 http://tiny.cc/fuxldw

The short version is DABDA which stands for denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  I vaguely remember watching a movie about a comedian who did a stand up comedy about those stages of grief.  Yup, with my off-color sense of humor, I could probably create a comedy routine, too.  I just don't think anyone would laugh.  

What I have realized is a show stopper.  Grief is not linear.  

I think I have always understood that, but not REALLY KNOWN IT.  Now, I get it.  I REALLY KNOW IT!  I live it.  Every day, I manage to live every stage several times.  They aren't in any particular order.  There is no timer. Linear would be nice.  Beginning at Anger then ending at Acceptance seems like a map.  You get to acceptance by following the directions.  Ha!  Double HA! HA!  

Now, I know with every fiber of my being that the journey through life has no path. 

"I will love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my Honey you'll be."

Love,
Babe

Taking it Hard

Is there a gauge that measures how difficult life is now?  Where is the scoreboard for projecting the level of how hard it is to continue living after losing my hero.  What does it mean when someone says it looks like my son and I are taking "it" harder than my two other children?  What can anyone see that can compare the depth of pain in four different people?  Is there a rubric for that?
Maybe I missed the pbs special.

Tragedy and Trivia

After experiencing some truly tough tragedies, Honey and I realized that to have enough emotional energy to waste on little things meant our life was pretty good.
Tragedy puts trivial in perspective.
Here's our scale:
If it can be fixed, replaced, delayed, rushed, changed, ignored, solved, or discarded it is not a big deal.
Anytime we found ourselves fretting about how much it was going to cost or how long it would take, or how hard the work would be to fix something, we chalked it up to the minor details column.  If it can be fixed, it is going to be okay.  Quit whining and deal with it.
The Big Deals are obvious.  Everything else is dryer lint.  Just rub your finger along the screen to collect it.  Roll it up and toss it in the trash.

Freedom

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.

Survive

As soon as I saw my Honey's blank eyes, I have been frantically repeating thoughts.  One of the ALL CAPS questions has been forever been coupled with the most horrible realization ever.
"He's gone.  I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?"
Without ending, this has drummed in my head all the time for 69 days.
"He's gone.  I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?"
I've screamed them. I've whispered them. I've spoken them out loud to almost everyone I know.  More than that, however, I have heard them.
"He's gone.  I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?"
They are like the bass that gives a song it's power.  Underscoring every waking moment and many of my sleeping moment I walk, sit, stand, drive, eat, shower, cry, and laugh to the rhythm of:
"He's gone.  I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?"
Tuesday, while reading Hatchet  with my class I realized the answer.
I'm going to survive.
I still breathe to the tune of the truth.
"He's gone.  I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?"


"I'm going to survive."

The list of huge gaping holes Honey left behind continues to grow and gape.


"I'm going to survive."

Firsts

April 8, 2012

Easter Sunday

            Every first brings its own set of issues.  The first morning after Honey died was the first time I realized that I was waking to a worse nightmare than any I could experience while sleeping. My precious son, J sat in my room waiting for me to awaken.  He knew it would be terrible and wanted to be there for me. 

            The first time I had any real important decisions to make without him was at Memorial Park.  Lesli, J, Chris, and Carol went with me.  Every time the man would ask me a question we (family and I) had not discussed, I asked them.  Together, we made the necessary decisions.  Together, we stand strong.

            My first Valentines’ Day was bittersweet.  Lesli and her dad had already planned my gift. Lesli had bought an Infinity necklace while shopping for Chuck’s present for me for Christmas. After she explained to him what it represented, he wanted to save it for Valentines’ Day.  February 13, Lesli explained its history and her struggle.  She had decided that it might be best to give me plenty of time to cry and still be able to wear it to school the following day.  Oh, Honey, I will love you forever.

            Spring Break brought many painful firsts.  It was the first time I would have a holiday without my darling husband, and it was the week of his first not living birthday.   

            Saturday morning, we had planned a first family outing.  It was a trip to the shooting range.  Because he is gone, I no longer feel safe.  He was my security, and now he is gone.  I feel the need to reapply for a handgun carry permit, but it has been a while since I have handled a weapon. Before signing up for the class, I want to refresh my memory of how to use a gun.  Chris bought ammunition (several kinds for several hand guns).  We all got in the cars and traveled across town for about 30 minutes to the Range.  We went inside, signed up, and began our 20-minute wait.  It took me about 3 minutes to begin crying.  Before long (5 minutes) it was obvious that I was in ‘buckets of tears’ mode.  All three of my precious children assured me that they wanted to go home.  We had done all of that for me to cry and go home.  I love my kids.

            Later that same day I drove to Kroger for milk.  I sat in the car and cried for half an hour before surrendering to the obvious.  I wouldn’t be walking into the store that day.

            Sunday brought me one day closer to Honey’s birthday.  It is the day I would have made sure his birthday would be happy.  He liked country ham and rolls, hot (not mild) sausage, and cheese omelets.  I would have teased him constantly about what he wanted to do that day.  I would have made sure that everyone knew his birthday was Monday so that everyone who wanted to call would remember.

            Monday, March 12 would have been Chuck’s 53^rd birthday.  I expected to be sad, but I wasn’t prepared for angry. I read some really stupid words. His Facebook page became a source of rage for me. I spoke my mind to several people and unfriended more than I know.  I also decided that it was time to share my feelings.  I published a blog with the 25/26/27 things that shouldn’t be said along with my response to the 25/26/27 things that shouldn’t be said. 

            By Tuesday, I was aching to return to school.  I got busy on the yearbook and watched some really different shows on the television.

            Today is the first Easter without my Honey.  I have no joy. Instead of celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus as our Savior, I question the existence of God.  Gone is my deep faith and belief in a loving God.  In its place I have doubt, anger, and disbelief that seems to grow with every first.