This is the week

Three years ago today John and I left for our last trip together. We went to New York to visit my aunt and uncle and cousins.
I came home alone.
Four days later, in the early morning hours of that Monday, the day we were to come home, I awoke to find John gone, passed away.
I will never in my life as long as I live forget what that looked like and what that felt like.
The enormity of the realization that he was no longer here with me - there are no words.
So today starts our countdown to that anniversary.
Three years ago this date was the start of that trip.
Three years ago this day was when John left.
And all week I will be remembering.
There were some good times that trip. I am so grateful. We were with family who loved us and we were so happy.

The evolution of grief

A dear friend of mine has recently lost her son. His death was sudden and unexpected.
It's only been amonth and she is struggling as you would expect. Yet, she felt the need to apologize for her inability to "recover". And she wondered why her son, why a young man who was so kind, so loving?
This is what I wrote to her based on what I have learned so far.

I wish I had magic words.

I don't.

If I did I would tell them to myself too.

I have spent the last 3 days crying. Not constantly. Probably not as intently as you are right now but still crying.

I can't tell you it gets better.

It doesn't.

I can tell you that it gets a little less raw, a little more bearable.

But I would not use the word better.

I remember those days you describe - of just getting out of bed, turning around and realizing it was night and wondering where did the day go.

Everyone asked what could they do and there was nothing they could do. The only thing I wanted was to have John back and no one could do that for me.

I went from 134 pounds to 119 pounds in a matter of weeks.

John and I always told each other how much we loved each other, how much we loved our life together.

We had survived step life, cancer, heart troubles, family crises, moving, financial struggles, school.....we thought we had finally reached a point where we could relax and just be and then in an instant it was all gone.

You don't recover from that.

And I felt the same way. John was a good person. Why did it have to be him?

Our marriage was the best. Why did it have to end?

So I am not going to lie to you and tell you it's going to get better. I can't say that.

All I can say is that you do the best you can with every day that you continue to wake up.

I am still struggling with a reason for me still being here without John.

I pray for an answer and trust/hope it will show up.

I am grateful that this time around I am the one who is sad and not John. I wouldn't want him to feel this way.

If it had to be either of us, I'm glad it's me.

I do little things in his memory that helps someone else.

I try to make John's death be a blessing in any way I can. Even for me.

I know I am a more spiritually strong person now than I was before.

That's something.

I express my feelings more.

I try not to sweat the small stuff knowing in the end it's all small stuff.

I appreciate the moment more - I am still working on this. But knowing how precious and fleeting life can be has definitely caught my attention.

I am learning to meditate.

I am learning how I can be in communication with John in the best way we can. I know he is not gone. I know he is still with me.

I look at this as the next phase in our marriage.

When you are ready maybe you can feel this way too.

Right now your grief is too new and the fact that you can get up, eat anything, communicate, write to us, breathe, is an accomplishment.

Grief is a physical, emotional, spiritual experience.

It's work, hard work.

And it is ongoing.

It changes, it evolves, it grows - but it doesn't go away.

It is part of you.

The task is to make it an ally, not an enemy.

In time you will feel like it won't destroy you.

But it is going to take time.

And it will come in waves.

I remember those middle of the night times. I felt like my insides were dissolving. I wanted to die. I prayed for death and it didn't come and I was disappointed to say the least.

I had no idea how I was going to continue.

Some things will trigger intense times.

Right now I am coming up on John's 3 year anniversary and it's hard.

Losing the girls has made it worse. Losing John's Mom was a set back and I went back into therapy.

Go easy on yourself. Have no expectations on yourself right now.

You are doing all you can.

We are here.

Talk to us.

We love you.

We will always love you.

Mother's Day

Another day that I can't wait to be over.
John and I have no children.
At least not two-legged ones.
But John and I reveled in our fur-family and he always made a fuss on Mother's Day - getting me cards from the "kids" and him, and flowers, and dinner out.
It was always a fun day.
After he left, I had John's Mom to dote on and that was good.
And I still had our "kids" to keep me company, especially Toby and Jessie.
But this is my first Mother's Day without John's Mom and the girls are gone now too.
A sad day.

Mother's Day - 2010

I ordered Toby's urn today

This makes the 7th urn I have had to get since 2008.
This is getting old.

In 18 days

I had a meltdown in the car today while driving home.
That seems to be happening a lot lately and is probably because it will be John's anniversary in 18 days.
I cried yesterday during Mass when it was time to hold hands and recite the Our Father. It reminded me of all the times John and I did that together and how at the end he would hug me and say "I love you." I wonder if the man holding my hand yesterday thought it was strange to see the woman next to him with tears streaming down her cheeks.
I was on my way to the bank and had to turn around and go back home - the pains in my stomach were so bad I knew I wouldn't make it through the time it would take to make the deposit. The deposit can wait until tomorrow. My sorrow couldn't.
How is it almost three years already?

My empty house, my sad heart

This no longer feels like a home. I have been redecorating and playing with the house in the hopes of making it feel better but it's just a mirage. With John gone and now the dogs it is now a house and not a home.
After John passed it felt strange to be out, especially in the evening, and know that no one waited for me or looked forward to my homecoming.
But at least I had the dogs. And as anyone who has had dogs knows, there is something special about a dog's greeting when you walk in the door.
And I had a routine. I had to be home at a certain time because the girls needed to be walked and fed.
Then Jessie passed and the greeting was less.
But there was still Toby and despite her illness, she was always glad to see me.
And her needs kept me focused and made me feel like I had a purpose.
Now, the girls are no longer here and there is no rhyme or reason to my comings and goings. I walk in the door and no one greets me.
No tails wag at my entrance.
No dogs need to be walked or fed.
There are no sounds in the house of heavy dog pads or barking at the Fed Ex man.
This house has turned into a shell and I can't stand it.
For the first time since John passed, it doesn't matter when I come and go.
Toby and Jessie helped to bridge that emptiness for me after losing John.
But there is no one to help me mourn them.
I need my best friend so much and he's not here to hug me and hold me and be sad with me.
I have never wanted to turn back time so much as I have these last almost three years.

35 months today

Today marks 35 months since John left. I woke up during the night and had a terrible time falling back to sleep. And then I realized it was the monthly anniversary of when John passed. So I guess my heart knew what my brain had trouble remembering at first.
And then to make matters worse, I had to put our dog Toby down today. Toby was really John's dog. He loved both of his girls but he was especially fond of Toby. He was so proud of her intelligence and sensitivity. And she loved him so much.
I had to actually talk John into getting a second dog. But we knew Jessie needed a friend so we searched until we found just the right one. John always said he wanted a "scruffy" dog and he got that in Toby. But she turned into a beauty and she loved John so much. He called her a "kid in a dog suit" because he felt she was so smart. She understood everything John told her. They had a special bond.
So I picture them together now - John and Toby and Jessie.

Take care of our babies, John, until I get there too. Then we will be all together again. I can't wait.