Sundays again

Feeling sad and empty tonight again but Chaz is doing his best to help me. John and I enjoyed our babies so much. John loved our furbabies as much as I did and he indulged me with them. He knew I went overboard a little when they were ill but he never complained. He just smiled when I had an ultrasound done on Charlotte. He went along when I researched options when Toby tore her ACL and I had a brace made for her. That turned out rather well actually and he was proud of me for that.
He loved our family. And I loved that part of him even more.
We all miss him so much.

 

23 Months today

This one bothers me. Soon it will be two years and I know people will think I should be OK now.
But I'm not.
And I am afraid I never will be.
I am some new version of me.
A version that goes around and gets things done and is responsible and functions. But the spark has gone out. There is a void inside that cannot be filled. No matter what I do, where I go, what I buy - nothing makes life worth living. Before, the simplest thing was fun. Everything was good. I was innately happy every single day. At the core of my being was the fact that I was married to John and he and I had a life together.  It didn't matter what we did. It could be eating sandwiches in front of the TV at night - it didn't matter. It was good. Our life was complete. We had each other and we loved each other completely. That's all we wanted.
Now it's gone. And it's never ever going to be again. The only thing I look forward to is being with John again in the next life.
Nothing else matters.
So today marks 23 months since John slipped away. But I'm 23 months closer to being with him again.

100 Weeks

I was wondering if this milestone would slip by me unnoticed. The idea of 100 weeks is hard but harder is the the fact that it's Sunday. Sundays are hard. They are lonely but they are also a sad reminder that Sunday was the last day of the week we spent together. Sunday night was when John slipped away as I slept. So whether it's 99 Sundays or 100 or one hundred and one Sundays, Sundays are always going to be a very sad day for me.
I recently bought a new Kris Kristofferson CD. Kris was always a favorite of John and me. We saw him live a few times and always loved his music. Kris wrote this song for his children but when I heard it for the first time, it made me think of John.

Lyrics:

Cool shadows fall through the moonlight
soft as the breeze through your hair
And the smile on your face while you’re sleepin’
Is the answer to anyone’s prayer
Fill your heart for the mornin’ tomorrow
‘cause you’ve still got a long way to grow
And the love that you’re dreamin’ will guide you
And live like a song in your soul

And Darlin, if we’re not together,
There’s one thing I want you to know
I’ll love you from here to forever
And be there wherever you go

There are so many feelin’s to follow
So many chances to take
So many ways you can stumble
Someday your heart’s gonna break

Darlin’ take all the time that you’re given
Be all you know you can be
And if you need a reason for livin’
Do it for love and for me

Cause Darlin, if we’re not together,
There’s one thing I want you to know
I’ll love you from here to forever
And be there wherever you go

I will love you from here to forever
And be there wherever you go.

After death communication

Last week I attended one day of the International Conference on After Death Communication. It was well attended and not by airy-fairy weirdos walking around in flowing garments wearing bangly jewelry. No, these were ordinary every day folks looking for answers.  The people I met were warm and loving and able to open their minds and believe that there is more to this life than what we can experience with our five senses. I was very impressed with what I saw and heard and I plan on attending the entire conference next year.
The recurrent theme I heard [and I have read this too in the mountains of books I have devoured on the subject since John has passed] is that those on the other side are alive and want to communicate with us if we but be open to it.
Thursday evening John Holland a medium gave a lecture and then did spontaneous readings for several people in the audience. It was awesome.
But something else that was told to us is that we don't need mediums to communicate. We can do this ourselves if we are still and hold love in our hearts and just wait for what comes to us. It may not be as earth-shaking as what a medium brings through but it is just as profound and meaningful.
I have experienced this myself. I know John has said Hello to me. One way is sparkles. Sparkles were something very special to me and John ever since our first date. It had something to do with St. Patrick's Day and I'm going to leave it at that. Suffice it to say that sparkles always made us look at each other and smile. On many occasions since John has passed on, I have seen sparkles. In odd places. In places sparkles had no plausible explanation for being.
On my bathroom counter.
On my keyboard.
On my steering wheel.
They just appear. It's usually just one. And when I go back later, it's gone. But it was there. I saw it. I know it's John saying Hi to me. That he is OK and he loves me.
Is it wishful thinking? Maybe. But I don't think so. Do I care if anyone else believes me or shares my belief? No. I know what I know and that's all that matters to me.

99 Weeks

I don't know why but for some reason this number of weeks feels like a milestone. Maybe because it's the last time I can say it's this many weeks since John passed that only has two digits in it. Silly maybe.
I also can't keep the counting song "99 bottles of beer on the wall" out of my head. If only the end result would be John would come back, I would sing all those bottles of beer away.

March 1993 - Our first trip to AZ

A new favorite picture

I've been scanning pictures into the computer again and adding them to my screensaver. This is from a picture taken in April 1991. I cropped John out and painted the background.
I love his smile.

Happy Birthday, John!

Today is John's birthday. He would have been 69 years old. This is a picture of the first birthday of his we ever celebrated together. He was 35 years old in this picture. We had our whole lives ahead of us.

John at his 50th Birthday party

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. I love you and miss you so much.

Happy Easter, Sweetheart!

We miss you.

John's clothes

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I have decided to have a memory quilt made from some of John's clothes. I have an appointment with the quilter tomorrow afternoon so this evening I washed the clothes I had picked out. A little while ago I transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, something I had done many times over the years.
That simple action - moving John's clothes from the washer to the dryer is a task I don't get to do any more. I remember when John started staying over my apartment when we were dating and he started to leave clothes at my place. How happy I was to be able to do his laundry. It was a simple thing, maybe even silly to some, but the act of having his clothes with me was so personal, so loving. It meant to me that we were a couple. That he trusted me with his clothes was symbolic of how he trusted me with his heart.  He later bought me a used washing machine so I would have one in the apartment instead of having to go to the laundromat. That to me was an act of love. I teased him about it but he knew I appreciated what he had done for me.
And now I wash these clothes of his for the last time. This too is an act of love. These clothes will go into a quilt that I can wrap myself up in when I need him close to me. It won't be the same thing for sure but it will be something. It will have to do for now until I am with him again.

Sundays are the hardest days

I have come to dread Sunday evenings. When I worked a Monday to Friday job, Sunday nights were sad because it meant the weekend was over and the work week was starting again. Then when I became self-employed and worked from home and John worked weekends, Sundays and Sunday evenings became just another day. Nothing special.
Now, I again dread Sunday evenings. Sundays seem to be especially lonesome - it's a family, stay at home day usually and I have no family here. Just me and the fur-kids.
And Sunday evenings remind me of losing John.  Our last evening together was Sunday evening.  That particular Sunday we were looking forward to Monday. Even though we had had a nice weekend visiting family in New York we were looking forward to going home and being with our babies. That was one of the last things we said to each other.
Then in a blink, John was gone. Monday came and I was alone.
So now Sundays will always remind me of that.
I watched some home videos today and it was nice to be able to hear John's voice, listen to his laugh. But it made me terribly sad too. I wonder if it always will.
I wonder if Sundays will always make me think of how he's no longer here. We had many happy Sundays. Maybe some day that will be what I remember.