Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Thank you, Mom and John

Today marks 7 months since John's Mom passed. It seems longer, maybe because she was sick for so long and not really alert the past few months of her life.
I am so grateful to her and for more than just the way she has taken care of me financially. She gave me so much. She allowed me to be a daughter, something I have never really experienced fully.
She gave me self-confidence. Taking care of her in all the ways I needed to helped me learn that I can do things I didn't think I could.
And she gave me a much-needed distraction and a reason to keep going after John passed. I knew I had to be here for her because if I wasn't, she would suffer. And there was no way I was going to let that happen.
She told me she would be my mother and she was.
And I am grateful and thankful to John, too for entrusting her to me. He knew I wouldn't let him down.
I love you both and miss you.

John and his Mom April 2010

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Today is the 24th again

Today marks three years and two months - not a special anniversary by any means except it's another month that John is gone.
Sometimes I just sit and think about him not being here and I still can't believe it. How can someone just be gone? How can someone so full of life, whose smile lit up the room, whose laugh made my heart sing with pleasure, who made my world whole and made me feel so loved, so secure - just be gone?
Here one minute.
Gone the next.
It is something I struggle with every day.
And yet I can still think about John. I can still remember him. I can remember our life and know in my heart of hearts that he still loves me. That we will be together again.
And when I think about how I know he felt - no, he feels about me my heart swells with the knowledge that he is still here. He still cares. He still loves me.
Our love does not die.
It won't.
So he may be gone three years and two months today but that means I am three years and two months closer to being with him again.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Loss of hope

I have reached that “what’s the point” stage of grief and I find it hard to move past this. 
It’s almost as if a part of my mind/heart thought this would be over. That somehow John would be back. Now that I have reached the three year mark, I know this loss is true and not going to change. 
And even though I know and feel that John is still with me in the only way he can be right now, it’s not enough and it doesn’t change the day to day constant feeling of loss. The future just yawns out in front of me and I see and feel nothing of interest. 
I have tried. 
I really think I have given it a good try but there is no spark. 
I go through the motions. I get things done. I have even done things that look future-oriented. I’m taking classes, I got a new puppy. I meet friends for meals. I visit family back East. I go to movies and I shop. 
But in the end there is no true feeling of inner deep happiness. That all ended when John passed. When John was here anything and everything was wonderful – even enjoying the simple act of watching the cats play. That feeling of “us” was all I needed. Now I am just me and it’s not enough.
My therapist wants me to get out and develop a new network of friends. My heart just isn't in it.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

A dream is worth so much

I dreamt about John last night. Most of it was just a dream. Some of it was obviously just a dream with dream logic.
But throughout all of it was the feeling of everything being all right. That feeling of peace of just being with John.
Everything felt right again.
And then there was one point when I was actually able to touch and feel him. I know that part wasn't a dream. That was a visit.
Yesterday I had asked John for a sign, any sign. Just something to let me know he was still with me.
And then early this morning I got the most wonderful gift.
I woke up feeling good, happy, at peace. For the first time in a long time. And that feeling has stayed with me.
So I know the message is what I was hoping.
John is still here. He will always be here. He still loves me and will always love me.
Everything is all right. Everything is as it should be.
I know I will go back to feeling bad at times but I will come back to this dream and remember this good feeling too.
Thank you, John. I love you so much.

Monday, July 15, 2013

People who don't know what they are talking about should just shut up

I went to see my cardiologist today. I have known this gentleman for quite some time. He treated John and me for years. He also worked with John and admired him a great deal.
For that I am grateful.
But I am not grateful for feeling like I have to defend how I feel every time I see him.
He criticized me [in a medically concerned way] for still feeling sad.
As if there is some time limit on how I should feel.
Telling me I should not be wasting my life. That I should at some point be receptive to having another "companion".
He quoted a letter to me that Abraham Lincoln wrote to the daughter of a soldier killed in battle in which Lincoln told the little girl that she should not believe that she will never be happy again.
Excuse me?
How does that compare with losing my soul mate? The love of my life?
The man with whom I planned on growing old with? The man I loved beyond all measure? Who loved me the same way? That I miss with every cell of my being every single day?
Are you f-ing kidding me?
I am so sick and tired of people who think they know it all.
Yes, I know he meant well and he is thinking of the quality of the rest of my life but how about starting with at least acknowledging that I am going through a tough time. That I have had to add other tough times on top of it [losing John's Mom, losing my girls]?
Then maybe we can talk.
Don't go right to telling me how I am wrong to still be sad.
All that does is tell me I can no longer be honest with you.
From now on I will paste a silly smile on my face and lie, lie, lie.
Yes, everything is fine. I'm feeling very good, thank you.
I'm even dating again.
Everything is just peachy. Couldn't be better.

All of them.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

John's car

I am donating John's car to the Arizona Humane Society. It will be auctioned off and the proceeds given to the animals. I know John will be happy with this but it's hard to let his car go.
They came for it this morning.
The paperwork was ready.
I had emptied out the car over the weekend and I took some pictures of it.
I knew this was going to bother me but I am a little surprised by how much.
It's going to be so strange to not see it there in the garage.
I think on some level I was able to fool my heart by seeing it there. I could pretend John was still here because his car was in the garage.And I could sit in the place he sat and drive his car and feel closer to him.
Now I have no cars that he ever drove.
John and our dog Willie in John's MG

John and his Mercedes coupe
Cars and John were synonymous. He always had a car he was working on so he always had more than one car around all the time, one he was driving and one he was playing with. And then of course there would be the car that I drove. Sometimes that would be an antique too like the old Mercedes sedan he bought me one year.
Our first date was in an old Plymouth 1939 that he was restoring that he lovingly called Big Mother. When I met John he was driving an antique Austin Healy. During our life together he bought and restored and sold many antique cars. They were his passion.
Now for the first time since 1980 there will be one car, just mine.
I remember teasing John about this car when he bought it because it was so old and not the prettiest. I wanted him to get something nicer.
He said it was serviceable for work and that's all he wanted. And it was a good car, a Toyota.
He also said it was probably the last car he was ever going to buy for himself.
I laughed at him and said that was ridiculous, that it was unreal to believe that in the next 20 years or so he was never going to get another car.
How did he know?
I am so sad and heartbroken.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

The weekends are hard

The weekends are hard and Sundays are the worst.
Maybe because John left this earth on a Sunday. Maybe because it's more of a family day and I feel his absence the most on this day.
In any case. Sundays are very hard.
And I have been feeling John's absence a lot lately. It's almost like when he first passed.
The crying.
The feeling of the big hole in my heart.
The agony of knowing he is no longer here, that I can't talk to him, touch him, see him, hear his voice, hear his laugh, see his smile.
I can't see that sparkle in his eye when he sees me, knowing how happy he is that we are together.
I can't reach for him in the night and snuggle.
The finality of all that being gone is just too much.
The pain is physical.
How does anyone get through this?

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Continuing waves of grief

I am missing John so much right now. For some reason it is really hitting me these last few days. The pain has come back as if it just happened. I keep thinking this nightmare is going to end, that it’s not real, but it won’t end, and it is real.
This pain is awful.
The crying is reminiscent of when John first passed.
I have never felt so lost and alone.
I have no idea how people get through this.