Age lines

I had never cared if I got wrinkles or age lines, but was very pleased when I hadn't had many, and still looked fairly young. I think over all I still do... but I have more wrinkles around my eyes than ever... I think being a widow has aged me. You laugh, but why not? Even as a grown women being forced into this situation has made me have to be stronger than I am, for my kids, I have unfortunately planned 2 funerals now, and have apparently become quite good at (I wonder if the mortuary is hiring), and I haven't worn any kind of base or coverup makeup because I didn't want to have tear streaks I was continually fixing... and waterproof mascara has become my new best friend. But it has definitely aged me emotionally and mentally, why not physically as well?

I think also it has made me a little bitter, a little skeptical, paranoid, and scatterbrained. I now need to be both parents. He and I seemed to have a way of tag teaming... who was the strict one at the time, who was the fun one, etc. One of our children once put it perfect when we were watching a TV show, the world's strictest parents, we asked who was more strict him or I. They said I am more strict about more things, but he was strict on fewer things, but those fewer things he was MORE strict about them. I will need to step up my parenting game and figure how to balance it... I don't want him idolized, and me the new constant bad guy... however if that is the role I must play to continue raising this great kids, without their dad I will. But that is my huge worry. They are such GREAT kids, and a huge part of that is their father, how can I continue that?

Attempting to get back to Life

Today was the day we attempted to try to get back to some semblance of order at our house. The kids got up and went to school, and I went to work. Preschool went fine until C came in and gave me a huge hug... then I recalled the one dance class K ever took... it was with C. He had been getting really good at kickboxing, but it was before UFC, and his instructor had told him he should go take some classes from his wife to learn some grace... cause he could go far if he had some grace to his power. So We put him in a beginning class... he made it to one class, and when they got to jumping and C told the class, "someone is landing hard..." in a class of little girls and one big guy, I wonder who it could have been.

So then I made it back to work and was going great, thought this was a good distraction, then I glimpsed out the window and thought for a second I saw him... it reminded me of his last Saturday he had off work... He came to pick up the kids and got there a little early and just watched me teach for a while. After work he told me he had missed watching me, and how fun it was to see me teaching, how he hadn't watched in a while and was glad he had the chance. It made my day.

Then C came in for his class, wearing K's socks that went up to his crotch. I smiled at first, then just thought of how he loved his socks... there were two pair in particular that he always wanted washed to wear.

Around 6:30 I found my self glancing out the window, watching for him... since that was the time he usually came in to pick the kids and I up. I could always count on him being there ready for us... and he wasn't. It was even a little disappointing walking into preschool and not seeing him... since he was good at slipping in unseen.

In tap we only had a few minutes left, and I was going to teach a new step, when Someone asked for the "hoedown" I gave in, regretting right away that I had. We had learned it a couple years ago for Dance camp... so at many a family function we would all do the hoedown with the kids, K always joked how he would hear the music, and go to watch the kids, and find all of us grown women doing the Hannah Montana Hoedown. Then about a week before, he came from work and told me proudly how he had made a little girls day. Her and her mom had waited for a long time for their car to be done, K always had music playing from his ipod... which the kids made sure had some of their songs on to. He noticed the little girls tee shirt was Hannah Montana, and asked if she knew the Hoedown... she lit up. K promptly turned the ipod to the hoedown and in front of all his tech and the mother, did the hoedown with her.

There are so many memories of K, I just don't want to forget any of them, and I especially don't want his kids to forget either.This has been and continues to be my plea. If anyone has any memories of K PLEASE post them on one of the memorial sites, email or FB message me if you prefer it kept private, comment on here if something reminded you of something.

They say it gets easier over time, and I learned with my mom it does... and even now I can get through longer stretches of time... but the hard times, seem to get harder, the sad times seem sadder. As I tell people every time I am asked how we are doing, We are hanging in there... that is all we can hope for right now. AS for what we need, when I figure that out I will definitely tell you and ask. Rides to the various places I need to get my kids and get my kids home is the biggest right now, so if our children share an activity, please check with us if we need transportation. Thanks.

He Knew

The more I think about it, and comments people make to me, he knew. He knew he would be passing soon... I don't think he realized how soon, but he knew. I have mixed emotions about this realization... in some ways I think it is meant to be of some comfort to me... but instead it hurts worse. Hurts that he didn't try harder to repair his health, hurts that he didn't let me know of this little tidbit. Hurts that he is gone... hurts that his children are hurting...

I am tired of hearing that he isn't hurting anymore, that he is at peace. But I am selfish, and he left me and his kids hurting... and there is no way to be at peace with it... how can you be at piece with God taking a GREAT father of 4, and husband to someone as weak as me... He was my strength and I need him still...

That is the other thing I hate hearing, is that he is with us, he will always be here... NO HE IS NOT... he is not here, or I wouldn't be hurting so much.

He was so much more than anyone ever knew... people that only got a brief glimpse of him loved him instantly, he was the likable one in our marriage... He knew when I met him he would die young, I blew it off as how can anyone know that... but he did.

I have always loved tragic romance stories... a little morbid I know... but one of my favourites is City of Angels with Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage. He is a "fallen angel" and falls to Earth to be with her, and he gets one brief night together, then tragedy hits, she was hit by a car and killed. But the part I love, is when the former angels friend asks if it was worth it, would he do it again knowing how brief his time with her would be... and he said yes... even knowing how much it would hurt to lose her it was worth it for that one night... Often lately I have wondered this very thing, with as much hurt as I am feeling, was it worth it? Absolutely. If it hadn't been, it wouldn't hurt so much... right?

Ache

I have this constant ache, this longing that I need him. I awake in the night aching for him, I find myself aching when I am with other couples, I ache at the very thought of him... and nothing fixes it. Originally I thought this was in my head and it would just be something I have to learn to deal with, but I find it more and more physical.

I have finished reading the book, A GRIEF OBSERVED by C.S. Lewis, the first two chapters were hard... It was so exactly what I am feeling... I could only get through a paragraph at a time. Chapter one dealt with how he felt, his aching and longing for his love, that spite for others that are happy when your not, that guilt if you let yourself slip and are happy for a fleeting moment. I was told he was so brave for writing this... and when she discovered what I had written she got a tear in her eye... is it brave to put to paper your true emotions for everyone to see? Or is his writing, like mine, his way of coping, and realized many other could benefit from this.

I not never intended this blog to be overly seen, but as it became my vice for pen my feelings, raw and unedited, I decided to let the people I love see how I am coping with this, see how I am truly feeling. My younger daughter told me she read my blog... and I panicked. I am trying so hard to be strong for them, I did not want them to see me weak... but maybe they need to see how I am in agony over this as well.

In Chapter two, he talks about his wife, his love he lost. Worried about preserving the memory of her, worried about not getting all the memories right and losing that image of her... this made me lose it as well... and not so much for my benefit of his memory, but for my children. I want them to KNOW their father, I want them to remember all the great memories of, and I am so afraid that they will fade.

The third chapter was about his faith in God... I am not quite there yet... I am still so made at God and cursing him, yet I need to be certain my children don't see that, or how am I to raise them in a church by myself, with our beliefs? One of my children asked why God did this... the only answer I could give was this. "I don't know, I wondered why when he took my mom, and quit going because I was so mad at him... and now that he has taken my husband, I have to hope that what I have been taught and have taught you are true, and need to be sure to go to church, in the hope that I will see him again." Is that small chance of seeing him, the hope, enough to get me to church to raise my family in church?

As for the final chapter... I think it was a mere summary... I don't recall, as I mentioned I had not quite gotten to that point in my grieving to take much notice of the chapter. It will however be a companion of mine for a while, a reference to check where I am in my grief.

I know time will make this ache go away... but there will always now be a part of me missing. And it will take a lot of time before the guilt of being happy without him subsides. I think this is the fact I hate the most, because he would not have that... in fact this is where he should be holding me close and offering me great words of comfort... "You know I love you, and always will... I will be here watching over you and the kids. You need to be strong for them... I know you can do this"... or something like that (those were similar to what he said to me when I lost my mom)

Dreams

Dreams have always fascinated me, I think that is why the topic of my attempted first novel is dreams. However I have mixed emotions of mine lately.

I had my third biggest breakdown tonight. I came home to clean and get away from well meaning people... I need my reality check, that while everyone else's life goes on... mine can stop for a period... because in so many ways it has. I came home and another light bulb blew... and I could NOT undo the screw to replace it... HE always could, then I had to jump down to change it, HE always lifted me... I broke down and ran through the house screaming... sobbing... until I collapsed on the couch exhausted emotionally.

I ignored the phone calls and just slept, and I dreamt of him... it wasn't exactly him... but him. and as slightly grotesque as he was in this dream, I longed for him, and didn't want to wake up (he had awoken and climbed out of his casket before it was buried)If something jarred me awake I would will myself to go back to sleep just to get another glimpse of this copy of my husband.

I woke up physically aching and just long for him to hold me and make me better... I fill like a huge piece of me has been ripped away... and I long for it back.

I thought a week alone would be good, prepare myself for coping with life alone for my children... but with time I ache more and more, not less. Perhaps death is like a mountain, you have to peak before you can heal? But maybe it is me holding myself back from healing, I don't want to heal, he is my life, and now he is gone...

Void

There is this huge void in my life now and I am unable to fill it. In order to sleep in our bed I have had to leave all the laundry on his side so I don't fill so overwhelmed in the large empty bed.

I have never done well at being alone... and now I feel I am more alone than ever... even with the swarm of friends and family checking on me. It is my tendency to be independent when I need to... but I feel so alone when I am.

I am not one that can handle quiet. I like having some sort of background noise, but not lately. He ALWAYS had music playing, and it seems so unfair to be listening to it without him.

I ache without him, there is this part of me that is no longer there. It hurts worst when I finally get distracted or caught up in something else I am doing, and I mention him as casually as though he is still beside me,or even a mere phone call away.

Then I feel guilty for letting myself slip into such a comfortable situation that I could have forgotten his absence, and I know that is silly, but it is how I feel.

A Grief Observed

A good friend gave me this book and said it would help, I was able to get through the forward, and the introduction... noting comments that described how I am feeling. When I got to the first chapter of the book I got through the first page before I had to put it down because I was sobbing... It described what I am feeling... My worries, my pain, my concerns. I had to put the book down to compose myself before continuing... but once again I broke into sobs... As I was trying to calm myself down I realized I was simply trying to put into words how I was feeling. That is how I am dealing with this pain... through words. I don't pretend to be overly eloquent, but I have always loved the beauty of literature, and while K was the half with the broader vocabulary, there is something so calming to me in the written words expressing how one feels.

I have had comments on my blogs and on FB about how I need to keep up with the writing, and it is how I can cope. I can see why C.S. Lewis wrote this book... it was his way of coping... and in return, by publishing it, it has helped others.

K would read 3 to 4 books a week, from a wide range of topics and authors... although he never understood my love of the classics. I think it is because they took more time in describing their feelings on matters, rather than simply moving the plot along.

I hope perhaps someday I can help people heal through my writing, but until then I simply write to help me to cope. I have since calmed myself down, and will finish reading the book a little at a time... it is such a comfort to see someone deal with their loss in the same way as I do... through writing.