Archive for March 2010

Fumes

28 March, 2010

I’m wondering when I’ll break again. As if I have any pieces to break anymore.

Today I attended a memorial for a close friend’s mother. Tomorrow is the funeral. Her mom was in her early 50’s. Another friend of mine lost his dad a couple of months ago. And another lost his dad. Another friend of mine lost her sister-in-law. I thought these things were supposed to happen when we were older. Okay – maybe grandparents or the ‘elders’ but not our parents, brothers, sisters, wives or husbands. Not when we are smack in our 30’s .

I wasn’t quite sure how I would be today. I was pretty teary all morning. I stopped to grab something to eat before I got to the funeral home. I stick started shaking when I walked in and only stopped once I reached my friend to just hold her.

I’m going to the funeral tomorrow morning and I have an job interview tomorrow night…then I am off to see my mother-in-law the next day and it is Doug’s birthday Thursday. Then down south to see some other family for the Easter weekend.

And I hung up clothes and unpacked boxes today as well. I couldn’t pack Doug’s clothes away so they are hanging in the closet next to mine. His shoes are sitting next to my shoes. I just can’t do it. Not today.

I’m running on fumes and I could really use one of Doug’s hugs and reassuring kisses. His presence. I really need him.

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Scream

26 March, 2010

A few days ago it had been a difficult morning with LiDo. Don’t get me wrong – he is not a difficult child by any means but when you are around each other 24/7 with only one of you communicating in actual English…nerves begin to get raw by both parties involved. We were just having a bad morning. He hardly touched his lunch and I was exhausted and decided that if he wasn’t going to eat then he was going for his nap. He was not in agreement. I laid him in his bed and he cried for a bit. I went downstairs and just sat in a dark living room, curtains drawn and just stared at the floor. He started screaming. I started screaming.

I started screaming and pounding the pillows on the couch.

After hitting the pillows a couple of times I stopped because I thought that I shouldn’t be doing that.

Then I hit them again. And again. And again.

Then I felt all the blood rushing to my arms. Oxygen coursing through my veins.

For the first time in six months I felt something. Even if it was just the overexertion of using my arms in a manner I’m not accustomed to.

I also screamed at Doug.

Screamed at him for leaving me.

Screamed at him for not coming back from that flight.

Screamed at him for telling me that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Screamed at him for not keeping his promise.

Screamed at him for leaving me as a single mom.

Screamed at him for making me do this on my own.

Screamed at him for making me feel this pain.

Screamed at him for loving me.

Screamed at him.

Screamed.

This was the first time in six months that I got mad at our situation – got mad at Doug. I’ve tried putting on a good front. I know that people look at me and thing that I’m doing fine. That I am still my old self. I feel like I have been doing this in part because if I am any other way people start to feel uncomfortable around me. I also do it in part because I still have elements of me that will never change. And I’ve never been one to lie down and give up.

Even during some of the darkest moments that hit me about 3 – 4 months out…I still tried. I wasn’t good at it. But I tried. But mostly I just laid on the couch and watched t.v. and let my body catch sickness after sickness. And cried. And didn’t take showers. Drank too much coffee and hardly ate anything. I barely got up. LiDo had food. His diaper got changed. He played. I slept.

But I never screamed. I never screamed at Doug.

Until yesterday.

Writing the Future

25 March, 2010

It seems that for so long we were always planning for the future.  I used to obsess about it – it was my thing. Doug was better at living in the moment than I was and I think this is definitely one of the things he taught me. My mind has been wrapped up in how to plan for the future while living in today when both are equally difficult right now. I try and be better at living in the moment and I think that is something that has taken a dramatic turn…I don’t look at it as “I can do this tomorrow”, I look at it as “why not do it today”. At the same time though I feel that I am putting constraints on myself due to ‘what is expected’…finding a job, living a ‘normal’ life. Not necessarily what is expected of me by others but what I expect of myself. The norm has always been living a ‘normal’ life. Having a job, providing for my family. I still want to provide for my family which is unfortunately minus one now. I want LiDo to have the life he would have had if things were the same with Doug here. I want us to do the things that we would have done anyway. But part of me says that this isn’t good enough. I recently read a blog of a widower who lost his wife within hours after she gave birth. His daughter is now 2. He wrote (and I’m paraphrasing) that at first his perspective was to show her all the things she would have seen if if things had turned out differently. His perspective changed months later to wanting to show his daughter more than she would have ever seen if things had turned out as expected. http://www.mattlogelin.com

I needed to read this tonight. It got me to thinking of adopting the same perspective. That this is the perspective that has been hidden behind clouds and fog and that yes this makes sense. This is what I’d like to do as well. I’ve been talking about traveling the states more this spring and summer. I think that I may do it.

Trying to do only the things that are expected or do the things that we would have normally done is almost like continuing to live the life that I had, try to stay the same person that I was. My life is no longer the one I had. I am no longer the person that I was.  Everything else has been rewritten for me – why not write a bit of my own material?

We’ll see.

It is still hard to just move forward and not live the life we had or live the future that we thought we would have. I feel like if I turn from this I am leaving him behind. I know though that I must find out what our new future is and not get stuck in the muck so to speak and become paralyzed. I have to keep moving.

Javagirl

23 March, 2010

I was thinking about changing the title of my blog. I erased it. Then I put it back as is.

I think I will leave it as Javagirl for the time being. It is what this blog started as…before we became parents….before I became a widow. I’m still here somewhere. I am not in the same form as I was. I have many new facets to me. I’m sure I will learn that I have changed more than I can tell right now. For now though I’ll let this little blog keeps it’s original name. Because even after losing the love of your life…you still need java. Maybe even more of it….

Slide

23 March, 2010

Today was warm. Very warm. Although it didn’t melt all the snow in the backyard…

LiDo ended up falling asleep in the car on the way home from visiting a couple of daycares. After trying to get him to eat some lunch and not succeeding to a certain degree I put him to bed to see if he would take more than a car nap…it wasn’t to be. So I packed him into the stroller and we headed down to the park near our house. We were the only ones there which was nice. He had the entire jungle gym to himself and boy was he all over the thing. We had been to this park when we first moved in but LiDo was still a bit unstable on his feet so I was constantly running after him and climbing up to rescue him from certain falls (by the way they need to make some of these things a little more adult friendly). Today however, he was climbing up the steps, walking across the bouncy bridge and the one thing I was so proud of him doing…he went down the slide by himself. No fear. Just sat down and went. And it was the big kid slide not the little one…

And then WHACK. Grief just swept over me, through me, around me. It was you who took him down his first slide. A week before you died. I look at things like this and think that you were the one who taught him how to go down a slide and now he is doing it by himself and then I think about all the things that you are not here to teach him to do. I just try and hold on to the things that he did learn from you and remember those times to tell him that it was you who taught him that…I just wish those times wouldn’t run out so soon.

On the other hand there are thousands of things that he will learn from you by hearing stories from me.

Just lately I’ve started adding to his bedtime routine. He understands absolutely everything that you say to him so I thought it would be good to start a bedtime tradition of telling you what we did that day. We already ‘kiss Daddy’ – I have a picture of you in his room that he kisses good night and then Mommy gets a kiss too. So the past couple of nights we have been telling you about our day. I just want him to always know that it is okay to talk to you and talk about you. So I hope you are listening.

My bedtime routine is still the same as always. I turn to your side of the bed and tell you that I love you. I lay towards where you used to lay and cry. The crying part is new and the fact that you are not there is also new…I hope you hear me too.

A step without

22 March, 2010

I’m going to a beer tasting dinner this week and instead of having my Mom watch LiDo I have a babysitter.

I’ve never had a babysitter watch LiDo. We’ve never had a babysitter watch LiDo…Plus Doug was always better at sizing people up. Especially when it came to daycare people. Or people for that matter. He had a gift. Now I am at this alone without this gift. I know that it will be fine and the girl seems really nice and was recommended. Plus another couple may leave their kids at my house as well for the evening as we are all going to the same dinner. So having playmates may be fun for all…

It is very strange to do things like this. To try and do them on my own. The things that I ‘took care of’ I don’t have a problem with doing now because I’ve always done them. Well, maybe not all…I was the one who always looked ahead and planned and that doesn’t come too easy these days. But most of what I took care of I don’t have problems doing. It’s the things like hiring a babysitter for an evening out that are hard decisions to make. Because it wouldn’t have just been a phone call to talk with the girl and see if she was available and that was the end of it. It would have been us talking about actually going out together for an evening out and that we were both nervous to leave him with someone new. It would be the mild anticipation and high anxiety that we would share together. It would be given each other reassurance that everything would be fine while seeing in each others eyes the same worry, the shared worry.

The unspoken or hardly spoken is missed. I miss it the moment I wake up and throughout the day. I miss being neurotic and having someone love that fact.

I’m all over the place with this entry so forgive me…

Today was a good day for the most part. I am thinking about remodeling my kitchen and had an architect come by to talk. I feel sorry for anyone that needs to talk to me about details of what I want right now. I was all over the place but he did well and kept me on track. I feel like I need to have disclaimer to hand to them prior to speaking with me. I also need to have directions for them on how to handle me and what I need for them to do…it would go something like this:

Please excuse the mess that I call my home. I am lucky that I got out of bed…dressed, let alone make sure my kid is in something other than footed pj’s and was fed prior to your arrival. The fact that I have candles burning at 10 o’clock in the morning should give you a clue as to the state of my house as quite possibly my mind. I lost my husband exactly 6 months and 2 days ago. I have relocated back to my ‘home town’ 2000 miles away from the life I have led as a family with my husband over the past three years. I live in a house that he does not know surrounded by things that are familiar and those that are not. If I seem flighty it is because I am. I won’t argue this point. Prior to my husband’s death I could never really get to the point quickly and I definitely have lost all ability to remotely get to a point now. If I do have ideas, well, lets just say that they are probably going to be all over the place. I have a hard time focusing everything that I am thinking. This is mainly due to the fact that most people tell me that I shouldn’t make any major decisions until I am a year out and I have tended to ignore these people and do what I feel needs to be done or that I can do. This does however, make me second guess everything and take my time with EVERY FUCKING DECISION because I do not want to make a huge mistake and have those same people say ‘I told you so’. My husband is probably laughing at the fact that his death has made me take my slow ass time making decisions because he was always the one to do this and it drove me insane at times – most of the time. If I tell you that I want something done and it makes absolutely no sense at all – tell me. Don’t do it and make me come back to you and say “what the fuck?” Just tell me right up front that you don’t think putting a jacuzzi tub in the kitchen is such a great idea. I won’t mind. I may argue with you or try to make a point but if you truly really know that it would be a big mistake keep telling me that it would be a mistake. I am grateful that I can have you in here discussing the work that needs to be done but quite honestly if my husband were alive I would not need you. We would be doing this ourselves. We would hire out certain things but the blood, sweat and tears that make up a renovation would be all ours. Not a crew of men. So please understand that I am not an idiot, that you can not pass one over on me and if you try I will take you by the balls and throw you out of my house. I look forward to working with you on this project.

Do you think something like this would work? I may just do it.

The guy today was really nice and we came up with some good ideas and I felt very comfortable with him. LiDo love him because he let him have his big flashlight and let him take his pen and write all over his notebook…poor guy. LiDo just climbed right into his lap and was his best friend. He followed him all over and kept wanting him to pick him up. It was funny. The guy seemed comfortable with it so that was good. I hope he was. He’ll probably charge me for it though….

This is why today was a good day. A stranger was nice to my kid and made him feel comfortable. I’m glad.

My sweet little boy

20 March, 2010

Dearest LiDo,

You are officially 18 months old. A year and a half…and you think you are at least 3! It has been interesting to watch you this month. I took you out of daycare because it wasn’t working out with them so you have been home with me. I know you have enjoyed it but I can see that you want to be around other kids and play as much as you can. This was especially apparent at the St. Pat’s party we had at the house. I saw you only during the parade, otherwise you were off playing and screaming and running. A very happy child indeed.

We took a big step this month. Moved you to a toddler bed. I knew it was coming as you were not happy at all when I would lay you down in your crib. You would refuse to sleep or cry your eyes out for far too long and I just knew that this was the step that you wanted. It was hard for me to do because it was just one of those times where I ached for your Dad to be here. It was his job to take the crib down and get it set up for you to move to a toddler bed…I didn’t want it to be mine.  However, these moments are almost daily and I just have to believe that he is watching us and smiling at these milestones.

I spent the afternoon rearranging your room and taking the crib front apart and making it into a toddler bed. It was easier than I thought it would be…and after getting it set up along with putting up the border that hung in your old room and rearranging furniture…I let you come take a look at it all.  You were so proud! You were excited. You were crazy drunk on happiness. You tried climbing in and with a little boost you made it into your new bed. And you beamed. You got in and out and when I put a little step in front of the bed you climbed in and out faster and had no hesitation. You stood up on the step and back down and waited for your Nanna and I to clap and tell you how proud we were. You climbed into bed and sat there with your back so straight and just smiled – forcing those Daddy dimples out. You ran around the room screaming and laughing. You showed me life.

You have also been bound and determined to walk up the stairs just like any older child or adult would. You reach up to the banister and grip the tips of your figures onto it and just start going…and with a little help from the other side holding my hand…you make it all the way up. This has been going on for the past couple of months and tonight – well – I think you grew an inch over the past couple of days because you grabbed onto the banister and you did it by yourself.

That is the thing with you kid. It doesn’t take you long to just do it yourself. When we were in Florida and driving around the golf cart you got to the point very quickly where you did not want my hand on you or my arm around you keeping you ‘in’ the cart. You wanted to sit there all grown up.  I worry sometimes that I won’t get to keep my ‘little boy’ as this determination keeps going…but then you remind me at times like tonight that you still need me to curl up next to and rock you to sleep…

And that moment came at the right time. Today it is 6 months. Six months since your Dad died. I put you to bed early as you had sleepy eyes and you went to lay in your bed just fine. After about 10 minutes you were up and crying at your door. I went up to get you and put you back in bed and you went straight for the rocking chair and motioned that you wanted me to sit and rock you…Thank you for that. It was six months ago today that I was rocking you to sleep a few hours after finding out your Dad died…and that night as I was rocking you to sleep you kept your head turned towards the door and smiled. I’d like to think you saw him standing there, watching over us. I’d like to think that you still see him and he visits you in your dreams. I know he lives on in you as I see so much of him in you. I see both of us in you.

We went to Salina for the past couple of days to go to my great-uncle’s funeral. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about going but wanted to be there to see family that I hadn’t seen for a while. We didn’t end up sitting through the service as you were much to busy to sit still so we stayed mainly in the nursery to play. The words that were spoken by several of the immediate family members of my great-uncle to me, were very welcome. The sorrow and the love that they felt for me in the midst of their own grief was welcome as I was not sure if I would yet again be the elephant in the room so to speak…Talking with cousins was helpful as I could see a genuine love and concern from them as well. It was nice to have that family support and love from family who are not ‘immediate’…

My heart still aches every day as grief will always course through my veins. However, the love that your Dad had for me and for you will always course right along with it.  I read some things today that were much needed…as I have been searching for something…not sure what it is but I believe that some of these things are what I was searching for…On a discussion board someone had written that their grief counselor suggested that the weight of the grief and stillness that we feel may be our loved one telling us that they are still here with us. A reminder that love truly does not die and that they can feel and hear our thoughts and love for them still. I found comfort in this as it has been hard for me to ‘feel’ Doug around me. At times I know he is right here beside me and other times I fear that I moved to quickly and live in a house and a place that he does not know therefore would not be able to find us. I’m trying to be still more and face more now and hopefully that will diminish as I do not think that I have truly accepted his death. I do not believe it is real. I had a dream that it was all just a mistake and that he was in Mexico looking at jobs…and didn’t tell anyone. I made him go into HAI and tell them that he was sorry and that he just forgot to let anyone know.  It was so real. This dream felt more real than the life I’m leading right now.

I know I am in denial still to a certain extent. Hell, I took you to see a child psychologist who deals with grief but I can’t get myself to go talk to one…If that isn’t denial I don’t know what is…I do know that I am at the point that I am ready to talk with someone. I haven’t been because quite frankly – I don’t want it to be real. I’m fine existing in the space that I’m in right now. However, I know that I must start on this journey of healing in order to be the best Mother I can for you. And to be the best person I can for me. I just don’t want to because it means that it is real. That this isn’t a dream and that the fog will start lifting more and more.

And then I remember that love does not die. That in our wedding vows, on every card that we wrote, on every love letter written, in every ‘love’ conversation we had – we always said ‘in this life and the next’. We both believed that this was an undying love and a true love always – and so I remember that because he is not here with me physically that he is here and will continue to be here with me, with us, spiritually. It is my path, my journey, to fully realize this and accept this as this life’s reality. On this 6 month mark I guess I am okay with starting this path…to start feeling the pain in it’s truest form so that I can feel our love in it’s truest, undying form.

I told you tonight that the best things that your Dad ever gave me was himself, his love and you. And because of these things I am ready to give myself to this journey and to this path.

I love you my darling child.

In this life and the next,

Forever your Mom.

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