Archive for April 2011


26 April, 2011

Today, in the widow community, we learned of a loss of one of our own. A loss through suicide.

I don’t know the person. I don’t know her circumstance. I don’t know much of anything about the situation.

I do know that I’ve had a heavy heart today, thinking about her. Thinking about her children without both parents.

This path is not an easy one and we can easily despair on a minute by minute basis. Questions, I’m sure, surround her death. Were there signs? Did someone see this coming? Did she have enough support around her?

I don’t know.

Today, I’ve been remembering those first few months. I remember throwing things. Screaming, crying myself to sleep, crying waking up. Wondering how in the hell does my heart keep beating. I remember feeling abandoned by everyone and everything.

I remember though, the simple acts, the simple words, the people that fought to do everything they could without knowing what they could do.

And I always knew that no matter how bleak, how beaten, how heartbroken, how utterly tired I was – I had made it through one day and I could make it through more.

This though, is a reminder, that some need an extra hand in ways that I didn’t. It is a reminder to be out there – put yourself out there for those you love. For your friends and your family. To be there for all of them as much as you can. Listen. Love.

And hope that this doesn’t happen again.



22 April, 2011

My hands are shaking a little.

I just took a hammer to a wall and part of the ceiling to ‘pre-demo’ part of my kitchen. To find out what we are dealing with. To find out if the architectural plans can go ahead as drawn.

I now have a big gaping hole in part of the wall and ceiling.

And I’m crying.

And I’m not sure why.

Maybe it’s because I’ve bottled up so much lately. Maybe it’s because yesterday was the 2oth of the month and I had a day with my Mom, just the two of us – which hasn’t happened since the 20th of September. The day Doug died. Maybe it’s just…

Well, I’m not sure.

I think you get to a certain point on this road of widowhood where you get very used to putting on a ‘good face’ for everyone else. You get to a certain point where things just move forward and you try as best as you can. You hold back your emotions while being quite vulnerable all at the same time. You develop an art to the craft of widowhood.

Then the demolition starts.

But it doesn’t start with you. It starts with a wall in your house. Not even a wall that holds any memories of the two of you. The hammer hits. The wall starts to come down. Your hands start shaking. You wonder where the hell are the tears coming from. There must be dust in your eyes. You keep at it. Hammering. Shaking. Crying.

Then you look down. And he is staring up at you from a picture left on a desk in front of you.

You wish he was there. With his music, his smile, his laughter, his arguing on how to best demo the wall that lasts over an hour.

You wish he had been there just a few weeks ago to celebrate his birthday.

Then realization creeps in. Realization that you’ve been moving forward full force for way too long. You’ve been doing too many things to take away the ‘thinking’. You’ve been hiding it all. Suppressing it all.

And you pick up the hammer again.

Realizing that this is part of it all. Part of learning to live a dual life. To chip away at what has been protecting you for a long time, eventually taking a hammer to it one day and opening up the holes that will always be a part of the structure of you.

Then you set the hammer down.

You start to rebuild.

But everything that is underneath is interwoven with and built from what has come before.

Scraps of paper

7 April, 2011

There is so much to do and I’m not sure where to start. I’m waiting on other people at this moment in order to start several projects – on the home front and on the foundation front. I don’t like waiting. Mainly because if I don’t have to wait my focus is on certain things versus waiting and looking around…

Looking at all of the things I really need to do here at home. For me.

Like go through all of our stuff. Start getting rid of the little scraps of paper I still have tucked in the same drawer he last put them in. Or, taking his clothes down from my closet. It’s an accumulation of things all around – the old mixed in with the new – but the old is filled with our stuff that hasn’t been touched or moved in a year and a half. So many things.

And for some reason, those things, scraps of paper, are impossible to get rid of.

Recently, I told a friend that I no longer wanted to be treated as a widow. I said this because so many people don’t do or do certain things because I am a widow. At times I just want to scream that I am still alive. That I am the one who was left here. I am the one who was left to try and survive all of this. I am the one who has been trying my best to pick up the pieces and to fill a gaping hole that will never be completely filled. I am the one who is trying to live life. I don’t want to shrink away and constantly be ‘that person’. I want to be a part of life. No matter how hard it is – and how raw – I want to feel again. I want to feel happiness and not this constant friend of grief.

It’s what he would have wanted. It’s what he wants.

But it is hard. For all involved.

So, again, I come back to myself. Focus on myself and my son. Start packing those tiny scraps of paper, understanding that it is what is in our hearts and our heads that is unending – those are the memories. That is the love.

It’s still fucking hard.


The next day

3 April, 2011

My Darling,

Your birthday this year was a huge deal. We always celebrated birthdays in a pretty grand style but this one, topped them all.

Except for one thing.

You were not there with us.

Instead, there were over 100 people celebrating you and celebrating the foundation that I started because of you. It was an amazing night. Quite busy for me and I plan to go to Lidia’s for lunch this next week so that I can eat some of the food that was catered – but I didn’t get to eat that night.

But now it is the ‘day after’. After many months of emotions being put on hold in order to get through HeliExpo and the benefit – I feel them all crashing down on me. I miss you so much. I miss being a part of you and your life. I miss making plans with you, being held by you. Over the past couple of months, I have felt that I have started to come alive again. That I could hold you in my heart, cry from missing you but I could also start doing things for me and Liam. I was beginning to feel the happiness in the world again. But then I wonder if all of this wasn’t because I was so busy with so many things.

I think it is a bit of both.

It’s the roller coaster of widowhood. Of grief.

I feel I need to recharge the batteries again. I’m not quite sure how to do this. I feel that it is only my own words of encouragement – my own words to myself – that can help me. Although, I miss his words of encouragement. I need those. I want that person back in my life that I can completely depend on. I’m so tired of picking myself up again and again.

But that is what I will do.

And I’ll be fine.

I’ll play your song.

I love you.

Happy Birthday.

In this life and the next,