Archive for April 2013


11 April, 2013

It’s been a crazy month. 

I’m very surprised at my attitude and where my head is at the moment. I’ve definitely been struggling. 

Thankfully, I can feel a shift. At the end of March, the court case I’ve had filed for over two years was dismissed due to lack of evidence stating the crash was caused by something other than pilot error. This hit me harder than I thought it would. I knew for quite some time that this would not go any further. There was always half of me, knowing that it would be hard to prove anything other than pilot error and the other half always wanted to find something else wrong. I struggled with certain people and wanted to be able to put blame on a part, not a person. More importantly, I wanted to make sure that I left nothing unturned. I have been the voice of my dead husband for over 3 years. 

Now, all of that is silenced. It was like another death. It will be another date on the calendar that I remember. 

Thoughts of doubt have been slowly creeping into my head…whether I did enough, fought enough with my attorney, grilled him enough, if I did enough at the very beginning, if, if, if…

Then the thoughts of what if…What if I insisted that he not fly that morning and instead stayed home, sleeping in with us? What if he got stuck in traffic and couldn’t make it to the airport? What if someone else would have taken that helicopter instead? What if, what if, what if…

This is new. I’ve never allowed myself these thoughts. I’m glad I haven’t because they can be tortuous. Sure, every once in a while they have crept in but have quickly gone away because my thoughts were on just missing him. Longing for him. 

In a way, I am glad that there has been this end to the case. It has been brutal. Reliving the entire experience at any given moment in order to review what we had and what we didn’t have. Other people involved and dealing with them and their issues they brought to the table. Dealing with my own issues and feelings and trying to keep them in check.

The medical examiners documents have been sitting on my desk for over 3 years. I read them for the last time the other day. Now, they are in a box, packed away. The details are still in my mind though, albeit, tucked away and only seen when I really think about it. 

It is a strange feeling to suddenly realize how much you have been carrying around. I had been wondering for weeks why the tears were so easy to flow…I thought that part was over. 

The end of this…hurts. 

I had a dream the other night and I can not remember anything about it. I know I slept really well and as I was waking, I could feel his arms wrapped around me, giving me one of his hugs. God, his hugs. They were the best hugs in the entire world. That day, I had really been struggling with all of these emotions and feeling as if I was never going to be able to make another decision in my entire life. Then, I made a MAJOR decision on April 1st (his birthday) and I wasn’t rethinking it – I was just thinking that it was strange that I hadn’t told many people about it at all. I hadn’t announced to the world with excitement and enthusiasm what I had planned…very different. I knew I wasn’t regretting it but instead I’ve just let it be…something that I don’t do very often. Its as if I just wanted to watch, almost from the sidelines, how it played out. How my emotions played out. I knew I was making this decision right in the middle of a bit of a breakdown and I, well, it really is hard to describe. It is almost like needing to be two people at once. Part of me needed to fall to pieces and hurt and cry. The other part, well, it needed to prepare the next road that would be travelled. 

Now, the part that is broken down, ugly, tired, hurt, sad, grieving, confused – well – it’s standing right next to the part that is strong, beautiful, radiant, happy and sure. 

For three and a half years, these two parts have never really been introduced. They’ve been in a limbo. Unsure of where to meet up. Not able to touch and shake hands for a myriad of reasons. 

Now, I see them there, standing side by side. The part that is strong, beautiful, radiant, happy and sure takes the hand of the part broken down, ugly, tired, hurt, sad, grieving and confused. There’s another part there as well. This part, well, this part has always been there, connecting the two. It’s a new part though. One that was started when Doug died. It is the part that will always be there connecting the two forever. It is bigger and brighter than the other parts because it is made up of everything I was before, everything I am after, everything that has touched my life, other people’s lives, Doug’s love and life and death, the universe – it is beyond recognition in words.

As the two parts take hands, this third part holds both of them and they all take one step forward into the next chapter. 

The broken down part cries, the strong part feels excitement. There is balance between that will always connect the two.

Welcome to my Chapter 2.




1 April, 2013

My Darling,

I’m still a bit mad. My heart is still a little heavy and I do feel like I could break at any moment but intertwined within it all, I feel strength and I feel you around me.

As Lido has gotten older – and I do have to remind myself it has only been 3 years since your death – I have tried to start little traditions to celebrate your life and who you were. Frisbee golf on Thanksgiving and now, on your birthday, acts of kindness.

I decided to do this because really – I needed to get outside myself a bit. I didn’t want to go through the day wallowing in sadness and fear (which, by the way, I could so easily have done). The acts of kindness are not only selfless but selfish because I definitely benefited by spending the entire day giving to others.

I got to talk about you. I don’t get to do that often. Strangers asked for your name. They cried as I cried. I got some high fives and big toothy smiles. Lido asked even more questions about you and enjoyed being a part of it all. He liked it when someone asked about you.

Tonight, as we talked about the day, I told him that we needed to tell you happy birthday and to do that, we closed our eyes and imagined your face and that you were hugging us both and we say ‘happy birthday daddy, I love you’. I’m sure you heard his sweet little voice whisper that as he clenched his eyes closed and as I hugged him tight.

Happy Birthday my love.

In this life and the next.