Posted tagged ‘death’

The Web

9 December, 2012

I sat in a parking lot of a church Saturday night and cried.

I cried for a life cut short. I cried for his fiance and his family. I cried for myself. I cried for him. I cried for Doug.

But the one thing I cried most about, the one thing I couldn’t catch my breath because of, was this overwhelming feeling of being exactly where I needed to be…and being incredibly thankful for what has happened in my life. The tragedy, the friendships, the professions, the conversations, the beliefs, the arguments, the fleeting thoughts, the circumstances, the laughter, the love, the hate, the peace, the lessons…all of it.

I cried because as I was talking to the Mother of this pilot, she asked me “what does Doug say to you?”

I couldn’t answer it. I wanted to share with her something profound. Something that could possibly take part of her pain away. Something that could give her hope. Instead, I turned it onto her and asked her what her son says to her.


As I sat alone crying, I became completely overwhelmed as it seemed like all of these life events started flashing before me…something that I had always imagined that happens in death. Instead, it was happening there, as I sat crying, in a car, in the dark.

I was overwhelmed because if it were not for one of these events happening, one of the lessons I needed to learn being taught, one of the people not being a part of my life when they needed to be – if it wasn’t for all of this – if it wasn’t for all of this…it’s overwhelming.

Doug was talking to me. He was letting me know that it was okay that there will not be answers for me. He was reminding me of all of the things that have led me to this moment. He was showing me, that through the events in my life and the events in his life, that this was our purpose. That each moment was unique in that it gave both of us opportunities to make an impact in other people’s lives where we could. That everything is truly connected…and dare I say it…that everything may indeed happen for a reason*.

I’ve never felt more thankful in my life than last night. I am thankful for every single thing that has ever happened in my life. I embrace all of it with open loving arms because if it wasn’t for all of it, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see so many beautiful things. Be a part of someone’s life in their darkest hour or bask in the light of their finest moment.

I was especially thankful for this Mom, asking me a question that pulled the veil from across my face.


*When death occurs, so many people say ‘everything happens for a reason’. I believed this for so long. Then I didn’t. Even though I say it today, I have struggled with believing this is indeed true since the day Doug died. Saying this today does not mean I embrace this thought fully. I say this today because I see the connections, the web of life. However, just taking this small step of believing this for today does not mean, DOES NOT MEAN, that it is ever the best thing to say to someone when they have just lost their world. Unless you know the reason – it’s best to keep this statement to yourself.


6 Weeks

2 November, 2009

I laid in bed last night and realized that it has been 6 full weeks since Doug died.  I feel like the fog, the feeling of numbness is wearing off more than I would like for it to.  I’ve been keeping busy to a certain degree, finding a house, getting things set up here, being with Lido.  I am glad that I found a house so quickly because I really and truly feel like I could not do anything now if I had to. I’m good getting some things done during the day – then I feel completely sick to my stomach in the evening…it is as if I suppress any feeling of guilt for continuing on until I can lie in bed and miss him…and cry.

It isn’t getting easier. Not that I expect it to be easier right now. I’ve survived Halloween and dressing Lido up and taking him trick-or-treating. I survived an evening amongst his friends that night without completely losing it.  I have found that I can only handle that in very small doses…The entire next day was really tough.  It is still tough today.  I try and move forward and plan and keep our life going forward – even though I would really just like to hide away.

I am heading back to Portland this week to pack our things and I also close on the new house this week as well. It is hard to imagine being somewhere else even though we really wanted to be back here.  Sometimes I think that I should have just decided to stay in Portland. To not even try moving his things, our things. To be able to visit the airport, see the familiar helicopters flying over our place…to stay connected to what we have been living the past 3 years.  Sometimes I feel as if I’m leaving him.  That the life we knew there will just cease to exist…Sometimes I’m just afraid that I’m moving to fast.

I know I’m not. I’m very well aware of what I can handle and what I can’t. It’s just taking the time for myself and mourning the loss of our life together, mourning him that is the hardest.  I lay in bed thinking if I wish and pray hard enough all of this will be a dream…that I’m in a coma and just thinking that this is happening…that none of it is real. God how I wish it wasn’t real.

I’m a planner. For a planner…having to live second by second…it’s hard.  My chest tightens up and my stomach lurches every time I even think about any sort of future.  If I want to plan anything or think about the future I try and shut down everything remotely human in me and figure out things in a robotic fashion.  It is the only way I feel like I will survive.

I called the funeral home today to finalize some things with them and the man I had been working with to arrange everything for Doug told me that prior to cremating him they were able to get a fingerprint.  He said that they felt really bad for me that I was not able to see him one last time.  I’ve been crying ever since.  To think about how badly he was hurt for me not to see him, to think of what happened when they crashed. There have been so many little things that I don’t want to put together because it would paint the worst picture in my head of what they went through.  I think that is why I don’t dream anymore.