Sending Love

Today is my husband's 61st birthday. He was 54 and I was 44 when he died. Now that I am 51, I realize how young he really was at his death leaving behind sons only ages 9 and 10. His son from his first marriage was a sophomore in college and age 20.

What is so strange about today is that all week I thought the 23rd (today) was our wedding anniversary and I was looking forward to reflecting on it and doing some reminiscing. But somehow with the busyness of life I goofed up my anniversary dates! We got married on the 20th, which was Wednesday and that day I was preoccupied with taking my oldest to the doctor (acne troubles). I never thought of our wedding the entire day!

It was only when I was taking my half-hour nature walk this afternoon that I realized it was actually my husband's birthday and not our wedding anniversary and that I had missed our anniversary big time! It would have been our 19th year of marriage on the 20th.

So during my walk I reflected on my husband. Monday, the 25th is the seventh year anniversary of his death.

My husband ended up dying at a crummy time as far as the calendar year goes. It would have been easier for me to have held anniversary celebrations if he had died in a humdrum month, March would be perfect when there is not much going on. But we've always been so busy this time of year what with Halloween and then the holidays come upon us in full force, with Thanksgiving just one month later and Christmas, two. So over the years, I've never really gone all out in observing these three days that follow one another so quickly in succession at the end of October.

The first few years after my husband's death, the boys played soccer, football and fall baseball. Along with school and homework, the fall days just were a big blur of me coping with car pooling on my own and muddling through my own feelings, as well as trying to keep it together as an only parent. I tried the first few years to make a nice dinner with dessert to honor my husband's birthday but they were madcap, rushed affairs and eventually my husband's birthday and his day of death were marked by a verbal mention. There were a few years when the days passed by without any acknowledgment and I was so busy caring for my parents that I wasn't even keeping track of what day was what.

My husband is buried out of state so there is no grave site for us to visit. There is a memorial tree planted in a park on the other side of town overlooking the baseball fields because my husband was such a baseball fan - he was recruited to the minor leagues but turned down the offer to start college and become a teacher - he wanted to have a greater impact influencing young people. Over the years my husband "saw" the boys play on those fields. I always believed his spirit is around us and not at the actual grave site.

I regret that my life unfolded in such a way that it has been difficult to honor my husband as I would have liked during this time of year. But right now my oldest is involved with football playoffs and as usual our life is pretty hectic and fast-paced. Maybe it is a blessing that my husband didn't die in March when we would have ample time to mope and be depressed with the grey clouds keeping us company. His dying this week is at such a time that we're so busy we're not overly sad or down by our loss. Which I should add is a part of us every day anyway. And by having all these anniversary dates occur within one week, I only have to deal with a hard time of year once and it is over!

Still, I am sad that our lives have been so madcap that there hasn't been ample opportunity for me to plan what I'd define as a more formal and solemn observation of my husband's life and death. Although thinking of my husband, who was grading papers up until he was in a coma, maybe what we've been doing is fine by him. He lived every day of his life with cancer as normally and fully as possible. And I guess looking down he can see that we have done the same.

"I love you Daddy. The boys love you Daddy. You were never fond that I called you Daddy but got used to it! We so miss you and you remain forever in our hearts. Today I feel your presence around us, although I know it is always there. I wish you could somehow send down a message about how you hated tattoos because both of the boys are getting ones as tributes to your life and their love for you. I can only hold off discouraging them until they are of age and have enough of their own money to afford them. I have persuaded them to get them anywhere but their arms/necks so they can be covered when they go in for future job interviews. But maybe you won't mind so much because tats are pretty common these days - many of their friends have them. Sometimes I'll think of a question I want to ask you that I never did when you were alive and I so much want to know the answer - I thought we had plenty of time together to get to all of that. But I am grateful for the time we did have. You taught me so much, maybe even more in death than life. I'll talk to you again soon, probably in the stands next week at a playoff football game. Til then, Happy Birthday."

I Want to be a Rock Hound

It was the fourth anniversary of my fated remarriage yesterday. Last year with moving and the year before with going through the divorce, I didn't focus or reflect much on the day. But this year there was extra space in my brain and much of the day was spent remembering the actual day, which was so lovely and full of hope. There was the anticipation of happiness which has been so lacking in my life these days.

I won't dwell on the whys or reasons of the marriage's demise. I deeply regret that my ex wasn't able to hang in there a bit longer. I think we had tremendous potential and it saddens me for the wasted and lost opportunities for love.

What I mainly contemplated during the day were all the activities my ex and I used to enjoy and engage in. We had a good time with shared interests and we liked spending time together.

We shared the Sunday paper on mornings spent at the ball field during the boys' baseball games, while sipping Starbucks. My ex introduced me to Starbucks - I'd never been there before meeting him because I am a tea drinker and thought they just served coffee. Boy was I in for a delightful surprise!

We enjoyed going to a Friday night fish fry in my locality - it became a tradition on our weekends. Since our breakup two years ago, I've never been back and the food was so good! I miss it.

I used to knit while my ex read the paper (he was a paper reading fanatic) and I found a vintage cross stitch sampler of a couple with the woman knitting while the husband read the paper. It was so cute and symbolized us as a couple.

We collected American antique art glass at my suggestion because I wanted us to have a new hobby we started together. We both got very into it and amassed a lovely collection by the time we divorced. He ended up with the entire collection and I wish he had been gracious enough to at least offer me one of the pieces as a memory. Since the divorce, Sam and I started our own little collection and I've gotten some of the smaller, less expensive pieces on my own. But it doesn't compare with the hours that my ex and I spent talking about our collection, sorting, organizing and cataloging it. It brought us a great deal of joy - just looking at it and remembering where and when we found certain pieces.

My ex and I shared the interest of rock collecting and had plans to hunt for fossils, diamonds and gem stones across the country. I had visions of displaying our finds in cases. We also loved to travel and had hoped to take short and long trips around and about.

And gardening! He was into vegetables and I was into flowers. I had ideas of revamping the back yard and turning the patio into a relaxing retreat.

We did some cooking together too. And both of us liked to get dressed up once in awhile for a fancy night on the town. I had hoped to entertain for his co-workers and have family over for big holiday celebrations.

When we read, he shared his news stories and he liked me telling him about the novels I was reading.

All such wonderful and fun shared interests and activities. Thinking of them throughout the other day I felt mostly happy because these are things that charge and excite me. I miss having them in my life. Basically my life is pretty much drudgery with not much enjoyment. When you have all that inspiration and creativity in your life shared with someone and then it just disappears it is hard to cope with that loss.

I want this stuff back in my life but lack the funds, time or partner to share them all with. I want to be a rock hound. I want to find a fellow rock hound to go rock hounding with me. Anyone out there? Chili chef and gardening fanatic are optional but would be nice too!

What I noticed most about my day of reminiscing was how little I write or even reflect of things that bring me happiness. Thinking of these activities brought me quite a bit of joy even thought I wasn't actually doing any of them. I sure need some more joy in my life.

Birthday Blues

It was my birthday last Friday. I didn't post about it to let my feelings settle. Guess I wanted to see where they'd lead me. I did experience a letdown and some disappointment. I've posted about the lack of gifts in my life before - that is part of the reason Valentine's Day is so hard for me. Since widowhood, I haven't received flowers and gifts are a rarity. The ones you buy for yourself don't count.

So, on my big day I got a text message saying simply, "Happy birthday," a phone message and an email message. No cards, no gifts. Three impersonal messages not even given in person. I had to go to my insurance agent for a copy of one of my policies and did receive a "Happy birthday" in person there.

I struggle with whether I should be glad for getting even the message acknowledgments that I did. But I'm that half-empty glass gal and so instead I focus on the stinginess of the messages.

Now I should clarify that I have never sent cards to my family with the exception of my Mom when she was alive. So I shouldn't even expect anything from my family. And two of the messages were from family members. But I feel it would be better to have received nothing instead of paltry, duty messages. Instead of feeling noticed and cared for, I ended up feeling diminished and not worth very much if that makes any sense. Maybe I'm thinking about this all in the wrong way. But I know most days I don't feel very valuable to anyone and often I feel invisible.

I know I often disclose about my desire to remarry. How else will I have someone supportive to be by my side if I get sick like my husband was? I worry about dying alone now. There would be no one who'd come to the hospital and manage all the home care stuff that I did for three years nursing my cancer-stricken spouse. My sad little pathetic birthday is evidence of how small my social support network is. It will be up to me to try and reinforce and build it up by meeting new people and establishing myself in new social circles. But right now extra time is limited and my mood is so low it is hard for me to gain the incentive to get out socializing. I can picture it now - "Hey everyone - let's meet that attractive newcomer to our singles group - she is so depressed and negative. All she does is complain. We get so inspired by her life sucks attitude!"

All of us need to feel as though we are valued and important to others. I want to know that someone out there cares enough about me to go out and buy me a gift. In the past, before widowhood, my Mom always sent a card with a check, my husband of course gave me a gift and card as well as making sure the boys picked out something, my mother-in-law would send a card, and there would be cards and a cake at work.

All week I've told myself that my value as a person in this world is not dependent on whether or not I received a card or gifts for my birthday. I've told myself that my circumstances right now are what they are and not to take it personally. But it is hard to have a birthday seem to pass by without so much as a pause in the day-to-day routine.

I've really struggled raising the boys on my own without familial support on either side. My husband's family has not given the boys one single gift or anything since their Dad's death. Their indifference has been hard to deal with. It seems as though family thinks I'm just fine on my own but I'm not. Out of sight, out of mind. You know what the real gift could have been? A phone call other than on my birthday at any point over the past seven years where someone from my life simply called up and said, "Hey, I'm thinking of you - is there anything you need right now or something I could do?"

November

My absolutely favorite poem is by John Updike from his "A Child's Calendar." It is fitting to copy it down here as it is about the month of November. I have always been so moved by these words but they seem even more poignant now having just ended my week of grief anniversaries. I guess you could say that I am more tuned into my grief work and everything I see, read or hear can be related to some aspect of grief/loss. What I love about this poem is that it describes the bleakness of this month with beauty. And that is how I am viewing grief right now. It is bleak, hard and grueling to say the least. But underneath it all, scraped to our very souls and bones, there is a beauty there as we grow, become stronger and do the work of transforming ourselves.

November

The stripped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her departed leaves.

The ground is hard,
As hard as stone.
The year is old,
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain
Loveliness-

The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.

If ever there was a month to describe grief, I think it would be November. The darker and colder days; the sense of losing time and energy; the desolate landscape. And yet even in this gloomy month, a holiday of thankfulness and joy. Two contrasts. Like our grief. So much pain and loss - but also when we come right down to it, gratefulness for the time we did have, the children born of that union, the memories remaining forever.

Grief and Houdini

I am over halfway through the book, "The Secret Life of Houdini - The Making of America's First Superhero" by William Kalush and Larry Sloman. Harry Houdini was extremely devoted to his mother and was deeply affected by her death. He apparently would often wake up in the middle of the night and call out loud, "Mama, are you here?" When he received no response he would sigh with disappointment and fall back to bed morosely. Even five years after her death, he still suffered great feelings of loss. In a letter to a friend he wrote, "I have worked hard and faithfully, and never knew what it was to shirk work, until one morning I awoke and found that my Mother had departed - and since then I 'loaf' in my work."

I find it very interesting and informative that Houdini also makes references to how he is affected by his mother's death around the date of her passing. He writes, "I have not recovered from my Mothers Loss, and July 8 was the last time I saw and [held] Her in my arms kissing Her a genuine Goodbye, and about the 17 of each month the feeling comes back to me, and I get melancoly [sic] moods." On the second anniversary of her death, he purposely stayed in the room "in which My Darling Mother went to Sleep for Evermore."

Houdini was friends with the "The Call of the Wild" author, Jack London and his wife, Charmian. When Jack died at only the age of 40, he immediately sent a telegram to Charmian. While she was in New York 11 months later, she attended one of Houdini's shows and met him afterward. He appeared somewhat shocked and upset that she was looking "so well and blooming" that soon after her husband's death. She responded defiantly with "I REFUSE to be beaten! I am going to put in whatever years life still hold for me as profitably in the pursuit of happiness as I possibly can. You have lost and suffered. An I not right in my attitude?"

Again, I found this reaction to be very interesting. Even in 1917 two very different reactions to death and grief are at play and at odds here. Houdini doesn't feel his friend's wife should be "over" her grief while Charmian has adopted a mindset of moving forward despite her pain and looking for happiness in the future. I was just blown away by this very small part of the book - probably most readers find it somewhat interesting and continue reading without much further thought but it really impacted me in many ways. I am most struck by:

1. Houdini's love and devotion for his mother and his acknowledgment that the grief lingered long after her death.

2. For the courage of Jack London's wife to forge ahead meeting life head on and with the specific intent of pursuing happiness (and not feeling guilty with herself for this attitude).

Interesting that Houdini was upset with Charmian for not grieving enough as he saw fit. After mulling all of this over I have settled in on my conclusion. I think that we all need to grieve in our own ways and for the time we need. I have come to believe that the grief over my losses will forever be incorporated into my life and they've become who I am. But at the same time, I also want to move ahead and experience much more happiness. Debbie Ford puts it so perfectly in her book "Spititual Divorce" by asking, "In this new situation, how can I be happy and have a great life?" Like Houdini I want to honor my losses. But like Charmian and Debbie Ford I am ready to ask this question and to seek the answers.

I pay tribute to Harry Houdini on this Halloween for the mastery of his magic, his talent, devotion to family, work ethic, creativity, courage, honesty and patriotism - all true measures of a great man and true American legend.

Halloween Haunted Memories

Six years ago on Halloween, my husband had been dead for just six days. The week following his death was filled with me making the long-distance arrangements for his funeral and then for the local Memorial Service at his school, which was held on Nov. 11th. I continued through the week as best I could, even attending the boys' school Halloween parties. As we left the school entrance after the festivities, I saw a number of fathers entering the building or waiting outside for their children to come out. I was overcome with a realization of profound sadness that my sons would never have such interaction with their father again. It was wrenching and the first time that I really understood what this loss would be like, what we would be forever more missing. Those dads had taken off early from work to take their children Trick or Treating. The excitement and family pride I saw displayed between these dads and their children pulled at my heartstrings.

Later, in the evening I continued the ritual I had with my husband by taking the boys out for Trick or Treating in my parent's neighborhood but my heart really wasn't in it and it was terribly painful to be walking the dark, cold streets without him. But as I did so, I thought of him and kept up the effort for the sake of my sons.

When we got home, I stayed up until 3:00 a.m. putting together photo collage boards to bring to the funeral the next day, Nov. 1. My family insisted on driving us and we all drove in a group caravan style out-of-state. I won't dwell on the funeral details since they involve painful elements from the fact that my husband had a first wife who pulled her own little show. I did the best to ignore such nonsense. In the end, we all got through it and my husband received a fitting local tribute in his hometown. That was his due and it was my duty to hold it together and act dignified.

Afterward, we stopped at a local truckstop for dinner and since it was October, they had some Octoberfest specials. I was struck by the surreal quality of this dinner. Everyone enjoying brats and beer, laughing away. I held my wine glass up and made a toast to my husband.

The Day He Died

My husband died of Hodgkin's Lymphoma. When he was first diagnosed, the doctor told us we should be happy for the diagnosis because it is the "easiest" cancer to cure - the best cancer to have if you're going to have it. I remember thinking at that moment, that most people only live two years after their diagnosis. I wasn't reassured by the doctor's optimism.

My husband's cancer was very aggressive and resistant to all the conventional treatment - he endured rigorous chemo and radiation. So he also underwent a stem cell transplant and was given a clean bill of health in April, 2003. As soon as that came in I started fertility treatment with the sperm we had banked for two years. The insemination and first in vitro attempts were unsuccessful. But I so much wanted another baby, we scheduled a second try at in vitro for the fall. In August, my husband became ill basically overnight. One day he was robust and healthy - the next run down and clearly sick. He complained of a terrible back ache. His doctor was on vacation which didn't help the siutuation. His office wasn't cooperative over the phone as I tried to describe my husband's terrifying symptoms. They kept telling me he was fine and to see the doctor when he returned. When it became clear that he had lost probably 20 pounds in a matter of days I took him in to the ER. It looked as though the cancer had returned. Just three months after the all clear!

My husband started a new round of chemo and plans were made for a second stem cell transplant. He had a couple of brief stays in the hospital that August and at the end of the month went in for some intensive chemo. He never was released as was planned. In mid-September he became very ill and almost died. I remember having a terrible feeling that all was not right with him and that he was close to death but none of the medical staff advised me of this. It was only after he pulled out of the"dark place" as he later described it that I was told they hadn't thought he would survive.

There were then a few weeks of relative stability. He went to rehab and although weak, was coherant and alert. I went ahead with the in vitro, administering all of the numerous injections on my own, etc. This attempt was also unsuccessful and at the same time my husband again became very ill. I decided to not tell him about the failed in vitro to spare him the sadness. Shortly thereafter, my husband's mind began to falter and he started to lose consciousness. There was another rough night where he almost died and he was put on life support and transferred to ICU. During this time, as soon as I got to the hospital I would start to cry and would continue nonstop the 7-8 hours I was there. I spoke with every nurse, doctor or technician with tears running down my face. I couldn't stop until it was time for me to go home to get the boys from school. Looking back, I am sure my body releasing the fertility drugs didn't help my emotions or matters. I had a short temper and got into a terrible argument with the old high school girlfriend of my husband who had come to visit him. I am sure that would not have happened if I hadn't just gone through in vitro unsuccessfully. I understand it could be considered selfish to try and become pregnant at that time, but I realized how much I loved my husband and desperately wanted to have another baby with him. It was kind of a way to hold on to hope in the midst of so much sickness and despair.

My husband was in a coma for about two weeks. I spent all day with him in his ICU room rubbing his body, hands and legs. Telling him over and over how proud I was of him, loved him and could not live without him. I begged him not to die. I talked about the boys and said they couldn't live without him either. I thanked him for everything; I apologized for everything. I also brought the boys to see him after school many times. Because 10/20 was my husband's b-day and 10/23 our anniversay, we tried to celebrate with cards, balloons and stuffed animals.

Strangely, the doctors were very optimistic during this period. They believed he had Lyme Disease of all things, which they thought had caused the coma. But then, his doctor personally ran some tests on his own and I was called to the nurse's station. The doctor told me over the phone that the cancer had spread throughout my husband's body and there was no hope for a cure. He wanted to stop all treatment, medication and life support. I requested time to call my husband's family in case anyone wanted to come to the hospital. We then agreed that I would return to the hospital the next day (Sunday) so my sons and I could be with my husband when the support was removed. The doctor was not in agreement with my request for my sons to be present. He tried to change my mind, saying that my husband would probably code very quickly and it might be difficult for the boys to experience. But I remained insistent that the boys be present with him.

We went home around 3:00 in the afternoon so I could begin calling relatives - a terribly trying and hard job to say the least. No one was able to make the trip out of state. The boys were of course very upset and almost beside themselves. Around 6:00 p.m., friends of ours, a married couple and their two boys the ages of our sons stopped by with a casserole. I informed them what was going on and had the errie feeling that they were angels sent in disguise. Shortly after 6:30, the hospital called with the ICU doctor stating, "I am sorry to inform you that your husband passed away at 6:29..." I was also struck by the realization that my husband had spared us all from a difficult situation if we had been present the next day when they removed his life support. I became convinced that he agreed with the doctor in not wanting the boys to witness his immediate death. I ended up thanking him for this.

My friends and their children immediately said they would go to the hospital with us to pray and to help me clear out my husband's room. I was calm enough to drive the van on my own with my girlfriend. The dad took all four boys to a local McDonald's for dinner. When we met them there I saw them all eating through the plate glass window and was struck by the surrealness of the situation. A McDonald's meal in the face of death. My girlfriend and I grabbed sandwiches from the drive through and ate on the way to the hospital.

Once there, we all spent 30 minutes praying and saying goodbye to my husband. I was so proud of all the four boys for their courage and strength in doing this. The doctor had told me they would make him look nice for the occassion (again, what a surreal kind of thing - "we'll clean him up for you to say goodbye...") Everyone kept telling me, "We are sorry for your loss" and I kept replying, "It is a loss for the whole world," since my husband was such a gifted educator.

I vaguely remember meeting with clergy and the staff that handles the details after a death but that is all somewhat foggy. We removed my husband's possessions, gave final goodbyes, hugs and kisses and left the hospital. At home, I did some laundry because my boys wanted to play their fall baseball games the next day as a tribute to their father. It was 2:00 a.m. and I looked out the huge front picture window to see strange burning flames in the front yard. I feared that the scarecrows I had on display were burning but it turned out that some kids had set our wooden mailbox on fire.

When the fire dept. arrived I can only wonder what they really thought of the situation because they asked me why I had been up so late and I related that my husband had died earlier in the evening. How many times does that happen? The emergency crew saw that I was only 44 and my sons just 9 and 10. I briefly wondered if the fire was some kind of sign from my husband but later a social worker who works in hospice assured me that our loved ones never want to frighten us from the beyond so it was not any kind of message or sign - thank goodness! Just a pre-Halloween prank on the wrong night for one to be played.

For a long time I did not remember what happened the next day, Sunday. I eventually asked the girlfriend who had been with me that night about it since they were also on the same baseball team. She told me the games had been cancelled because of the cold and rain. But for many months I truly had no recollection of whether we had played those games or not. Just evidence of how the mind shuts down to protect you from the emotional pain. And to this day I sometimes don't really remember where my husband's tumor was - under his right or left arm? My mind refuses to recall that detail (I think it was the left arm). But at this point who cares and what does it matter anyway. That tumor spread and took away a man too soon from his family, his school, the community and the world.

The night my husband died on October 25, 2003 was the night I stopped that endless crying and started sleeping with every light on in the house (the mailbox fire sure didn't help with that). My eyes became moist again and I was able to turn off most of the lights about six months later. This is the first time I have ever written down the events of that day, although I have reviewed them in my mind and spoken about them. Somehow it seems fitting to do so now. I know there is no great catharsis in doing this - I am just relating how and what happened. But these details should have some place in the story of all of this. And considering I am going backward in my grief work, putting down these details in words has its place and I think will result in eventual healing. This is when, where and how my journey started. Now I need to start going forward again. I believe we need to sometimes go back to the beginning in order to accomplish this.

Sixth Anniversary

Today is the sixth Anniversary of my husband's death. I have never written about it because at the time of his death we didn't even have a home computer. He used a computer at his job and I did the same. My kids were young enough to use the computer at their school as well. Boy, has a lot changed in those six years!

My husband and I did not have cable (we still don't) because we weren't at home enough for it to be worth the cost. We coached our sons together for many years - baseball and soccer. He sang semi-professionally in fine arts groups and I volunteered in the community, as well as the boys' school. We had such an active and full life together. I would say that is was very rewarding. We felt that we accomplished good things for the world. He taught - I counseled. We gave back. And we still had time to pursue some of our own interests. It was a pretty balanced life.

Blogging has been a bit of a strange experience for me because I have been widowed for awhile. Yet I never really had an opportunity to do the necessary grief work after his death. Life just went forward too quickly and presented us with way too many curve balls. It is funny because the divorce with Husband #2 plunged me right back into grief mode - and in actuality, maybe I had never left it. Anyway, when I post I find it sometimes a little bizarre because although I am not a new widow, many of my feelings are those of one. In certain ways I am a seasoned widow but at the same time a novice one. Evidence that the grief journey is so unique to us all. Certainly not one-size-fits-all!

Today there is a break in the rain and I am going to work at the storage shed. While there, I hope to have some time to contemplate about this day. I'll see what I come up with and where my heart and feelings lead me. This will be the first time that I have done that.

Drowning Again

I have been pulled under the waves of despondency again. I am grappling with the major decision of remarrying and moving-out-of-state. As the new school term there starts Nov. 30th, this move would be in the upcoming weeks - and I haven't even finished unpacking for this apartment yet! I agonize over transferring my sons out of their high school where they are accepted and popular. One is a Junior, the other a Sophomore. Since my husband's death, all I have focused on is what has been best for my boys. I am trying to save them from more uncertainty, pain and instability. If we move, yes, the financial situation will be better but one will not be able to play boy's volleyball because they do not have that as a high school sport there. He is supposed to be playing varsity volleyball this spring and he has also been asked to try out for the male lead for the spring musical. Not to mention being deprived of completing his Senior year with his class, just a year and a half away. My other son ran varsity track as a Freshman last year - our concerns are that he might not be able to compete athletically coming in as a transfer student. We need to verify that because he is hoping to obtain a college track scholarship.

The community we would be moving into is a larger town surrounded by farmland four hours away. Yesterday, Guyfriend and I battled the relentless rain to look at rental homes. They were rundown and shabby. In fact, the entire town looked that way - tired and sad in the rain. We have been spoiled living in this beautiful community of quaint towns and showcase houses all these years. The need to move is because Guyfriend lost his job and has only been offered this one out-of-state. He does not want to sell his small home because of the terrible market so hopes to rent it out for the time being. That necessitates us living in a rental. When I showed the boys some photos of the homes available, they were less than impressed. "I thought moving was supposed to improve our situation," my oldest remarked as he looked at the homes with disappointment.

There is no question of my feelings or love for Guyfriend. My therapist said that in a way he was a blessing that came out of my divorce. And he and I are well-matched, we get along, we are sexually and physically attracted to one another. No major problems anywhere except for the fact that I have two boys smack dab in the middle of their high school careers and I am worried about all the what ifs that may occur if we move. As if I can even control the future, anyway. We all know how impossible that is but I think that I have been so focused on keeping the boys in this school district because it was about the only thing I could control.

Today is the 18th anniversary of my marriage - married 12 years and now widowed six. On Sunday it will be the anniversary of my husband's death. I wish I could talk to him to ask him what to do. Do I go with the love and financial/marital stability of a new life even though it scares the bejezus out of me? Do I continue to try and protect these boys from what I perceive as pain and suffering? Do I continue to slog along on my own and at least give my boys the stability and predictability of finishing high school here?

My therapist says there is no right or wrong answer here and that is what makes it so difficult. She reminded me how fortunate it is to have met a man who has virtually all of the qualities and values that are important to me - kindness, sense of humor, flexibility, tolerance, optimism, honesty, loyalty, communincation skills, courage, responsible, intelligence. His father died days before his 16th birthday so he has dealt with grief and loss.

I do suspect that if my husband hadn't died, I wouldn't be struggling with all of this. But having faced so much loss, I've gone into some kind of mode where all my devotion and energy has been so centered on my sons. Yes, I do know they'll be gone in a couple of years so I have to consider that. I guess deep down I feel like I'm failing them or selling out for my own gain if we move. When my husband died, all the care and responsibility fell on me. Coming from a neglectful/abusive childhood,I embraced protecting and mothering my sons with even more duty and responsibility - it became a mission of love and devotion.

It helps to write this all out and get what is really inside me. I don't want to hide from this. Life hasn't been easy or fair but so what? That reality doesn't make this decision any easier - maybe it even makes it harder. I so want just a little bit of life to go my way for once. To let the boys at least finish out their high school years in one piece instead of having to face more change and turmoil.

One of the widowhood obstacles I've encountered has been the lack of compassion for my sons. It is like everyone has expected them to bounce back and be resilient. It is like everyone sees past them but not into them. Enough years have passed by now where the loss of their Dad is somewhat overlooked or forgotten and some people don't even know (if we've just met them). But they are still struggling, maybe even more so because they are older, more mature and understand how much they have really lost.

I guess life is just a bunch of trade-offs. A new dad (stable, kind, dependable) but losing one's friends. Guyfriend says he will be able to help me drive the boys around to all their events - but they won't have any (at first anyway) to participate in! What if they don't make any friends or worse off do so with the wrong crowd? Am I being silly for thinking of these things? Wouldn't I be a worse parent if I didn't? It is easy for Guyfriend to reassure me and tell me everything will work out. But these are not his kids - nor have they lived with a dad the past seven years. It has just been us facing some pretty stormy seas together, tossing and turning together on our life raft, hanging on to each other for dear life. We've made it this far...

When I started seeing Guyfriend he had a job and his wife still lived in the same town with their son. She remarried and moved out-of-state, he lost his job. Life's twists and turns played out full force. I am so tired of always having to think and plan and figure out what to do. I want to lie in bed and go to sleep and somehow turn off the turmoil in my head for at least a little bit.

Today I am grateful:

1. Well, I suppose I should say that I even have another option to consider (moving), right?
2. For Guyfriend.
3. For the anniversary of this day and what it means - a marriage that resulted in the creation of two fine young men.
4. For all the love and hope I embraced when I married 18 years ago on this date - I so wish some of that could be more fully restored so I could believe it again.
5. For Husband #1 - everything I have done has been in tribute to him and for the benefit of our sons.

Unkind Fall

It is rainy and cold today. I wish the weather was better so I could enjoy the beautiful changing leaves but I am forced to stay in today to work on organizing and making our new space into a more acceptable home (maybe not such a bad thing). Fall has always been my favorite season but I am finding it less lovely since my husband's death. A shadow and cloud have been passed onto this season.

My husband was born on 10/20, we were married 10/23 and he died on 10/25 so THE WEEK of anniversaries is approaching. When I got remarried, I did not want to do so in October so our date was 9/23 (close enough to the changing season for a fall-themed wedding). But I tell you, when I tie the knot again, it WILL NOT be in fall! I am picking another season for sure! The last two years have had unkind falls as well. In 2007, there was the cleanup after the tornado and the sale of my parent's home, which necessitated clearing it out. My father was very ill as well. Last year, I was in the middle of the divorce. And now this year, have the move from my home to contend with. Gosh darn it! Can there just be a fall without so much to deal with so I can enjoy the season and not have it slip by before all the leaves have hit the ground?

Part of my dismay comes from the fact that since I've been widowed and an only parent, there has not been much time to just kick back and watch the leaves float down (or the snow fall, or the leaves start to bud for that matter either). The seasons and holidays go by with such amazing speed that they are over just as I am ready to finally celebrate. Remember that phrase "Take time to smell the roses?" Life has become so complicated, full and messy - a whirl wind and a blur.

I recently read something that inspired me but have forgotten who wrote it - the message was that we need to find time to sit and watch the leaves fall because this season is so amazingly beautiful. I totally agree with that but the weather has to also cooperate! And so do the circumstances of our lives.

Today I am grateful:

1. For cell phones (although not the cell phone bill).
2. For dishwashers.
3. For those first days of heat when it first gets cold.
4. For the changing seasons.
5. For computers and the internet.