Finding Control.

A fellow widower posted this and I thought it was a great topic to blog about:

I'd like to share what the pastor Charles Swindoll wrote :

The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
It is more important that the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill.
The remarkable thing is - we have a choice every day of our lives regarding the attitude we embrace for that day.
We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.

I’m convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you.
We have choices within our attitudes.

I am loving this! I am the type of person who believes that what is meant to be is meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. But sometimes this belief leaves me feeling helpless. But to think that life is not about what happens, but instead how I choose to react to it, that brings a new found hope that everything is not totally pre-destined and I just might have a little more control than I previously thought I did.

Another stage reached...

This week I hit the anger stage. It is such a strange feeling. I have been so very zen till now. I am not the type to feel anger. But recently I have been angry that Mike left me to clean up this mess. I know that if he had the choice he would not have left me. And I realize that "his" mess is my mess because he was my husband. But I just wish that things were different. I wish that I would have known then what I know now. Things could have been a bit easier now, if only I pushed. I wish we would have communicated better. I wish that I was a more "controlling" wife. I have so many regrets that go along with my anger. There are so many things I could have done differently. But then I have to wonder, if I were not the type of wife that I was, would my marriage have even lasted? Ultimately, I guess what it comes down to is that this mess it totally worth the time we shared together. But I cannot help but feel alone and overwhelmed...

I loved my husband more than anything in this world. And I know that he loved me with all of his heart. He was a wonderful man. He was kind, loving, generous, and had a zest for life like no other I have ever met. He provided me a charmed life, there is no doubt. But now that I am here all alone and scared to death, I can't help but look back and think about everything I wish I would have done differently. But in the end, it is what it is, and there is no point to what ifs because I can't go back in time. This is my life.

3 Month Stains

Yesterday was 3 months. I had been putting off cleaning my bedroom since Mike died. There was a slight path to the bed, and other than that clutter everywhere. I decided that yesterday was going to be the day that I reclaimed my bedroom. Once I started cleaning I remembered why I had been putting it off for so long. As the clutter came off the floor the blood stains became visible. It is almost funny how we repress things that are too painful to remember. There are so many times I started cleaning the bedroom and then just gave up. I just could not do it! How could I forget about those stains? But on the 3 month sadiversary, for some reason my psyche decided that it was time to remember.

Seeing those blood stains was like getting hit with a mac truck. But it was something that I had to face. I just sat on the floor and the memories flooded my mind. I saw Mike collapse, I saw him break his nose as he went down, I saw myself performing CPR waiting for the paramedics to arrive knowing that it was all in vain and that my sweet Michael was gone forever. I remember frantically calling family for a ride to the hospital and no one would answer. I remember calling one of his best friends because I had no where else to turn. I remember finally hearing back from family and no one seemed to understand what I was saying. No one seemed to understand that "they can not get a heartbeat" meant that he was dead. No one was able to comprehend the severity of the situation. There I was all alone knowing he was gone, while everyone else was in denial. I remember thinking "Jess you have to be strong,because you are the only one who saw him die. You have to keep it together long enough for everyone else to come in the room as see for themselves. You can't distract them from seeing with their own eyes that he is really gone".

So here I am today, at another stand still. My room is just about clean. But I cannot bring myself to sanding out those bloodstains. I feel like if I sand them out that I will be sanding out Mike. In a way I need those stains as a reminder that Mike was here, that what we had was real, that it was not just a dream. As painful as the memories are I just cannot let go because they are the last memories I have. I think that this is going to be one of those things that I hide under a rug and when I am alone and I need to remember, I can pull up that rug and see that the stains are still there and that it was real. In some odd way I need to remember the pain or the time we spent together seems like nothing more than a dream that was too good to be true.

An important note to my blog readers...

Arguments with other readers will not be tolerated within my blog. If you have a problem with someone's comments please do not bring that drama here. I created this blog as an outlet for myself and a way to share my feelings and experiences with those who care.

I am just trying deal with my husband's death the best way that I can. Everyone grieves differently, and we all need to respect that. There are many people who loved my Michael and we are all dealing with his tragic death in our own way and in our own time.

Some of us have anger and resentment that he was taken too soon and we let that manifest in negative ways. Feelings will be hurt, misunderstandings will take place, and a shit storm will follow.

Some of us while we miss him with our whole beings, are unable to feel anger because of our spiritual/religious convictions. We are able to find comfort in the fact that he is in a much better place than this world. We find hope in knowing that one day we will be reunited again.

Ultimately, we all loved Michael. And although we cannot see eye to eye it is important to remember that we are all hurting. Much love to everyone who grieves Mike. Though we are walking down separate paths our destination remains the same.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.

Picking up the pieces...

Another sleepless night. Thoughts running through my head. I wish there were a way for me to explain what I am feeling where people could actually "get it". I realize that I am different. That I do not have the same thought processes as most people. I know that no matter how hard I try no one will truly get why I do the things I do, or say the things I say.

I have experienced a lot in my 29 years on this earth. And I think it is because of how much I have experienced that I am "different". When I feel something I experience raw emotion. I feel it with my whole being, it hits me hard like a tsunami. There is no warning and the wave is all consuming. If I am strong enough to get through the flood the water will recede and the reconstruction must begin. Unfortunately, my life has been one series of unfortunate events after another. If I dwell on the past I will never get to experience the joys of the present because the future always seems to hold more heartache.

Mike got it. He was the one person on this earth who understood me. There is no doubt that he was my soulmate. And now that he is gone I almost feel like an alien. Our relationship may have seemed odd to most people. But it made sense to us! We were happy and loved each other, and that is all that matters in the end. He got me, and I got him. And that is really what true love it all about!

So here I am alone to pick up the pieces after his death. I feel as if I am being judged. It seems that when I was feeling weak, it was too weak and people thought I was over-reacting. And now that I am feeling stronger, people think I am moving forward too quickly and that I am not fully letting myself grieve.

I just wish that people could understand me the way Mike did. I wish that there was a way for them to see what Mike saw. I wish they could understand that though I may not make any sense to them, my grieving process makes total sense to me and to the one I am grieving. In my heart I know that Mike still gets it and he is with me every step of the way. And in the end I guess that is all that really matters.

He still speaks to me...

Mike keeps sending me very blunt messages, that I cannot ignore. For example we ate Chinese a lot, and while cleaning out his pockets of his coats about 2 weeks ago I kept finding fortunes.

This was the first one I found:
-Married couples tell each other a thousand things without speech.

Followed by:
-The time is right to make new friends.
-Something you lost will soon turn up.
-Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome.
-Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.
-Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think.
-If you must play, decide on three things at the start: the rules of he game, the stakes, and the quitting time.
-One cannot refuse to eat just because there is a chance of being choked.
-You think you lost your horse? Who knows, he may bring a whole herd back to you someday.

Strange, I know...

Who "We" Are...

Posted by a fellow widow, felt it was blog worthy!

We are women left.
We experienced the best of times; The worst of times. And survived.
We discovered the meaning of life — Nothing like the loss of a spouse to wake us up to that.
We gained some; We lost some — Friends and pounds.
We had friends run out on us. We understood they just couldn’t take it. At least, we tried to.
We lost appetites, and we lost weight. And in the spirit of true friendship, we watched true friends reappear, and the pounds.
We discovered life as a widow is different than being married, but trying to explain it to anyone is like describing the color orange to a blind man. We know it’s best to change the subject. We train our eyes to look away.
We spend endless sleepless nights pondering the future. We wonder — Can we meet this months mortgage payment, next months electric bill. Even if we know we are able, we worry, What if?
We daydream — Consider moving to an island someplace in the South Pacific; sailing off into the horizon; peddling into traffic on a bicycle, motoring cross-country on a motorcycle, blazing a trail on horseback. We contemplate running away every minute of every day. We will do anything to escape the pain, but we dont. Because we know, deep inside, there is no place to run away to.
We contemplate entering the convent. We think, Maybe there is peace there.
Every morning, we get out of bed. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
Every evening, we turn out the light. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
We love our sons, our daughters; We love your sons, your daughters. Heck, we love everyone! We love grandkids, most especially our own.
We eat meals standing up, usually over the kitchen sink.
We eat cold pasta for breakfast out of a container. We use our fingers. We think, Why dirty a fork?
We traded lacy lingerie for flannel pajamas; silk robes for cotton terry cloth, and candlelight dinners for an open refrigerator door.
We identify red wires, white wires, and yellow wires inside a gem box in a wall when the ceiling fan switch in the master bedroom doesnt work. And we fix it.
We know which circuit breaker shuts the current in every room of the house; when to change the battery in the smoke detector; how to plunge a stopped toilet; how to snake a clogged drain.
We keep a supply of Draino under every sink in the house, because we swear to God we'll never let that happen again!
We know where the water main is; what number to call for the garage door repairman, and when to use it.
We know how to read a tire gauge, check the oil, change a flat.
We rake leaves, we hoe peas, we plant corn, tomatoes, and celery. We reap the harvest. And we cook and eat it, too.
We paint the house; Outside and in.
We tile the bathroom; grout it, too.
We know how to wash a floor on hands and knees.
We cry out loud when no one is looking. And don�t care if they are.
We are strong; we are weak.
We are big; we are small.
We are tall; we are short.
We are every color in the rainbow, different sizes, different shapes.
We are different; we are same.
We've been congratulated, applauded, patted on the back, hugged, French kissed, mentored, adored, and loved by the best.
We have loved and lost; buried and mourned.
If getting through a day without Him by our sides was an Olympic event, a role in a motion picture, a horse race at Hialeah, we'd own a Tony, an Emmy, an Oscar, and our hand prints and footprints would be stamped in a sidewalk outside a Chinese Restaurant on Hollywood and Vine. And the world would know us by the giant horseshoe of red and white carnations hanging around our necks.
We've made sense of the senseless, discovered the meaning of grief — insanity gone greased and wild. And, we've learned life's valuable lesson: When you lose a spouse, life goes on.
We remind the world that love is never having to say goodbye.

Congratulations, Widows! Take a bow.