8 Months...

How has it been 8 months already?

I cannot believe that it has been 8 whole months since I last heard your voice in person and not just in an old home video or in your outgoing message from your cell phone that I saved on my phone.

I cannot believe it has been 8 whole months since I wrapped my arms around you while we stood in the kitchen.  Or since you turned to face me and wrap your arms around me while I buried my face in your chest.

I cannot believe it has been 8 whole months since you kissed me goodbye and told me you loved me just before you opened the sliding glass door to leave for work.  Or since we talked about the plans for our day, and what might sound good for dinner.

I cannot believe I no longer have your dirty laundry in the hamper, or your coffee cup in the sink.  I cannot adjust to sleeping on your side of the bed while Conner sleeps on mine.

I cannot understand how when we take rides through the farm on the Ranger, you are not down at the machine shed working on some piece of equipment.  I cannot fathom the absence of your smell on my skin or the salty taste of your kiss when you got in from work in the evenings.

I cannot believe that I no longer see you smiling after you showered and dressed for a date night. You would wear your "sexy jeans" that I bought for you from Gap after our first year together.  You saved those jeans for our dates and only wore them during MRWA conferences when I was there.

I cannot believe I no longer have your hand to hold while we walked around Wal-Mart just looking in the sporting goods section for the millionth time, not buying anything.

I cannot understand how I now have to take our little boy to a tombstone to talk to his dad when he is so young and this is so unfair.

There are so many things that I cannot believe...that I cannot wrap my mind around...that I cannot prepare myself to accept or understand any given day...that I cannot "fix".

I haven't the energy to write much tonight, as my soul has been drained these last few days.  I have cried almost every day for a week while I drive home from work.  I literally had one drive where it was coming so powerfully that I could barely see to drive.  I am drained tonight.

I miss you more than words and more than any one in my life can possibly understand.  God bless them...it's not their fault they don't have the right words.  No one does.  There are no right words.

I hope that Heaven is amazing and that you are exactly like I imagine...young, happy, smiling, warm, chatting with your dad, tipping your head back in laughter while you clap your hands together, energetic, rested, carefree, unscathed, perfect.

Hold on tight, folks, to whomever you love and don't let one single day pass without pouring your heart and soul into them.

I love you baby...NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,
Veronica

The start of another season...

Our farm is starting to show the slightest changes in the start of a new season. 

The breezes have begun gently blowing across the valleys and atop the hills. The mornings and evenings are cool enough for blue jeans and a tee shirt, even requiring a flannel or denim shirt of my husband's at some points. In the distance Conner and I can see a few leaves beginning to turn colors. Fall is just around the corner and it has always been my favorite season. 

This fall though has my stomach in knots. Fall was always when we had Mike the most. He took off work early for opening night of gigging season and even took of an entire week for deer season. 

I made crockpots full of chili or stew. I made a thermos of hot chocolate for our boys and one of coffee for my husband. We rode around in the cool temperatures and looked at the beauty that was displayed before us on this farm my husband fell in love with as a little boy. And now my little boy has fallen in love with it. 

And our hearts are broken because we don't have Mike here with us. This farm is beyond beautiful. He built it. He made it what it is. He cleaned and dozed and burned and built up and tore down and made this place a farm to be envied. And now I look at it and in every hilltop and valley, in every tree and wildflower, in every dip and curve of the land, my husband's legacy lives on. 

We lost him in winter and it will be here before I know it. I'm not ready for the seasons to change. 

I'm also not ready for my life to change seasons. But it has. 

I am a widow. 

I am not the young 23 year old girl my husband married. I am not the young teacher who was just beginning her career when this handsome man swept her off her feet. I am not a brand new mom, scared to death she won't do something right during feeding time. I am not the new stepmom worried if her stepson will like her. 

Instead I am a 37 year old widow. I am a veteran teacher and a new administrator. I have been a mom for 11 years and now I'm scared to death I don't do anything right with my son. I still call Tristan my stepson but wonder if he refers to me as his stepmom. 

Not only has my life changed, but I have changed. 

I don't talk a lot anymore. I don't laugh very often. I cry ALL of the time. I feel nervous about every step I take. I don't sing as often as I used to. I dread singing in church when I used to love it. I dread it for fear of crying during one of my favorite songs. I sit in silence so often when I used to constantly want noise, whether from the tv or radio. 

I'm in a new season of life and I don't know what to do. 

Some of my friends and family want me to date again. When I'm ready, they say.  I think some of them wish I was ready today. Finding a new relationship might be what it takes to move on and heal, they say. Will I ever be ready? I mean seriously, will my heart EVER not feel like it belongs to him???  

I am so broken still. I am so lonely and cry every single day that I don't think I'll ever be ready. My heart is weakened. I don't know that it can handle someone new, or more so if it can handle someone  PLUS the love I will carry forever for my husband. How is that fair? How can I still hold such endless love for Mike and then laugh and flirt and have fun with someone new? 

Don't get me wrong--sometimes I want to. Sometimes I want to be flirted with, to be made to feel beautiful again, to hold someone's hand, to really laugh and be happy. But all I ever see when I think of that again isn't someone new...it's always Mike. Always. 

Sometimes I want to make myself be ready. Sometimes I want to force myself to take that guy's number from my sister, or have a friend set me up with a blind date. Sometimes I want to dress up and go out just for dinner and a movie with a man who puts his hand on the small of my back as he leads me to our seats. Sometimes I want to put my Cardinals jersey on and drive to StL for a game and a beer with a man who wants to do the same. 

But the ONLY reason I want to do all this is because I did it all with my husband for 13 years and I miss it so much. All of it. All of him. 

I really don't know if I could be fair to another man, to give him a clean slate and not expect or want Mike in return. Maybe one day I will. I hope that one day I will so that my son can see his mom happy again. I try so hard to stay so strong in front of him but I fail miserably daily. It hurts him. 

So with the seasons changing on our farm, I guess I also have to accept that the season is changing in my life. I only pray that God sees me through it. 

Until we meet again baby, I will love you Npw, Forever, and Always times Infinity.

#stillhis 

Love,

Veronica 

Ebb and Flow...

Grief is a constant wave of undulation. One day we spend most of it laughing and smiling and trying our best to heal our broken hearts and then the next we spend most of our time trying to force the breaths to come easy instead of in broken sobs. 

This chart is crap. 

Wanna know why? Because it looks so simple. Like learning to live without my husband should be this nice easy flow and that once I hit rock bottom of guilt, loneliness, and isolation, I can only go up! 

Lies. 

NOTHING about me losing my husband and the boys losing their dad flows in an easy pattern. 

Sometimes we feel hopeful for the future. Like maybe some day in the very distant future there could possibly be someone new in our lives to love. Sometimes we feel hopeful that doing this whole farm thing on our own is actually feasible. Sometimes we feel hope in that we need to make life exciting and fun and good so that when we get to see Mike again we have great stories to tell him. 

And then sometimes we are right back to square one. The shock and disbelief is in a constant ebb and flow. Constant. I kid you not. It's actually unreal how often it comes washing back over and knocks us to the ground. 

For instance, yesterday took its toll on us both. 

I worked and the day was insanely busy, as all of my days have been lately with moving into administration (and so far it's been a GOOD busy to help give me focus other than focusing on how bad my life sucks sometimes). Conner stayed with my mother-in-law yesterday and they had a good day too. 

When I arrived home at 6:00 yesterday, I rested a bit while my little boy played outside. By himself with his matchbox cars and I thought to myself, and even began crying, wow...that's my little boy out there. He is sitting in the grass playing with matchbox and I can see him talking to himself and he's smiling and he's having fun and he is the most amazing and resilient little boy I know. Conner has essentially been raised as an only child most days because Tristan didn't live with us and only came to stay during some weekends. I stood there looking at Conner through the sliding glass door and I cried. 

He misses his dad just as much as I miss my husband. He misses his brother just as much as I miss my stepson. We both miss how easy life used to be. My little boy who has never been one of the popular athletes is so strong and so smart and so imaginative and SO much like his dad. And that makes me proud beyond any measure of the word! 

So, I opened the sliding glass door after wiping my tears and told my son how proud I am of him and how much I love him.  I decided since we haven't been able to spend a ton of time together just doing fun stuff lately, that we would run into town for an ice cream. 

We did but ended up not enjoying ourselves and neither of us finished our ice creams. We were both desperately missing Mike at that point and the wave was starting to build its momentum to come washing over. So Conner said he wanted to go see his dad. 

Conner hadn't seen his dad's stone yet; he had wanted no part of choosing it or seeing it in the process. I didn't either but I knew it was my job to choose perfectly to honor my husband not just for me and the boys, but for Mike's family too. I had to choose well. 

So I was nervous about taking Conner to see it for the first time. I knew he would feel like I felt when I first saw it in person-- undefinable shock and pain at seeing the reality in stone. 

We arrived and did what we always do: Conner and I walk over together, then I walk away for Conner to have time alone and then we switch and I finish the visit alone with my husband. 

Conner straightened some of the flags and flowers that Mike has been given and then he sat on the camouflage blanket we always bring. I told him I loved him and took my place under a big shade tree to wait for my turn. 

When Conner began his walk back to me I lost it. I hugged him so close and began sobbing and telling him how sorry I am that we have to come to a cemetery to see his dad. It shouldn't be this way. 

But that same amazing little boy who was sitting in the grass playing with matchbox just an hour before looked up at me, removed his hat, kissed his mom, and said, "it's gonna be ok, Mom. I love you." 

After I finally let Conner go, it was my turn to walk to the stone and sit. But last night it was more like I fell to the blanket, on my knees. I was completely back at the bottom of the wave: helpless, hopeless, in complete shock and disbelief, and completely broken. I reached my hand out to touch my husband's name and I just couldn't breathe for a minute. 

I cried so hard and told him how much I love and miss him and don't understand and don't want to or think I can do this on my own, and it's not fair that Conner and I have to come here to be with him, and that I am still so in love with him that I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept someone new in my life, and that I have so much to tell him about my new job. 

So this ridiculous looking simple chart of the "stages of grief" is crap. There is NO smooth sailing through this process and I actually wonder if it just goes on and on forever. I think yes. 

It's not simple. 

It's not easy. 

It's not black and white that you will go through this emotion then move to that emotion then on to the next in some perfect healing order. 

You will fall after you've climbed partway up the mountain. You will be toppled over in the blink of an eye after you've ridden the surf board to new heights. Grief is an up and down battle that you will fight for the rest of your life, so I've been told. I get it. 

It's true. I imagine that years will pass by and I will still have a hard time breathing some days. I imagine that I'll be doing fine and all of a sudden something will trigger a memory and I'll come crashing down. 

And that's because I love my husband like I have never loved before and the great thing was that he loved me back the same. But that's also what makes it the worst thing. We were happy and in love and life was GOOD. Now every bit of that is gone. It's not fair. It sucks. It makes me angry and sad and lonely and hopeless and scared most days. 

We love you and miss you, Babe. 

NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica 

 

Happy Anniversary, Baby...

Life wasn't perfect.

But it was ours. 

We began over a phone conversation on a cool October evening. I'll forever be grateful for Thursday, October 18, 2001. My telephone rang at 5:40 pm and my life began again with that one simple call. 

You were it. 

I had never believed in love at first sight until you. You literally swept me off my feet through a telephone line. 

I had never dated anyone but my ex-husband and I was scared to death, remember? I was literally broken out in hives by the time our conversation ended at 6:20. 

We talked of our past marriages, of our jobs, of farm life, of Alyssa and of Tristan. I could hear the smile in your voice that night and I couldn't wait to see it in person and to have our first date. 

Life began quickly for us. 

We had our first date at our old farm on Sunday, October 21, and I arrived to your farm at 4:00. You had the sliding glass door open, and popped your head outside when my truck tires stopped in the gravel. You were wearing a grey Nike shirt with cutoff sleeves, Carhartt blue jeans and work lace up boots.  Your hair was dark and longer; it parted in the middle. Your smile shook my soul as soon as I stepped from my black Dodge Dakota. 

I wore a red Tommy Hillfiger hooded long sleeve tee shirt and blue jeans. My hair had never been colored or highlighted and it was all one long length. It was curly and down. 

That first night won me over but baby, we made so many wonderful nights over the past 13 years. I fell so hard in love with you. 

We shared our first kiss on Monday night; you left for work on Tuesday. We talked until the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. On Thursday you asked, "So, what do you think about us?" 

I hesitated for fear that you would think I was certifiable if I said I was falling for you and felt like a high school girl every time I talked to you. So I simply replied, "Good...how about you?"

"I know it's crazy but I'm falling in love with you."

That was it. We were official after that phone call. Neither of us planned for it or sought it out. We had both been broken by failed marriages and were scared, but not with each other. 

October through January flew by like I never imagined. Every day brought new excitement at the thought of hearing each other's voice. In February, after months of you begging, I moved in with you. I had met Tristan a little while before and we both knew it was real or we never would have introduced me. 

For two years we had ups and downs, just like any relationship. 

Many days I feared that I was not cut out to be with a man who had a child. I had never been hated by a kid before and some days I was convinced that Tristan hated me. I know he was just protecting his parents, and as I did with my own parents' divorce, I know he wished for the marriage to be rekindled. It was tough. But I fell in love with him too. 

Some days I worried you would either quit wanting me or that you would find someone else. My confidence was at a negative million level. I had none. I feared every time you left for work that you would change your mind about us. You never did. 

I had some pre-cancer cells that had to be taken care of, which luckily was an easy procedure, but I was scared to death that I would not be able to give you more children. I had wanted to be a mom forever. Do you remember the day I came home from the doctor and told you? I cried and you cried. You were scared not just for me, but for us. 

We made it through all that and more. We made memories that haunt me every single day. 

Remember when we spray painted the old International camouflage? We had CCR playing in the background and a six-pack of beer. We laughed and had the best time. 

Or what about the time the longhorn cow knocked your hat off while you were giving them range cubes and I couldn't get out of the stupid Scout?! I was scared to death you would walk back to me with blood all over you but luckily she didn't even bruise you. 

Remember the first night when we rode around the farm in the old 'Yota? You told me later that you knew then and there I was the one meant for you. You told me that you loved that I was a country girl, a tomboy; that I was beautiful but simple enough that my hair could fly all over the place with the windows down and I didn't care.  

Remember how much I tried to impress you when we went gigging together for the first time? I wanted to show off and I kicked your butt at gigging. I learned very soon that you probably let me because you were an amazing gigger. You were amazing at everything you did. 

Remember when we were checking that crazy group of cows you just bought off someone and I was on the back of the four wheeler with you when one came running and bucking and almost kicked me? I grabbed onto you so tightly and you gunned it, almost knocking me off the four wheeler! 

I remember the first time you took me to meet your mom and Gayle. And the first time you took me to the 40 acres. We sat on the four wheeler and just talked right in the middle of a hollow in the woods. 

I rode with you all over the state during the summer just to be with you. I met lots of people and you smiled so proudly when you would introduce me to someone. I had NEVER been made to feel as good as you made me feel. 

I remember you coming to my fourth graders' Christmas concert my first year of teaching and the day you surprised me while I stood on recess duty. You came walking across the playground and I couldn't believe I actually found someone who loved me as much as you did. 

And what about the first Christmas as we opened gifts to each other on our bed?  You got me a necklace and a few other small things and I got you Carhartt jeans in the wrong size! The waist and length numbers were exactly backward of what they should have been! But you just laughed and were ok with it. 

Do you remember when I had some very blonde highlights and I went to the first MRWA conference in Springfield? Do you remember Dave coming up to us when you introduced me and he shook my hand and said, "I think you're cool!"? We laughed so hard for years on that! 

I'll never forget the first time I came home to a post-it note on the sliding glass door with notes trailing all the way to our bedroom. I miss how you used to randomly be the most romantic man I've ever met. 

Our first two years were spent learning about each other, falling in love enough to figure out how to get over the screaming fights we sometimes had, and building a life we could be proud of. 

When we married I was so happy. I wanted my family there, but it was ok that they weren't because it meant it was just more time for me and you. You looked so handsome in your black suit from JC Penney and I looked so young in my $99 David's Birdal gown I had bought months before. 

We married at 7:00 in the evening on August 9, 2003. We laughed through the ceremony at the short stature and dramatic effects of the lady who married us and then changed into comfy clothes for dinner out. We were so exhausted after the day that we just went straight to sleep after dinner and went home first thing next morning. 

I think my mom is still mad at you for not letting any family go. ;)

We discovered we were pregnant in early October after one of Tristan's soccer games in town. We went to a rent house we owned at the time, which we were remodeling, and took the test I had driven to walmart early that morning to get. 

As you read the directions aloud, I began screaming because the word PREGNANT popped up on the digital screen. I was so happy. We were so happy. 

When we met our son on May 17 of that year, I was the happiest woman in the world. What more could I want? I had the man of my dreams who held my hand and said, "push baby, push" the entire time; an adorable stepson who was so excited to meet his little brother at the hospital the next day (he even brought an adorable stuffed black and white puppy that Conner still has); and my final dream for my life had come true. I was holding in my arms the tiniest, most perfect bundle of the best parts of me and you. 

We were a family. 

Besides making it through the good times, we made it through hard ones too. 

We struggled financially often. We struggled with time and the lack thereof. We fought over my feelings being hurt too easily and you not caring about what I wanted you to care about. We struggled with infertility after we had Conner. We fought over where to live and what land you wanted to buy. We fought over how many vehicles you had, half of which never ran. You were a jealous man and we fought about that. You hated when I was singing in a band with the boys and would never tell me "good show", but you would tell others. You drank too much and we fought about that too. 

But I would do it all over again Mike. In a split second. You have to know that. There is not one part of you I don't miss, even your bullheaded jerk side! 

Baby, I can't believe you're gone. 

I can't believe I'm spending our 12th wedding anniversary talking to a stone, sunken to my knees with my shoulders shaking with the sobs. I can't believe you are gone. I just can't. 

I don't know how to wrap my mind around it. I don't know how to accept it fully and start moving on. Some days I smile and laugh and don't even cry. Others I swear to you I relive every grueling detail of the day you died. I just want you back. I want you back so bad. 

I don't know how to do this on my own, Babe. Conner is pushing every boundary that he can and I'm so tired. I'm so tired and I don't know how to make anything better or easier. I don't know how to handle all the money problems and debt load over my head. I don't know how to deal with the lawyers and court dates and probate and accountants. But besides all that...I don't know how to be ok without you. 

I haven't taken a breath or made a single move for 13 years that didn't revolve around you. 

I look at your Marine Cirps picture and the neatly folded flag in the flag case that rests upon our fireplace mantle and I just stare in disbelief. 

I walk into your office which looks almost exactly the same. I put your flannel shirt on in the evenings when it finally cools enough to wear it. I open your drawer in the bathroom and just run my hand over your razor. 

I'm just so incredibly broken. 

I miss being happy and in love. I miss being wanted and needed and finally appreciated after all these years. I miss the rasp in your voice and your phone calls and texts I'd get a million times a day. I miss that you won't get to grow old with me on this front deck like you promised you would. I miss the dreams of us watching our grandchildren run around in the front yard. 

I want to run to you and wrap my arms around you so badly. I want to hear you say my name and that you love me. I want to do nothing but sit and hold your hand. I want to go on date nights and scoot to the middle of the truck while I tease you with kisses as you drive. I want to feed cows with you and have you reteach me to drive the tractor every hay season. I want to make a dozen bologna sandwiches for your summer time farm hands. I want to pick up your dirty laundry and shake out the cow manure and clay mud from your jeans. I want to sweep up the crumbs from under your spot at the kitchen table. I want to cook your favorite meal, steak and potatoes. I want to smile when those texts would come or when I would see "Love of My Life" on the screen since that's how you are programmed into my phone. I want to laugh with you and take in all of you. 

I don't want to deal with all that life brings at me on my own. Gigging and deer seasons are just around the corner and I honestly just thought about them the other night while looking at deer in the field with Conner. I don't want to do it. I don't want to ask others to take us because you aren't here to do it. I don't want to ride the fences during deer season to make sure no one trespasses. But that's exactly what I'll do. 

I'll do it because of our little boy. I'll survive against my own will that sometimes tells me to just melt away into nothingness. I'll work my tail off at my new job to make you proud. I'll raise our boy as best as I can. I'll continue wiping my tears as they flow uncontrollably some days. I'll smile at new people I meet even though I want to hide from them all. I'll continue to nod and then lower my head trying to avoid eye contact every time someone in town looks at me. I'll continue to ignore their stares of pity. I'll drive your truck on days I'm really missing you. I'll sit in your office chair when I pay our bills. I'll do this and so much more because I have to. Because God wants me to.

I can't die today. I can't meet you in Heaven until God sends me your way.

So, I will look for you in the sunrises and sunsets. I will watch you grace our farm through the fog that rolls in the evenings. I will touch my cheek gently when you whisper to me in the fall breeze. I will see your eyes twinkle in the sparkle of the first snow of every winter. I'll think of you every time the rains fall and our road floods just to think of how hard you worked to clean up the messes always left afterward. I will smile with sweetness every day that the sun shines down on my skin. 

I will forever think of you and of our life; some days those memories will bring me the only peace I know. Other days those memories will break my soul into a million pieces and bring me to my knees. But I will continue to rise every day...to breathe in deeply...to survive my loss. 

I love you Michael Richard. I hope I feel you today as I remember our wedding day and how much we love each other. I miss all of you since having you as my husband was what made me whole. 

Happy 12th Anniversary, sweetheart. Until I see you again...I'll keep loving you.  

NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica