Wednesday, June 24, 2015

A Life to Make Mike Proud...

The other evening, after a day of staying busy, Conner and I sat on the front deck and had a talk.  It was required.  My child is a very strong-willed, stubborn, smart-mouthed kid.  He was before we lost Mike and he has increased his eye-rolling, stomping off, arguing, and just all around "attitude-ing"in the past six months.  It has gotten to the point where I am finding myself raising my voice way too often.

I'm exhausted.  I'm mentally, emotionally, and physically drained.  I haven't the energy to fight one more fight.  Especially not with my child.  So, we had a talk.  A nice, long talk.  I cried.  He cried.  I hope it affected him like I intended.

Here is what I told him.

"Conner,

We have got to fix us.  You and Momma have always been really close and anyone can see that.  But son, the last few months since Daddy has been gone you have disrespected me more often than ever before.  I don't have your dad to hold over you anymore.  I can't say, "Be good, or I'm telling your dad."  I can't say, "Look, Mom needs a break and a little bit of mom time, so you need to go spend the day with your dad today." Your attitude needs help and I have a plan to help us both.  I want to help you realize what we are here for and I want to help myself make better days for us both.

Let me tell you what I decided today while I was spraying fence rows, moving cows, weed eating, and all that in the hot sun.

Conner, I realized today that Daddy GOT the gift of going to heaven.  He wasn't taken from us because we did anything bad.  He GOT to leave this place.  He gets to rest all day; he doesn't have to work; he isn't sick; he isn't even worried about us.  He doesn't know how sad we are.  Daddy is ok. He is good.

But you know what else I realized?  We GOT to stay here and LIVE, Conner, and that's what we need to do.  The other day I wrote to your dad in my blog and I told him that I hope his feet are planted firmly on Heaven's ground when I get to Heaven because I'm coming running!

I told him I can't wait to see him and to get to be with him.  And I can't.  But you know what I want to be able to do when I get there?

I want to tell Daddy all the good stuff we did when he left.  I want to tell Daddy that when he died, we didn't.  We didn't sit here and fall apart.  I don't want to tell him that when he left you turned on me, Conner.  I don't want to tell him that we died when he did and just sat here and were sad and miserable and lived terrible lives when he left.   Daddy would feel guilty if I told him that.

So, I want to tell Daddy that I raised you well after he left.  I want to tell Daddy that we did so good together and we made it.  I want to tell him that we really lived so that we could tell him as much good stuff as we can when we get there.

Conner, I can't do this on my own.  I can't argue with you and let you disrespect me.  I won't.  I'm done.

I want us to want to live.  I want us to be happy and fill the days with things that we can tell Daddy when we get to him.  I want to be happy again.  So, you need to realize that we are here.  We have who knows how long left on this earth to live, to make memories, to make choices that will help us tell Daddy good stuff, or bad stuff.  Which one do you want to tell him?"

So this was our talk the other night and every bit of it is how I feel.  I need to build a life for me and my son that will make my husband proud and happy, not regretful and sorrowful.  I can't build memories if we are fighting all the time.

I know that Conner is angry.  I am angry.  We both have much about which to be angry.  We lost the center of our world.  Our lives came to a screeching halt in the middle of a December day and nothing has since or ever will be the same. But, that does not mean that it is ok for us to veer off course, to just stop living and stop living well.  I want to tell my husband how much we have continued to love him and have honored his memory through good things in our lives.

I can't wait to get to Heaven to see my husband.  I can't wait to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his face until I can't kiss anymore.  I can't wait to tell him how well his little boy and I lived just for him.  Just so we could share our stories of happiness and successes, of dreams and realities.

Every day is a struggle.  I still grit my teeth; I still cry a little bit every day; I still dream of the man I am so deeply in love with; I still hear his voice and miss his touch; I still suffer through so much pain in silence just to protect my child.  But, I cannot die.  I cannot die emotionally today.  I cannot quit. Mike wouldn't want me to.   Mike wouldn't let me.  He isn't letting me now.  Some days I want to, trust me...the desire to just throw my hands up and walk away tugs at my soul often.  Just to start all over somewhere else where no one knows what I've been through.  But, I won't.  That would be quitting.

So, I will live my life the best I know how until I get to see my husband again.  I will raise our son with as much respect and faith as I can so that hopefully we end up with a young man who is respected, respectful, and loved, who is kind and selfless, who is a hard worker and a loving man...  I will not quit and I am hopeful that I will not fail.

So, until we meet again Babe...I am doing my best.  I hope you see that and that you know that.  I hope that you feel the love we have all the way to Heaven.

I miss you more than words, but I can't let that stop me from doing what I was doing before you left. The sadness can't overtake me and overtake my role as a mom and a wife.  I am still Conner's mom and I am still your wife.  I got this, Babe.  I'm gonna make you proud.  I can't wait to get to Heaven and tell you all about it.

So glad today has been a good day and has put a spark of hope inside my heart.  I hope it stays here. I know I will fall down at different times in my life.  I know the sadness of losing you will overtake me again and bring me to my knees, but baby I'm gonna pick myself back up when it does so that I can live a life that will make you proud.  I'm so glad I had 13 years to be with you.  One day the years won't matter, as they won't be counted in numbers.  Our time will be limitless.



I love you and miss you baby...NFAxI...

Love,
Veronica
#stillhis



Saturday, June 20, 2015

Father's Day...

I'm posting this today because Lord only knows how I'm gonna make it through tomorrow while trying my best to distract our son and keep him blissfully unaware as to what tomorrow is. 

I am posting from our bedroom floor as I just sent Conner and a friend outside to play before I weed eat and mow. I am so sick to my stomach and have found my hands trembling these last few days in dreaded anticipation for tomorrow. 

I wasn't there to see Mike's face light up when his first son Tristan was born. I only have pictures that Mike had. I am glad that Tristan has a mom and family who love him and are there for him through every step of his life, but I wish I had been there for it all as well. I was there from almost 5 years old and on, and I loved watching every moment between Tristan and Mike. They used to build a fire in the field, pick up sticks and roast hot dogs over the open flame. Tristan would climb into Mike's lap and tell stories a mile a minute. Mike tried his best to go to as many basketball and baseball games as he could over the years but Tristan's senior year, he succeeded in making almost all of them. I even convinced him to attend State Cross Country and he was so proud when Tristan crossed the finish line. I sent him to find him and make sure he was ok after the run and Mike was so insanely proud. We had attended every single basketball game of the season Mike was here for senior year, even the Christmas tournament we had never attended. We used to take Tristan camping and Mike always made sure no matter where we were, he prepared Tristan's warm chocolate milk sippy cup before bed. Mike made 100% sure we were real and ready before he ever introduced me to Tristan. Since Tristan didn't live with us, Mike may have had more days with Conner but he tried his very best and hardest to have as many days with Tristan as he could. He would have loved for Tristan to live with us had circumstances allowed, but they didn't. So, special nights on a pallet in the living room floor, movies like Monsters, Inc., hot dog roasts in the field, wrestling matches in the floor, camping trips and boat rides, and picking toys from Wal-Mart every time we went were just a few of the many things I watched Mike do for Tristan when he was a tiny boy. For Tristan's 18th birthday, Mike had purchased tickets to an NBA game the night before his passing that would have been a perfect trip for just the two of them. I sure wish they had been able to go.


When our son Conner was born, I did get to see that look on Mike's face. The look of pure pride and joy. Conner was Mike's "mini-me", no joke! He looks like him, acts like him, dresses like him, and talks like him. Conner would follow daddy anywhere, and we often had to because Conner would constantly ask for him. Conner and Mike had lots of adventures together, some of which I was unaware until Mike's passing and then some of these adventures leaked out! Totally wasn't supposed to let Mom know...one of those stories it seems everyone knew but me! Tristan, Matt, Ronda, my mom...you name it! ;) Mike continued his traditions with Conner like he had with Tristan. Mike didn't make it to as many of Conner's games as he did to Tristan's, but he showed up when he could. Mike helped assuage Conner's fears the first time he had to have stitches (I'm hoping it's the last time too!); he would rock him to sleep at night when I needed to rest; he would sing to him when he thought I wasn't listening; he would tell him all about girls and how Conner needs to pick one like momma. There is so much more but I haven't the strength to relive it all. 

My most favorite moments between Mike and his boys were the ones we all four spent together. I have so many memories of the amazing man Mike was, and he tried his best to create wonderful memories for all of us. I know I will cherish them forever. 

I almost feel like Conner is the one who was cheated the most in this terrible tragedy. Tristan had 18 years with his dad; I had 13 years with my husband; but Conner...he was only given 10. I don't know how I'm going to be a dad and a mom for the rest of his life. Many days I feel like a failure and wonder what I'm doing wrong. I wonder if I've loved him enough each day that he feels both of us around him. I hear him talking to his dad at night, after we've said our prayers. Conner talks in whispers and I'll ask what he's doing. "Talkin' to Dad," he'll answer. I sure wish he could talk back. 

Babe, 
We hope your Father's Day in Heaven is spent laughing and talking with your dad. I know you missed him and spent too many years without him. I'm sure you're catching up every day, telling your dad all about the grandsons and daughter in law he never got to meet. 

I hope you know we are not ignoring you tomorrow, but this first Father's Day without you is rocking me to the core. I need to protect our little boy as best I can. So please don't think we miss you any less and are "ok" if we don't come to the grave tomorrow. We will come Monday, but I'll tell Conner it's just because, and not because it's your day. My gosh how am I gonna keep doing this baby? How am I gonna raise our boy without you and your guidance? 

I miss you so much it is ridiculous and I know our little boy does too because I see it everyday in his eyes, in the times he goes and just sits in your office, in the times I hear him listening to your songs the two of you shared. He worshipped the ground you walked on and still does. 

He wrote something for you a while ago. He doesn't know I'm sharing it in my blog, but I am so incredibly proud of him and heartbroken for him all in the same second. He loves you so much. Here is what he wrote:


If ever a father was a hero to his son, baby you fit the picture. And you were my hero too. 

So, please have a Happy Father's Day tomorrow in Heaven and know our hearts are aching to spend it with you, but I have to keep him occupied and smiling and unaware of the day or I know it will be terrible for him. 

I love you and I miss you with every fiber of my existence. You were our rock and you are the best dad and husband I've ever known. 






Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity
#stillhis

Love,
Veronica 






















Thursday, June 18, 2015

The Front Porch...

I find myself sitting right here, just like this, more often now than I ever have before. Before I lost my husband, I hardly ever sat out on the deck. I would every so often, but I was usually preoccupied with house work when it wasn't caught up, editing photos for clients, working on the computer for school or whatever, or engrossed in a movie with Conner. Sometimes it was even "mom's TV time" and I would catch up on my DVR shows. 

Now, I find myself in the chair he bought me for my birthday a couple of years ago, feet propped up, sweet tea beside me, and the need just to be silent. I don't want to talk. I don't want to peruse Facebook or Instagram. I don't want to hear anything but the birds, the frogs, and the cows. I just sit and breathe. 

Usually I feel an ache to retire to the porch when I'm missing Mike the most. I just have to step out of it I guess, just "normal" routines because they are terrible. I think of how stupidly I spent most of my time, other than when it was spent with my family. But my computer time when it wasn't important, my TV time when it wasn't being watched as a family, all that. Stupid. Wasted moments that could have been spent making more treasured memories. 

I find that I often become angry with myself. Why didn't I go to work with him more? Why didn't I tag along to every single outing that I possibly could? Why did I sometimes choose the alone, quiet, "mommy" time instead of spending it with my husband and son together? 

I'm so angry at myself. I miss my husband so much that I sometimes cannot function and I just keep thinking, HOW THE HECK DID WE GET HERE????? HOW did this happen that I am alone???? HOW do I not have the absolute love of my life right next to me????  

HOW IN GOD'S NAME DO I START TO HEAL AND MOVE FORWARD????? Especially when at this moment in time I have no desire to? I hurt so much and so deeply every single day and it doesn't matter what I do to try to fill the hours, this friggin' sadness reaches its nasty claws up my throat every hour of the day. I still have no control over when it's gonna hit. None. 

Today I spent most of the day with my sister. The closer it got to evening the more I was ready to leave and come sit in silence on my porch. Not that I don't absolutely cherish every minute with her and the girls, but because I felt that terrible monster clawing his way up. I drove in silence most of the way home, just listening to a local Christian radio station, K-LOVE. Tears would well with every couple of songs but I was determined not to let them fall because Conner had been doing pretty good all day. I was angry at myself for almost breaking which would have caused
him to break. 

When we arrived home, I cooked dinner for just the two of us...well there is enough to still feed four because that's how I've cooked for 13 years. I haven't learned the art of cooking for two yet. I don't want to. It's stupid. It's stupid that my life is ridiculously unfamiliar and terrible to me. I'm in unchartered territory and I have no idea which way is up or forward. I just see myself on this plane of unrecoverable grief. Sure, I laugh some days...I have a good time some times...but the grief never goes away. It barely slows down long enough for me to have a productive day. 

And you know what else doesn't help? These dadgum Father's Day commercials! Oh my gosh they are everywhere All.Of.The.Time. We cannot escape them. I'm trying my best to just pretend they aren't there but I don't think anyone has any idea how much I dread this coming Sunday. What do I do for my little boy? I'm hopeful that he hasn't paid very close attention and that he is completely oblivious to the holiday. I honestly don't know how to handle it if he's not in that blissful ignorance I hope he is. 

And then you know what all else is approaching that sends me into near panic attacks? The six month mark of his passing; Fourth of July, Mike's favorite holiday; my birthday; our 12th wedding anniversary. They all make me nauseated.

So every day I look around and see where my husband SHOULD be and what he SHOULD be doing. I don't know how I got here and I don't know how to get out. 

I'm just trying my best to rely on God and trying my best to be patient with His timing. I WILL see my husband again and I'll no longer have to sit on this huge empty porch in silence alone. Wish I didn't have to. 

And it doesn't matter who comes to visit, no one could sit on this porch with me and make me feel one ounce better. This is Mike's place, where he belongs. How do I accept that it's no longer his place? How do I accept that he is where he belongs? How do I accept that and still be ok?

Hardest thing to learn is how to put one foot in front of the other when your heart has been ripped from your chest. 

I love you so much Michael Richard. I sure hope you can feel it all the way to Heaven. I can't believe you're gone. 

I am Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity #stillhis. 

Love,
Veronica 

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

He is everywhere...

I

Today I saw my husband everywhere.

It started when I was trying to transfer some of our old home videos to DVD and I actually found an SD card inside the video camera.  There was a picture of me he had taken early on.  I was lying on the couch with my legs tucked up tight and wearing one of his denim button up shirts.  It reminded me of how excited we made each other from day one and even after 13 years.  When we first began Mike wanted me to move in with him almost immediately and I wouldn't.  I told him I wasn't comfortable just living together.

Well, he wore on me after a while and so in February, only four months into our relationship, I decided to move in with him.  He was beyond elated.  So, we spent days and nights together on that farm, in that small trailer, and it was perfect.  It became our home.  We had so much fun in that house and on that farm.  I remember one time we shared a 12 pack and spray painted one of his old farm trucks camouflage.  We played Mike's CCR CD, laughed, flirted, spray painted each other a little bit, and did a jim-dandy job for our first camo job. :)  We would often times just take a ride through the farm, stop on a hillside and make out! ;)  We would just kiss and hold each other.  That was it.  Just kiss for an hour, then snuggle and watch the cows.  We would look up at the stars, just talk and share our dreams.  I was living a dream.  It was perfect.

The picture of me laying on the couch reminded me of how much he loved me and wanted me, even when I thought I was gross.  I was young and in the best shape of my life, but my confidence still lacked.  Mike tried his hardest to build that confidence.  He would leave me notes trailing to the bedroom.  He would run me a bubble bath and come take me by the hand to lead me to the bathtub. He just never stopped trying to make me understand that he thought I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

After I discovered the SD card, then Mike was still everywhere today.

The next time I saw Mike today was when I had to go to our rental property.  Mike bought the house right before we got married.  We did a little work on the house and then when I was 7 months pregnant, we moved in.  It was an older, tiny home, but again...we made it ours and lived our dream life together in it for a little more than two years.  I had only been back in the house once since we moved out.  Today was my only other visit since.  I saw myself applying the sunflower wallpaper and border in the kitchen when I was 8 months pregnant.  Mike got onto me for doing it by myself, but I was stubborn.  I saw the bedroom where we slept and his office that sat right off the bedroom.  I remember him sneaking out there to work all hours of the night and I remember when Conner was tiny and he would walk back there to watch "Daddy 'erk" since he couldn't pronounce the W.  I saw the memories we made the night my dad and stepmom came for dinner and brought the first Blue Collar Comedy Tour video and I laughed so hard I cried and thought I was going to put myself into labor.  I remember Mike smiling so wide.

I saw the first night we brought Conner home and every inch of my body was in pain and I was beyond exhausted.  I began crying the millionth time Conner woke and wanted to eat and begged Mike to take him for 15 minutes to let me rest.  It lasted all of 3 minutes because I couldn't lay there without my baby boy, so daddy brought him back to me and cradled him into my arms.  I remember Conner's first Easter egg hunt and how excited I was when he found his first egg.  I remember Conner's first sled ride when daddy sat our baby boy all snuggled up for warmth into the sled and pulled him around.  I remember the night we sat at the kitchen table and decided on our son's middle name.  I saw us everywhere in that house today.  Luckily I was only there a few minutes or it probably would have knocked the wind out of me and sent me to my knees right in the middle of the kitchen.

My next view of Mike came this evening when I went to a different part of the farm with our friend to bring a tractor and bush hog down the hill.  When we came to the top of a hill where the tractor was parked, I looked over the hillside and missed my husband so much in that one moment that I did have to stop and catch my breath.  I saw all the work he had done over the years.  I remember the hillside he burned one year and we made a massive bonfire in the bottom where the hill sunk into the valley.  Mike loved making fires and roasting hot dogs.  Didn't matter where.  Didn't matter when. We have built fires in every season and on every piece of property we own.  I remembered all the times I rode with him over the years to check cows and feed them.  We usually had the radio on, me sitting next to him and Conner by the door, or in later years, Conner following on the four wheeler.  Mike's hand would rest on my left thigh and my left hand would rest on his right.  He would stop every so often, look over God's beauty, then look at me.  He would tell me how beautiful I was no matter if I had a hat on and no makeup, or had literally just changed clothes from church so still had makeup and fixed hair.  We would go back to the time when we lived at our old farm and would just sit and kiss, to Conner's disgust by the way. :)

I am tired of only "seeing" my husband and not really getting to have him.  I am tired of being so sad because he isn't here.  I am tired of the estate and probate ridiculousness.  I am tired of not sleeping.  I am tired of the dreams that make my stomach hurt.  I am tired of the breaths that I sometimes can't take because I can't breathe when it hits me.  I am tired of the waves that wash over me with no warning.  I am tired of sleeping on his side of the bed and Conner sleeping on mine.  I am tired of seeing his last work clothes packed into a Ziplock bag in the closet.  I am tired of not hearing his voice.  I am tired of trying to keep my crap together.  I am tired of working so hard on this farm.  I am tired of feeling guilty because I didn't work as hard on the farm while he was here.  I am tired of being angry.  I am tired of being sad.  I am tired of being a widow.

I want my husband back and I want our dreams back.  I want to sit in the field with him and watch the cows, hold his hand, and spend an hour doing nothing but kissing.  I want to lay beside him in our bed.  I want to find notes that start on the sliding glass door and lead me to him.  I want to laugh with him and cry with him, share secrets with him and dreams with him.  I want my life back.

I know it can't happen, but I'm not ready to accept that yet.

I love you and miss you always baby.  Thank you so much for the 13 years that you gave me.  From that perfect phone call on Thursday, October 18, 2001 at 5:40 p.m. you were my perfect life.  I can't believe it's over.  And I cannot wait until I see you again.  I will always be yours and you will always be mine.  No matter what.  Nothing will ever change that.

He was mine and I was his.  I'll never stop and that will never change.  I will Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity be #stillhis.

Love,
Veronica

Sunday, June 14, 2015

A Letter to My Husband...



A while back I wrote a letter from Heaven to our little boy and so many people read that and reached out to me.  So many friends and family told me that it sounded unbearably like Mike had written the letter himself.  That's how well I knew my husband.  My gosh how I miss him.  Every day.  It's not getting any easier.  I know it's still early on; I know the road ahead is a very long one paved with some valleys and mountains, some seemingly smoother riding with a few potholes to surprise us.  I know all this, yet it doesn't help.  There are so many things I want to say to Mike.  So, for this post I decided to write a letter to him.  It is probably the first of many.  

Dear Babe,

I wonder where are you right now.  I wonder what you're doing.  I hope you are sitting on that sunny hillside I keep seeing you on, talking with your dad, smiling, laughing, not thinking for one second about anything sad or the fact that you're not with us.  

I hope that your hair is dark and "salt" free since you liked it that way.  I hope you are constantly smiling and laughing and full of energy.  I hope and pray you don't see our hearts breaking every single day.  I guess I KNOW you don't...but I still pray for that.  It doesn't matter what my faith tells me. I worry about you.  I worried about you every day here on Earth and I guess part of me worries about you still.  I know it's stupid because I know our God has you wrapped in His love and that you are well.  You are happy.  You're not tired; you're not working; you're not in any pain or under any stress.  You don't see the tears I cry.  You're perfect.  

Bu, there are so many things I say to you over and over every day.  I hope that you can hear me.  

You know I was so proud of you right?  In the beginning I was proud to be seen with you.  You were the most handsome man I had ever known.  Your smile stole the room.  I miss your eyes and how they sparkled and teased between greens and browns.  Your laugh was contagious and made everything fun.  I remember how you would throw your head back and clap your hands when something was really funny.  

As time grew, I became proud of you for so many more reasons than just because you were the hottest man I'd ever known! ;)  

I was so proud to be your wife.  Yours.  You, the hardest working man in my world.  I've tasted that work just a tad these past few months, and really these past couple of weeks since being out of school.  The other day as I was spraying electric fence rows with weed killer in the 95 degree sun, I cried.  I cried out of guilt.  I began beating myself up for not doing that for you.  I feel guilty that there were so many more things I obviously could have done for you and with you on the farm or with the concrete business, but when you were here you would always tell me not to do so much for fear of making me sick or hurting me.  You protected me from the difficult work that sometimes became dangerous.  I took care of our son, of the house, of the yard, and things of that nature and you did the farm work.  I only helped some and rode along more often. 

I hate that I wasn't there for you more.  I feel like if maybe I had been, then you would not have had to work so hard so much.  

I was also proud because you were so incredibly smart.  I remember when we first began dating and you had only been working for MRWA about a year.  You taught for them part of the time; your classes helped so many people become certified to operate water and wastewater plants that I don't think while you were here, you even realized your reach.  I remember when you would show me some of the math and science formulas for your classes.  The first time I was like, "oh my gosh...you know how to do that?"  NOT because I doubted your ability or intelligence, but because I could NOT do that!  You said, "Well did you just think I was stupid since I worked for the city?  Did you just think I rode around in the truck all day?"  Ha!  No, that is not what I thought!  Ever.  You were amazing.  You were amazing at what you did, whether it was farming or teaching, or making me fall in love with you.

I'm still proud to be your wife.  I hope you know that.  I miss you, ya know?  We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together.  We finally got it right with each other.  You were my forever and I was yours.  We sure were making it, weren't we?  We sure were doing great.  

I dream of you often.  It's so incredibly real it hurts.  When I wake I catch my breath and often times am crying.  I can't go back to sleep from those dreams.  I hear your voice too.  I have your outgoing voicemail message saved on my phone, but I haven't listened in a while.  I hear you clearly in my dreams.  One dream I had repeatedly a few nights was that you came home.  You came home and we had just been going through a separation for these few months and you were ready to come back home.  You had realized what you had here and weren't ready to live without it.  I hate that dream. It's not fair.  

I fell in love with you quickly.  You fell in love with me just the same.  I actually made you say it first because I thought you would think I was crazy to fall that fast.  You were so sweet and affectionate and sincere.  You were my soul mate.  

There is a song by Joey and Rory, a very "country" couple whose music I fell in love with years ago. This song is us, perfectly.  I will be your wife until the day I die.  It's titled "Born to Be Your Woman".  I hope you hear me singing it to you sometimes.  





I found something on Pinterest (go figure) and it reads:  "I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with you and then I realized...you spent the rest of your life with me.  I smile because I know you loved me till the day you went away.  And will keep loving me till the day we're together again."  I cannot wait to see you again someday.  You better have your feet planted firmly on that Heavenly ground because I am going to come running!  I am going to wrap my arms around your neck and kiss you until I can't kiss you anymore.  I'm going to smile and cry and yell in delight.

I have to go for now, as it's late and our little boy is missing you.  He just told me he wishes you could come home. So do I.  

I love you more than words baby, Now, Forever and Always times Infinity.  

I will forever be yours.  And that's the beauty of our love as well...you will forever be mine.

Love, 
Veronica

Monday, June 8, 2015

Pictures tell our story...


I sat on the front porch this evening for a little more than two hours.  I didn't turn on the tv inside the house.  I didn't play on my phone.  I didn't worry about the laundry in the hamper, or the dishes needing put away.  I didn't call anyone or text anyone.  I just sat.  I thought.  I remembered.  

I came into the house and started to decide on a blog post for the night.  I started perusing pictures and realized that I remember a story with every single picture.  I have a beautiful memory etched in my heart of every smile and in every reason behind that perfect, infectious smile of his.  

This first one of just Mike in his MRWA hat was taken atop one of our hillsides on the farm a few years ago.  I had been loaned my very first DSLR camera, a Nikon D3000 from our neighbor, and wanted to take some pictures.  Who better to use as guinea pigs than my husband and son?  So, we drove the four wheelers all over the farm looking for perfect places to snap a few photos.  Some we took just of Conner.  Conner pumping the old handle at the well at Bull Pen.  Conner climbing the cliffs by the Hole in the Rock field.  Conner sitting on a large rock on Rocky Ridge.  We had ridden around on a beautiful early fall evening for an hour or so, just exploring, stopping to take a few pictures, and so on.  Our final stop was the top of a ridge.  We could see the neighboring ridges and the valley below in its splendor.  I asked Mike if he would just continue looking ahead and smiling, but I wanted to take his picture.  He smiled his perfect smile.  He was so incredibly handsome that he melted my heart all over again every single day we were together.  He was so handsome.  Over the past 13 years, and especially the last few, his beard began to "salt".  He hated it and complained often, but I always told him I loved it.  I did.  I loved everything about the way he looked.  He always loved the way I looked too and always let me know it.  I fell deep into his eyes the first night we saw each other, the night he cooked me dinner at his house and we began.  I miss his face.  I miss his smile.  I miss his "salty" beard.   
This second picture was a fairly recent event.  When Mike and I began I had just been through a divorce and was on a bit of an "I can do it all by myself and I'm going to die alone" kick.  So, logically, I bought a single cab, 5-speed, 4x4, used Dodge Dakota pickup truck.  After all, I was going to die alone so I didn't need room for anyone else, right?  Well, two years later and literally one week after we married, we became pregnant.  Where in the world was I going to put a newborn car seat, let alone groceries, my school bag, Conner's diaper bag, etc...?  So, we traded.  I still owed money on the truck, so...you get the gist.  I financed more on the Dodge Durango we traded for than I should have.  Had the Durango for two years and we racked up too many miles.  I traveled at least once a year to a conference four hours away, and made countless trips to Poplar Bluff for groceries, etc... Mike was concerned with the miles, so he wanted to trade this time.  We still owed on the Durango.  This cycle unfortunately continued over the next several years.  A few years ago Mike got into a "small car, better gas mileage" frame of mind and he bought a Prius.  Yes, my farmer, manly man, sexy, tough, insanely hot husband bought a Prius.  Oh the jokes.  So, he drove the Prius for one year.  At that point, he decided he was going to soon resign from his traveling job and thus we would no longer need the Prius.  I owned a Jeep Liberty and wanted something bigger if I was going to get the poor gas mileage that my Liberty was getting.  If I was going to pay for a gas drinking machine, then I wanted a roomier gas drinking machine.  So, we sold the Jeep to my cousin Stacy.  No problem, I would drive the Prius for a few months; that was the deal!  I swear!   I was only supposed to drive it for a few months until I found a Tahoe or Yukon of my choice.  Well, we live on a mountain. Legit, a huge massive hill and thus my driving the Prius up and down that mountain at least twice a day (to and from work), was not doing the poor car any favors.  It literally jumped and spun the entire way up the hill and drug part of the way down.  When Mike had driven it for work, he usually parked it at the bottom of the hill so this wear and tear was not happening when he drove it. Most of the miles on it were highway, until I took over. ;)  So, I convinced Mike that I could make the payments on my own, that the Prius was a wasted investment since he was quitting his job soon, and that someone would give us a really good deal.  He offered to trade in an old farm truck that he had experienced trouble with since day 1.  He offered to trade the Prius, IF they would give us what we owed.  We were breaking the cycle of me financing a vehicle for more than it was worth because I never paid one off.  We went to a neighboring town, found a PERFECT Tahoe and a perfect Silverado.  We took a few days to ponder...well no, Mike took a few days to ponder the choice, and when we went back, the Tahoe had sold the day before.  I was so upset.  But, Mike convinced me to go with the Silverado and not wait for another Tahoe because: "When you're done with it, and you know you'll be done with it in about two years, I can take it.  And if by some miracle you keep it, then Conner can take it when he turns 16.  You'll have it just paid off then."  Seriously, those were his exact words.  I remember well.  So, he suckered me into it and I test drove the Silverado.  It is beautiful.  It is big.  I "let" Mike drive it home the day we bought it and he is smiling as I took a selfie.  I sent it to Tristan and his reply was, "Well at least we know Dad likes it better than the Prius! He never smiled when he drove the Prius!"  How very true, Tristan. 

The next picture of Mike smiling his goofy smile was taken on Current River when Conner was about 3 or 4; it was our last camping trip as a family.  When Tristan was little, we used to go camping during the summer for at least a week.  When Conner came along, Mike still took Tristan camping, but Conner and I would only come visit and play.  I was not going to sleep with a newborn or a toddler at the river.  Nope.  Wasn't going to happen.  This particular year we took our nephews, Billy and Derrek, with us.  Mike, Conner and I slept in what we call "The Scotty", an old RV that used to be Mike's Grandma Holly's.   Tristan, Billy and Derrek slept in a tent right outside the RV.  We had such a good camping trip that year.  We made some awesome memories.  This moment of the picture we had stopped for a while to let the boys take turns jumping from the boat front (motor was off; we were just floating).  Conner was so little that we made him keep his life jacket on the entire time, and he just HAD to wear his goggles every time as well.  He hadn't learned to hold his breath without holding his nose yet so his goggles did that for him.  It was a good time.  I made Tristan a collage frame full of pictures from that last family camping trip many years ago.  It still hangs in his room here.

And then you have the Christmas picture of that perfect smile again.  He is laughing in this picture because "every good man needs a pocket knife!"  Story -- my mom loves to give gifts.  She never had anything when she was growing up, or when my sister and I were, so she makes up for it now!  Let me tell ya! ;)  Even though we would rather she not ever buy us anything, just focus on the grandkids and spending time with us, she never fails to deliver gifts at Christmas.  My sister's husband has never really had a use for a pocket knife.  He grew up in the city and just never needed one.  Until now that is and he spent several years as Mike Hollis' brother in law, so he needs a pocket knife daily I'm sure! love you brother! ;)  So, Mom bought Merlyn a pocket knife one year.  I am pretty sure somehow that pocket knife landed in the couch that we bought used from my sister one year (not sure how long it had been wedged below the cushions, so Merlyn obviously didn't "need" a pocket knife that badly...lol).  There was some joke Mike made about the pocket knife when Mom bought it for Merlyn and her reply was, "Well, Mike, every good man needs a pocket knife!"  And so, the joke ran for a couple of years simply BECAUSE Mom bought more than one pocket knife for more than one man in our family!  She would forget every time that she had already bought one OR just has an obsession with men having pocket knives!  Either way, my son now has about 50! Love you, Mom. And Mike loved your pocket knives.  

The taking of maternity pictures has spiked in recent years.  When I was pregnant with Conner, those just didn't happen that often as there were very few "professional" or even "up and coming" photographers, so we didn't have any taken.  The only place "normal" folks could get pictures would be Wal-Mart and then it meant you had to buy that huge 105 picture package for $5.00, but they were all the SAME pose!  You remember those?  Well, one day we were at my sister's rental house, helping her fix something, and my dad, Mike, my sister, Alyssa, and I were all there visiting when Mike finished working on whatever needed worked on.  Alyssa was swinging in a life jacket...too cute...I have no idea why, but she was and I remember it.  Dad was sitting on a trailer with a mower on it maybe.  Mike had driven his old farm Toyota with a wooden bed.  Dad was teasing me about my growing belly and I said I was getting so fat that I probably couldn't even reach Mike to kiss him. Well, my husband gladly proved me wrong by grabbing me by the hands and pulling me to him for a kiss.  Guess I was wrong about the size of my belly because you can clearly see that our bellies are nowhere near touching!  He kissed me while laughing and I got so tickled at him.  I loved his kisses. I miss his kisses. I am so blessed and grateful to have Conner, a piece of Mike.  

This last two pictures are from one of our son's baseball games last spring/summer.  Conner and Mike had several songs that they loved.  One was "He's Mine".  It's an adorable country song telling of a boy whose Daddy claims him every time, even when the boy is in trouble and being ornery.  The dad tells of his pride in that little boy.  He tells of his son's wild hair and adventures, of his kindness to others, and so on.  Every year the parents order shirts with either their last name or something like "Conner's Mom" on the back with the child's jersey number.  Mike had me order his, but he did not get to attend the first few games due to work.  I kept Mike's shirt folded in his drawer until one day he surprised us by making it home in time to join us for the game.  We walked outside and Mike sat in a chair on the deck and I told Conner to go stand in the yard so I could get a picture (yes, photos are one my many things).  After a few I told him to turn around and that I was going to have Daddy join him, but I wanted them side by side so Conner could not see the back of Mike's shirt.  I snapped the picture then told Conner to come see.  He saw that his Dad's shirt didn't say the normal thing...he couldn't read it all the way, so he went to his dad and had him turn his back to Conner.  The shirt read: Conner - He's Mine.  It brought the biggest smile to our son's face that I have ever seen.  And it brought tears to my eyes.  Mike was proud to wear it.  He was proud to be a dad to both of his sons.  

For every single picture I look at, I have a story.  Some of the photos I took; some are from other people.  Some are 13 years old; some are five and one half months old.  The last picture we took together was taken on Christmas Day at Mike's mom's house.  He was wearing a flannel shirt and I was wearing purple.  He had been given a camouflage button up shirt and he held it in front of him as we squeezed together with our gifts.  He was my gift all those years ago.  He was my gift from God just when I needed him the most.  His gifts to me never quit; the physical ones, yes ;), but the gifts of his unfailing love, commitment, laughter, smile, kiss, touch, everything...are irreplaceable.  I'm so glad I have all of these pictures and thousands more.  I'm glad my memory is like an elephant's and I remember details that most don't.  I will cherish every photo taken with my husband and of my husband for the rest of my life.

I wish you were here baby and I'd take another selfie with you that you enjoyed so much! ;) lol...   My gosh my missing you is not lessening, baby.  My heart is not healing.  Until I see you again, I will look at your smile here on paper; I will walk down memory lane with every photo; I will remember what I had for 13 years, 2 months, and 11 days.  I will have it again one day when I see you again and I cannot wait.

I love you Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity.  #stillhis
Love,
Veronica

Friday, June 5, 2015

Things I probably shouldn't say...

It's 6:30 am and I've been awake since 4:00.  My mind is to blame.  It won't shut up.  I'm so angry sometimes.  My anger is still never directed toward God, and by the way I am so thankful for that.

But I'm angry at and about so many things.  Some of the things about which I'm so angry I can't say out loud; some of them I can't even write here because I know my anger will offend the people toward whom it's directed.  So, I wake sometimes with a mixture of sadness, desperation, worry, guilt, and then anger.

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares."

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/h/henrinouwe131151.html#5zTIKktl1bw2M8hi.99



After all, he was mine.

he was just here.
he loved me, really and truly loved me.
he held my hand.
he kissed me often.
he told me how much he loved me every day.
he fought with me.
he made up with me.
he whispered sweet nothings and secret longings in my ear.
he looked at me.
he looked into my soul.
he held me up when I felt weak.
he took care of me when I was sick.
he laughed so hard with me.
he made me laugh so hard with him.
he made love to me like I was the only woman he had ever been with.
he made me feel special.
he actually made me feel beautiful, which has always been a difficult task.
he made me trust fully.
he made me believe in happiness again.
he sang when he thought I couldn't hear.
he watched me when I didn't know he was looking.
he surprised me.
he left me notes.
he took me on adventures.
he taught me how to "farm"...I'm still working on that.
he got angry at his cows and threw little "fits" that I miss.
he taught me how to drive a tractor.
he smiled when he saw me driving his truck.
he taught me how to tear down my walls.
he taught me how to fight for what I want.
he listened to me and what upset me...took him a few years to learn that one.
he swept me off my feet.
he stole my heart, my mind, my body, and my soul within a few days.
he asked me to marry him at a road side park.
he promised his love and life to me on an August evening.
he was proud to be seen with me.
he grew to like kissing me in public...not ronchy kissing...just a simple, perfect kiss.
he complimented me multiple times every single day.
he blessed me with a son.
he held our son and placed him in my arms.
he rocked him to sleep at night when I needed a turn to rest.
he slow danced in the living room with our baby in his arms.
he slow danced with me in the kitchen.
he filled my life with small, perfect, simple memories.
he cried.
he cried because his oldest son didn't live with us.
he cried when his oldest didn't come for the weekend.
he cried when plans changed in the blink of an eye, without warning.
he cried at people's evilness.
he cried out of guilt.
he made mistakes that to some were unforgivable.
he was afraid to forgive himself.
he never did.
he was insecure.
he felt he was never good enough, though he was beyond any measure of "good enough".
he was selfless.
he helped his friends any time they called.
he worked harder than any man I've ever known.
he never stopped working.
he fought me over work.
he took on too much.
he could never stop; he didn't have a choice.
he died while working.
he left us.
he didn't mean to.
he is still my husband.
I am still his wife.
Conner and Tristan are still his sons.
Chris is still his mom.
Becky is still his sister.
PR is still his brother.
my family is still his family.
my heart is still his.
my soul still belongs to him.
my heart still breaks every day.
my soul still aches every second.
my son cries for his dad almost every day.
we both have dreams of Mike.
we both toss and turn and are restless when we do sleep.
I worry.
I can't control it.
I break down at random moments and in sometimes the most random places.
I can't control that either.
I am still his.  All of me.  Now. Forever. Always. times Infinity.

So, I'm angry.

I'm angry a lot.  I don't say it to very many people and I don't say why I'm angry at all.

I'm angry that I was finally, FINALLY, truly happy in my life!  And then, BOOM...it's all gone.  My life as I knew it is gone.  I'm still here, yes...I'm still thankful for my health and safety and for the health and safety of my family and friends.  I thank God every single day for that.  But my life, the life I knew for over 13 years, has ended.  I don't like this new one.  I'm not a fan of it at all.  It sucks. Being young and a widow SUCKS.  There's nothing to it.  No sugar coating.  No blah blah blah...

Now, please understand that MOST of what people do/say I KNOW means well, but sometimes it's just not the right thing to say.  I know most people don't mean for it to sound distasteful or whatever, but imagine if you were in my shoes.  Would it be something you would want to hear?

I'm angry if someone says, "We need to get you to a good place, girl..."  WHAT???  I WAS in a good place and it's only been 5 months since I lost the love of my life and you want to talk to me about getting to a good place???!!!!!  HOW?  How do you suggest I do that?  Forget that I lost him?  Forget what I'm going through?  I wish I could get to a "good place".  I wish I could heal.

There was no preparation for this.  I was cleaning house and received a text from his ex-wife telling me that Tristan had heard his dad was hurt at work.  Why did she get information about it before I did????  Why didn't someone fly to my house and tell me first?  Why was I second, or third, or fourth, or whatever to know??? I was getting phone calls immediately from multiple people who were asking what was going on before I ever spoke with the coroner who answered my husband's phone!  Why did that happen?

Don't tell me that I'll "find happiness again".  No I won't.  Not the kind of happiness that was real and what I had 5 months ago.  I'll never find that again.  I know  I won't.  Sure, I might, EVENTUALLY, in YEARS to come, meet someone new.  I might date again in YEARS to come, but that's not how this works, folks.  I don't just get to "move on".  He will always be a part of me.  I will always miss him.

I'm angry if someone says, "Let me know if I can do anything."  Well, quit saying it and just get your butt up here and offer.  Don't wait for me to ask.  I don't work that way; Mike didn't work that way. Don't just talk the talk, walk the walk.  Show up.  Come with a weed eater because I hate weed eating.  Come ask what fence needs fixed, what chores need done.  I'm tired.  I'm not asking for sympathy or handouts, but if you're truly a friend, then just do something.  I don't want sympathy.  I don't want things done FOR me.  I will help.  I have worked hard on this farm, and even harder now that my husband is gone, so I will not just sit back and watch it happen.  I'll get in there with you. I'm exhausted (yes, I'm a teacher and have the "summer off"...yeah right...but sadness and grief are more exhausting than I ever imagined, so I'm freaking tired and I don't get any time off from the farm, from being a single mom, from my sadness) so maybe I'll sit with my friend and visit and watch you work. Maybe just a visit will be nice.  No offers of work, just come sit and have some sweet tea with me and let me talk about my husband.  Tell me stories about my husband.  Come with dinner at random. Let me kid play with your kid.  Invite us over. Invite us into your home when we are lonely. I hate inviting myself somewhere; it's tacky.  Invite us.  No, I don't mean just tell me once, "Oh, you guys should come over and ....whatever..."  I'm not just going to randomly show up at someone's house, so invite us.  Help my little boy build memories this summer since he thinks his life sucks now.  Don't just tell me you want to do stuff with us this summer.  DO IT!!!!!

Don't talk about me.  Don't talk about the farm.  Don't talk about what I'm having to do on my own that I never dreamed I'd have to do.  A freaking estate lawyer.  Seriously?  What the hell?  I'm angry that I didn't insist that Mike have things in order all along.  He thought he had all the time in the world and was too busy working to get things squared away. Sure, we talked about it.  We talked about it often actually and he told me I was morbid.  I wasn't being morbid.  I wanted to never be in this legal situation of having to deal with, excuse my language and Lord please forgive me, this shit! I'm pissed.  Not at Mike.  Not at God.  At the situation and the audacity of some people who want to be all up in my business.  Who think I'm doing something wrong, or illegal, or immoral.  I'm not doing anything wrong.  I'm not stealing anything or buying anything I shouldn't or selling anything I shouldn't. I'm not doing one thing that my husband wouldn't be proud of.  Mike, Conner and God are who I measure what my days go by.  I don't need anyone else's approval or permission or understanding.  I'm running life like I would if Mike were here.  I talk to him about it.  I pray about it. I do not do one thing that I feel God is directing me away from.  So, you know what...Whatever. I'm doing what I have to do to SURVIVE.  That's right...survive.  Survive paying bills that I've never had to pay.  Survive this farm business.  Survive this tragedy that has rocked me to my core.  Survive raising my son on my own.  Survive all the mean and vengeful and cruel people out there.  Survive sadness.

So, yeah I guess one could say I have some pent up aggression.  I haven't said these things out loud.  I don't have the guts to.

My anger is not directed to my friends and family who have been there for us, and trust me, they are countless.  We have had so many friends and family be here for us, welcome us into their homes, bring us dinner, sit and visit and have some sweet tea, let my kid play with their kids, go places with us, worked on the farm alongside me and Conner, talk to me about Mike, tell stories, remember great times, etc...

And maybe I'm not supposed to rant.  Maybe I'm not supposed to write these things down because Heaven forbid someone who NEEDS to read this actually might read it and be offended, but my goodness....  I just get so angry.  Have some tact.  Be my friend!  Be Mike's friend by helping his family through this.  It's hard.  It's unbearable most days.  It's still so unreal and painful and fresh. Just be here for us.  Quit trying to tear me down any farther than I am.  Build us up.  Pray for us, pray with us.

Unconventional post?  Maybe.  But I just took a deep breath and let it out there.  I know I'm not alone in these feelings...I guarantee you there are other widows like me who feel the same way.  Until you've been here, you don't get it. I hope and pray that you never do.

But, even when my sleep evades me because of anger, it also still evades me because of the absolute devastation of losing the love of my life.  So be kind.  Just listen.  Don't tell me it will get better. Don't tell me it will be ok.  Don't.  Just listen.  Talk about Mike.  Do fun stuff with us to distract our minds.  That's what we need.  That's what we want.

Thanks for reading my ramblings.  I hope today is a better day.

I miss you more than words and love you more than anything in this whole wide world, baby...Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity.

I am #still his.

Love,
Veronica