I Promise...

I became a widow 17 months ago tomorrow. 

My husband was ripped from my life in literally the blink of an eye. I was crouched in the gravel by my truck as I screamed at the top of my lungs, not knowing how I was going to survive. I had to speak aloud the words to my son that broke every ounce of me that might have remained: "your dad is gone, Conner. There was an accident at the concrete plant and your dad is dead." 

Did I say that with grace? No. I was barely breathing and my brain sure wasn't functioning at even a fraction of capacity. Do I regret how I told our 10 year old son? Yes. But I hadn't control at that point. 

For weeks, and yes weeks, I literally walked in a fog. I remember needing help to make it from the recliner to the bathroom during those first few days. And I literally mean it was like a fog. My limbs would just stop working at some points and my body would almost convulse into terrible and draining sobs. I couldn't drive myself for days. I didn't eat, didn't sleep, didn't speak unless I had to. I remember being fed Xanax after I would have a panic attack and massive hyperventilating/crying/screaming spell. I remember crawling into that huge king size bed feeling like it would swallow me whole at any minute because my super strong, always present husband was no longer in his spot. 

I relive Every.Single.Detail. 

The feeling in the pit of my stomach returns every time I see the first text from Mike's ex-wife which prompted it all into action. I feel the nausea take over every time I see myself shaking uncontrollably as I had to get dressed and begin calling Mike's family and my own. My breaths become labored every time I see him on that cold metal table, his body covered in a white sheet with his left arm exposed so that I might hold his hand. 

There is not one single detail of my husband's passing, of the immediate days following, of the funeral and the Marines and the flag and the family and friends and the cows that walked up to the fence at the cemetery, of the words spoken by our preacher, of the songs that played and thinking how Mike would have appreciated the songs I chose, of the weeks it took me to be able to work through a full day, of the counseling and medication that my son has had to endure, of the images of Conner throwing up daily because his heart and soul were ripped open that day as well, of the "big days" Mike has already missed, of the utter despair that I have felt so often the last 17 months. 

But let me tell you something...I PROMISE that one day, not immediately and not fast enough to satisfy your broken life, you WILL climb from the abyss of pain and loss and suffering and guilt and on and on and on... 

You have to FIGHT! You HAVE to! 

You have to claw your way out...kick and scream and fight to get to the other side. Because listen, NO ONE ELSE can or is going to do it for you. You will be bruised and tattered, exhausted and scared. But you WILL survive this, despite what your heart and soul sometimes scream at you. 

When it takes control, and that's the ugly reality about grief and it being its own living, breathing animal, you will still have break downs. You will still cry, but it won't be every day. You will miss him or her, but you will also look forward to the day. You will still wonder if you're making the right moves, but you will take a step forward despite it. You will NEVER stop loving him or her, but you will begin to recognize that life does go on. I know that 17 months ago, I didn't think it would and quite frankly, I did not want it to. Not that I contemplated taking my own life or anything like that, but I just did not want life to go on without Mike in it. That realization that life does go on, did not sit well with me and it really pissed me off. 

But I can't be angry about life's continuing cycle anymore. And I can't be afraid to breathe new life. And I can't give up on everything I've ever enjoyed and loved just because my husband died. 

I will NOW, FOREVER, and ALWAYS TIMES INFINITY love and miss my husband Mike, and the life and love we made together. But I PROMISE that I WILL survive and live my life to the fullest! I WILL laugh until I cry, love someone else, dance to my favorite songs, sing to the top of my lungs, giggle until my side hurts, smile a true smile, raise my son to be a good man, and pray thanks to God every day for bringing me this far. 

And I PROMISE...you will too. 

My hope is that one day I CAN and WILL be an inspiration to others. I hope one day to speak to groups and tell my story and encourage others to keep fighting so that they too can one day say... I SURVIVED! 

So please don't give up. Please read and retread this blog as many times as you need. Remember in my earlier posts, I was just like so many of you: full of everything BUT hope. Today I'm filled with hope. 

I will visit my husband this weekend, as it is Memorial Day weekend. I will place a flag for him and I will remove the old flower arrangements which badly need replaced. I will tell him how we are doing and I will confess my deepest love for him. I will walk away from the headstone able to breathe. 

I will NFAxI love and miss you, Michael Richard. You taught me so much about love and I have so much of that love left in me to give to others and to myself. 

I hope you're dancing in the sky...I hope you're singing in the Angel's choir...I hope the Angels know what they have...I bet it's so nice up in Heaven since you've arrived...  

Love, 

Veronica 

#stillhis 

New, Weird, Scary Nerves...

I haven't dated since 2001. 

I literally have only ever dated two men in my life, and those both became my husband (obviously at different times). I dated my first husband all through my teenage years and we married when I was 18. We divorced in 2001 and I began dating Mike that same year. We were married two years later. 

I've heard that Dating since widowhood is ENTIRELY different than dating in what I call "regular life". When I dated my ex-husband, we really didn't "date" because we were already a couple from the time I turned 13. We were just a regular couple and then married. There were never any nerves. We just were "us" from the beginning. No impressing or worrying to be done. 

With Mike, he was my first REAL date! The first man to ever approach me without already being my boyfriend. He was the first to just call me up and ask me on a date. I was so nervous but so incredibly excited!!! My first marriage was over and the divorce had been finalized for a little while before Mike called. I had no ties to anyone or anything so the idea of a date with someone new was full of excitement! 

Now, the thought of dating someone new has a mix of emotions. 

I am excited at the prospect of someone WANTING to ask me out. I've absolutely no self esteem and am beyond self-conscious. I have so many body flaws it's ridiculous and I haven't the energy or time to make any changes. And I don't care what all the exercise fanatics out there say--NO, I literally DO NOT have time. So for a man to WANT to ask ME on a date?!?! That's huge! That's exciting. 

I am nervous about disappointing OR really impressing someone. On one hand, if I disappoint him, then my self esteem will only diminish even further. I HATE disappointing others. On the other hand if I really impress him (or the opposite), is it gonna work or am I going to get hurt? What if it doesn't? 

This time around I have so many facets of life to consider: my son's feelings first and foremost; my stress load for all the court dates and debt smothering me at times; my job and its commitments; my role as a solo parent and having to arrange child care every time we want to go out; the list could go on and on. I'm worried the list will be too much for a new man. 

But I WANT to date someone again. I want to flirt and laugh and smile and get dressed up for him. I want to hear from him throughout the day. I want to feel his hand on the small of my back as he leads me through a doorway. I want to look him in the eyes and feel a connection. But I'm scared. And I feel a tinge of guilt. Almost like I'm cheating, but I KNOW deep down that I'm not. 

My marriage (according the law) legally ended on December 28, 2014, when "death do us part" happened. But I don't want to stop wearing my ring. I didn't get to pick this time. I didn't get to sign on the dotted line to make a choice of a dissolution of marriage. So I KNOW I'm not cheating, but sometimes I wonder if a new man might wonder that at times. Almost like I would be cheating on him with a ghost. I don't want that at all. I want a new man to feel like I'm WITH him because I want to be, but that it's totally ok to still love my husband too. I have a big heart; I have so much love to give. I didn't get to give it all. And isn't that what life is supposed to be about? Loving each other? 

So...I talked with Conner a couple nights ago because I wanted to tell him that I'm ready. I'm ready to meet someone to have fun with. Someone who will make me laugh. Someone who will make me feel cared for, respected, appreciated, wanted, and so on. 

Someone who will care about my son IF and WHEN the dating turns into a relationship. Someone who will NEVER try to be Conner's Dad, but rather a really good person who loves him too. Someone who will have patience and understanding and acceptance when I have a bad day. Someone who will always respect my space and will know and accept that I will never stop loving Mike. But that I also have enough room to love someone new too. It won't be replacing my love for Mike or replacing Mike at all, but will just be an added abundance of love for someone. I'm ready. 

So, for the time being, I will be open to dating. I will be open to being friends with someone first and making sure that we really care for each other before he meets my son. I will have fun and try my best to not take things too seriously but will spend my time really trying to get to know him. I will share my fears with someone and my likes and dislikes openly and honestly. I'm too old and scarred to do anything but. 

Prayers and blessings are appreciated from my family and friends and from my widow sisters (wisters) out there.  I love each and every one of you with whom I've made a connection these past 16 1/2 months. And to my family and close friends, thank you for the vote of confidence that I CAN breathe and live and laugh and love again. 

#stillhis

Love, Veronica  

He's 12 Now...

Yesterday was a mad mix of emotions and Con and I were both on that roller coaster unwillingly! Conner turned 12 yesterday and while I wanted to cry like a baby, I mustered the strength to smile and laugh and be energetic when our boy awoke. 

We grabbed McDonald's breakfast as a treat and I didn't even finish eating mine as the nerves were working overtime in my stomach. Our son was celebrating his second birthday without his dad. He hit his last birthday of being a pre-teen and he knew it, so he struggled with not having Mike here. 

Conner's day was filled with sneaking to the bathroom to text me (sorry to all of his teachers) and they were all similar: I wish he could be here, I love you mtw, mommy (more than words), I miss him, I love you, and so on in a repetitive fashion all day. He even went to the school counselor for a bit and he hadn't been in a while. 

But, we made it through school ok and then had dinner out before my high school athletic banquet. So we returned to school and spent the evening watching the dads in the crowd. Both of us did that. It's stupid, but it's what we did. And just when we thought that the night was about to a close, I received a text that yet again the cows were out and in the county road. Yay. 

So in a panic, and unable to leave the banquet, I began frantically texting people and when no one responded I texted my sister and my niece. I asked my sister to call our dad and luckily he was able to drive to the farm. At 8:45 at night. So by the time Conner and I arrived home, Dad was there and had moved part of the herd. 

By 9:45, all cows were behind fence somewhere (haven't looked this morning to see if they're still there and I really don't care at this point) and I was a hot mess of mascara and tears. I cried for the hour it took for me to drive from school and finish helping my dad with the cows. My eyes are puffy this morning and I'm drained yet again. 

Yesterday SHOULD have been a great day to celebrate our son and his amazing and incredible soul. But I ruined it with my blubbering mess at the end. And his dad's absence ruined it for Conner. I cried into my dad's chest as he held me tight in the kitchen. I had to pull away at one point because it was too reminiscent of Mike holding me tight in the kitchen.

I was just DONE. Done with the day. Done with my son not having a dad here. Done with cows. Done with having to ask fifty people for help. Done literally forcing myself to smile and laugh not only for our boy, but also for others. 

He is 12 now. I blinked and he is 12 now. And life is not fair for this amazing boy, but I'm trying my best to help him appreciate it anyway. 

Please think of all the things you have in your life that you need to appreciate, if you haven't done so lately. 

Blessings for the day to you all. 

#stillhis

NFAxI

Love,

Veronica 

Our Second Mother's Day Alone...

I miss the card he used to go buy me and have Conner sneak a signature into. I miss the candles or other gifts he would buy. Conner sometimes helped pick them out and sometimes Mike just did it. 

Not very many people understand the sadness that comes to a widow on Mother's Day; I mean after all she does still have her child. 

But the one with whom she created that child is gone. His absence is as big as the sky and cannot be denied. The one who used to take the child out for a bit so she could have some "mom time" is missing. The man who used to wrap his arms around her and say, "thank you for blessing me with our son," no longer whispers in her ear. 

She is missing her other half and every time she looks at the blessing before her, every time she looks into those beautiful brown eyes of her son, her heart smiles because she's glad she's his mom and it weeps because she can no longer celebrate that gift with her husband. 

I hope with all of my heart that you have your husband with you today as you celebrate motherhood. I hope he showers you with adoration and I hope you take not one second of it for granted. 

I love you baby and I miss my card. 

The Front Porch Then and Now...

Used to when I sat on the front porch, it was usually with my husband beside me. We would listen to the crickets and whippoorwills sing. We would hear the frogs bellow and the cows chew grass. We would talk about our days, our dreams, our plans together. Front porch sitting used to have a positive connotation. 

I'm sitting on the front porch tonight and all the familiar sounds are dancing around me. Yet I'm miserable. I THINK I could still enjoy the sounds and the feeling of the cool evening air, just not THESE sounds and THIS cool evening air.They're  different. They're tainted.  They used to be Mike's and my sounds and evening air. Now they are all dark and sad and angry and lonely. The sounds don't bring me joy now. At all. They increase my sorrow.

Now during my front porch sitting I ponder my parenting skills; my widowhood badge that I wish I could return; my judgment; hell, even my sanity most times. 

I have a court appearance again next week. I'm still awaiting the close of the IRS audits. I'm feeling stressed from work and all the politics that really do dull the joy of teaching/principal-life. I feel overwhelmed at the tasks before me every day: raising our son, paying the bills, being a responsible adult when I really want to lay in the floor in the fetal position and have someone come take care of me for a change! 

I am scared. I am scared of failure. I'm scared to fail at being a solo mom; at being a good principal; at being a good friend/sister/daughter/aunt. I'm scared of being alone forever. I'm scared of being ok again and forgetting the sound of my husband's voice. I'm scared my son's anger toward me is only going to build over the years. I'm scared he's going to turn on me. I'm scared people are going to look at me with pitiful gazes if I stay here. I'm scared to move away, but I'm scared to stay. 

I'm scared that from here on out, no matter who I'm with or where I am or when it is...front porch sitting is forever tainted. I'm scared that I'm forever tainted. 

Widowhood SUCKS. Period. 

I miss Mike. I miss my husband and best friend.