2015: The Year From Hell....

Catchy title, huh?  Unfortunately it's the truth.  But, from the ashes of Hell, I am ready to rise.

Stronger and Wiser.

Last year on this exact day, Tristan's birthday, I was sitting at home most of the day. Tristan had come by to get Conner and go to Mike's mom's house to play with Becky's boys.  I had found Mike's Marine Corps and high school rings; I gave Tristan first choice as a birthday present.  I hadn't any money to give him and I sure hadn't gone shopping for any gifts since we had lost Mike just two days earlier.  Tristan chose his dad's class ring.

For months I wore Mike's Marine Corps ring around my neck.  A few months ago I finally stopped wearing it and put it in the safe deposit box for Conner.

I sat at home most of the day last New Year's Eve; napping off and on when the Xanax would take effect.  I had a few visitors that day, but not many.  My house had been full of people for two days.

At one point I had someone drive me to Chris and Gayle's to see the boys and Becky.  I was so tired and weak that I couldn't drive myself and I honestly cannot remember who drove me.  Widow brain does that to you; it's just like Chemo brain.  They are both real and effects of trauma.

I only stayed a little while, returning home to an empty house.  I had Becky and her husband Bill drive me back from Chris' house.  I was exhausted.  I was full of dread at what would happen the next day.  The day we would put Mike in the ground.  New Year's Day, 2015.

The funeral is so clear to me. Every detail is relived on a daily basis.

Pulling into our church parking lot, with my dad driving the truck that my husband had picked out only two months before.  Dad had to open my door and help me inside.

I diverted my eyes to the ground as my church family filled the room, cooking and preparing things for the family that would soon fill the basement.

I shakily made my way to a chair and was soon surrounded by my family: Mom, Dad, Amy, Conner, and Tristan a little while later.  I could not eat, but someone made me take something to drink.  I requested orange juice.

I sat and drank only part of the cup of juice and shook the entire time.  I knew that my husband was upstairs in a wooden casket, surrounded by flowers.  I knew that his face would be covered so that I didn't have to see the injury to the side of his head.  Literally, as I write this, my stomach is churning at the memories.

Erik, who was not only the coroner and funeral director, but also was one of Mike's longtime friends, came downstairs to tell me that Mike was ready when I was.

I cried and asked, "Can you get his hand ready for me to hold like you did at the funeral home the other day?  I want to hold his hand again."

He replied, "Sure.  I'll come back down when we have him ready."

A few moments later, he returned, telling me Mike was ready whenever I was.  I looked around and everyone's eyes were on me.  Looks of pity and sadness covered their faces.  Wow.  The shaking has returned to my hands as I type.

I asked the boys if they wanted to go up with me and they neither one wanted to yet. Poor kids. I can't imagine what was going through their minds.

I can't remember who helped me up the stairs, but I think it was my sister and my dad.  I don't know. It seemed that the ascent took forever, and when I reached the top I stopped and gasped.  Pictures of my marriage to the love of my life adorned the foyer.  Pictures commemorating our life we had built for 13 years were carefully placed so that everyone who entered could see the happiness and love we shared.  Well that just sucks.  Now all that is gone to pot.  How ridiculous of a spectacle I must have been to everyone.  Barely able to walk on my own; crying until I hyperventilated at random; shaking like a leaf; having to be helped to the bathroom.  Ugh....it's all so terrible.

I cried for a few minutes at the top of the stairs and then finally made it up the final step.   The windows into the sanctuary were covered with white paper.  Erik stopped me before I entered and said, "Now, when I open the doors, you'll be able to see Mike. I have his face covered for you, but the casket is opened so you can hold his hand, ok?"

I took a few quick breaths and nodded my head in understanding.  Someone still had hold of both of my arms. Erik opened the doors.

I gasped and almost fell as I walked into the sanctuary, walking toward the love of my life, laying there cold and still.  Flowers surrounded his barn wood casket and a picture of him and the boys rested on top.  I cried the entire walk to the front and when I reached him, I grasped his hands, which held under them a couple of pictures.  They were pictures of him and the boys that I had chosen for him to take with him.  I placed a wedding photo under them, just barely able to do it from shaking so violently.  I leaned over him and laid my head on his chest.  I cried so hard.  My world had just come crashing down three days earlier and I was about to say my final goodbyes to my husband.

There is no preparing for this terrible day.  There is no amount of prayer that can take away the heavy load upon your heart and soul.  There is no amount of love and support from family and friends that can make it any easier.  There just isn't.  All the faith in the world...all the love you can imagine...cannot match the breaking point of losing a spouse so unexpectedly.

I stood on weak legs for a while and told my husband how much I love him; how sorry I was that this happened to him; how I was going to try my best to keep going and to be a good mom.  I told him I would love him forever and would always be his wife.

I was helped to the front pew, in backward steps, and Erik and our preacher, Johnny, closed the casket over my husband after his mom and sister said their goodbyes.  That would be the last time I would ever see him.  His rough calloused hands folded together on his stomach.  His flannel shirt, Carhartt jeans, and belt all neatly clothing his shell.  He was not there anymore.  He was gone.

Some days I regret not moving the sheet from his face.  I regret not seeing him one more time.  But I realize it wasn't him anyway.  And I did not want my last memory of Mike to be his head, swollen and bruised from the hit of the concrete truck mixer.  I wanted to remember the perfect, handsome face, with the goatee I loved so much.  With the scar above his eyebrow.  The dimple in his cheek that showed when he was really happy.

I sat for a while on the front pew and had Erik arrange three chairs at the front, facing the pews because I knew that I was not strong enough to do the normal standing by the casket.  I mean, my goodness, I could barely stand for one minute.  I knew I could not withstand the crowd that would soon file through.  Soon after the chairs were arranged, and the boys and all our immediate family was upstairs, Erik said, "If it's ok with you, can we start a little early?  There are lots of friends and family already outside ready to pay their respects."

I could have never prepared for the flood of people that would walk past me, kiss me, hug me, say their sorry's, for over two hours.  It warms my heart to this day to know the number of people who knew and loved my husband; who came because they knew and loved me and the boys.  Former students who I hadn't seen in years; perfect strangers to me, but acquaintances or friends of my husband; family from afar; and so many more.

In time we made it to the cemetery.  Marines folded his flag and presented it to me with apologies and gratitude for my husband's service.  Words were spoken from Ecclesiastes.  I waited for most people to leave, including both the boys, before I allowed Mike's best friend Ron and Erik to lower him into the cold, frozen ground.  Before they began lowering my husband, I went to him one more time.  I hugged the casket, again with help from my family to remain standing.  I leaned over the top portion of the casket and cried, making promises to do my best and saying how sorry I was that this happened to him.

Then I went back to my seat and watched through nonstop tears, catchy breaths, and shaking body as my husband made his final descent into the earth.

That is how I spent my New Year's last year.

I spent it in Hell.  My own personal Hell from which there was no escape.  I couldn't awaken, just realizing it was all a dream.  It was real.  It was terrible and tragic and shocking.  It lasted and lasted and lasted and still continues.

I have spent 365 sleepless nights in our king size bed, awakening to the reality of my life every morning.  I have spent 365 days reliving the nightmare that has been my life.  I have spent 365 days missing my husband.

But, today is New Year's Eve and tomorrow will start a fresh year.  Tomorrow will be a new beginning for so many people who make New Year's Resolutions.

Well, I have no resolutions. Tomorrow will not mark a new beginning for me.  My new beginning was thrown at me like a ton of bricks, one year ago.  I did not make a resolution to survive the death of my husband; I just did it.

I will not make any resolutions this year, as I don't really believe in them.  What's the point?   If you want to set a goal, it doesn't have to be done at New Year's.  It just needs to be done.  Period.

But, I will tell you what I will do in 2016.  I will rise from the ashes of this personal Hell and I will keep going.  I will just continue breathing and doing my best to survive the days, to survive the financial mess my husband left me with, to work hard at being a single parent to our son, to continue working to be the best principal I know how, to love my family as hard as they have loved me, to continue writing in hopes of encouraging other widows, and to hopefully begin healing.

So, no resolutions here, just a continuation of survival and working at what I have already been doing for the past year.

And I will also be grateful.  Grateful that by walking through Hell I have learned, grown, loved, and been loved.  I am grateful that I have made new, amazing friends, both at work and via the crappy club of Widowhood. I am grateful that I have survived without asking for anything from anyone. I am grateful that through this year, I have learned not to take any crap from anyone.  I am grateful that through this year I have not felt one ounce of guilt for anything that I have done to help my son and me survive.  I am grateful that my relationships with my family have only become stronger.  I am grateful for all of the offers from family and friends for numerous things, like coming to stay the night with us so we aren't alone, cleaning if I need it, cooking if I need it, etc...  Even if I haven't accepted many of the offers, I hope all of my family and friends know that each and every offer has been appreciated beyond measure.

I will also be grateful that God carried us through the first year.  Even though we haven't been to church in months, He has never forsaken us.  He has listened to our prayers every night and many times throughout the days.  He may have planned that my husband be taken away before I was ready, but He has still given me a healthy son.  He has let me continue being Conner's mom.  He has let me take on this new job as a high school principal, which has been a true blessing to both Conner and me.  He has made me strong.  He will bring us happiness again someday.

So, even though 2015 was pure Hell, and I have no resolutions for 2016, I will prosper in the New Year.  I mean, I've been to the bottomless pit...the only place to go now is up, right?

I wish you all happiness, health, and safety in the coming year.  I love you all and thank you so much for supporting my son and me through the past year of Hell.  We will rise.  We will continue surviving, growing, learning, laughing, loving, and living.  We will give back to those who need it.

I am still Mike's wife.  He is still my husband.  He is still Conner's and Tristan's dad.  He is still the love of my life. 

Much Love, Peace, Understanding, Happiness, and LIFE in the New Year.

#stillhis
Love,
Veronica

 

One Year...

This morning I wake for the 365th day as a widow. I have spent this past year feeling so sad and lonely and broken. I relive that terrible day every morning when I wake and every night when I close my eyes. 

I wrapped my arms around my husband for the very last time on December 29, 2014. I kissed him good morning and told him how much I loved him as I buried myself into the warmth of his flannel shirt. His arms were closed around me like they always were and he kissed me and told me he loved me back. 

We stood at the kitchen sink embraced for the very last time that morning. I felt the stubble of his whiskers and took in the scent of his skin for the last time. I heard his raspy voice that could calm me during any storm. For the last time I looked into his hazel eyes that melted me infinite times over our 13 years together. 

For the very first time tragedy shook my soul like it never had. It took a piece of my little boy's innocence and robbed him of a normal childhood. Tragedy robbed me of a chance at pure, untainted happiness and security. I will never get that chance again because my heart will never regain its full composure. 

As I fell to the gravel, in utter terror and disbelief, and screamed out, I hadn't the time to think of the most appropriate way to tell our son that his daddy was gone forever. I just more or less blurted out, "Conner, your dad is gone, bubba...he   had an accident at work and he's gone." 

I watched him fall to the gravel beside me with tears streaming down his innocent face. I helped him walk back to the house, where he had to stop and vomit outside our door. None of it seemed real to me then and it doesn't seem real to me now. 

It seems just like yesterday I reached across the bed and felt for his presence feeling the rise and fall of his chest. It seems like yesterday when I fell asleep to the music of his snoring. It seems like yesterday that I was laughing, living, and loving like I had nothing to lose. Then one day I lost my rock. I lost the desire to laugh...to live like I did before...and to love anyone besides him. 

But what now?

It has been one full year and I don't know what comes next. I wish it was some magically healing date, that once a widow reaches the one year mark, she is then set free from grief. I wish that the one year mark released all widows and fatherless children of all pain, loneliness, guilt, regret, fear, insecurity, shock, and disbelief. Maybe a sheild of armor that reads, "Wonder Widow: Warrior of Loss". 

But it doesn't. Instead that one year mark brings back the vivid details of the worst day of my life. It brings with it more fear to top off the already mountainous list of fears I have. The day brings guilt for being a non-present mom some days over this past year; many days I have spent just sitting in the recliner, not getting dressed and not being a good mom. The day brings regret of not going to surprise my husband with lunch that day; maybe I could have helped him if I'd been there when he fell. The day also brings insecurities; unsureness of my son's and my future. This day brings with it the pang of the shock and disbelief that still makes my breaths catch in my chest some days. 

And this day just adds the cherry on top of immeasurable pain and loneliness. Not just for me, but for every single person who knew and loved my husband. His mom will relive those horrible details just like me, but she will also go back to Mike's childhood and remember the tiny baby boy she held in her arms. Mike's sister and brother will relive childhood memories and will replay their own regrets and sorrows. 

My family will not only remember the loss of Mike, but they will also remember the loss of my happiness. They will remember the sight of my tear stained face, of the text or phone call to tell them, of the way I couldn't breathe for crying so hard, or how I could not walk through my own house alone those first days.

They will remember my little boy and his immense strength that first day and the days following. They will remember how he helped me calm down each time I broke. They will remember all the people who poured into our home and brought food, drinks, and anything else they thought would be helpful. They will remember Mike and all our Christmases, Thanksgivings, and birthdays. They will remember happier days. 

And the boys...what will they remember? I am sure it will be the same as everyone else; flashes of the day he left us and of the day we placed him in the ground. They will remember their favorite memories of playing in the floor with their daddy, of wrestling and special nights in the living room, of sitting in his office having talks for hours, of riding around on the farm and "helping" daddy all the way. They will remember warm chocolate milk in a sippy cup and picking up sticks to roast hot dogs in the field. They will remember playing catch in the yard and family vacations to Orlando, Branson, and our camping trips. 

But they will also think of what memories they won't be able to make. And that will be the most difficult. I pray God wraps the boys in His Graces today, tighter than He has ever wrapped them. I pray the boys find strength in each other and in me. 

And as for me, I will remember random little things like surprises of pizza and beer; post it notes trailing to the bedroom; flowers on my desk after our first date; opening our first Christmas gifts to each other while sitting on his bed; falling in love under the stars while we stopped in the middle of the field and just held hands in the old 'Yota. I will remember working with him on the farm; picking up walnuts with him and the boys around the machine shed; the summers we spent before we were married, me traveling around the state with him for work. I will remember our silly engagement story; the day we learned we were pregnant with Conner; the day we both cried when we learned we really were not pregnant with another child. I will remember the mischievous smile that crossed his face when I waited for him, all dressed up for date night; and the last date we had just weeks before he passed. I will remember the health scares we both had over the years and how neither of us budged because of them; how we were beside each other through our toughest struggles. 

My memories will come like the floodwaters that rush the creeks and rivers of Missouri today, of our farm. 

I will rely on my faith and on my family and friends, and on my widow sisters I have met along this journey. 

So again I ask, what now? I don't know. No one knows. But life will unfold just as God has planned it and one day I hope to genuinely smile and laugh and live and love without any pain attached. I hope to relive only happy memories and that visits to the cemetery become less agonizing. I hope our son grows into an amazing man. I hope my heart,and the hearts of everyone who knew and loved him, finds peace. 

I will always be your wife, Michael, and you will forever be my husband. We love and miss you more than words, baby. 

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica 

Merry Christmas, Conner...from Dad

I've written a few posts as I imagined Mike would have said. Those have received much attention because my family and friends who read them say they sounded exactly like Mike. I feel in my heart that if he could talk to our son today, this is what he would say. 

Hey bubba,

Merry Christmas! I'm so sorry I can't be there with you today. I know it's hard and I know it hurts, but you have so many people surrounding you who love you, bub. 

I watched you open your presents last night at Grandma Jackie's. That Furious 7 car looks pretty cool! I could see how fast it went all the way from up here! I saw how big you're getting too, and grown up. 

I can't believe how much you've grown in a year. It's crazy! I saw how grown up you where when your mom cried last night too, son. I'm sorry about that. I know momma is trying so hard to keep everything together, but she just couldn't quit thinking about all our Christmases we had and it was just too much for her. 

I know sometimes you worry that she'll never be ok again, that she'll never be really happy again. She will. In time. You just need to be patient with her, Con. Ok? For dad? She's got more on her plate than any woman should and I get mad at myself for leaving it all on her shoulders. 

I loved your mom so much when I was there. I would do anything to be able to take away her pain, to make things easier with money and the lawyers and all that junk. If I can tell you anything about all this mess bub, it's to learn from daddy's mistakes. No matter what you want out of life, you make darn sure your family will be taken care of if anything was to happen to you. You understand? Don't you ever forget that either. 

But hey, enough of all that sad stuff. Let me tell you about Christmas in Heaven! 

It is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, well besides you and your brother. The angels sing all the time and it is music like I've never heard. There is a huge tree in the middle of a golden street and it's all lit up with lights as bright as the stars! There are no presents of course, but there is just sunshine and warmth and all the happy memories of our favorite Christmases on Earth. 

I just can't even describe how much peace there is up here, son. I just smile all the time! I'm warm and covered in sunshine all day long. I'm so young and handsome, if I do say so myself. Hahaha.  I feel so good it's crazy! I'm just happy. 

One day you'll know how it feels up here. One day, a long time from now in your time, but it'll seem like a minute to me, you'll come and see Heaven too. You'll hear the angels singing, and feel the sunshine wash all over you. You'll skip around like a little boy. I think that's how I'll get to see you when you come. I think you'll be my little boy when you come and we won't ever even know we were apart. It'll be just like I went to work for a bit and came back home. 

But for now, you have to live. Live a life full of love, Conner. Don't hold anger inside, don't hold sadness over losing me at the top of your heart. Cover it with so much fun that it just kinda hides away in the back and doesn't get to control your life. I'm not saying it's gonna be gone forever; I'm just saying if you fill your heart with enough love and kindness and happiness, it'll only come out a little at a time and it'll be ok. 

You keep doing good in school and get that math grade up, boy. You know daddy wouldn't like that if I was there to tell you about it. So try hard, ok. Ask for help. Not just with math either, but with life. Don't be too proud that you don't ask for help like me. I should have. But just grow and learn and laugh and love and make memories that will keep you smiling for years to come. 

Hug your momma tight for me, son. Tell her I love her and miss her with all my might. And the same goes for you and your brother. You three were the best things to ever happen to me. I wish I had shown that more often by not working so much, but I can't take it back now. Just know I never once didn't love you more than anything in this world. 

So, Merry Christmas my boy. Have fun opening presents and remember I'm still right there with you buddy, in the stories you guys tell of me, in the candles you burn for me, and more importantly, in your heart forever. 

My gosh, I love you. 

Merry Christmas from Heaven, son. 

Love, 

Dad

Almost One Year...

I've no control over the tears that fall while I write today. I am in absolute denial today just like I have been every day for the past year that it's been almost one full year without you.

I thought that this vast emptiness inside the depths of my soul would be filled with new memories made with our son this year.  I thought that maybe I could genuinely smile and laugh and begin to live again. But it's not filled because each new memory made still has a tinge of sadness because you're not here. And my laughs and smiles have not been genuine, but have rather been forced and oftentimes faked. 

I'm still not angry with you, even though you broke your promises to love me forever and to grow old with me when you left. You promised to sit on our front porch and watch our grandkids play in the front yard one day.  You promised to want me forever; to kiss me every day and to hold me close when I needed you to.  I just wish I could have you back. I felt safe and loved and wanted and needed because of you. Now I feel scared and vulnerable and weak and lonely because of your absence. 

They say that time is supposed to heal everything but this first year has offered no healing. I am forever burdened with sounds and images of that day. It's like someone has taken a brand and permanently scarred them into my heart and mind. 

I mean every single detail of that day and the days between your leaving and your funeral, are ridiculously fresh in my mind. It's as though they happen all over again each new day and I'm so tired from them. I'm writing this at 3:00 a.m. I can never sleep without taking a sleep aide.  I dream of you and of December 29, 2014, and of January 1, 2015. Conner had it right last year when he said that December 29 when we lost you marked the worst day of his life, and that January 1 when we lowered you into the cold ground and said our final goodbyes marked the hardest.

I fear that I'll never learn to love again.  Part of me never wants to because it's almost as if I feel that by loving someone else I'll be cheating on you...on us.  I fear that I'll maybe start to like someone but will be too scared to really like him because he won't be you.  And no one but a widow understands this feeling.  I know of widows who have moved on to dating someone within just a few short months of her husband's passing, but I couldn't do that. It's not that I am judging those widows who do move on quickly, but that I'm judging myself and my own lack of strength.  It would be nice sometimes to laugh and flirt with someone, to go out to dinner and a movie, or to a ballgame.  But everything I did for 13 years surrounded you.  How am I supposed to do these things with someone new when I've done them all with you and am not ready to let you go?  It's so scary.

But dating again isn't as scary as raising our son alone.  I don't even care about the dating thing and if it ever shows up.  But raising our son well all by myself...well that keeps me awake some nights.  I always had you to fall back on, to bounce ideas off of, to be the final straw when Conner was acting up.  I would send him for a day on the farm with you and he would have so much fun and I would get a moment's peace...even though I missed him the entire day!  But, what if I screw up somehow? What if I haven't taken him to counseling enough? What if my punishments are too harsh?  What if they aren't harsh enough? What if I've coddled him too much since losing you?  What if I start dating someone again and Conner doesn't like him?  Ugh...there are too many "what ifs" in single parenting and they scare me to death!  I don't want to permanently screw up our kid.  But, I guess it will be what it will be and I will just keep trying to do my best. I pray to God to protect our boy and to keep him safe, healthy, and happy every day.  I pray strength over him so that he can grow into a fine young man who is kind, hard working, generous, loving, affectionate, passionate, smart, gentle, and humble.

I want to go lay beside you when the 29th gets here.  I know that day is going to be hard on Conner when he wakes, so I won't be able to, but I desperately want to.  I want to take a sleeping bag and a pillow and just lay beside you.  I don't want to talk to anyone; I don't want anyone to join me.  I want to just lay there and maybe fall asleep with my hand on your tombstone, so that it's almost as if I'm resting my hand on your chest like I used to.  I don't know if family will come over that day.  I don't know if they will all try to occupy our minds and fill our day with something "fun".  I don't want them to and it's nothing against them.  I don't want them to make me laugh or come over.  I love them each and every one with every depth of my heart, but I want to be alone more often now.  I don't want to rise from bed, or go outside other than to come lay beside you.  I don't want to get dressed, but want to go to you in my pajamas and sleeping bag and just rest next to you.  But I can't.  I can't leave Conner when the day arrives and be selfish and have my moment.  I can't because he suffers every time he sees me torn down.  And having to hold it all in is so difficult.

I often find myself calling my sister to have a break down.  I know it makes her worse because of my breakdowns, but I feel that I have no one else to call.  Many friends offer, yes, and that is amazing and wonderful, but I do not want to burden my friends with that.  I know it makes a heavy load for my sister to bear and she has carried it for the past year for me. She has sacrificed sleep and peace to listen to me sob endlessly into the phone.  You would be proud of her, babe.

Just last night I had to call and have a meltdown but she was sleeping, so I unloaded on Merlyn. Everyone in our family misses you.  Everyone.  You were such a strong spirit. You had such strong character and beliefs and even though you sometimes forced them onto people who didn't want to accept them willingly, lol..., no one can deny that you had purpose.  Every day you had purpose and even if we didn't always agree to your methods for reaching that purpose, we all revered you because of it.

Because of your purpose, drive, and work ethic, I decided to create a scholarship to honor you baby. I have been thinking about it for a while, and decided with the upcoming mark of one year without you, I would just dive in feet first.  I posted it in the newspaper; had your boss post with all MRWA communications; and had Amy share it on Facebook.  I opened an account at the bank for family and friends to donate to and created a scholarship application form to give to both of our county schools. I talked with your mom about helping select winners and I think she was very honored.  I hope to honor the scholarships for as long as I live and maybe Conner will take it over when I'm gone.  Or Reagan, or Alyssa...someone I hope will continue the tradition once we establish it.  I hope that you smiled when people read it in the paper today.  I hope you are proud of me for trying to keep your legacy alive.  

I just can't believe you're gone and it is so surreal for me to actually say out loud that I've been alone for a full year. The longest I had ever been alone before you left was between my divorce and our beginning. That was only a few short months. I haven't been held or kissed, or had someone whisper he loves me. I haven't been smuggled next to on the couch or flirted with. I haven't gotten silly, cute texts to keep me smiling through the whole day. I haven't been loved in return and that's so hard. I still love you. Every minute of the day and with every ounce of my being, I still love you. It's so weird to not have it returned to me. My gosh, I miss my husband.

I love you more than words and NFAxI...
#stillhis
Love,
Veronica 

Doing This Alone...

Sometimes I catch myself stopping in the middle of everyday tasks.  I stop and look around for a few seconds, shaking my head to awaken my thoughts to reality.  This is it.  I'm doing this all alone.  How weird is that?

I have never been one to want sympathy from anyone about anything.  Life is what it is and I can only be happy when I choose to be happy.  I have experienced so many things in life that have rocked my world, but losing Mike and realizing anew everyday that I am doing this alone has rocked me beyond any measure and I wonder if I'll ever get my bearings.  I need my husband to hold me and tell me it will all be ok.

There are so many new things I am facing since widowhood began and I feel like I'm facing them all alone.  I know that my family and friends are here to support me, but ultimately no one can do any of it for me.  I have to walk this journey alone.

I am dealing with financial issues all alone that never even crossed my mind in the beginning and they scare me to death.  I am afraid when it is all said and done, that I will have very little and will live paycheck to paycheck.  But at least I know that I do have a great job that I absolutely love and feel grateful beyond measure to God, my superintendent, my board, and my co-workers and staff.  I can tell you that they make the days of being alone so much better while I'm at work.  They support me and make me feel like I've always been there.  They make me feel like we are a true team and that this is exactly where I am supposed to be career wise.  This career move also helps me make it through the financial strain with a paycheck that I will never take for granted.  I pray thanks to God every night for bringing me to this job.

In all of the money issues I face, even if I end up walking away from my whole situation with only my son and my home, that will be more than enough.  The rest just will have to be what it will be. God knew what Mike and I wanted; He knows how Mike felt all these years about the farm and about our plans and goals together that no one else knew and I feel that He has brought me this far, and that he will not forsake us now.

I am also facing holidays alone, craving my husband just to talk to and to wake up next to. Thanksgiving was difficult enough, but I really dread Christmas.  Our tradition had always been to spend Christmas Eve with my side of the family.  We used to have breakfast at my dad's then join my mom in the evening for dinner and gifts.  Christmas morning we would awaken to share gifts with each other and then wait for Tristan to arrive so that we could share the morning with both boys.  We would sit beside each other on one side of the living room and the boys would sit beside each other on the other side.  I would video them opening their gifts, as they each took turns. Mike would always place his hand on my back or on my shoulders and would play with my hair.

After the boys opened their gifts, and we opened ours from them (which actually meant I bought Mike's from the boys and he bought mine from the boys), the day was spent relaxing and watching the boys playing with their new gifts.  Mike would check and feed cows and I would ride with him most years, but then he would mostly spend the day resting, watching TV, watching the boys play, and snuggling with me on the couch.  That evening we would go to Mike's mom's for our final Christmas dinner and would sit beside each other on the couch while we watched again.

I miss his hand on my back, playing with my hair.  I miss him sitting beside me, stealing a kiss every now and then.  I miss how relaxed he was during the day, not worrying about work.  I miss his laugh and his smile as he would ask the boys to show him their gifts.  He would say, "Oh cool!  What's that?  Let me see!"  It didn't matter that he already knew what the gifts were, he still acted so surprised and impressed with each one.

Now, I will sit alone on the couch.  I will watch my son open his gifts while it's just us.  I will not feel my husband's hand on my back; I will not hear his laugh or see his shining smile.  I will not get to snuggle beside him on the couch, or ride around checking and feeding the cows, sitting close beside him in the truck.  I will not get dressed up to try and look good for him, no matter where we go.  I will not get lost in his eyes just like I did every day for 13 years.  I will do it alone.  And it makes me sick to my stomach to know.

They say the first year is the hardest.  I sure hope whoever "they" are...are right.  I just don't know though how time will make his absence any less painful.  I don't know how my life will ever seem "real" without Mike.  I am trying my best to put one foot in front of the other and to keep my mind focused on making a better and easier life for my son and me, but some days just wear me out.

I will never stop loving you, Michael.  I will miss you at Christmas just like I miss you every day.
#stillhis
Love,
Veronica

A Second Post Today...

I began today with a post commemorating the 11 month mark, but almost immediately after hitting publish, I received a phone call from my mom. 

"We have some more bad news..." She began. 

My aunt's husband passed away this morning. It was sudden and unexpected. Keith had been battling heart problems for years and had undergone multiple surgeries, leaving the family thinking he was in good enough condition to live many more years. He collapsed this morning and never recovered. 

I cried when my mom told me. She was at the hospital with my aunt and was very worried to tell me the news for many reasons. One, the sudden shock of Keith's passing is so similar to the sudden shock of Mike's passing. Two, today marks 11 months without Mike and everyone in my family knows that we struggle on every 29th. Three, visiting my aunt's house would inevitably be a terrible flashback to my own self just 11 months ago. 

But it didn't matter--I was compelled to go hug my aunt, to help clean and cook and whatever else I could because she did the same for me the day Mike left. So I spent the morning trying to mentally prepare myself. Epic fail. 

The first time we visited my aunt today, when she made eye contact with me, she just lost it all over again and so did I. I kept telling her how sorry I am. She kept repeating what I did that terrible day last December, "I don't know what to do." 

"You're going to figure it out. You're going to find that there are going to be people coming out of the woodwork to help you. To pray for you. Who care and love you and some of them you won't even know. It's gonna suck and every day is gonna be hard. And it's never gonna get easier because Keith is always gonna be gone. But you will do it because you have to. You will suffer through it and you will fight to survive. But you will and you will surprise yourself. And even all the love you'll get from people that will bring you comfort and peace, some days just won't mean shit because it's not from Keith. But you're gonna be ok. Never the same, but ok." 

I watched my Aunt Rosemary struggle to breathe through the cries. I watched family and friends come to hug her, many of whom also came to me and hugged me, asking if I was doing ok. I just shrugged and turned quickly to clean something in the kitchen. 

My cousin Jessica helped me clean and prepare a turkey for the oven and she and several other cousins helped us carry things downstairs for my aunt so that there would be room for food and visitors. At one point as Jessica and I were at the sink, she looked at me and said, "I know this is hard. Today is 11 months isn't it?" 

I nodded with tear filled eyes and she hugged me. We went right back to cleaning but my hands shook the entire time. 

Conner and I made it through the first visit ok today and came home to decorate a Christmas tree, which was my original plan this morning. We rested a while and then this evening my sister and niece came down to bring homemade chicken and noodles so Conner and I returned to my aunt's to check on the turkey I placed in the oven earlier. 

This second visit was harder on me and Conner than the first. But let me tell you something about our visit that brought both sad and proud tears all evening. 

My 11 year old son stood and talked and acted like a man this evening for my aunt. I watched him do things he did for me the night his dad passed away. I was so proud of him that night and tonight was the same pride. 

He got a cold wet dishcloth for my aunt. He did the same for me last December. He told her more than once that it is gonna be ok, that it will be hard but she will get stronger every day. He still tells me that. He brought over a trash can when my aunt thought she might get sick. He retrieved her Pepsi when she needed a drink. He was such a grown up. 

Everyone who was there, including my sister, watched in awe of this little boy, who even though sometimes is such a brat, moved every person's soul with his kindness and love. And he is my son. He is Mike's and my legacy. And there is not one accomplishment in my life of which I will ever be more proud than being Conner's mom. 

I sat at a distance and watched with tears rolling down my face. Sometimes my sister and I, or my niece and I, would make eye contact and we all just could not believe here were all are again, 11 months later to the day, watching a remake of this terrible tragedy that plays through our minds all the time. And this little boy who looks more like a man every day, was somehow holding it all together. 

I couldn't take it much longer because it was all too reminiscent, so Conner and I left without even hugging anyone but my aunt. I was about to lose it so I had to get out of there. As soon as Conner and I made it into our vehicle, we both lost it.  I held onto my little boy and we cried together. We drove home in silence. Just holding each other's hand. 

Much of life these days is exhausting. We pray for strength to survive it every day. Today we added my aunt and her family to our prayers. I can't believe another widow has entered this crappy club. 

I hope you and Keith are sharing laughs tonight baby. I love you and miss you beyond any measure of this world. 

NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica 

 

11 Months...

Today marks 11 months. I read somewhere on a fellow widow's blog the other day that she calls the date of her husband's passing an "angelversary". I guess she is like me and refuses to call such a tragic date an anniversary. I'll never do it. But angelversary might grow on me...just not yet. 

I have been dreaming about Mike quite often. I've been having more negative dreams about him than happy ones. I hate them. During the daytime hours while I've been out of school for Thanksgiving break, I have found myself drifting off into what life used to be. I am ready to return to work tomorrow so that my mind can find its focus again. 

We made it through Thanksgiving, but I had a total breakdown to my sister one night. It was back to that gut wrenching, not able to breathe kind of cry. I just miss my husband so freaking much.

I could not follow through with any of the traditional family plans of Thanksgiving, so instead we stopped by Mike's childhood home for about 15 minutes to visit (which was so incredibly difficult), then went to my best friend's house. We laughed and ate and visited and had a good time. I am so appreciative for their invitation to join them. (Jack's dad, Big Jack, passed away just weeks after Mike. His story of my husband visiting him on his way to Heaven is in an earlier post.) Once the crowd left there, and it was just Erica, Jack, and their daughter Katie, it was time for me to leave. It was all too familiar and reminiscent of Mike, and me, and Conner. 

In order to redirect my thoughts, Conner and I decided to go watch a movie. We had an evening of watching a movie, eating a molten lava cake at Applebee's (becoming our new addiction), and renting a Redbox movie. We returned home and made a pallet in the living room floor to watch our movie, just like Mike and our boy used to do. 

Today we will stay home in our PJs all day but will be productive. We will go ahead and put up our Christmas tree, even though I really don't want to. But what good is it going to do me or Conner if I completely avoid the Holiday? None. So, we will do that today and will feed cows and will watch movies and I will not mention the date to our boy. 

I can't believe my son's and my life today and how different it is from 11 months ago. Trying our best to make new traditions and to move forward with living. 

We miss your laughter and your smile. We miss our family traditions with you and our family being whole. 11 months has passed in the blink of an eye and I can't believe we are here and you are gone. 

I love you baby. NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica 

Four Candles...

This week Conner and I created a display for the center of our coffee table that will last through the whole Holiday season.  It is a display of four cream colored candles adorned with beautiful greenery atop a white stand.  I found the idea on Pinterest and each candle represents something for Mike.

The first candle represents our grief.  We still grieve every day over losing him.  We move through the days mostly ok, but sometimes it still puts a knot in our stomachs, and an uncontrollable shake in our hands.  It still brings us to our knees and pours sobs of sadness over us.  

The second candle represents our courage.  I don't feel courageous at all, but I know that God's blessing of courage is what is keeping us going.  It takes strength every day to rise from bed and face this new life head on.  Many days I don't want to; I want to stay hidden in my pjs, under a blanket, away from the world.  And sometimes I have those days.  I just had one last weekend and I literally took two naps because my sadness just exhausts me.  But, there are so many widows and children who have lost the strongest person they know, and it takes courage for any family to take one step forward.  

The third candle represents our memories of Mike.  Conner has so many wonderful memories of his dad over the 10 years he had with him, and I have so many over the 13 years I had with him.  Those memories are what keep us going some days; they are what bring us to tears many days as well. Sometimes in the middle of a normal day, a simple memory of a time Mike and I had been somewhere or done something will wash over me.  We have perfect memories of birthdays, Thanksgivings, Christmases, and tiny every day amazing memories that will never die.  

The fourth candle represents our love...both the love that Mike had for us and the love that we still have for him.  That love will never dim.  And there are so many days that we can feel Mike's love still with us when it comes in the sunshine from above, or the warm breeze on our cheeks. We feel it when his favorite song plays on the radio at just the right moment.  We feel it when we lay down at night and say our prayers together.  Mike's love has not left us and ours will never leave him.  He carried our love all the way to Heaven with him, I just know he did.  He had not one doubt the magnitude of our love for him.  And we do not have one doubt of his love for us.

So, Conner and I created this display the other day and have lit the candles every day since.  We will light them every day through the New Year so that we can make sure whoever comes to visit us will know that Mike's love and memories will live on every day with us.  

The Holidays are difficult.  We didn't really know what Thanksgiving Day would hold and weren't sure of our final plans, and we really even aren't sure as I sit here writing this morning. Conner is laying beside me playing on his phone.  We have discussed stopping by each grandparent's house for a brief visit, then going to watch a movie.  We have thought about just skipping every family member's house and going straight to a movie and dinner, just the two of us. We have considered going to a friend's house to visit and play with the kids. But, we don't know what the day will hold. Right now we are enjoying the peace and quiet, laying around, doing nothing productive.  Maybe that will be what our day holds, I don't know.  

One thing I do know though is that we are thankful beyond measure for all of the offers from family and friends to spend the day with us.  There have been countless offers and it means the world to us to be loved that much.

Today, and through all of the upcoming Holidays, we wish all of the widows and children of lost parents a very blessed Thanksgiving.  It isn't easy to be without the person you love so much.  But, I hope that you can find peace through prayer and that you are surrounded by love today.  

I love you baby and we miss you being beside us through every day.  I hope sunshine and warmth wraps around you today as you sit on a green hillside, watching down on us.  I see you with that wonderful contagious smile of yours and your hazel eyes glistening almost golden.  Happy Thanksgiving, baby...We will keep the candles burning.  

#stillhis

Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity...

Love, 

Veronica 

I'm Trying Hard...

I watched a Hallmark movie last night. About a widow...at Christmas.  I related to the character well; at one point she said, "I'm trying not to hate Christmas."

I'm trying too.  I'm trying not to hate Thanksgiving, Christmas, Mondays in general, the 29th of every month, and so on.  I'm trying not to hate being a single mom, or myself.  I'm trying not to hate all of the debt I was left with and all of the responsibilities that came with this huge debt load.  I'm trying not to hate the man I've never even met, who answered my husband's phone that day and told me he had passed away.  I really am trying.

I spoke with my mom earlier today and she told me something that makes it even harder not to hate myself as a widow.

She told me that my son was sitting at the table the other day, a day when I was at a principal conference in a different town and he stayed the day with Grandma.  He sat at the table and was making a rubber band ball.  Mom was watching TV and Conner said, "Grandma...I miss Dad.  When Dad was here he would have been sitting right here beside me with his laptop and would have looked over here and said, 'I love you, son, and you have an incredible imagination.'  I sure wish he was here. And if Mom was ok, Grandma, I will be ok.  God helps me be ok, but I just need Mom to be ok and then I can be too."

Wow.  I have obviously failed to epic proportions since my husband passed away.  I have cried so much.  I have withdrawn myself from so many people and places and things from our past life.  It is a past life, one that is not ours anymore.  Conner and I have a new life, whether it is one for which we planned or not.  Whether it is one for which we are prepared or not, it is ours.  Just me and him.

I have spent so many days, still dressed in my pajamas, taking a nap when I could, watching TV in silence, staying in the recliner while my little boy played in the floor alone.  While he watched TV in the other room.  While he went to our bedroom and played X-Box.

My depression, my sadness, my loneliness has got to step aside so that I can go back to being a mom. That was my dream all along...to be a mom.  My entire life.  Mike may have left me to finish the job alone, but God has never left me. I have turned my cheek to Him, tried to ignore the tug on my heart to return to a church these last few months.  I have tried to pretend my faith is still strong and that I am still a good mom.

But, all of the pretending is doing me no good.  So, today I have to change things.  I have to set my mind straight.  I cannot fail.  I cannot let my little boy grow, thinking his mom will never be ok again; worrying that Mommy will be said forever and that we will never be genuinely happy again. I love my husband with all of my heart; I miss him with every fiber of my being. But, it's time I let his memory live inside my heart as a driving force to do better, not to give up and sit idly by as my son grows up without the mom I was born to be.

I love you Conner Luin, and Daddy does too.  I promise Mom will do better; I promise I will not let sadness and fear control our lives one more day.  I'm not saying it won't take hold and shake me every now and then, but it will not tighten its grip around me and hold on every day.

I love you baby and am going to keep my promise to you the day you left me and I held your hand closely.  I promised that day and the day we lowered you into the cold December ground that I would do my best to raise our boy alone.  So, here goes.

NFAxI...
#stillhis

Love,
Veronica

A Little Advice...

There are many things not to say to a widow or to a widow's child.  There are many things not to do, or to do.  You will never know a 100% right answer on "widow etiquette".  But, maybe some advice from a widow will help.  

"That happened like at Christmas, right?  Shouldn't you be over it by now?" -- asked of Conner about 2 months after Mike passed away.  

My son didn't have an answer that day, but excused himself to the bathroom to cry for about 10 minutes afterward.  I had a talk with the child's principal to let her know what the boy said to Conner.  

"You didn't kill him, did you?" -- asked of me at a recent conference when I ran into someone from high school.  This douche bag said this to me after hugging me hello and asking who I married after high school.  I said my ex-husband's name first and said that we had divorced 5 years later, then I married Mike.  I said that he will be gone one year next month and this was the idiot's response; I was so stunned at the stupidity of the person who stood before me and flash backed to high school and why I always thought he was a douche.  Thought confirmed that he has not grown up.  He tried to apologize later, but that was a futile attempt.  I don't care how many times he wants to say sorry...who in their right mind would ask that question???

"Well, I think he was flirting with you." -- stated to me while out running errands with someone. Seriously?  This was just a few months after I lost my best friend, the love of my life, my soul mate, and you want to tell me you think someone is flirting with me!?  I don't give a flying flip if Blake Shelton is standing in front of me completely naked, holding a dozen roses and a diamond the size of Texas...other men's opinion of me or their meager attempts at being nice (sometimes flirty) does not matter one teeny tiny bit.  Do NOT tell me that someone is flirting with me....I DON'T CARE if they are. There is no desire to move away from my husband at this point, so do not tell me what you think is good about a man flirting with me.  He better just move on, because I am not reciprocating any flirting.  

"I just want you to be happy." -- said multiple times to me.  Well, you know what?  I want to be happy too, but that would involve my dead husband never having died.  It would require time to be turned back and Mike to be here and breathing and well and alive and laughing and smiling and loving me like he did before he left.  So, I get that you care about me and worry about me and WANT for me to be happy again...SOMEDAY...but NOT TODAY.  It's just not going to happen this quickly.  

"You doing ok?" -- asked of both of us. NO.  We are not "ok". We are some days barely hanging on.  We still break down and cry often.  We talk about Mike and miss every ounce of him being in our lives. We pray every night for more strength and understanding and acceptance.  However, I still do not feel strong.  I still do not understand why my husband had to be taken from us so soon or why he went the way he went.  I cannot accept that he is gone.  

"I know you love him, but things weren't always that great and you need to remember that too."  -- Are you F-ing kidding me?  I know that my husband and I did not have the perfect marriage...no one has that.  But you know what we did have?  Passion and love enough that even though we fought tooth and nail sometimes, and even almost divorced once, we knew what we were fighting for. And our ebb and flow over the years made our marriage strong and one to be envied.  You don't need to remind me that we had our bad times.  You don't need to remind me that we almost broke a few times, or that he wasn't the perfect man. I am not the perfect woman either.  And our imperfectness made our love and marriage the best that we either one had ever known before.  So, yeah...I do remember all of the bad moments and the not so awesome characteristics of my husband, but those MEAN NOTHING to me now.  He was ripped from me in the blink of an eye and I did not get a say in it.  I did not get to decide to end my marriage.  It was taken from me.  And so, all of the bad "stuff" is irrelevant.  I miss my husband.  ALL OF HIM.  Period.

I know that there are books, news articles, and blogs out there that address what NOT to say to a widow.  These are just a few.  

Here is what I have learned through my journey thus far about what to say and what not to say. 

There is no handbook.

There are no rules.

Just be kind.

Just love us.

Cry with us when we need you to.

Laugh with us when we need that too.

Offer to cook us dinner.

Don't even offer, just show up.

Don't QUIT SHOWING UP or CHECKING ON US.  The months that pass don't make it easier.

Don't forget about us.

Pray for us.

Take us places.

Do odd jobs for us when we need it around the house and don't wait for us to ask for help.

Help us.  

Send us little reminders that we are loved.

Listen to us when we need to vent, cry, cuss, scream, ask questions, or tell stories.

Sit with us in silence when we don't feel like talking.

Don't talk to us about a new partner until we bring it up.  That means we MIGHT be ready.

Don't be disappointed if we cancel plans...sometimes emotions take hold of us and we just can't.

Keep inviting us places and one day, we will be able to accept and hold to it.  We will eventually be strong enough to show up.

Be patient with us...there is no time table to grief.  

Don't be offended if we don't want to do things with you and your spouse yet...it's absolutely nothing personal...just makes us wish ours was here.  We will enjoy our time with married friends one day again.  Just not so soon.

Check on us during those special anniversaries, and birthdays.  

DON'T call the passing of our spouse an "anniversary".  It is a terrible date and we might just call it the one year "mark"...the two year "mark"...etc...  I will not ever call it an anniversary.

Excuse us when we walk around looking like a zombie in mismatched clothes and unkempt hair.

Don't tell us we look great after we have lost or gained 20 pounds due to grief.  We didn't mean to. We didn't work for it.  It is just happening as our sadness grips us and our appetites every day.

Defend us to others if they start talking crap about our lives.  

If they are not our close family or friends, our new normal is none of their business.

Don't expect an automatic "new normal" from us.  We don't know what we are doing and are barely navigating life, let alone settling into any semblance of normality yet.  

So, I guess I just had a few things to get off my chest tonight.  I hope that it helps someone out there, whether that is a widow/er or a friend/family member of a widow/er, or a child who has lost a parent. 

Baby, I miss you with every fiber of my being and wish so much that I did not know any of this "advice" to give to any one.  

I love you Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity...

#stillhis

Love, 

Veronica

 

In My Dreams...

You come to me in my dreams. 

Sometimes I dream that we are in a huge fight, yelling and screaming, and breaking up. I guess that's my mind's way of trying to force myself to accept that you're gone. 

Other times my dreams are like our life used to be. Last night was like it used to be.

We had arranged for Conner to have a sitter. The house was lit with candles and I had dressed especially for you. I was wearing a black dress and black heels. My hair was down and curled, just like you loved it. My makeup was applied perfectly with just the perfect tint of pink lipstick. 

Dinner was cooked and in the oven to stay warm and a bottle of wine was chilled and ready to pour.  When you walked into the house, exhausted and tired from your day's work, you smiled as you saw me round the corner. I had soft music playing in the background and I came to you and kissed you hello. 

Right there in our kitchen we slow danced. You in your beat up boots and dirty clothes, your left arm wrapped around my waist and your right hand holding my left. 

I let my fingers gently lace through yours and let my right hand rest on your shoulder. You smiled and talked low, telling me what a nice surprise it was to come home to a woman who loved you and wanted to make you happy. 

It felt so good to have you in my arms and for me to be wrapped in yours. I woke crying, hating myself for dreaming this dream. It hurts so badly to dream of how life used to be and I can't imagine ever slow dancing with anyone else in our kitchen. 

Time is not making things easier or less painful. Luckily work is a great distraction but when I'm not there, my mind travels to you every second. It seems that everywhere I go, and no matter who is with me, I become misty eyed because I look around and feel so alone. 

I wonder how long I will feel this way? I wonder how long my life will seem incomplete? You were my world...my safe place...my best friend and confidant...my fighting partner who was worth fighter for...my soul mate. 

I miss your hands around me; I miss our slow dances in the kitchen; I miss our love and marriage and friendship and plans of forever. 

Until I see you again, I'll be loving you. 

NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica 

What Others Say and Do...

Youth season in Missouri opened yesterday and also, Halloween was celebrated by many.  We partook in both.  

Every year my husband would spend the entire day before opening morning gathering things for the "big hunt" with Conner.  He would dig through the hunting tubs while working on paperwork in his office.  He would arrange it all on the floor or on the couches, one pile belonging to him and one to Conner.   Mike would go buy all of the farm tags for all of us at once so that we were well prepared for regular rifle season also.  

The night before, Mike and Conner would make a pallet in the living room floor, usually after we arrived home from trick-or-treating, depending on how it fell each year.  They would fall asleep late, after a very exciting day, and wake early for a very exciting morning, anticipating the big kill.  

When they would wake early, I would rise with them and make a thermos of black coffee for Mike and a small thermos of hot chocolate for Conner.  I would pack a backpack full of snacks and toilet paper, the essentials of true hunters. ;) 

I would take the traditional morning picture with the camo and hunter orange shining brightly.  Sometimes they would smile, but sometimes they had to appear tough. I thought they were adorable either way.  Conner and Mike would spend the day "hunting"...the reason I put quotation marks around it is because their definition of "hunting" and mine were often very different.  Conner's "hunting" when he was young meant playing his Nintendo DS or his dad's phone and not playing a lick of attention until Mike would tell him a deer was approaching.  Or, he would be wiggling around so much that they would just basically scare deer away from their blind.  Either way it always made for wonderful memories for a father and son. And it made Mike swell with pride and he actually took a break from working just to hunt with his boy.  

This year...things were different.  The night before youth season, I spent time gathering Conner's hunting clothes and backpack.  I made sure everything was out just like Mike would have done.  I jammed his backpack full of snacks and toilet paper, drinks, and hand warmers.  I gritted my teeth as I did all of this and when Conner's back was turned while talking to my dad about sighting in the rifles, I went outside for a meltdown to my mom.  I sat and cried in sadness.  It was nice that so many people had actually offered to take our son hunting and that warmed my heart every time I received one of the offers.  But, in reality, it also broke my heart with every offer too.  Mike isn't here to take his son hunting anymore and that was one thing they shared and loved beyond measure.  And now my little boy has to miss his dad every deer season and it sucks.  Plain and simple, it just sucks.  So, I gathered myself and we sighted in rifles.  

My dad took Conner youth hunting.  And it was a success.   Conner tagged a 14 point buck opening morning and was so excited!  When he came back to the house after we field dressed and dragged the deer to the truck from the hollow, Conner hugged me and cried just a minute.  I told him Daddy is proud all the way from Heaven and he was so excited to see his son get that big buck.  

Conner got to experience something he had never experienced before later that morning: my dad took him parading through our small town with the big buck in the bed of the truck.  My boy became a local celebrity.  He was posted on Facebook by friends and by a local farm store, which was holding a Big Buck Contest for the youth hunters.  It was really cool. Conner and my dad stopped about 5 or 6 places in town and showed the big horns off and told the story over and over again, I'm sure embellishing the details each time!  

So then during the evening we went trick-or-treating because Conner had found his daddy's Marine Corps BDUs from 25 years ago.  He was determined that he didn't care if he is 11, he was going to go as a Marine for his dad.  I couldn't argue.  

So, we went and let me tell you, my son was a local celebrity!  Everywhere we went people were talking about Conner Hollis' big buck! They would walk over to us and congratulate him over and over again.  People we hardly ever see or talk to were so kind to take notice of my boy last night.  It was actually a very cool thing to experience and Conner truly didn't know what to think!  He couldn't believe he was a local celebrity!  It was awesome to see his face every time someone came up to say something to him and it made me swell with pride.  And you know what?  My son stayed humble through it all!  He never once said, "I know!"  He sweetly smiled, shook his head and said thank you to everyone who commented.  It was such a great moment.  

But even in all the glory of his big kill and celebrity status, I couldn't help but feel eyes on me all the time.  People look at us differently now. They look with pity and concern. They wonder how we're doing and many of them ask.  They smile and nod when they don't know what to say, and I don't blame them as I try to avoid eye contact with as many people as possible.  But they are all so supportive of us.  This whole community has reached out to us in so many ways these past 10 months that I am grateful and humbled every day. And last night when they reached out to my son to congratulate him and ask to hear the story, my heart overflowed and tears welled in my eyes each time.  

I am proud of my son.  I am proud of my dad for taking Conner hunting and parading him around town like he was a war hero.  I am proud of my husband for all the years he took Conner and taught him the value of hunting and harvesting meat to provide food for his family.  I am proud of our community, of our friends and family, and of acquaintances.  God is with us every day.  

What others say and do mean the world to us.  We still get phone calls and texts just checking on us. We get offers of all kinds to take us hunting, gigging, or just to distract us with dinners out, or whatever other activity people can think of to offer.  It's amazing. 

So, this post is for all of you who have called, texted, or spoke to us in town.  Thank you.  Your thoughts, your prayers, your concern, and your words will never go unnoticed.  They will never go unappreciated.  Please know that.  

So, baby...I hope you were able to see all of the awesomeness that yesterday brought between the youth hunt and Halloween.  Your boy sure made us proud, didn't he baby?  I love you and miss you more than any words could say.  

I will see you one day and we will walk hand in hand again, watching our boy smile and laugh and play and all the worry in his eyes and the sadness in his heart will be gone forever.  Until then...I'll be yours forever.  

I love you...NFAxI...

#stillhis

Love, 

Veronica 

Dear Conner...Love, Dad

A while back I wrote a post titled, "A Letter from Heaven", which included a letter to our boy from his dad.  I wrote with Mike's words that I had heard a thousand times before and I wrote the rest from what I know he would say if he could. I received such high response on that post because those who knew my husband told me that it sounded exactly like he wrote it.  Achingly so.  I knew him that well.  So, with my recent posts about our boy, I felt on my heart that Mike has been telling me to write to our boy again...from him.

Dear Conner,

Hey buddy, it's Dad again.  I got your letters...Mom read them to me.  Thank you for writing them.  I wish so much that I could be there, son.  My gosh, it is crazy how this happened.  How our worlds changed in just one quick second.  I'm sorry that my leaving hurt you and momma so much.  I sure didn't mean for it to.  I never meant to hurt you guys and to leave like I did.

But, you know what God told me when I got here?

He said, "Son...welcome home.  It's time to rest. I've got everything taken care of for you here and you don't have to worry and work so hard anymore. Come see your family that you've missed so many years and rest.  Just rest."

I looked at him, Conner, and my first question back to him was, "What about my family, God?  What about my boys?  My sons are so young and Conner is only 10 years old.  This isn't fair to him, God."

And you know what he told me back, bubba?

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and as we started walking toward the sunlight I could see shining across the way, he said, in almost a whisper, "Mike, I promise you something right now.  I have your family wrapped in my Grace.  I am with your family and I will see them through every day and every night that they have to live without you.  I will listen to every cry and every prayer and every fear and every dream.  I will listen as they beg me to bring you back, but I will send them little reassurances that you are ok with Me.  I will listen as they get angry with Me for taking you and I will send your wife the right words to tell your son, Conner, when he asks why you had to leave so soon. I will know when their hearts are breaking all over again and I can feel them shaking all the way up here, and I will send them your song to help them breathe easy again.  I will watch as they learn new routines and go new places, trying to fill their sadness with something new and exciting, and as I watch this I will send them the happiest memories of you and it will help them smile.  When their tears fall on their pillows as they cry and they feel like they can't go anymore without you, I will move them closer to each other in the night.  When doubts flood their minds about the future, I will give them the idea that you would want them to be ok without you and that you understand they have to do what they have to do.  Trust me, Michael, you are MY son and I love you and would never leave your family."

It took me a minute to wrap my mind around it, but I knew I had to.  So, I did.  I turned one last time to look over my shoulder, wondering if I could still see my little brown haired, brown eyed boy in the distance.  But I couldn't.  God told me that he wanted me to wait a little while before he would let me see you.

So, it took a bit but when I finally did, it was AMAZING!!!!!  All I could do was smile!

Your are growing so big, son!  You are getting so tall it's unreal!  You're going to pass your brother pretty soon...I know he hates that, but boy, it's gonna happen.

And I saw you write the note to Molly the day you asked her to be your girlfriend.  You were trying to be pretty slick like your ole dad, huh? ha ha ha...  Good job, bubba.

But I want to tell you that I saw your note the next day too.  When you woke up that next morning, crying to momma that you were scared to have a girlfriend because daddy wasn't there to give you advice, I asked God to send momma the words she needed. I'm so glad it worked.

You have a very smart mom, son.  She's smarter than I was about most things. Farming, umm no... but, she's learning.  She's doing a good job learning all the stuff I did before I left.  You remember that.  You listen to her.

I'm so glad she talked you through it and you kept that pretty little girl as your girlfriend.  I sure was proud of you after that talk...when you decided to keep your girlfriend and listen to your mom's advice.  You became more of a man in that moment, son.  You doubted yourself. You became weak for a minute because you didn't think you could do something on your own.  But you know what? You went ahead and had the courage to keep doing what you were doing.  You listened to your mom tell you she could handle those girls...and she's right...she knows what girls need to hear.  She knows how you need to treat them.  Trust her.  I did.

So, when I started getting to see and hear you, it was so cool!  I watch you at school and man, that's so cool that you're in Beta!  I know you're going to do that drawing contest and I want you to draw one of those cool work trucks like we used to draw.  I bet you win something!  But even if you don't, I'm gonna love it anyway.  And everybody else will too.

I been seeing you make new friends at school too.  That's good.  You guys do some pretty funny stuff at school.  I like when you guys play football and it's cool how sometimes you talk with your friends and you sound just like me.  It makes me smile.

You know what else I saw the other day?

I saw a young man, dressed fit to kill, in a pair of dark Levi's and boots, take his momma's hand and walk with her to the dance floor at a wedding.  I saw a little boy forget his troubles for a minute and wrap his arm around his mom's waste and slow dance with her and my gosh, I never had more pride swell out of my chest than I did right then.  Your momma took my breath away 14 years ago and let me tell you son, she took it away again that night.  She looked so beautiful to me.  She was the prettiest girl there.  And you were the best lookin' guy in the whole place.

I watched you two slow dance to two songs.  You did so good, son. You made your momma feel like the luckiest woman in the world.  Because she has you and you are a part of me and her put together. You got all the good stuff out of both of us, you know?

Her smarts when it comes to reading and writing; you're so creative with your stories.
My art side with all of your drawings of trucks, jeeps, and deer.  You sure can draw.  I used to love it.
Her heart.  You sure got her heart.  It's so big I don't know how it keeps from bursting.
My sense of humor.  Lol... Mom doesn't always appreciate it, but we sure do, huh!? ;)

We are both so proud of you, Conner.

I wish so much that I could be with you to tell you all this in person, but one day I will be.  One day we will be together again and you know what it will be like?  Like we never were apart.  I promise. You won't even know that I've been gone.  Someone told your mom once that it would be like we just turned around and there we were, never gone.  We'll laugh and hug and kiss and jump for joy.  You won't know I've been gone.  I won't know all that I've missed and will miss in all the years to come.

Know why?  Because I see it all.  I WILL be with you when you kiss your first girl.  I WILL be with you when you play your first junior high baseball game.  I WILL be with you when you walk into high school as a freshman.  I WILL be with you when you go to the Junior Prom.  I WILL be with you when you graduate high school.  I WILL be with you when the first girl really and truly breaks your heart in two.  I WILL be with you when you beg somebody to fix it and heal it and I'll sure do my best to reach down and comfort you.  I WILL be with you when you fall in love for the first time and know she is the one.  I WILL be with you when you ask her to be your wife and I WILL be with you when you meet her at the end of the aisle.  I WILL be with you when you buy your first house and when you have your first baby.  I WILL be with you when you watch your children grow.

Conner, I WILL be with you every day of your life.  Even if it's not in the way you wish it could be...I'm there.  I've always been here and I always will be.  I'm not goin' anywhere.  Sometimes it might feel like I'm not there and sometimes it might get hard to know I'm there, but all you need to do is remember.

Remember the times I held you when you were newborn and danced with you in the living room, singing you songs so low so momma couldn't hear.  Remember the times we rode around in the truck on the farm, just tellin' stories and laughin'.  Remember all the times we went hunting for deer and how excited and proud I got when you shot one.  Remember all the days we sat on the computer looking for toys at Walmart.com or at old Scouts and Jeeps on the Internet.  Remember all the times we sat in my office, me working at my computer and you "working"...aka drawing and making a mess...right beside me.  Remember all the wrestling matches and special nights we had in the floor. Remember all the birthdays and Christmases and July Fourth parties we had.  Remember how much fun we always made life, me and you.  Remember my laugh.  Remember my hugs and kisses.  And when you do, I'll be there.  I'll come to you in memories that warm your heart.  I'm always there, son. Always.

So, for now, I've gotta go again.  Grandpa Bob wants me to tell him more stories about you.  He's sure proud of you too.

I need a couple more favors, ok?

I need you to tell your brother how proud I am of him.  Tell him I watch him at college and he's doing good.  Tell him I miss him with every ounce of my being and it's so amazing to watch him grown into a man.  He's so good looking and smart and funny.  Tell him I sure miss his crazy stories he always has.  I miss his laugh.  Tell him to keep going to school and working hard.  Tell him I love him.

I need to you to tell your mom a few things too.  Tell her she is beautiful still.  Tell her I am so proud of her for her new job.  I can't believe she's a high school principal now.  She's doing so good there. She really is.  She sure is a hard working woman.  It's awesome how good of a job she's doing with those kids and teachers down there.  I think it's really panning out.  Tell her I see how worried she is and how heartbroken she still is, but that God is making her a little stronger everyday.  Tell her she's doing amazing with you and the bills and the farm and all of it. Tell her that it's ok to want to be happy again.  I want her to.

I want her to go out again someday and laugh and flirt and be made to feel beautiful again.  She deserves that.  She's never gonna try to replace me, son, you have to know that.  But momma needs to be ok and she needs to feel loved and safe and wanted and needed.  You won't understand that until you're grown.  But momma and I talked about this kind of stuff way before it happened.  Married couples often do that. Talk about what would happen if one of them passed away. We both told each other we would want the other one to find someone new, just as long as that someone new was good to you. Mom will pick good.  She picked me, right? ;)  So, trust her.

Don't fight her when she does date again. And I know momma...she won't even think about dating until she's good and ready!  And she'll make sure it's all good before she even brings you anywhere near someone else.  But when she does, be nice to him.  I mean it.  Make me proud.  He's not gonna try to replace me any more than momma is going to.  He will know the story behind us.  Mom will tell him on date number 1.  He'll know all about me and our life and the love we share.  And he'll understand.  If he doesn't, then you know good and well your mom won't keep him around.  So, make me proud and be nice, ok?

It'll eventually get easier and it'll be really cool to have another person who loves you and wants to hang out with you and have fun. That's what your mom was for your brother.  She was just another person to love him and want to be with him, and she never once tried to replace his mom or be his "new mom".  You know?  It'll work out buddy, I promise.  Just give it time and be patient.

So, tell her I love her and support her in everything she's doing.  I'm so proud of how she is making it work every day.  It's crazy.  She's way stronger than she thinks she is.

So, I'm gonna go.  I love you more than words, Conner Luin.  I love you so much it's crazy.  So, take care of yourself and of your mom.  Tell your brother how much I love him.  Be nice to Molly and all your friends.  CLEAN YOUR ROOM, please!  Your mom is getting so mad about that!

Keep working hard at school and doing your best.  I'll talk to you soon, bubba.  Keep my letters coming. I love to read them when you write them.

Sweet Dreams little man.  I love you forever...
Dad

I hope when my friends and family read this, they know it's Mike again.  I hope I did him justice.

I love you baby, and wish this letter was for real and you were just away at a conference.  What I would give to hold you one more time...or forever actually.

I love you and miss you beyond any measure of this world.
NFAxI...
#stillhis

Love,
Veronica