My Spot...

The last few days have been a whirlwind of both emotions and busy tasks. 

I survived my first principal conference...well barely. I came home stressed and nervous and insecure yesterday but did make some awesome connections that I hope will be helpful in my years to come! I took a friend and her son with us so that Conner would have a good time while I was in meetings. 

This afternoon and evening I participated in my first interviews being on the other side of the table. I was so nervous in the beginning that I was saying praises that my office is close to the women's restroom! The interviews went very well though so that was a relief. 

My superintendent wanted to see me afterward (again I was nervous and scared to death...I mean, anytime your boss wants to see you don't your nerves flutter?). Luckily he wanted to give me a faculty shirt and thank me for hitting the ground running! Whoo hoo! 

But...I'm still in my "spot", on the front deck, worrying, crying, missing my husband. Regardless of the little triumphs that are coming my way, I'm sad. I'm still broken into a million pieces.

I don't have my best friend to tell all of my triumphs to! I don't have the love of my life to tell me how proud he is of me! 

While in Columbia for my conference, I actually cried at a stupid stoplight. Middle of city traffic and I'm sure the person in the left lane was looking at me like I was an idiot! Not the regular little cry either. Like, I couldn't catch my breath for a minute and almost went into one of my bad crying spells. Wanna know why? 

Because I haven't been to Columbia in 13 years without Mike either already being there for work and Conner and I joining him, OR at least having him to call home to in the mornings, during the day, and at bedtime. I cried at a freaking stoplight. That's dumb. 

We arrived home yesterday evening and as soon as I had unloaded the truck, I changed into farm clothes and raced out on the ranger to cube my cows. Came in, unpacked, then sat on the porch in my spot and cried. For two hours I sat here and cried. 

And now...here I am again. In the silence. Remembering all the times I've sat here or on our old porch with Mike. All the talks about life. About our boys. About the farm. About how much we loved each other through all the hard stuff. 

And now I'm alone. I know I say that often, and people are probably sick of it. But there is NOTHING comparable to the loneliness caused by the death of your spouse. I mean, of course as long as you're happy and genuinely in love with your spouse I suppose there would be nothing worse. I'm not sure about those marriages that are not full of a passionate, forgiving, reciprocated, unmeasurable kind of love. I don't know about those marriages because I did not have that kind of marriage. 

Mine WAS full of passion. Every day. Mike was passionate about so much! Including me...and I had NEVER been made to feel like he made me feel before about myself and marriage and what love was supposed to look like every day. 

Mine WAS forgiving. We learned over 13 years to forgive and to do it quickly and fully. I've said this before: our marriage was not perfect. Sometimes it was down right hard to be married to Mike. He wasn't an easy man to be married to sometimes. He was insanely busy and rarely home. He could get very angry and would basically throw huge fits. He was jealous. He was not always 100% supportive of me and my dreams. He kept things from me, obviously finances was one of them. But none of that matters. He was perfect for me. I forgave him quickly. Every time. 

My marriage WAS reciprocated. I mean, he loved me and forgave me and wanted me back just as much as I did him. It was not a one-way street. No one-sided relationship will work. We never had to worry about that. He loved me so hard. He made me FEEL that every single day that we were together, even when we couldn't physically be together because of work. He never once made me doubt that he loved me and wanted me just as much as I did him. 

And my love for this man IS STILL ALIVE and unmeasurable. I am still so in love with my husband. I still call myself his wife. I mention him about a million times a day. I think about our life we built together nonstop. I still make decisions I know that he would be proud of. I still talk to him. I am #stillhis. 

I worry about that for my future. I worry about ever being able to let that part of my heart be open to someone new. I read a blog a while back from a fellow widow who has remarried. Her new husband wanted to write a post on her blog. He wrote something along the lines of what it is like to married to a widow, knowing he was not the first and only man in her heart and in her life. 

I wonder if there is someone out there who can love me and who I can love all the while I love my husband still beyond measure. 

Mike will always be my husband. I did not choose for my marriage to end. I did not ask for a divorce. I did not say goodbye or get closure, and I still struggle every second of the day with accepting that he is gone. 

So, I find myself sitting in my spot so many evenings. Conner snapped this picture when he caught me staring into space with the blank look on my face. I'm deep in thought in this picture, obviously. I'm holding on to memories and trying to let go of fear. It's not working. But I'm trying. 

I love you more than words Babe...NFAxI

#stillhis

Love,

Veronica