Heaven sent kisses at midnight

As I sit here with to much time on my hands, I can't help but think of Jared and all that has changed since he died.

My heart has an ache and an empty space that no one else will ever fill.  But the wound on my heart is beginning to scar, it will never heal but the scar will always be a reminder of my great love, a love that when faced with death broke my heart.  A love that even death cannot end. But the scar is a sign of healing.

As I sit here, tears run down my cheeks.  Tears for all the joy we shared. Tears for all the wonderful memories we made.  Tears for all that will never be.  Tears because Jared is not here to kiss me at midnight and say I love you.  Tears because the new year will not know my love.  Tears because I can no longer say "last year we did".  Tears that are part of healing.

In this New Year, I hope to continue to heal.  To once again experience joy and true unbridled happiness.  To find the woman God plans for me to be.  To be a mom who is always present and treasures every moment with my son.  To be a beacon of hope for others who are grieving.  To be me...whoever she is.

At midnight, I will look towards the heavens and blow a kiss to my love.  And I hope, hope with every fiber of my being to feel Jared kissing me back.

This New Year's Eve, I wish for peace and happiness for myself and all whom I love.  May we all feel kisses that are heaven sent.

New Year

I chose to go away for New Year's this year because being surrounded by couples kissing at midnight is like a knife in the gut, a reminder that my love will never again be here to kiss me at midnight. And as sweet, wonderful, and kind as my friends are (who would be conscious of my pain and shower me with kisses at midnight), this year I just need to be alone.

Alone to remember my love, alone to honor my past, alone to figure out who I am now, alone to discover who I want to be. Alone to try and find the balance between my past, present, and future selves all while never forgetting.

This next year I have to work on me.  Finding the new me, whoever she is, living in the moment, and truly being grateful for every moment I am given.  All while raising a grieving child.  All while never forgetting my love.  All while grieving.
 
Finding the balance, living life, honoring my love, and being grateful...it's going to be a busy year.

Always in my heart

Always.  Jared will always be in my heart.  I think my mind and heart are starting to realize Jared is never coming back.  And that realization hurts almost as much as saying goodbye.  I feel like I am grieving a different loss.  The loss of my past life.  The loss of my past future. The loss of who we were. And I feel like I am losing him twice.  And it sucks.

He will never kiss me goodnight again.
He will never stroke my hair again.
He will never kiss my forehead again.
He will never dance with me in the kitchen again.
He will never wrap his arms around me again.
He will never scare me and then laugh again.
He will never play catch with Steven again.
He will never ride dirt bikes with Steven again.
He will never teach Steven important life lessons again.
He will never hold my pinky in his as we walk down the street again.
He will never sit in his recliner again.
He will never get to travel with us again.
He will never see his grandchildren.
He will never witness Steven's future accomplishments.
He will never surprise me again.
He will never tell me"I love you" again.
He will never smile his devilish grin at me again.
He will never...the list goes on and on.

But he will always live in my heart.
He will always live in my memories.
He will always live in our child.
He will always live in my future.

His spirit will never die.  A great love like ours has no ending.  While he no longer sits besides my physically, his spirit, his love is always with me.  If I stop and truly listen, I can hear him.  Hear him with my heart.   I just wish I could hear him with my ears and see him with my eyes.  But until such time as we are reunited, I will live for him.  Because the best way to honor our love story is to live.  Live and make new memories.  Live and feel his smile.  Live and hear his laugh.  Live because it is a privilege to do so. Live because I have a promise to keep.

Always.  Jared I love you forever.  You will always be in my heart.

Ornaments on the tree

Finally worked up the energy to put the ornaments on the tree tonight.  I thought unwrapping all those memories would cause my heart to break.  But you know what happened?  I smiled as I remembered and shared those memories with Steven.

I wished Jared was here to help me decorate and reminisce but I felt his spirit as I unwrapped each ornament.

Each vacation ornament.  Our trip to Italy, Ireland, Scotland, Spain, England, Lake Tahoe, San Francisco, New York, Las Vegas, Hawaii, Mont Tremblant, North Carolina, South Carolina, DC, Phoenix, Grand Canyon, Vermont, Tennessee, Miami, Greece, France, Central America, the Caribbean, Mexico.

Each milestone ornament.  Our engagement, wedding, birth of our precious child, all of our individual and family accomplishments, Steven's annual ornaments, our yearly family ornaments.

Then I unwrapped his angel ornament.  I felt my heart flutter and my breath catch, but that ornament let me know he will always be here at Christmas and always.

All our adventures.  All of our memories. So much love on that tree.  So much life lived on that tree.  Our love story, our life story displayed in ornaments.  Proof that love lives on.

Guilt

Today I am struggling with guilt.

Guilt that I am here. Alive. Breathing.
Guilt that I have good days.
Guilt that I didn't say hello to him first thing this morning as I have done every morning for 15 months.
Guilt that I didn't stop him from having that sinus surgery.  Maybe if I had talked him out having surgery, Jared would still be alive or at least have lived longer.
Guilt that I honored his decision to have surgery and now he is dead.
Guilt that I went back to work while he was in the hospital.
Guilt that I tried to honor his request and keep life normal while he was sick.
Guilt that I told him it was OK to go home with the angels.
Guilt that maybe he thought I gave up on him.
Guilt that I wasn't always the best wife.
Guilt that I am alive and he is dead.
Guilt that I get to be happy, laugh, watch our child grow, experience new adventures and he doesn't.
Guilt.
So. Much. Damn. Guilt.

Stocking hung with care

Tonight I hung my husband stocking. And the tears just flowed down my cheeks.  His stocking is hung with great care.  A way for us to remember all the Christmas's we spent with him. But the realization that all we have is this stocking and our memories made the tears just run down my face.

Last year, our first Christmas without Jared, my son and I created the tradition to write my husband a Christmas letter every year and leave it in his stocking. When he is older, if he chooses, my son can read all the letters to my husband. There are no rules as to what the letter has to be about, it just has to come from the heart. And when he's older if my son choses, he can destroy the letters, continue to add letters to the stocking, or just leave the letters in there and stop the tradition. But for now it is a way for us to express our sadness, our grief, our joys, our accomplishments, and our needs to my darling husband. It is a way for my little boy to keep his dad in his life. And it is a way to reach out when all feels hopeless. On the eve of one of the biggest holidays, it is a way for us to ensure that Jared is remembered. That he is included in our celebrations.

Hanging Jared's stocking should bring joy to my heart. Joy that we celebrated 16 Christmases together. Joy that he made many of our Christmas wishes come true. Joy that he is still with us in spirit. But instead, hanging his stocking tonight brought tears to my eyes. Tears that just flowed down my cheeks. Tears of sadness for all the Christmases he will miss. Tears of sorrow for all the Christmas memories we will no longer make. Tears of regret for all the Christmas wishes that will never come true.

Just many, many tears. But yet his stocking is hung up.  And it will continue to be hung up every year. Even though every year hanging it up may cause me to cry, it will also cost to remember my darling husband at this most blessed season.