Hope For A New Widow

Yesterday I learned that a mom in my community unexpectedly lost her husband. She is now left alone to raise four children on her own. And I immediately thought oh my, my heart breaks for her. I know just how she feels.

I remember those early days, early months. Just shuffling through life. Getting up every day because my son needed a mom but having absolutely no desire to do anything. I remember the numbness. Not actually feeling anything, just being numb. I remember how surreal it felt. Like it was a bad dream and soon I would wake up and it would all be over.

But you don't wake up from this. It's not a bad dream. It is something we have to live with every day for the rest of our lives.  We start out numb and then the numbness wears off. And when the numbness was gone, I realized it was there to protect me in those early days. Because I just wasn't quite ready to deal with the real world of being a widow.

But I did survive.  Because I had a wonderful support system that held me up when I wanted to fall down. A community that gave me hope and let me know I was not alone.  A child who told me he just wanted me to be happy again. While I will never get over my loss, my grief,  I am living again.  I have again found happiness.   And if I can give just a little bit of hope to this new widow, then my journey will have meant something.

Steadfast In My Faith

Recently, a friend said to me that perhaps my faith was being tested. And my response was that my faith has been tested enough thank you. And that is one thing I know for certain that has come out of my grief. I am steadfast in my faith. I know for many when they lose their spouse they question God. They wonder how could God let this happen. How could God let them suffer so. But I remember a very specific conversation with Jared. We were discussing our faith and how God has a plan. A plan for each of us. And that when we finish God's plan, our reward is that we get to go home to heaven. That conversation helped me not question my faith.

When Jared got really sick and we knew there wasn't going to be a miracle, I remember I said to him why you? Why you? And he looked at me and said why not me? What makes me so special that I shouldn't go through this? What makes me so special that I should be spared and someone else die?  And that is something I have carried with me everyday since. Jared never once questioned God. He never once blamed Him. And his faith has been an inspiration for me.

So on that final night, when Jared told me the angels were there to take him home, I tried hard to not be sad for him because he was going to his heavenly reward. And I trust that one day, when I finish God's plan for me, I too will go home.  I can't imagine surviving this unimaginable loss without my faith.  That doesn't mean I never questioned God.  I did, I have.  But I trust that God has a plan, a purpose for me.  I may not know what or why but I have faith.  Faith that God will see me through.  And even when I am tested, my faith will not waiver.  My grief strengthened my faith.  Showed me that on the darkest days, God carried me.  And now I think living a life of love and joy may be the biggest testament of my faith yet.

Dating In My 40s

Dating in your 40s is very different from dating in your 20s.  Everyone has baggage.  Some more than others.  Most people I know have been divorced, widowed, or never married at all. Many of them have children.  Dating in your 40s means there's a whole world, a whole life before you. And I guess the real question is how much of that life do you want to know about? How much about the time before you does your new partner want to share?  And does that history really matter?  For me, I like knowing about the past.  Not the specifics of past relationships, but more about how the past shaped you into who you are today.  These are issues I definitely didn't have to contend with in my 20s.

Funny thing is, I didn't even know I was ready to date. I had no desire to date.  Start fresh with someone new. But God had other plans.

My new beginning, the man I want to be my future is divorced. With a 16 year old daughter.  That's a whole new world for me.  Not only am I dealing with my child's feelings and emotions,  there is now a teenage girl to think about also.  A girl who has been her dad's whole world for almost 7 years. I pray in time we will all adjust.  And that over time we can all be a happy family.  But I can't help but worry.

But there are other issues besides our children. We have to figure out how to unpack our baggage. How to let go of the mistakes from our previous relationships and move forward together.  How to not let our pasts cloud our future.   How to make each other and our relationship a priority  while making sure our children feel safe, secure, and loved.

I find myself apologizing a lot. Worrying that I have said something to upset him.  That I ask too many questions.  Probe into his past.  Dredge up things he'd rather not talk about.  I love that we can talk about anything and that we can be completely honest with each other.  But yet, I'm fearful he will decide this is too much work and walk away.  Scared that the distance will become to much and our relationship won't survive.  Afraid that I'll push him away rather than risk being hurt.

This relationship makes me happy.  Makes me feel alive.  This man makes my heart beat a little faster.  Gives me butterflies in my stomach.  And despite all the concerns that come with dating, I wouldn't trade this relationship for anything.  I never thought I would experience love again but here I am.  In love and planning a future with my new beginning.  Yes, dating in my 40s has it's own issues and concerns.  But my new relationship is worth the time and effort to resolve any concerns and conflict.   Worth the effort to make it work.  Worth it to find love and happiness.

Solo Parenting Sucks

Solo parenting sucks.  Being the only one twenty-four hours a day seven days a week without an end in sight. And yes, I have amazing friends who would do anything for me but they have their own families. As a solo parent I’m often forced to make difficult  choices.  I can't be in two places at once so that often means something has to pushed to the wayside.

Today I felt like a failure as a mom.  I try so hard to give Steven the best experiences all while balancing work, sports, and life.  And today I failed.  I tried my best and things happened that  were out of of my control, but I still feel like I failed.  I wish I wasn't doing all this alone. That every parenting decision didn't fall squarely on my shoulders.  But it does.  And even though I can ask others for advice, the decision is ultimately mine.  And mine alone.  Which also means the blame when something goes wrong is also mine.  And only mine.

Today is one of those days I think “this is not what I signed up for.”  I never wanted to be a solo mom.  I never said I could do it alone.  I planned on having Jared to share in this life.  To share the load.  But unfortunately, I was dealt a different hand.  And I have no choice but to play the cards as they were dealt.  So with a few tears and a lot of prayer, I will forge on.  And yes, I will make mistakes.  Will feel like a failure.  Will worry that I'm doing it all wrong and screwing up my kid.  But sometimes, I will also get it right.  Will make great memories with Steven.  We will share many laughs and take great adventures together.   And maybe one day I will feel like I am rocking this solo mom thing.

But no matter what, I still say SOLO PARENTING SUCKS!

Awesome Dad

Today I was reminded what an amazing dad Jared was. One of the moms at school was telling me how she remembered when our kids were little that they took swimming lessons at the same facility. And she remembers Jared always being there sitting, watching, and waiting during Steven’s swim lesson. Even on his sickest days, he always put being a dad first. Steven wrote an essay for school about the person he admired most and he said he admired his dad. He wrote “my dad had cystic fibrosis but I didn't know what that meant. I just thought he had a bad cough. He never let his disease stop him from being my dad. He coached my football team and my baseball team. And even when he was sick he made time to play catch with me.”

I am so very grateful that  my little boy has such wonderful memories of his dad. And that even though Jared was not perfect (none of us are), he loved Steven more than anything on this Earth.  Even when he was dying, he's still made it a point to go to Steven’s football practices and stand on the field and help coach. He came home from the hospital Thursday to hospice care. He was so very sick. That Saturday he was at Steven's football game sitting on the bench with the players. We had no idea that three days later he would go home to heaven. When he was diagnosed with a blood clot in his brain, which made it difficult for him to regulate his body temperature so he was told to avoid extreme temperatures. But there he was on the coldest nights and on the hottest days coaching Steven's baseball team.

He always encouraged Steven to do his best and be the best he could be. From the most simple things to the big ones.  When Steven was 3 years old, Jared told Steven if he learn to ride without training wheels he would buy him a motorcycle for his fifth birthday.  So of course a week later Steven no longer needed training wheels and on his 5th birthday his daddy bought him a pocket rocket. I will never forget the look on Jared's face as Steven rode that motorcycle up and down our sidewalk. And Jared is the one who helped Steven everyday after school with his homework. Made sure that he developed a love for math and science.  Encouraged him to always do his best in school. Told him with it that with a good education they could do anything. And he put being a dad first. Being Steven's dad was Jared's greatest joy.

I love when people share their Jared stories with me.  This friend sharing her memory today helped me remember so many Jared and Steven stories.  Stories I need to write down and share with Steven.  He was blessed to have 10 wonderful years with a dad who always put his child first. 

Like My Mother

That moment when you realize that you might be turning into your mother. And I know, that is not always a bad thing, but in this instance it is a terrifying thought. It was recently pointed out to me that in some ways in my new relationship I am acting like my mother. When my mom decided to marry my dad, I had absolutely no say. There was no discussion. No warning. One day she told me we were moving. And we moved in with my dad. And it was always obvious that he was her priority, not me. And in one sense I understood that as he was her husband. But it would have been nice occasionally to feel like I was the important thing in her life.

Last night I made a comment that as much as I love my son he doesn't get to dictate my life or my happiness. That sometimes I'm going to have to make decisions he does not agree with and that he may not be comfortable with but that I think our best. And I prefaced this comment with this may make me sound like a bad mother and the reply was your mother would think that makes you a good mother. And that was like a slap in the face.  But it was also a wake up call.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. She does so much for me and my son and I don't know how we would survive without her. And in my adult life she and I are wonderful friends. But as a child and a teenager living in her house, I often felt like I was an afterthought. That I was not a priority. And the thought that I could be treating my child like that turned my stomach. The thought that my son would think that my new beginning is more important than him breaks my heart. In my eyes they are equally important. I love my son more than anything on this earth. But I also love my new beginning. It is a different kind of love. And the two are not comparable. Yet they are equal.  And there are going to be times that my new beginning is my priority just as there will be times when my child is my priority.  

But I meant it when I said my child doesn't dictate my life or my happiness because someday he is going to grow up and live his own life.  And if I make him the center of my world, what will I do when he has his own life? But I didn't mean that he is not a priority. I didn't mean that he he doesn't get a say. I didn't mean that we will never discuss things. But now I'm thinking how does he see it? Does he feel like an afterthought? And what must Jon think? Does my new beginning think my child isn't a priority or that I don't think of his feelings?  That I only think of myself?

It's a balancing act.  And sometimes I can juggle like a pro and other times I drop the ball.  I feel like this is one of those times I dropped the ball.  But, thankfully, there is time.  Time to repair any damage and be more mindful moving forward.  Time to ensure my son knows how much I love him.  That he is a priority.  That his happiness is important to me. But at the same time, that he knows sometimes I will make decisions he doesn't like.  Because I am the parent and he is the child.

An innocent comment. That's all it took to make me think about this all day. To make it difficult for me to sleep last night. To wonder what kind of mother am I? To do a lot of soul-searching.  And I can't help but think a few years ago I would never have needed to worry about this. But I guess this is just one more step on my journey.  One more path to walk.  One more obstacle in rebuilding my life.  One more hurdle to jump as I rediscover joy and happiness.  One more milestone in keeping my promise to live and love again.

Surviving Grief

For the last 2.5 years, grief has often been at the center of my world.   When Jared died, I had a choice.  I could give up and let the grief swallow me or I could fight to survive.  Honestly, I didn't feel like I had a choice.  I had to survive.  I had a little boy who needed his mom.   I had a promise to keep.  I had to ensure Jared's memory lived on.

People would tell me how strong I was.  But I didn't feel strong.  I didnt feel tough.  I was a wreck.  A sobbing mess.  No one knows how many times I cried in the car.   In the shower.  At night after Steven went to bed.  How often I prayed for the strength to survive.  For hope. For courage.

And then one day I realized I was surving Jared's death.  That I was pushing through the grief storm.  That I could feel joy again.  That I was ready to start living again.  That I could open my heart to love again.

In some ways I am a different person than I was the day Jared died.  I am not the same woman who started this grief journey.   But that isn't necessarily a bad thing.  I am stronger.  I refuse to let fear win.  I am more adventurous.  I refuse to let grief swallow me.  I am trying to live life to the fullest.

And because of my grief journey, I am who I am today.  And I hope Jared is looking down with a proud smile on his face.   Because he always had faith that I would survive.  That I would live again. And I'm doing just that.