Camp Widow and New Love

This weekend I attended Camp Widow.  And for the first time I brought a new love to camp.  I wanted Jon to see why Camp Widow is important to me.  To see how much it has helped me. To have a better understanding of my crazy widow journey.

And he fit right in.  My tribe loved him.  Welcomed him.  Accepted him.  He honored my past while being part of my present.  My future.  He knew I needed this time, this weekend, to rejuvenate my soul.  He understood that this weekend was about continuing to find ways to heal.  To balance grieving with living.

And I was doing great until Saturday morning.  Then BOOM!  I felt guilty. Guilty because I felt like I wasn’t missing Jared enough this weekend.  Guilty that Jon was there and Jared wasn’t.  Guilty that I was enjoying spending time with my husband at Camp Widow.  I know it’s not rational.  Guilt rarely is.  But still it was there, kicking my ass.

Jon and I had already decided that he would fly home Saturday night and I would go the gala with just my tribe. I liked that he was at camp.  Could share in this part of my journey. But I needed some time to sort my emotions. And I’m fortunate that Jon understood and respected that. Yet, I missed him at the gala.  Wished he could have shared in the living tribute to our loves.  That he could have seen how much honoring Jared soothed my soul.  That celebrating my love with Jared allows me to love him in a way I never imagined.

I felt guilty because I enjoyed having Jon at Camp Widow.  Liked that he could share in this part of my life.  Get a glimpse of just how much Jared’s death affects me everyday. But then I realized because of Jared’s love for me that I am able to love Jon the way I do.  Because of Camp Widow I have the tools and support to live in the now with Jon while never forgetting the love I share with Jared.  And I refuse to feel guilty for that.

The Love Of A Dad

When Jared died, I realized there was no one else on this earth who was going to love Steven like that again.  No one to share in the love of our child with me.  No one else who has all those same memories.  No one else to share in all those childhood stories.  No one else who would ever again love my son with the same emotions as I do.  And that is one of the hardest parts about being widowed.

Parents love their their children in a manner that cannot be explained.  And when Jared died, Steven lost that unconditional love of one of his parents.  Yes, others love him but no one else will ever love him like his dad did.  And even though my new husband loves Steven, it’s not the same.  He will never love Steven the way he loves his daughter.  He will never love Steven the way I do or the way Jared did.  And how could he?  Yes he will be an amazing parental figure to Steven but he will never love Steven the same way that Jared did.

And that makes my heart hurt.  My heart hurt for the child who lost his father way too young.  My heart hurt for the child who lost a certain innocence way too soon.  My heart hurt for the child who will never again be able to truly know the empowering, unconditional love from his dad.

Widowed life can be a lonely one.  Full of roller coaster emotions.  Full of realizations that make your soul ache.  But it can also be one of strength.  One of survival.  One of showing a little boy that while life will never again but what it was, it can be good again.  And that while he may never again hear his dad say “I love you Steven”, he will always be able to feel that love.  ALWAYS.

Sometimes you just need your dad.  And I hope Steven knows his dad is always there.  Just a thought away.

Not The Life I Planned

When Steven was born, Jared and I kind of laid out a map for his future. We knew things would change as our lives changed but the one thing that was a constant was that Steven would get a Catholic education. Unfortunately, our lives did not go as planned. Jared died. And that changed EVERYTHING.  And now, the one constant in our plans might be changing as well.

Steven was accepted to both Catholic high school and to the high school magnet program he really wants to attend. And now we face a decision. Which high school will be best for him? At which school will he excell? Which high school will best prepare him for college?

These all sound like normal, simple questions. With an easy answer. But that’s not so easy when the person you made the plan with is dead.  I can’t ask Jared’s opinion.  We can’t discuss what we think is best.  We can’t agree to deviate from the plan. And now I’m left wondering would he approve? Would he be OK with the decisions I’m making? I know in my heart of hearts Jared would just want Steven to be happy. He would just want what is best for Steven. The problem is, I’m not sure what that is. I know what Steven wants.  But is that what’s best?  Only God knows.  So I’m trusting Him.

All this school stuff is opening up so many emotions.  It makes me realize that as time marches on, the distance between my life with Jared and my life now will continue to grow.  And that’s a hard reality.  To realize that my life is no longer following the path Jared and I planned. Instead I am following a completely different path.  And I’m not certain how to bridge the gap between the two.  Plus, there is a new man in our lives.  A man who is a father figure to Steven.  Jared will ALWAYS be his dad but Jon is now a male parental figure in his life.  And there is a whole slew of emotions that comes along with that. So many emotions.  That are going to take me some time to process.  But eventually I will find a way to manage the two paths, lives, loves in my head and in my heart.

Not The Future I Planned

My life is not as I planned.

When I planned my life it was with Jared and Steven. It was going to be the three of us against the world. Forever.

Then BAM!  Death snuck in and changed everything.  And suddenly, my life was nothing like I planned.

And now 3 1/2 years later, my life is on a completely different track.

I’m married to a wonderful man.  I have an amazing bonus daughter.  My son is thriving.  But my life is not perfect.  Far from it.  And it certainly isn’t easy.  Despite or maybe because of the challenges, it’s a pretty awesome life.

Blending a family, especially a 1,000 miles apart, is hard work. Harder than I ever imagined. Becoming a family of 4 overnight. Dealing with sibling rivalry for the first time. Adjusting to married life after years of doing it on my own.

Working hard to feel like family and ensure that everyone knows what an important member they are to our family. Working hard to be a family adventures, disagreements, laughter and all.  We know it won’t happen overnight but it is slowly happening.

Learning everyone’s personalities. Learning how to mesh our likes and dislikes. Learning how to appreciate each other‘s parenting styles. There’s so much to learn.  

Trying to balance our time between much needed family time and couple time. Trying to forge a relationship with my bonus daughter when we don’t see each other nearly as often as we would like.  Trying to ensure that my son is handling all these changes and knows that we will never forget his dad.

We may not always get it right but we are trying.  Learning.  Working hard.  And we are a family.  A family that loves.  That laughs.  That bickers and disagrees. That’s what makes our family great.  We are real.

Because of the heartache, I can really appreciate the joy.  Because of the sorrow, I live harder.  Because I have known such loss, I love deeper.  This may not be the future I planned but I wouldn’t change it.