Four Years

Dear Lovebug,

Today marks four years since you went to your heavenly home. Four long, hard, difficult years. And it still feels like yesterday and forever at the same time. I found such comfort, such peace, in the fact that you told me that the angels were there to take you home. That you told me you were not scared. That you were not afraid. During the last four years, those words and that knowledge have been such a source of comfort and peace for me. You have no idea the gift you gave me that night.  

So much has happened in this last year. The biggest news, I know you already know, I married Jon. A man I truthfully believe you sent to be in our lives. The other big change...I sold our house. Steven really wanted to go to the finance program at Northeast and that meant we had to move. And I know, you would have been completely supportive of that decision.  So we are living in a new house, in a new city. Life without you is definitely not the same. But we are doing our best to make it a good life.

We miss you everyday.  We always wish you were here to see all that’s happening in our lives.  We wish we could make more memories with you. But I know you are watching, smiling with pride at how I’ve kept my promise.  At how we are living our life to the fullest. At what a great young man Steven is becoming. I still can’t believe he’s in high school.  He reminds me of you at least once a day. You would be so damn proud of him. He is definitely his father’s son.

You touched so many lives.  And are missed by so many. My heart will always have a space reserved just for you.  No matter how many years you live in heaven. No matter how much my life changes. No matter what happens, you will always be a part of my life.  My heart. You will always be the reason I said yes to love. You will always be Steven’s dad. You will always be my first forever love. You will always be missed.  You will always be loved.

Thank you for loving me. For spending your forever with me.  For giving me a lifetime in a limited number of years.

I love you,

Carla

Four Long Years

Sunday will be 4 years since my husband died.  

4 years.  

48 months.  

1460 days.

If you had asked me 4 years ago where I would be today, I would not have been able to give you an answer.  I couldn’t imagine surviving one day. Let alone four years. But I have survived. In fact, I’ve thrived.

When my husband first died, a part of me died too. The life that I had known for the past 16 years, died. In the blink of an eye I went from married to widowed. Widow, a word I could not even say out loud. A word I could not believe described me. A box I hated checking on any paperwork.

Overnight I went from having a partner to being solo. I went from being part of a couple to being alone.  All of a sudden, to society I was “single”. I went from having someone to help me raise my child to being a solo parent.  All of a sudden I was lonely in a room full of people.

I wasn’t sure how I would survive that first night. Let alone that first week, month, year.  There are days in that first year that I don’t remember. Days I’m not sure how I made it thru.  But somehow, by the grace of God I did survive.

The first year after he died, was all about Jared.  Remembering him. Honoring him. The second year I decided would be about me.  Discovering who I was and who I wanted to be. The third year, was all about adventure.  And I found unexpected love. Year four, I didn’t have a plan. I just jumped into life with both feet.  I said yes to love and became a remarried widow. I sold the house I shared with Jared to create a fresh start for our son. Year 5 will start with me honoring my late husband on his angelversary wearing someone else’s ring on my finger.

I’m not yet sure how I will handle all of my emotions on that day.  So many emotions. But time has taught me that I will survive the day.  And the next year.

Sunday will be 4 years since my world changed in the blink of an eye.  Four years since life as I knew it ceased to exist. Four years since my life was marked as before and after. Four years.  

Yes, my life is good again.  Yes, I am happy. Yes, I love my life now. But that doesn’t change the fact that four years ago my heart broke.  Four years ago my world came crashing down. Four years ago I didn’t think I would ever feel “normal” again.

Four years ago I could never have imagined that I would survive Jared’s death.  And even though a part of me died that day, I worked hard to put the remaining pieces back together.  I not only survived, I’m thriving. And I know Jared would be proud that I chose to honor him by living life to the fullest.   Four years ago, I couldn’t imagine a future. Now I know year 5 will be full of love, adventures, and laughter. And Jared will be smiling down on me as I live my best life. It’s the best way I know to honor him.

Grief: Self-care is Vital to Survival

In exactly 2 weeks it will be four years since my husband died. I used to love the month of September. And now, now I completely dread it.  Not only is my husband’s angelversary in September, exactly one week from that date is our wedding anniversary. When my husband died, I quickly learned I had to take care of myself. That no one was going to come and rescue me. I had a little boy who needed a mom. And it was during those days that I can’t remember, times I’m not even sure how we survived, that I knew I had to start taking the baby steps to find a new normal. To figure out who I was and who I wanted to be.  And I knew taking care of myself was the only way my child and I were going to make it through.

When Jared first died, I was not sure how I was going to survive. I had no idea what it meant to be a widow. I had no idea how to be how a widow. I had no idea how to be a solo mom parenting a grieving child. I felt all alone.  I felt hopeless. I didn’t know anyone like me. And then I found my tribe. I found Soaring Spirits International and Camp Widow. I attended my first Camp Widow four months after Jared died. And for me, it was life changing. It gave me a group of people who got it.  A tribe who understood and never judged. But more importantly, it gave me hope. Hope that not only would I survive but that one day life would be good again. My tribe has held my hand on my worst days and has celebrated my newfound joy. This special group of people are always only a text or phone call away.  There are no words to describe the importance of finding your tribe. I cannot imagine life without mine.

Not long after my husband died, I decided to make a huge change. Something that was necessary for my sanity and my survival. See, Jared died on Tuesday and on Friday my office called to see when I would be returning to work. Yes, three days after my husband died and before he was even buried, my office called to see when I would be returning to work. I knew then that I had to do something different. Since quitting my job or finding a new job was not I am viable option, I decided to cut back the hours I worked. Which also meant I cut my paycheck. Maybe not the best financial decision but it was the best decision for me. For my sanity. For my self-care. For my survival. Four years later, I still only work four days a week. Friday is my day to myself. My day for self-care.  My day to go get a massage or pedicure. To have lunch with dear friends. Or to go sit at the beach and let the waves soothe my soul. Changing my work schedule, even though it meant taking a pay cut is one of the best decisions I ever made. Taking a day to myself, a day to do whatever I need even if it is to do nothing at all was the best grief filled decision I’ve ever made.b

After my husband died, I realized I needed an outlet for all the thoughts running through my head. I needed a way to process everything I was feeling.  So I began to write. At first I started out writing letters to Jared. Telling him how much I missed him, how much I needed him, how much I loved him. Then I was journaling, telling him all the things he was missing. And then my journals became a blog. At first I kept my blog private and didn’t share it with anyone. But then I began to share my feelings on Facebook. I knew there had to be other people like me. Other widows who needed support. Other widows who needed someone to hold their hand and help them walk through the fire. Other widows that needed to know there was hope.  Through writing, I have found such peace and a purpose. And I have connected with so many other widows. Widows who have shared their thoughts and helped me. And widows who have told me my words have comforted them. Before becoming a widow, I never thought of myself as a writer. But it has become the perfect outlet for me.

The next three weeks will be very rough for me. And I have learned over the last four years that during the times of deep, hard grief, I need to indulge in more self-care. So you might find me getting a massage. Or sitting listening to the ocean. Or sharing my feelings in a blog post. Because I have learned that to survive the hard grief days, I have to take care of me. Self-care is vital to survival.  And I don’t want to just survive, I want to thrive.