16 Days

In 16 days it will be 4 years since Jared died.  Telling Steven his dad died was the second hardest thing I have ever done.  Seeing Steven's heart break and knowing I had just taken a piece of his innocence is something I will never forget.   And I remember thinking, I hope this doesn't change him too much. Because I was certain it would change him. How could it not?  Losing his father at the age of 10 would definitely have an effect on his life. But to what extent? Would he lose his faith? Would he lose his gentleness?   Would he no longer feel safe? Would he worry that I would die too? Would he see the world as an evil place because death was suddenly very real? Thankfully, none of that happened.

Instead, Steven developed a stronger faith.  Sees the world as a place where love grows. Tries to be joyful because his dad told him that when he is happy on Earth, his dad would be happy in heaven.  He is slow to anger and quick to forgive. He is compassionate, the first to offer comfort when someone is sad or hurt. He is patient and kind. Believes life is all about adventure.  Understands that none of us are promised tomorrow so live for today.

His dad's death changed Steven.  Just not in the ways I feared. Instead, it made him into a young man with an amazing heart. A young man of whom his dad would be proud.  Because of Jared's death, because we suffered through the worst trauma of our lives together, Steven and I have a bond that can never be broken.  

Yes, Jared's death changed Steven. It shaped him into someone who knows that he can overcome anything.  It showed him that with faith, love, and laughter you can persevere, survive, and thrive. But most importantly, I hope it taught Steven that even though his dad is not here on Earth, he will live forever in his heart.

#BreathingforJared
#losingyourdadsucks
#deathchangesyouforever
#feelslikeforeverandyesterday

Look Out High School, Here He Comes

My son started high school today. My little baby is now a high school freshman. I’m not exactly sure how that happened. I swear just yesterday I was rocking him to sleep. And how he’s playing on his high school football team. Where did the time go?  And while I’m excited for this next adventure for him, I hate that his dad isn’t here to see it.

As I dropped him off for his first day of high school this morning, I thought to myself I can’t believe how calm I am. I figured I would be emotional and crying. But then my girlfriend texted me to look at the rainbow. That Jared was definitely watching over our kids this morning.   And I felt my eyes well up with tears and a few of them slip down my cheeks. While I love that he sends me signs to let me know he’s watching over our son, I would give anything to have him be physically present today. To be able to experience this first, this milestone together. But that can’t be so I’ll be happy knowing Jared is watching over our baby boy. And I guess that has to be enough.  

First day of high school. The next step on his journey of life. What an exciting time for my son. So much change. So many new experiences to come. And I am blessed that I will get to watch them. See them unfold in his life. But I will always think I wish his dad was here.

Such is the life of a widowed parent. Marked with bittersweet moments. Those moments when I am bursting with pride. And at the same time I want to cry because Jared is missing.  Those moments that I can’t help but think dammit life isn’t fair. His dad should be here too. Those moments when I am so excited for his future. And at the same time remember his future is missing his dad.  

For us, high school is a whole new world. My son has attended the same school since he was four years old. Everyone knew his dad. And now, now he’s going to a new school where no one knows his dad. Or even knows of his dad. And it hit me, as he grows up and his life moves forward, there will be more people in his life that never knew his dad than people that did. And that hurts my heart. I don’t want his dad to be forgotten. For no one to know the man he was.  The amazing dad he was.

As Steven’s life moves forward, his new friends won’t have any memories or experiences that include his dad.  They will assume that my new husband is his dad. And while I love that Jon is an amazing dad on earth, I don’t want people to forget that Steven has a loving, amazing dad in heaven. A dad who for 10 years gave Steven everything he had. Loved our child unconditionally.  Talked to him and gave him tons of advice. Tried to prepare him for his future. A future that his dad knew he probably would not get to see.

In the 4 years since Jared died, we have had a lot of firsts.  Everyone thinks the firsts happen in the first year. That is not true. We are constantly having experiences that Jared is not a part of. High school marks just one more milestone in our life since Jared died. One more first. Another bittersweet moment.  But with each first, each milestone, we have better coping skills. And while there will always be bittersweet moments and there will always be a little bit of sadness, we are able to hold onto the joy. To celebrate. To feel the excitement. To know that we are blessed that we get to continue to live this life.

Look out high school. Here he comes.

Unexpected Love After Loss

I have been a remarried widow for seven months. It feels like forever and yesterday all at the same time. Just like death. When Jared died, I swore I would never fall in love again and certainly never get remarried. But here I am, a remarried widow. And I wouldn’t trade a thing.

When my late husband, Jared died I told myself I would mourn him for two years. I knew I would grieve his loss forever but I felt I needed to actively mourn him for two years. Why? I have no idea. But that is what I decided. And for two years I did not allow myself to truly be happy, to feel joy because I felt that would be betraying my self imposed time of mourning.  

My self-imposed time of morning ended on September 16, 2016.  I met my new husband on November 19, 2016. And I believe with all my heart that Jared sent me Jon.  He knew I would never step out into the dating world on my own so he sent Jon to sit down beside me at the bar on a cruise ship where I could not run.  If you had told me on that night that a year later I would marry my new beginning, I would have laughed. Laughed hysterically. But that is exactly what happened.

Exactly 12 months after our fateful meeting on that cruise ship, Jon got down on bended knee in front of our children and asked me to be his wife.  He truly understands that death does not end love. He tells me all the time that my marriage ended because Jared died not because we fell out of love.  And he knows that my heart is capable of expanding to love them both. He is not a widow. He is divorced. But he tries to understand this crazy widow journey. While he can never truly know what it’s like to walk this path, he does his best to support me.  He has held me as I’ve cried for Jared. He has helped me celebrate Jared’s life. He placed the first picture of Jared in our new home. And because my new beginning could love me, my son, and in his own way my dead husband I did not hesitate to say yes when he popped the question.

On December 20th, Jon and I decided why wait? Why wait to start our lives together. I knew better than most that life is short.  That we only have a finite time. And I never wanted to say I wish we had. So I made a phone call and found out we could have our dream beach wedding at sunset on New Year’s Eve. And that’s what we did. Then we rang in the new year surrounded by our family and closest friends.  

At our wedding, we did not say till death do us part. Jon told the priest death does not end love so instead we said until we meet again. That is just one of the many reasons I love that man.  Life as a remarried widow is not always easy. I still have unexpected grief triggers that will drop me to my knees. I frequently look at my son and think I wish his dad was here. On every birthday, anniversary, or milestone I think I wish Jared was here. But even though I wish Jared could be here, to still be part of our lives, I wouldn’t trade being married to Jon.  Such is the life of the remarried widow.

What Death Has Taught Me

What has death taught me?  

It taught me to stop saying someday.  None of us are promised tomorrow and we need to make each day “someday.”

It taught me to live each day to the fullest.  Because each day is a gift and should reach its full potential.  

It taught me to live without regrets.  To say I can’t believe I did not that instead of I wish I had done that.  

It taught me not to take people or moments for granted.  Instead to always say how I felt and live in the moment.

It taught me not to sweat the small stuff.  To not care about dirty dishes in the sink or dirty clothes on the floor. It taught me to look at the big picture instead.

It taught me not to wait for the right moment.  Instead to make any time the right time.

It taught me not to wait to take an adventure. To mark it on the calendar and make it happen.

It taught me to have my priorities in order.  To know what really matters because in the end, that’s what is important.

It taught me that fear is powerful and will steal your joy if you let it.  Instead stand up and look fear in the eye. Be fearless.

It taught me that my faith could be stronger than my grief.  Because without my faith I would not have survived the unimaginable.

It taught me to teach my child to live a life he can be proud of.  Because that is your legacy.

It taught me to love without reservation.  Because love shared is multiplied.

It taught me that life is finite.  So to make the most of the time you are given.

Even though I always knew I’d be a widow, I still took Jared and his love for granted.  Always expected we would have tomorrow. Even though we lived a lot adventures, there were still those things left for someday.  But he really did try to live his best life. To live each day to the fullest. His life and death taught me to the same.

What did death teach me?  A lot. And I’m still learning.

Step Mom Life

When I married my new beginning, I became a bonus mom. And it is nothing like being a biological mom. It’s actually harder. The dynamics between me and my bonus daughter are completely different than those between my son and I. My son loves me unconditionally. Because I am his mom. Forgives me when we disagree and argue. Because I am his mom. Just wants me to be happy. Because I am his mom. The bond between us is easy, natural. Because I am his mom. With my bonus daughter, I feel like I am always on the periphery, never quite fitting in. Because I’m not her mom. I fear if we argue and disagree she will stay angry, choose to no longer be part of our family. Because I’m not her mom. We don’t yet have a bond, haven’t cemented our relationship, don’t quite understand our dynamic. Because I’m not her mom. I fear sees me as nothing more than her dad’s wife. Because I’m not her mom. We decided to use the term bonus instead of step because none of us liked the negative connotation associated with step-mother. To me, my bonus daughter is the bonus I got when I married her dad. And now I have a new role as her bonus mom. It’s my job to make her feel loved and wanted. Part of our family. Keep the peace. Bonus moms often do the work, make the effort, and get little credit. We do what we do for love instead of acknowledgement. As I am often reminded, I am not her mom. And I never will be. But I am a parental figure in her life or at least I hope to be. I can never be her mom. I am not trying to replace her mom. I’m not trying to steal her away from her mom. I just want to have my own place in her life. To someday be important to her. To maybe, someday, be more than just her dad’s wife. Being a bonus mom is hard work. And I’m not perfect at it. But I’m doing my best.

Six Weeks of Grief Hell

This week begins what I refer to as our six weeks of grief hell. Steven will be graduating eighth grade on Saturday. And for many, that’s not a big deal. But when you’ve been at the same school, with the same people since you were four years old, that’s a huge change. A change his dad will not be here to see.  Each event this week to celebrate his graduation, will only serve to remind Steven that his dad can’t be here to celebrate with us. And Sunday is not only Mother’s Day, it’s also Steven’s birthday. Another day his dad should be here. Then comes June. And we have Jared‘s birthday, my birthday, and Father’s Day. More days, more reminders that Jared isn’t here. More milestones, more events that Steven and I will celebrate without Jared.  And yes, we will celebrate. Because even though Jared is gone, life and it’s accomplishments deserve to be celebrated.

I’m looking forward to celebrating Steven’s accomplishments this week.  I’m just not looking forward to the grief that is also sure to come. But I will find a way to honor both the joy and the sorrow.  The bitter and the sweet. All while making Steven feel loved. After all, this is his week!

#bigchangesahead

#congratulationsSteven

#6weeksofgriefhell

#bittersweet

National Widow Day

Today is National Widow's Day.  And unfortunately, I am a member of that club.  A club I never wanted to join.  But I am surrounded by some of the strongest men and women I know.  We support each other.  Lift each other up.  Hold each other when we need to cry.  Commiserate about being alone.  Discuss the hardships of solo parenting.  I'm not sure how I would have survived without my widowed tribe.

Many in my widowed community also lose their friends and family when their spouse dies.  But I am also blessed to have amazing friends and family who supported me on my grief journey.  Who continue to support me.  Who are always willing to help.  To listen.  Who help keep Jared's memory alive. Who celebrate my newfound joy.   Who understand that 2.5 years is forever and yesterday all at the same time.  Who continue to miss and love Jared but at the same time are willing to open their hearts to my new beginning.

This widow journey is not one I would wish on anyone.   And given the option,  I would give my widow card back in a heartbeat.  But that is not an option.  So instead I will march on. I will wear the title of widow proudly, with honor.  Being a widow means I was loved until Jared took his last breath.  It was my privilege to be Jared's last love.

Today on National Widow's Day, do every widow you know a special favor. Talk about their dead spouse.   Speak their name.  As a widow one of the most painful things is to the think that others have forgotten your late spouse.  Remember, that our lives were forever changed in a single moment.  Our life as we knew it ended when our spouse died.  The future we had planned vanished, never to happen. Our present became one of basic survival.  We no longer felt whole, complete.  A part of us died in that moment.   And our loss should not and cannot be ignored. Our loss shaped us into who we are now.  Someone new, someone who has lived in darkness and fought their way back to the light.

Acknowledge our loss.  Don't ignore it, change the subject, or refuse to speak their name.  These actions are hurtful, they make us feel alone.  Like an outcast.  Today of all days, honor a widow.  Remember their life before death.  Speak their spouse's name.  Honor a love so deep that even death cannot end it.

To all my widowed friends, I'm sorry we are walking this journey.  That we know this pain. This struggle.  But I am grateful that I do not have to do this alone.  So today on National Widow's Day, I honor my widow tribe.  I honor my love story.  And I will continue to look for hope and happiness.

#widowsrock
#NationalWidowsDay