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.

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.