It was the closet

Shot through the heart.

In grief group they are called ambushes. I don’t really like that word, but I guess it fits. I think of them as a shot through the heart because that’s where it hurts. And man, it hurts.

Today my son needed a t-shirt, because he didn’t tell me he was out of clean ones, and so I went to get him one of his dad’s. All of his clothes is still in our closet, exactly as he left them; mine hanging on the left, his on the right. I spread them apart where they meet on the clothes rod and the first shirt of his that faced me was his favorite camping t-shirt. It wasn’t dusty. It wasn’t saggy. It looked like it just came out of the laundry and was holding Howie’s shape. I could vividly picture him in it. His muscular chest, tan arms, and beautiful face. Ow! Right in the heart. Damn that hurt! Suddenly the tears were there but I held them in. I looked around at all of his stuff. It’s all waiting because he will be back in just a second to wear them, right? 

F*ck, it's almost been a YEAR...

Up until now his clothes, his things, have all been “white noise.” I see them but I’m not thinking about them. They are part of the scenery. Like when you drive on autopilot. You got from A to B but you don’t remember anything specific from along the way. But suddenly today that shirt, his clothes, were hurting me. Why? Is it because the first marking of his death is coming? It is time to get rid of, or at least pack up, his clothes? But how could I?

Another widowed friend, 4 years out, (geez, I know a lot of widows all of the sudden!) told me that she has kept her husband’s office the same as how he left it. She said she didn’t want to erase him. He LIVED after all; he made a mark on people’s lives. I agree with and love that sentiment.

So, like I always do, I look at his picture and the urn on my headboard and ask what to do. And ask for strength. And tell him that I miss him. And I love him.

Being a widow sucks.

ha! checking to see how many widow blogs there are - tons! I'm not that special after all.

Well, that was a bit of a surprise. Who knew there were so many other widows blogging? And I don't even really know how to search for blogs!

Challenging and Emotional Days

8.31.17

I lack motivation, I'm tired, when is the last time I had a belly laugh or a giggle fit? Maybe I'm depressed.

If I knew 100% for a fact that I would be with Howie and we would continue on happily, I would consider death. I'm not suicidal, don't worry. I know that the above is not guaranteed; no one knows what happens after death. I just mean that it hurts that much, I miss him that much, and I just want to be with him that much that such a sacrifice could seem worth it.

I've been thinking that thought for a while now. It's funny to see it written down. Again, even though I may be depressed I am not suicidal (in the event anyone besides me ever reads this). The thing that makes it impossible for me to take that step is not my son, not those who will be left behind, not that it's wrong, not that I am afraid; it's that it's not guaranteed that Howie and I would continue on happily (meaning he is free from the monster that stole his life, etc). For all I know we are all just extinguished like a flame when we die. So the risk is not worth it. I will just have to wait and see and hope.

Seeing that thought written down makes me laugh because I think outwardly I look pretty normal, like I'm handling this pretty well. People who see me might be surprised that I have these thoughts. Another widow probably wouldn't be surprised though. I might ask that.

I have 2 widowed friends. Sadly, our spouses were all taken in the space of about 2 months. My friend Kelly's sadiversary (I cannot say anniversary which implies a happy occasion to me) is tomorrow. One year for her. That is making me terribly sad and moody today because mine is coming up fast. She is having a remembrance BBQ next weekend for her husband. And tomorrow his ashes are being put into a columbarium (a niche in a building for cremated remains). I had been thinking about how to remember Howie on this first sadiversary. It will fall on a Saturday so I'll likely be at the camper. I was thinking of a Howie Fire.

We had a toast to him at the Kelly Family reunion last weekend. Kelly (his mom) brought Jameson and cola (one of Howie's preferred drinks). She was crying, I held it together fairly well. Her brother Jimmy made a nice, funny toast - something like "There's someone who was here last year that is missing this year. To the Duck." If you remember, there was a movie called Howard the Duck back in 1986. A few of Howie's uncles referenced him as that after it came out. Howie actually did not like that nickname but he let it slide, like most other things.

And my final thought for today, well I guess there will be two. First, there is an amazing song by Clean Bandit featuring Zara Larsson called Symphony. The video tears me apart. Watch it some time, but be warned if you've ever lost someone, especially your significant other. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aatr_2MstrI

Second, I guess this IS a bit therapeutic, in part because I'm writing what I'm saying to Howie in my head. I miss you, my love.