It Can't be the Same.....And So It Isn't.

There is one thought that I need to discuss with you and others out there.  It is the ongoing need to compare the death of a spouse to divorce.  I have to emphatically say that in most ways- it is not the same.  First I'd like to share with you the parallels that I see in hopes that you know that I am sympathetic about the plight of lost love.  I truly am.
When Steve first passed away there were those that struggled to find anything to say to me.  Through the fog I could sense their need to reach out, to connect, to find a common ground to pull me back from the abyss of grief.  So they would search their own lives and pluck small bits that we could communicate about.  More often than not this came through comparing the life that I had lost suddenly to the loss of their marriage.  I can now see the comparison of the hopes and dreams that we all set out with as we embark on marriage or a commitment to another.  I remember the nights spent whispering of the things that we would do, sharing the deepest secrets and desires that we shared for ourselves and in turn for each other.  I still hold those quiet moments quite dear to me.
In having children we all then turn our focus less upon the hopes and dreams of each other, though those are still in the ether around us, rather we fine tune our perspective upon our children and how to work together to accomplish their dreams; to create a better world for them that is without limits.  We scrimp for little league, and spend countless hours in doctor's offices, we become unified and strengthened through this common goal of lifting our children towards the stars and celebrating their milestones along the way.
This commonality makes it possible to smile, nod and take a deep breath when I am told how lucky I am that my husband died while we were still in love. What?! Come again... That at least I don't have to endure having to see him every day with someone else.  Knowing that he was faithful to me and that I will never have to deal with sharing my children with another household. Wow.
Let me be clear.  If you approach me on the street tomorrow and are gulping back tears because you find yourself being spread too thin because of the circumstances that life has thrown you into- I will wrap my arms around you and find you a clean Kleenex, because that is what sharing the human experience is about.  But please...PLEASE...remember in your own pain, that I am still wrapped in mine and wear it like a sweater, so please remember to tread lightly upon the life experience that I am still working through with no finish line in sight.
We are similar in the grief that we share for a life that can no longer be; for a love that is beyond our reach though still in our hearts and minds.  In all of that we are similar.  We are human and so we are the same.
That, however, is where the similarity ends.  While you may wish your spouse were no longer breathing, I ache each day and night and long for the time that mine still was.  While you tell me how hard it is for you to share your children, I can only think about the fact that they will have another parent to bounce ideas off of.  And while you think being single and able to make ALL of the decisions about my life on my own- I can only focus on your children playing with your ex-spouse and finding some sort of solace in the proximity.  I would not wish this on you, or on your life for anything in the world- so why do you wish it upon yourself?
There is a great chance that at some point in both of our lives we will find another someone to share our life with.  While we both shift focus between what is and what was, there is one distinct difference: I watched as the only man I have ever loved in this life's spirit drained from his eyes and left his mortal shell.  I sat helpless to save him, to breathe life back into his body, and to will him to live once more.  There will never be another word in this lifetime pass between us.  All the while I was throwing everything I was into willing him to live, begging him not to leave me (possibly in the same way you worked to save your world)- I could not get past my lips the "I love you," that was always said each night before bed but went unsaid that last night.  Instead, the words lay frozen in my heart, on my tongue and forever etched into every beat of my heart that his does not.
We both will have to work through our grief in our own way.  We both will figure out a way to move through the dark moments and stand tall in the face of great sorrow.  I will make you this simple promise: I will never tell you how lucky you are that your spouse is still alive, if you never tell me again how lucky I am to not have to go through what you're going through. Our perceptions are our own reality and as such these circumstances cannot be the same- and so they aren't.
Much love for the life that you are living and the person you want to be - Kami

The Year Mark, The High Points, The Struggles, and the Onward March.....

I was traveling from California to Arizona in a 15 passenger van with my sister, her four girls, my three boys and my mother-in-law.  It was a wonderful escape from the every day realities that are mine.  While we were in transit, my other sister sent pictures of the memorial tributes that were paid to Steve at his graveside.  There was such joy in remembering such a remarkable man.

Inside I had struggled more and more as the day loomed closer.  There was this fantastic build-up to the apex of emotion that I didn't have any idea what to do with it all. It seemed that all the nice, calm, level-headedness that comes with having to walk with grace through such a nightmare was about to tear free.  And then it did.  My ability to filter my thoughts and feelings fell away and I couldn't be trusted to be kind anymore.  It was as though the one year mark freed all the crazy that had been boiling inside for so long.

I wasn't focused on finding people to berate or be mean to, but my patience for the trivial issues in life was worn completely thin.  People venting over arguments their children had gotten into, ladies in the check-out line complaining at the length of their wait- all of the mundane, somewhat idiotic reasons to get bent out of shape over received an eye roll and a folding of my arms.  Didn't all of these people realize what a wonderful gift they had in being able to stand and complain?  They had been given the gift of one more day and this was how they were spending it.  I was appalled and completely over it all.

So I did what any widow would do- I shut down.  I'm still in the process of sliding.  I feel as though I've become such a burden on those closest to me.  I can't reciprocate in the way I would like to,  It's hard to go through your days feeling like you're either a service project or an exhibit in the freak-show.  Neither of which are good for your soul.

Would you like the know the secret that I learned on the year anniversary?

It came and it went; all by itself.  Say What?! Time didn't stop on this day any more than it did the day a year prior.  People still smiled, and cars still moved and the axis continued to rotate without my say-so.

So up by my bootstraps I've come.  I'm choosing to laugh more, complain less and am searching for purpose beyond myself.  Focusing outward instead of inward.

The year mark can be scary- but not half as scary of living a life less-extraordinary.  For choosing to live like that is no life at all. And the monster we create in our mind, based upon dates and the survival mentality, are just as easily slayed in our minds as well.

THE conversation......

A week or so ago I decided to sit down with the boys and see what they thought about, perhaps, their mother dating.  I wanted to have the conversation and get their thoughts prior to doing anything about it.  It's not that I was 100% ready at the time, and I'm not sure I'm 100% ready now- but then is anyone ever 100% ready? When I met Steve I would say I was about 85% ready and we ended up talking marriage on the second date.
When I spoke with the boys I just asked simply, "What are your thoughts about me going on a date?"
I wish I could clearly convey the looks on their faces.  Parker looked very thoughtful.  Klarke looked calm and Grant....well he looked ticked off.
Parker spoke first and said, "If it will make you happy Mom, then I think you should do it.  I support you." This warmed my heart.
Klarke chimed in, "Yep! We could have someone to watch football games with again."  This made me feel two things: sadness for the boy who is missing his dad so much, and nervous that he would expect that right away from any sort of dating situation.
Grant simply said, "No way! You can't.  I don't want anyone but Dad in our house."  This was expected.  Steve was his best friend.
I just let them all know that nothing was in the works.  My first priority is to my boys- always.  They come first.  This doesn't mean that I won't go, should the opportunity arise, but it does mean that I will be very, very careful about who meets the boys and when.
I guess what I'm saying with all of this is that the thought of moving forward is appealing to me.  I've stagnated for too long.  My heart aches and the desire to find a friend is there.  Anything more than that right now seems to overwhelming, but I would like a friend to at least laugh with.  No pressure.
That's where we are tonight. Much love, Kami

Learning to Live Again....

When I was in Utah this summer I ran into a wonderful woman who began the walk I'm currently walking nearly a year before I did.  She said something that really struck me.  She said that music spoke more to her now than it had ever before.  I couldn't agree more.
Just after Coach had passed away, I was brought to my knees with the gut wrenching grief of missing him.  I just wanted to know that he missed me, still loved me, still thought of me.  As I was kneeling upon my tile floor Jon Legend's song "All of Me" came on.  If you've never heard it before, it details the love between Jon and his wife and the love they have for each other; all their idiosyncrasies, joys and all that goes into the middle of a love that deep that it inspires music to be written.
It was an answer to prayers.
Lately the music has been quiet.  Songs come and go on the radio.  I hear music in church and it doesn't reach me.  I feel as though I may be dying inside.  The numbness has worn off and I typically feel everything so raw- not lately though.  I'm not sure why.
I am lonely.
I'm sure this will pass as well. I hope this will pass as well.
There is such joy, safety, happiness, peace in sharing your life and being half of a whole.
This feeling won't last forever.  I know that it won't, and I can recognize that it is real in this moment.
I opened my arms wide open, chose life, and now I get to live with that choice.  I took his ring off from around my neck- it was choking me, not literally.  I've worn it since it was handed to me by the medical examiner in the emergency room.  It was the first symbol that meant he wasn't coming home ever again and the weight of it all was making it increasingly harder to stand, to choose life, to live.  I tried taking my wedding ring off, because now when I fill out forms it requires that I check the 'widow' or 'single' box, because I can no longer claim that I am married in this life, though I know I am in the life to come.

I put the ring back on.  It is a symbol of a promise that I have made and will continue to keep.  It is a strength to me, and so I waiver between needing the strength from a small symbol of eternity, and wanting so desperately to be strong enough to stand without it.
In the words of Garth Brooks from his song "Learning to Live Again" - "This learning to live again, is killing me." Again, not literally, but man this process is slow, arduous, painful, and with small moments of joy.  Thank you for coming along on this journey with me.
All my love,
Kami

The Wheel We Run On

I shared this on Facebook last week, and thought I should post it here as well-
The house is quiet. Well it would be quiet if Normandy the Hamster would quit running on his hamster wheel. I swear, just when it's time to lay my head down and get some sleep, that little guy thinks it's time to run a marathon and off he goes! He probably covers the equivalent of 26.2 miles every night on his run....well to nowhere. How often do we do this? Climb onto our wheels and then just go....without a destination in mind, without a purpose, except to be moving? I did that. In the months following Steve's death, I got on my hamster wheel and just ran. I was trying to outrun the pain, the loss, the missing, the life that I had built together with my best friend. Guess what...it didn't work. It was only when I stopped running, opened my arms wide and fell into all that I'd been outrunning that the healing finally began. It sounds so cliche' and perhaps it is-just a bit. But for all of those who have ever been faced with seemingly insurmountable odds- be brave. Perhaps it won't be today, or even tomorrow, but at some point you will need to get off the wheel, take a deep breath, and decide to live by embracing what is necessary to live: LIFE. Happy Tuesday my friends.