My Journey in Widowhood

 Weekends are always hard now. Mark and I were always on the go and doing things together. He was truly “my person” and I was his. There was no one we enjoyed being with more than each other. The house was always filled with noise. People, dogs and the background noise of any sporting event that happened to be on. Football, baseball, soccer or Formula One. It didn’t matter. My husband enjoyed all sports. The competition, the sportsmanship. He could talk about any sport, with anyone. He could discuss college basketball with his brother in law and an hour later be discussing racing with his nephew.  Now, the house is silent. I rarely have the television on and the dog that made all the noise crossed the rainbow bridge to join Mark. The silence in the house echos the silence I feel internally. There is no joy. No laughter. No smiles. No hugs. I am merely existing. Doing the tasks that need to be done, but no more. I go through the motions of living. I get up, make my bed, get dre...

 Mark used to bring me flowers. Every. Single. Week.  His way of showing me he was always thinking of me and loved me. Some weeks it was roses, other weeks were wild flowers. One flower that was in each bunch, a lily.  I never knew which day of the week he would bring them home, but he never missed a week. Now, the spot where flowers used to bloom is empty.  Often it’s the little things that bring the waves of grief. The empty spot where the flowers used to be, not waking to the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The silence with no sports on TV playing in the background. It’s hard being alone after so many years. There have been so many things I wanted to share with Mark over the past 3 months. So many times I thought. Mark won’t  believe this. So many things that he would have handled. That’s when it hits me that he’s not there to talk to, laugh with, lean on, or vent to. I miss his smile, his laugh, his hugs.  I am comforted by the thought, “He knows.” He k...

 It’s been a few days since my last blog. Tuesday evening was grief group, it sucked, but I went! I spent a bit of time this week at the shop and the rest at home.  The grief still swamps me  I suspect it always might. I’m drawing comfort from God, family and close friends. I’m keeping myself busy with projects around the house  and hanging pictures. It’s so hard being so far away from everyone. This journey is dark and at times almost impossible to get through alone. It’s very true that the hardest part of grief is after everyone else resumes their lives and you are left alone. It’s impossible to pick up the pieces, as my life as I knew it is gone. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of my shattered life trying to navigate through all the broken pieces without being ripped open.  Slowly creeping past the pieces and moving towards something new. A new purpose and life that for the first time in 18 years, doesn’t include Mark.  Oh how that hurts. I don’t ...

 It’s been a rough few days. Yesterday was especially difficult. For the first time since Mark died I just…..gave up. I didn’t bother to get out of my pajamas all day. What was the point? Who cares if I got out of bed or got dressed? I didn’t.  I forced myself out of bed to do laundry so I would have clean clothes to wear this week.  Other than that I laid in bed. Until the evening.  Then, I pulled out my bible, prayed and started reading. I’ve always been a woman of strong faith, but since Mark died I haven’t felt God. It was as if a wall has been built between God and I. My faith told me He is with me, but for the first time in my life I couldn’t feel Him. I have cried out to Him in my grief and yes, in my anger too. I have felt so alone and abandoned by God.  Until today. As I sat on my front porch this evening and asked God where He was, He answered. He’s right here. 

 If I’ve learned anything over the past 3 months I’ve learned this; life can go to hell in the blink of an eye. Everything you planned, worked for and loved….destroyed. How does one ever recover? How do I go about doing more than simply existing when the light is gone? This darkness isn’t comforting, it’s soul crushing. It’s hard to breathe and do anything more than stumble blindly. All the while trying not to trip and fall. 

 As I sit here this evening, in my husbands fleece shirt, my mind circles around and around. My life is 180 degrees different than it was a mere 3 months ago. I am not the same person that I was three months ago.  For the first month after Mark died I would walk through the house in the middle of the night. In the dark. It was if my soul was searching for Mark in the darkness. After a month or so of doing that it ended.  Then came last Tuesday. My first grief group session. Now, I’m walking the house again in the middle of the night. Obviously the grief group triggered something and once again my soul is searching. For what I’m not sure. Perhaps pieces of my heart.  When Mark died my heart didn’t break, it shattered. Something deep within me was torn in two. I’m now broken. I told my friend today this as I told her the old me is gone. She will never return. The old me didn’t survive the waves of grief and pain.  The new me is very different. I used to be quick t...

 I took this picture of Mark last summer. We took a day at the ranch and went to the beach. Just the two of us. I don’t know why I was moved to take this picture of him, but I’m glad I did. The calm sea and him standing in the foreground is symbolic of my life before his death. Mark sheltered and protected. Life was calm with him and he always stood between me and rough seas. My protector, my champion, my heart.  While I was at the ranch I had a dream, which I shared with my sister. The dream started with me sitting on a boat. Mark was with me. The sea was calm and I was sitting sheltered in my husbands arms. Suddenly, he was gone and a storm came up. I was alone and fighting to keep the boat afloat.  This dream was exactly how my life feels. Without Mark my life feels like I’m adrift in the ocean. Some moments the water is calm and other times it’s filled with huge waves and hurricane winds, leaving me holding onto my ships railing for dear life while I’m trying to bail ...

 I’d start and never stop. The hits just keep coming. First Mark. Then 2 weeks later I had to have his dog put to sleep. Then the ranch.  On top of dealing with grief, all the details, going through his things I’m also dealing with remodeling projects in the house. Then there is the shop as well. I’m also Trying to find the right pet home for Winston as he doesn’t have the right temperature to be trained as a service dog. There is a laundry list of other  things I’m worried about that I won’t blog about.  My life just sucks. The ONE person who kept me grounded and could talk me off any emotional cliff isn’t here anymore. How does one begin to go on? I’m still living moment to moment and, in many ways, the grief is stronger than it was in the beginning.  I’m tired. Physically and emotionally. I’m also dealing with a lot of pain due to the M.S. I’m clumsy as well. I dropped a can of soup on my foot last night and this morning I dropped a table on the same damn foo...

  I’ve spent most of today going through Marks things. It’s time. I’m nowhere close to the point I can go through his things and smile at the memories. Right now, everything still brings grief and tears.  I’m putting things in different categories: Keep, Donation, disposal and “check with his family.” Anything I want to keep takes precedence over anyone else wanting them. Some items I am offering to specific family members as I know Mark wanted some things to go to specific people.  I haven't started on Marks upstairs office. I’m going to try to start that tomorrow. That’s the plan anyway.  I have to get through today first.  My life has changed in so many ways since May 2nd. Not only because I lost my soulmate and half of myself. Losing Mark forever changed me. I am no longer the person that I was. You can’t have your very soul shook and not be forever changed. Especially when hits keep coming.  I don’t know if I like the person I am now or not. I don’t KN...

  It dawned on me yesterday. Mark has been gone for a quarter of a year already. Time has a way of marching forward while standing still.  I’m tired. Emotionally exhausted and over everything. I’m tired of wading through the storm of grief and now, I’m questioning Gods timing. 

  I took this picture of Mark 4 days before he died. I had forgotten about it and discovered it on my phone this evening.  We were on our way to Camp Lejune NC and had stopped for lunch. It was later on this day that we had stopped at the 1/2 way point of the trip for the night. Only 4 hours of driving, but I didn’t want to tire Mark out.  This was the last picture I took of him. He still had that twinkle in his eye. I’m so glad I snapped this picture. Little did I know, 12 hours later he would be confused and 16 hours later he would be in the back of an ambulance on the way to an emergency room.  We never made Camp Lejune. I made the decision to turn around and head home a few hours after his release from the ER. He was gone a mere 72 hours later.  One thing about my husband was his attitude towards life and others.  He was a tough man to get to know. To those who didn’t know him well he appeared friendly, but distant. Mark didn’t trust east. He preferred ...

 My sister and I returned to my TN home from the ranch just shy of midnight Monday. I spent the day yesterday recovering from the physical exhaustion of the trip and battling the mental darkness the trip and return home brought on. Being at the ranch with Mark's family was honestly the hardest thing I've done since burying my husband. It took every bit of emotional strength I had to carry on there day to day. We arrived in the area on Saturday, and I chose to go to the ranch then. Not to check in, but to get the "first" of being at the ranch done without Mark's family being present. It was a smart move. Once I parked, it took me a solid 5 minutes to even get out of the car. Once I had succeeded in doing that, I went into the office to ask for permission to take my sister around. Two sentences into asking for permission, I started sobbing. Honestly, I should have known then that it was too soon for me to be at the ranch. There was no place where I didn't see my...