My Journey in Widowhood

 Yesterday was tough. I cried at the airport, on the plane, in the rental car and at the ranch. I really can’t begin to express how hard this trip is emotionally.  Mark loved going to the ranch. It was a week dedicated to family and relaxation. Family was so important to Mark and the ranch gave him the opportunity to catch up on how, and what, everyone was doing.  Over the years there have been proposals and other special meetings moments at the ranch. Some years not everyone could go. The table we all sit around during dinner has both grown and shrunk over the years. The loss of Mark’s parents created two empty seats. Now, there is a third empty seat.  I decided to go to the ranch yesterday afternoon. I knew it would be hard to be there without Mark and honestly, I didn’t want Marks family to have to see my grief. They are dealing with their own and I know going to the ranch this year is hard for some on them as well.  As I drove closer to the ranch, the quiete...

 Today is the first time I’ve traveled by plane without Mark since he passed. I went through the normal near strip search I always do. Although this time my husband wasn’t there to tease me afterwards.  Our flight leaves in an hour so we are killing time in the cafe. I’ve already been in tears at the airport. I KNEW this was gonna be a tough trip. Thank God for waterproof mascara. First suck. Big time. 

  I’ve been dreading the coming week of firsts since Mark died. You see every year for the past 30 plus years, Mark’s family all gather at a ranch in CA. It’s his sister and their families. Mark had made our reservations last year for the event. We had stayed in n the same room every year. It’s a time of reconnecting with family, relaxation and a lot of fun.  Not this year. See contacted the ranch about 2 weeks after Mark died to request I NOT stay in the same room that make and I always had. I knew that merely going to the ranch without him would gut me. Staying in “our” room would be impossible. I found out this week they were able to put my sister (She is going with me,) and I into a cottage. One less emotional gutting to go through!  If I could have found a way to get out of attending this year, I would have. Going to the ranch is going to be the most difficult thing to do since I walked away from his casket for the last time before his burial.  Normally, I start...

  My husband was a hard core smoker. No matter how I begged, pleaded and yes, nagged, he couldn’t stop. He was a very respectful smoker. In 18 years he never smoked in a vehicle I rode in or our home. He would walk away, find a spot and light up.  He was diagnosed with Lung Cancer and was gone 11 days later.  The first 2 months following his death I lived in a fog. I don’t remember much of the first 2 weeks at all. I remember being in a fog of grief. Everything happened so fast and I was in a state of numb denial.   As the fog started retreating anger started creeping in. Between the waves of intense grief, anger came and became powerful. Mark would be an easy target for all the anger. After all, he chose to keep smoking. However, I haven’t experienced many episodes on anger directed at him. No more than 3 or 4 times. I find myself unable to be angry at him. I know he didn’t want to leave me. He verbalized that to me when we realized he was terminal.  As a perso...

  Rachel made it safely back home this evening. I know her momma was glad to have her back home. She was such a bright light in my life for the past month. We’re already counting the days until she can return.  Now, it’s just me. It’s no easier than it was a month ago. It just isn’t.  I met with my grief counselor yesterday. We talked about how I’m so angry. Yes, it’s “normal” and yes, I already knew that. The hardest part of all the anger I feel is that there is nowhere for it to go. It’s futile. Who am I supposed to be angry with? My dead husband? God? Everyone? What do I do with all the anger? As if it’s not enough trying to keep my head above the waves of grief, I have to figure out how to cope with being angry at the world too. Freaking great.  I have to find the new “me.” I’ve been part of an “us” for 18 years and while I was independent within that relationship, I wasn’t INDEPENDENT. I had a partner, a  rock and anchor.  Now, I’m trying to find my wa...

  Today is Rachel’s last full day here. I’m really going to miss this kiddo. It’s been wonderful seeing the glimpses of the young women man she is evolving to be. I’m already missing her and looking forward to seeing her next summer.  Bring home means developing some form of a routine. I have appointments scattered through the week, the contractor is still here, so the house is in complete disarray.  Jennifer arrives Friday and we leave on Saturday. Forming a routine will have to wait.  Right now, I’m living life one moment at a time and doing things as they need to be done. Not something that will work forever and it’s the opposite of how I used to be.  I always had a plan A, backup plan B and a back up to the backup. Now, I could give a rats patootie about most everything. I used to thrive on routines. Now I wonder what the point was.  I’m a completely different person than I was before Marks passing. Grief changes you. The deeper the grief, the more prof...

 My husband and I had developed an evening routine many years ago. We would have dinner, clean up, then spend the evening sitting on the front porch.  Living rural, we have few neighbors of the human variety and they are separated from us by acres of woods. Sitting on our porch we would rarely see a car drive by. We would watch the deer, turkey, squirrels and even the occasional skunk meander by as we talked about our day, “things” we needed to do, family and world events. Our evenings were special. Time devoted to each other. I never tired of hearing my husbands views and opinions. He was an incredibly well read man with uncanny insight into people and what made them “tick.” He was stubborn, very strong willed, but would do anything for those he cared about. We balanced each other. I know I was a better person because of him.  I don’t spend much time on the front porch anymore. I think I’ve sat out there half a dozen times since Mark died. It’s to hard, so the chairs sit...