A New Day

 November 8

One year and 6 months "after"

A new day has come…

I woke up this morning like every other day.

I went to the closet and selected from all the shirts hanging in there the shirt I wore the day/night/morning that my husband breathed his final breath. I looked at it for about a second and had a weird thought of, I wonder if today will be the day his ashes will come in the mail.

Why? I don’t know. Whatever it was just compelled me to put it on. My mom called it the word I’ve always used but never said to her – feelings. I went ahead and put it on and didn’t think another thing about it until several hours later.

Fast forward to my regular work weekday. Meetings, domestics, etc. At around 1:30, I took my lunch which involved me taking a nap instead of actually eating.

I’ve still not eaten.

Close to the end of my “lunch”, my phone started ringing and I almost didn’t look at it or answer it, but again, a compelling thing had me pick it up and see who was calling me at 2:11 PM EST and saw the words University of South Alabama.

Thud. Another thing I “knew” was going to happen before it did.

I answered and the voice on the other end of the phone asked if I was Melissa – Yes.

This is so and so from the Anatomical Body Donation program.

Me – another thud.

She went on to say that they’d completed their study with my deceased husband who had asked that his body be donated to science after he died in the hopes that someone, somewhere, somehow could hopefully find some answers to cancer and helping prevent/heal/resolve it. Anything, even miniscule.

She continued in the conversation and said they’d just cremated his remains at which point, I kind of lost my ability to contain my eyes from watering profusely and from keeping my voice from cracking uncontrollably. The finality of it was like being in a car rolling at about 100 mph, no seatbelt and suddenly you are violently stopped by the goddamn wall that popped up in front of you like a stupid cartoon that you laugh at when you’re a kid and know no better at that age about pain and despair.

She went on to say that she needed to verify my address and be present to sign as they were packaging up his remains, his ashes, to mail to me.

Another thud.

Stupidly, I felt, this is so fucking final. I mean, it was final literally a year and six months ago, but to have to “go through it again” hurt so much that I can’t describe it.

It is closure and I need it. I need the closure of this chapter of life, and I’ll finally have it.

I should have the end part of his life back home with me this coming Monday after which some trips need to be planned; some excursions to places he adored and treasured. Camping spots, motorcycle destinations he loved and visited. For now…. I’m having a toast to the person he was.

Touch

Monday – August 28, 2023

I went to sleep last night absolutely exhausted. I'd come home from a two-week trip to Sarasota visiting Timothy.

At one point in the middle of the night, I drowsily reached my hand out expecting to feel his hand slowly grasp mine and squeeze gently. It literally woke me up to not feel his hand in mine. I’d felt his touch for two weeks.

Constantly, casually, silently, absently even at times but with purpose.

Constantly – walking down the sidewalk or into a store or restaurant – one or both of us would reach for the other. Our hands would grasp, and we’d walk together, touching.

Casual – sitting on the couch at home or in a restaurant or driving down the road, touching.

Silent type - Hmm? You there? Yes, here’s my hand. You okay or feeling anxious? Yes, here’s my hand. Whispers and murmurs but always a touch. You are not alone, feel my hand touching you. 

Absently but with purpose – middle of the night rolling over, a hand would reach out from either of us to pat, soothe, ease back to sleep. Squeeze fingers, more murmurs but always a touch.

I miss that and it’s not even been 24 hours.

Almost a year

 06-02-2023

Anyone who knows ME knows this upcoming week may prove difficult.

I've taken the whole week off and am planning on laying low. I will have "therapy" in the shape of a very dear friend who will do anything for me should I need it therapy-wise and another very special person in my life who is a call or a text away. 

Tuesday will be a whole year since a heart shattering shit storm happened early one Monday morning and began back in the early part of the year, 2021. The bittersweet beginning to the end a year ago on June 3rd started with a very fast ambulance ride to a different hospital and wound up terminating early in the morning on June 6. 

June 6th is the day I'm trepidatiously waiting on being "over" if I'm being frank. Heh. 

To say I'm not looking forward to it is putting it so mildly I don't even know how to describe it. I.Will.Be.Fine. I am a warrior. I am a fierce entity. I will be fine, but again I'm just not looking forward to the feelings that will arise. I will greet that day with swords out, fangs bared and a deep seated scream to anyone who dares cross me that day. 

There may be tears.

No, there will be tears.

There will probably also be utter and sheer panic, but that too will be met with a ferocity from deep within that only one who's gone through this would understand. 

Hug your loved ones, tell folks you care about that you LOVE them. Fuck shyness, fuck fear, fuck anything that stands in your way...

Love, Live, Lust, Learn, Let go and accept things you cannot change even if they scare you so much you can't breathe....

Just live. 

Maps and continuing to move forward...

 

January 22

Just sitting down – got some stuff done this weekend. Nothing major; more or less aesthetics. Worked on the house and worked on me (that’s the aesthetic – hah!).

Seriously though – I did do some painting in one of the bathrooms, tidied up in areas needing tidying, I gathered some more things to donate, did laundry – one my least favorite things to do is putting away laundry, and got groceries. Then, forgot I needed a few things, so I ventured back out and had to get those forgotten things. I also worked out twice this weekend but, I took today “off” to just go have fun and do “nothing” stuff. Didn’t get all my steps in today much to my chagrin, but hey, tomorrow.

What am I trying to do? Honestly? I have no clue. I have absolutely no map to use as my guide right this very second. But do we ever? Do we ever have a laid-out plan in life and say – here’s my coordinates of where I am right now and over there <pointing somewhere on an imaginary map>? There is where I want to end up.

Probably…maybe we just think we do?

At one point, I feel I had that map.

Now though? What about now? My map burned up well over a year ago and I’m just now starting to stop from floundering around taking unmarked exits, from running out of gas and having to get out and find my way, to rediscovering the lines on the road.

I’m seeing that the lines never disappeared, but just faded into the fast ride I’d been on in this game of life. I’m starting to see ways around traffic jams even if means a detour. Detours may be the part of life we didn’t know that would help shape who we will become.

So, my detour while I re-find my map? Learning the way of this new land I am now inhabiting.

I do want to improve myself. Me – physically and Me – Mentally. So…I really should re-create a map for myself. Even if all it is imaginary. Goal setting. That is where my journey is right now.

My new map is looking ahead, continuing to put one foot in front of the other, finding joy in minute things that may have otherwise been overlooked. I’m not moving on, I’m moving forward.

Seven Months in with Further Roads to Travel

01/05/2023 – The Eve of seven months in and I’m still kicking – Amazingly. There are still roads left to travel and my shoes are tied ready to go.

I re-joined a gym and went for the first time tonight. I walked on a treadmill for a bit to get warmed up, then hit the weight machines for some weight training. Still feeling goofy and new being back to a gym for the first time since Covid hit. What do I do first??

I feel I will be a little sore tomorrow morning – the anticipated feeling though? It’ll be AWESOME.

It’ll mean I am alive; I can breathe, I can continue on and live another day. I know Brandon would be proud. I am too even if I moaned and groaned on the way to and while I was at the gym. Good for me, though. He’d kick my ass if I didn’t do this.

This is for me. It’s also for him in a weird way. Don’t know if I can adequately express what I mean by that. I don’t think I want to try right now. Ask me later, maybe.

If I smile and kind of shrug, I’m still not sure I can explain it if anyone ever does ask. That’ll be okay, too. The answer may never make sense even if I was able to articulate it. I just know it does make sense to me in this now.

As I was driving home, I looked up and saw how full the moon was becoming and drove right past the hospital where we spent roughly three weeks of time before his final ride down to Fairhope. Thoughts were that of, I wish, if only, coulda’ woulda’, shoulda’ for a brief moment. Then, I shoved those thoughts deep down where they belong, now.

I’ve been learning to live in my own skin these past seven months, alone. Alone is a heavy word filled with a lot of doom and gloom. Honestly though? Alone is learning who one is; learning it’s okay to laugh at yourself and circumstances. It’s a learning experience. It’s saying okay – if I want to go get back in bed and NOT do anything after work? that it’s okay. It’s deciding to paint your patio and having to pick out the color and watch a video to see what you should do when painting concrete. It’s BEING. It’s moving with the ebb and flow of the thing called life and being okay. It is feeling comfortable in your own skin and rejoicing in that Hey, your past has helped shape who you are, girlfriend. Keep on doing that. Keep breathing in. Keep breathing out. You are alive. It's ( for me ) no longer feel ‘guilty’. (That’s another thing that at some point if anyone asks me what I mean by that, please, let’s sit down I'll pour us a wine and I’ll explain.)

A while back during a rough patch at work, I found a funny that I printed out and stuck on my wall at work. It’s on my fridge now that I work from home.  It says ‘Drink your coffee, Stay focused and positive, Don’t freak out, Remember – Stabbing people is wrong, Are you wearing pants? You are a magnificent sunflower or potato, whatever you like.’ It’s titled “Monday Motivation’. I scribbled through the word “Monday” and above it wrote “Every day” for Everyday Motivation.

These are the motivations I laugh at now, but seriously do say out loud a few of the lines to myself every now and then as I am getting ready for my day. Basically, what it means to me is, keep on even if it is just plodding along. Wherever you go, far from here or near to here, your life is important. Keep on kicking. Keep on screaming, Keep on living.

There’s still a lot of roads to travel and you, my dearest, will find so many wonderful adventures on your travels. Drink your coffee (or wine), keep your pants on, live, laugh, love. Just keep on doing it. 

Progress

December 23, 2022

These past six months have given me a lot of insight into me, my life, my “circumstance”. I realize I’m not the only person in the world to have lost someone who’d been in their lives for as long as they were. But I am the only one who is living my life and feeling my feelings so, bear with me please.

When my journey began as a widow, a friend gave me a journal one day, right before we sat down for a lunch date with a couple other friends. It is a beautiful hardback journal with a cover colored in gold and simply, but aptly labeled “Thoughts”. I held it for a while after receiving it and stared at it a while, too, before I actually began writing in it.

I’ve since written many things in it; quotes from other people and lyrics from songs, doodles here and there and of course, there are also my own words and random fleeting thoughts, too. Some of it is just word salad, a group of words that for some may not make any sense, but for me, right then and there when I scribbled them down, the words meant everything. They still do.

One of the more recent topics I jotted down was on being okay. So, here we go.  

A friend of mine told me a while back that eventually, I would be okay. That time would be the healer. That time would also be the thing that would feel like forever and never seem to reveal the other side of the mountain. At that point in this journey, I doubted I’d ever feel okay again.

Yet here I am. I did get to the top of a proverbial hill the other day and saw the scenery around me and realized, I am okay. I AM okay. More quietly? I? I am okay. And I don’t know quite yet how to feel about that.

I didn’t stop living. This is my new chapter. I am learning what I like, I am learning what I don’t like and sometimes I feel guilty at this new-found realization of being okay; of being alive and seeking continued growth. That,  I’m sure, is common. But yet, I do feel at times I should quell those thoughts of feeling good, of feeling okay.

I know, weird, but hey, this is ME after all.

Approaching the holidays quickly now, just days away, I’m not feeling as “bad” as I thought I’d feel.

That is an odd sensation. Maybe this is the acceptance part of the stages one goes through when life tosses a grenade their way. It’s the Oh okay, here we are, this is the new you. You can accept it, you can deny it, you can scrunch it up in a ball and try to throw it away, but this is now your life.

I’ve chosen to live it and see where it takes me and yes, I do feel okay.

I am sure that I will continue to feel the ebb and flow of life; the ups and downs of hills as they come my way, but right now? I am okay.

Do we say enough?

Monday, December 5, 2022

Do we say enough?

Today is the day before the six-month mark since Brandon died. I’ve been keeping busy, but a song just came on in the background and I started paying attention to the words and reflecting. Now, that I’m thinking about the words, let me say the following…

If I’d known what I knew the day before, the day I left the hospital and went home for the last time as a couple and not a single which I became in the wee hours of the next morning, would I have done things differently? I wonder…

Do we say enough to those we love and care for? Do we share enough with people we care about so that they know unequivocally what an IMPACT they have on our lives? Do we speak the words clearly, slowly and with certainty so that people understand how much they mean to us?

We should.

Towards the end of the day, Sunday, June 5^th, I was getting tired, cranky; I still had to get stuff set up when I got home for the item’s hospice was bringing for Brandon’s discharge and then get some rest before getting back up early the next day to be there in advance of his surgery. It was almost 7 PM and I had at least 45 to 50 minutes of drive time. That meant I’d get home around 8, eat dinner super late. House stuffs were being neglected, but what do you do?

He'd had an agitated day that day and yeah, I was feeling a bit frustrated, too. Lots of things had built up to that day. Three weeks of hospitalization, his health was declining at an alarming rate, I was running out of steam, he was dying, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop any of it.

When I left that night, I’d started getting ready about an hour before so he would know clearly that I was leaving. I always started slowly so he had it in his head that I was leaving that last week he was alive. He’d usually start almost pleadingly asking me to stay longer, but the last two nights he was alive, he’d fall asleep while I was packing stuff up and tidying up his room.

I woke him up that Sunday night, the 5^th of June and said softly, ‘hey babe? I’m leaving, I’ll be back first thing in the morning though before your surgery’  (we didn’t even have a time for surgery at that point, the whole thing was a “cluster”) But, I said my piece and was waiting on his response before I left. 

He blinked his eyes open, focused on me, smiled dreamily, and said ‘Okay, love you,’  then slowly closed his eyes again.

I planted a kiss on his forehead, hugged him gently and told him I loved him, too and with my stuff, walked out.

That was the last time I saw my husband “alive”. A whole half a year ago. I cannot believe that it has been that long ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed, but at the same time? Like it was just yesterday.

Do we say enough? we should. Fool that I was, I thought I had more time. Now, I know there will never be enough time for things unless we do them or say the things we feel in our hearts and in our heads.

So, to all my family, to all my friends – new and old, to all the people IN my life, I do cherish you all. You’ve made a huge impact on these last six months. The few moments, the brief or long conversations, the time spent with me in person “after”? They all helped get me through this half of a year.

Say enough, say it all, say something, just say it.

Being Thankful

 Being Thankful

First and foremost. I Melissa, aka Mel am fine – okay slight fib, how about this?  I am “getting there.”

Let’s be honest, this is tough going. Surviving and living after the death of a spouse. I digress…

I’d mentioned in a post on my Facebook page that I’d had a hugely profound moment the other day while sitting in the Birds room (I have two adult Blue and Gold Macaws). I don’t remember what I was watching or listening to or thinking, but it hit me suddenly that I, big bold letter I, am doing “it”.

It being life, It being living, It being acknowledging, It being surviving. It being “being okay” and having moments from time to time out of the blue; driving, showering, cooking, sleeping, watching tv, shopping, taking a walk, exercising, cleaning, sitting in your parent’s kitchen visiting, talking on the phone with a friend, peeing, etc.

It hit me that with all the events of the past year and now the almost six months after, that I do have the strength and backing I’d not thought I would have. I apologized lamely to my Mum for crying while I was sitting on a chair in her kitchen yesterday. Her response, ‘You went through a huge event and it’s all still so fresh. It’s going to happen. It’s okay.’

I made the trek home yesterday, the 26^th of November to see both families for the first time since last Thanksgiving, Brandon’s last Thanksgiving.

Last Thanksgiving was the first AND last time we’d been up there to see folks in two years for a few very big reasons, Covid and well, Brandon’s cancer diagnosis. It was simply too much and too far of a drive for him with his diagnosis. And he was in the hospital for Christmas and then again at New Years with a heart surgery and complications from it and his cancer, so a traditional family gathering wasn’t possible.

I had been home for a brief visit to see my parents back in September; They’d both had some things going on and I needed to be home to see them. I needed to be home for them and for me. A year is an awfully long time to not see family, especially with numerous heavy things happening in this thing called life.

The two visits, the one in September and one to see both families, mine and Brandon’s yesterday were both very poignant. They gave me realizations of things that I know deep inside, yet still question unnecessarily.

Life is so so short, yet so full of everything possible. Family does matter and sometimes family is not always through blood relations, but through people who want to be in your life and are. They are the people who accept you as the person YOU are; the people who love you and would do anything for you to see you happy.

I have both and for that, my heart is full and happy, and I am thankful more than I can say or express.

Life IS good.

Rainy Evenings and a lament on life.

It is late on a Saturday night and raining outside. There is a chill in the air, and I am sitting here with a nice glass of red wine to drink and a big fluffy robe on to keep me warm. I'm winding down from the day; no I'm winding down from the week. Maybe it is the entire year...I don't know anymore. It's all a big, knotted mess, all intertwined and hard to discern what is what and which end is up. 

Fake fireplace is running to ward off the chill here in my bedroom. Real fireplace out in the living room, although ready to go is a bit much now for me...smoke, ashes afterwards and the smoky smell to contend with. These days, it is a bit much, maybe it’s my age. I threw an extra blanket on the bed "just in case". 

The babies, my pups are all snugged up, two in my big bed and two in their own bed at the end of my bed. They are all covered up and hunkered down for the night. Soon, I will follow their lead.

Earlier in the day, I did some "yard gym". I raked leaves, pulled weeds and ivy that's grown rampant along the edge of the house I live in. I got a dead branch down from a huge oak in front of the house. Trimmed some branches and did some basic yard clean-up. I eventually lit a fire and burned debris I'd raked and gathered; the weeds, some of the leaves, the branches, the sticks, etc., that I'd picked up and enjoyed the warmth and crackle the fire produced. I also took chunks of wood that were rotting that had been previously gathered and stacked and tossed them one by one into the flames. Watching as they faded into ash, I had a few moments to think about things and how fast time goes. 

It is amazing how fast time flies. I look back at events of this past year and am blown away at how much life has changed, at how much I am changed. I feel harder, tougher, but at the same time, so weak, so vulnerable and alone. 

I had dinner this evening with friends who chanced by at the same time I was standing outside with my dogs while my fire was burning, and I was throwing things in it. They invited me and I said yes. 

It was good to get out and away from everything.

While we were sitting together eating, I lamented on how fucked up life is and how fast stuff goes and how weird it was (is?) that nothing is the same. I felt kind of sad but also kind of distant from it all at the same time. 

I feel disassociated with everything but am also very in tune to all that is going on all at the same time. It is all a lot of feelings, thoughts, and memories that blend and meld into this weird lump of sticky goo that you cannot escape from no matter how hard you try. 

I have begun reaching outside of my comfort zone to try and make some sense of me, trying to figure out my future. I have started looking at different locales to maybe rediscover who I am. Will it require that I leave my comfort zone? yes. Will it require that I move? perhaps. 

I have been looking at real estate in other states. I can work anywhere. Can I make a move? Yes. I do think I could...Should I? Perhaps. It could give me the push to become the person I SHOULD be, now that so much has changed in the last year. 

I have a chunk of land to move to if I desire, as well. 

Do I want to move? Not particularly, but I am it, here. Except for a couple friends, I am all alone here. 

I grew up moving, so I am used to it. It is not easy, but it is doable. Would I miss my local friends? More than I could say. But.... This house I am in is built for more than me, for a bigger family than what I have right now. Right now, it is me and my dogs and big blue chickens and my new to me kitteh, Frank and the sometimes cat who frequents my deck and back yard, Stevie. That is not enough to fill this space. 

I am torn, do I? should I? Could I? 

Things to think about and seriously. 

Just a Dog?

How?

How can it be that one could be faced with yet another tsunami and stay afloat.

Oof.

No, the wave is not as big as the one in June of this year, but it is devastating, nonetheless.

Times like this, being faced with yet another huge storm makes me feel absolutely desperate. Desperate to want to fight like hell, yet also desperate to just lie down and let the waves carry me away. Yes, that sounds utterly dramatic and it may be. But I’m also desperate enough to want to scream about how unfair it is, but also desperate to not look like a crazy person.

I had a rough afternoon yesterday after talking to my vet about her findings. But, let me say this...

One may say, but it’s just a dog.

Just a dog?

Yes, she is a dog, however, that dog is also a family member. She is a little creature that has feelings, thoughts, makes decisions (not always good ones, like hey, this waterer is almost empty, I want it full and proceeds to paw it enough to dump it and the remaining water over - every.single.time), she expresses happiness, she farts a lot, pees a lot, barks out-loud while she’s sleeping, exasperates the shit out of me sometimes, makes me laugh, makes me cry, is so forgiving...she was so scared when I drove to Memphis to adopt her at being taken from her familiar surroundings there at the shelter. At some point in our long drive, she absolutely melted into the bed I’d brought with me for her to ride in toward her new home with us. At that point, I knew she was ours and we were hers. Now, she’s mine but she’s still a pup that WE earlier in the year “shared” as one of our hairy kiddos. And, soon, she too will be "leaving". 

She’s my Poser Bear, Posey Adele, Po-Po, Poppers, Poe-pers or Pop-pulls (as phonetically "correct" as I can make it using this alphabet/letters available), Posers, and my little Poosha. My little senior lumpy Italian Greyhound.

The idea that she’s sick and has limited time left with me hurts so much that my mood and thoughts match the dreary day outside on this 15^th of November.

Hug your hairy kiddos tonight for me, for Posey...for everyone and anyone who has lost or is losing one of their family. 

Dog formerly known as Cyclone, aka Veronica and at some point interestingly enough, had also been named Sophie. Now known as Posey.