No 29 in February

Jeff died on December 29th.  February does not have a 29th this year.  I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Coming Out of the Closet

I've been cleaning out Jeff's part of the closet and boy has it put me in a funk. I was not planning on taking on such a job this early but I'm taking on a new, much wanted roommate, which has forced me to change my plans.  My in-laws need to be able to go back to their own home but everyone knows, including myself, that I cannot live in this house by myself yet.

It's been three weekends now that I've been working on this task of figuring out what to do with his clothes and other personal effects.  I hate this task.  I don't really like to change my immediate environment very often anyway and the only reason this change is occurring is because my husband is dead.  So I'm already cranky about changing and organizing but I'm even more cranky because this is all a reminder that he's really gone.  I feel sorry for those around me while I'm completing this task.

I am almost too logical for my own good.  The roommate is moving in March 1st, so knowing this and knowing I only have a certain number of weekends to dedicate to this task, I know I have to do it sooner rather than later so the new roommate doesn't feel the wrath of the widow while she is frantically trying to find a place for all of the stuff that has been accumulated over the last five years in the spare room, which, by the way, was never meant to be anything other than the spare room.

Explaining to those close to me about this logic only frustrates me more these last few weeks. I get all kinds of comments.

I've heard, "just put it all in boxes and deal with it later."  Now that's not going to work for me since I would have to, what feels like, essentially, put my husband in a box to deal with later.  These are his most personal belongings and I wish deep down I could do that but I just can't. I also know that, one day, I will have to go through those boxes eventually and why reopen the wound?

I've also heard, "why are you doing it by yourself, have someone help you." Now that would be just plain mean of me.  I know I am not a nice person while I'm in that closet and when I come out it's not good either so I don't want anyone who currently does love and support me, want to never speak to me again because I am just so ugly to them in and out of the closet.  No, it's better to just do it alone so as not to risk friendships.

I've also heard, "I can't believe you're doing that so soon."  Yeah me either people.  I feel like I have no choice.  It's a task that eventually needs to be completed and I never thought I would be doing it so soon either but this roommate is coming and I would rather have the roommate right now.  Maybe after the roommate moves in and the and newness has worn off, I might change my mind but like I said before, the task needed to be completed at some point, why prolong the pain?

I have made sure to keep all of the meaningful items.  Shirts I have specific memories of him in, shorts he always wore and were his favorites, a go-to beanie, his ratty, almost ripped through leather belt he had our entire relationship, and some other things.

The other thing is that his dad is about the same size as him and they wear the same size shoe so everything I'm not keeping I gave to him and he's been slowly going through all of it and is starting to wear some of it.  I love that.  I love seeing his dad in something I bought for him. I feel like a part of him is still walking around.  I could not have done this knowing that the majority of Jeff's clothes were going to a landfill or were being donated to strangers. I'm just not there yet, which is selfish, I know.  The stuff his dad decides not to keep he has agreed to donate but for some reason I have a strong organic sensation of disgust and repulsion when I thought I would have to take his belongings to be donated.  So I'm happy the majority of it is staying in the family for now.  It makes completing this task a whole lot less painful.  But painful nonetheless.

My First Visit

I went to the cemetery for the first time since we interred Jeff.  He still doesn't have his plaque up on his niche in the new wall in the nature garden. I took our dog to go see him too.  I know I was feeling sad but I was surprised at how hard I cried.  I put my hand on the brick covering the niche where his ashes are.  His niche is at the perfect height where I could just lean up against the wall with my head on my hand.  So that's what I did.  I leaned in and cried and cried.  It was very similar to leaning in for a hug from him.  My head always came right up to his chest and, sometimes, if I stood on my toes I could snuggle into his neck.  So I just leaned there for a while and cried, wishing I could feel his arms around me.  The brick wall was so warm from the sun and it was radiating heat back at me.  I just wanted to touch him so bad.  I miss his arms around me.  I miss snuggling into his chest. I miss the safety of him. All morning I just felt like I couldn't breathe. I kept trying to take nice, slow, deep breaths but I just couldn't get enough air.

The wall where his niche is is so beautiful that his parents and my parents have all decided to purchase a niche in the same wall.  I immediately purchased my niche right after I purchased his.  I wanted to be near him. Some people think I'm too young to purchase a burial plot, especially one right next to him.  I know they are thinking about me meeting someone new and spending the rest of my life with him, which could potentially be longer than the time I got to spend with Jeff, but the way I think about it is, if Jeff hadn't gotten cancer, I would never even be in another relationship.  If he never died, he wouldn't be my FIRST husband, he would be my ONLY husband so of course we would be together for eternity.  So I'm on a payment plan to spend eternity with my husband and that makes me happy and relieves some anxiety.  I know one day I will feel his arms around me and snuggle into his chest again.  But for now, I'll try and snuggle into a warm brick wall and imagine it's my Jeff and not just a wall.

I hate you cancer for making me a widow.

Valentine's Day

This Valentine's Day marked the official anniversary of when Jeff and I decided to start seeing each other exclusively.  He was smarter than I thought, combining our anniversary with Valentine's Day, two birds with one stone.  Yesterday would have been ten years together, the best ten years of my life.

All of the grief literature and advice suggests that widow's plan ahead if they can for significant dates like birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, and any other momentous occasions they shared with their spouses (looking back now, every day I had with him is starting to look like a momentous occasion).  So I am a good student and I planned ahead so I would not be a complete and utter mess this Valentine's Day.

I invited seven of my closest single girlfriends over to my house.  I cooked them all dinner, complete with appetizers, two different entrees, and two different desserts.  All they had to do was bring themselves and their beverage of choice.  I also invited all of them to spend the night and I promised an enormous breakfast in the morning as well.

I asked my in-laws to move in with me to help take care of Jeff when he came home from the hospital  and I asked them to stay with me after he died.  I just couldn't handle being in this house all by myself.  So because I had all the ladies staying over, I gave them their first night off and they finally got to go back to their own house (which is only a few miles away from my house).  My father-in-law is quite the poet and he wrote one of his originals for me to read to the ladies. I just have to share it with all of you.  So here it is:

"To my favorite bitches on Valentine's Day-
There is something I just wanted to say.

Whether it be man or woman
Do we really care?
We just need someone to talk to-
To be with, to listen, and to share!

Tonight you are telling stories,
Drinking wine, and having fun.
Would you rather be somewhere else,
With a man, who is well-hung?

No, I think you are all happy
To be together tonight.
Because your friendship is like
Going from darkness into the light!

You ladies are some of the nicest
People that I have met in my life!
I sure wish that I was with you now,
But please don't tell my wife!

I am not sure I should have written this.
I could have gotten candy or flowers I suppose.
And if you tell anyone, I will deny it
Because as always, Bros's before Ho's"

We really had a hilarious, raucous, and fun night.  It went into the wee hours and we ate a massive breakfast that somehow I managed to not annihilate in my hung over state.  As they all trickled out the door they told me that it was one of the best Valentine's Day they've ever had.  I couldn't get through yesterday without not only those special girlfriends supporting me through that milestone without Jeff, but also my in-laws for uprooting their own lives to support me.  And of course, how can you not love a father-in-law who could write such awesome poetry!

No matter what you're going through, the highest moments to the lowest, please remember to love those who love you back, not just on that one day of the year but every day.  Life and love are precious.  Embrace and enjoy them every second of every day.

The Double Edged Sword

Life insurance is a double edged sword.  On the one side it will benefit me in the future.  On the other side, the only reason I will benefit in the future is because my husband is dead.  I don't want that money.  I'd rather have my husband. There is not enough money in the world that compares to having my husband back.

People get these weird ideas that this money makes up for losing him and they have all this advice of what I can do with this money.  They have all of these ideas of how I should spend this money or invest this money.  They tell me what they would do if they were in my situation, they also remind me of all the other widows who have it worse than me because not only are they widows, but their husbands didn't have life insurance.

But they also seem to forget that the only reason I have this money is because he's dead.  I didn't win the lottery.  All the wrong numbers were called and I had all of them on my ticket.  I never even bought the ticket, but it ended up in my hands nonetheless.

I know that not everyone is as lucky as I am to be able to afford their lifestyle on their own salary without their spouse's income. There is no way I'm living large but I have enough to pay my bills and if I budget correctly even have some fun too.  Other people have to deal with grieving and figure out how to support themselves and their children.  I'm lucky he got life insurance because I know logically that this money will allow me the freedom and opportunity to not have to drastically change my lifestyle, but emotionally I do not feel lucky at all.  My life has drastically changed.  It has changed so drastically that no amount of money can make up for such a change.

So now I am about to get a check and all I want to do is give it back in order to have my husband by my side. I never thought I would hate money like I hate this money.  It makes me shudder with disgust anytime anyone even mentions life insurance because it just reminds me over and over again that the only reason I'm getting this money is because my husband is dead.  I will be able to keep my life exactly the same but I'm going to do it without him by my side so it will never really truly be the same.  So I guess I'm lucky according to other people. I know I've mentioned this before in previous posts, but luck is definitely a matter of perception.

Back to Work

I'm back to work.  I've been back for a little while now.  I think every widow weighs the pros and cons of going back to work.  I teach high school English to sophomores and juniors.  Here are my pros and cons:

Pros:
Keeps me busy, which keeps my mind off of things. 
I gotta pay my bills
Majority of my colleagues are good people and mean well
Sometimes the kids are hilarious

Cons:
People say stupid things
Reminds me of Jeff since I started this job when we first started dating 10 years ago
I hate the sad, head tilt and the "how are you doing?" questions
Sometimes the kids drive me nuts and I want to hit them

The first few days were pretty hard, but it's gotten a little better.  Just gotta keep trucking along I guess.  Someone has to torture these teenagers.