April 29th

Today marks four months of Jeff being gone.  I've heard grief gets worse before it gets better, especially in the early stages.

I feel like I'm in a constant state of grief.  I wake up knowing Jeff is gone.  I get ready and see only one towel on the rack and know it, I go to work knowing it, I go to sleep alone definitely knowing it, and I wake up knowing it.  But others don't live it everyday because they didn't live with him everyday.  They go about their normal routines and then certain triggers or events hit them and they are plunged into grief.  That's how it is for my sister's husband.

My sister and her husband starting dating around the same time Jeff and I started dating.  The boys forged their friendship as they were forging their relationships with me and my sister.  They saw each other almost every weekend at family events or socializing with our circle of friends.  Now, my brother in law doesn't have his best friend on the weekends and it's tearing him up.  Of course my brother in law saw his life with us in it forever, having babies and our babies growing up together and all of us spending weekends together.  Now, his dream is shattered and he relives it every weekend, whereas I live it every day. My grief is constant.  I have ebbs and flows, but most of the time, my grief is constant.  I'm constantly aware and hurting.  But I think others have dramatic ebbs and flows and the wound is viciously ripped open over and over again for them.  I slowly bleed every day, my brother in law gushes on the weekends.  I don't know which is worse and to be honest with you, now that I think about it, does it really even matter?  I know people would consider the widow having it worse but I think the best friend might have it just as bad.

I am constantly reminded about how much Jeff affected others.  People will text me or email me and ask how I'm doing and tell me how much they are hurting, how much they are missing him.  This reminds me that I am not alone in my grief, that others are hurting just as bad, that they're life will also never be the same now that he is gone.  For some reason, this brings me comfort, knowing I'm not alone in my grief.  We are all hurt by the void that was created when Jeff died.  We all experience bleeding.  None of us have it any better or worse.  I'm realizing more and more that grief is grief, no matter what or who you are grieving.

Family Trip

I recently went on a trip with my in-laws to go visit one of Jeff's uncle's who lives right outside of Yosemite.  It was a trip that we had planned to take last November but had to be cancelled once we discovered that the cancer had spread to Jeff's brain and he needed to undergo whole brain radiation.

It was a fun yet difficult trip.  I had never been to Yosemite so it was something that I was excited about seeing.  It was nice to spend time with the family, although most of the stories I heard while visiting were all stories I'd heard before.  For some reason this disappointed me instead of bringing me comfort.  I'm surprised because it should bring me comfort not finding out anything new, knowing that I know all the things there are to know about him, but for some reason, finding out something new about my husband who I already knew so much about would maybe mean that I was still learning about him, that he was still growing, changing, evolving, and ultimately, still living.

It was difficult because this is the first time I have visited family, whether it be mine or Jeff's, without him.  I had a room all by myself.  That was lonely.  I packed a bag just for myself (I always packed for Jeff, even in the beginning of our relationship) and that was sad.  I had no one to go over the days events or the next days plans and commiserate with.  I miss the secret, knowing, communicative glances someone has with their ultimate partner, companion, lover.  It was so weird going on a trip with his family without him.  I missed sharing toiletries and packing his bag and sharing a room and talking over the days events with him at night.  I missed being part of a couple.

I did bring some of Jeff with me.  This was a trip we had planned to take before he died so I thought it only necessary that he come along.  There are going to be so many more trips.  I'm hoping that with each passing trip that it will not hurt as bad and the longing and yearning and ache will dissipate.  I hate that cancer took away this person who meant so much to me, that I shared so much of myself and my life with, that he is gone forever.

I talk to him everyday, and I definitely talked to him while I was on this trip but it was, is, and always will be a one-sided conversation.  Sometimes I imagine I can hear his voice and know how he would respond but everyone knows that it's not the same.  I miss his voice and his hugs, his safety and his comfort, I miss his smile and his eyes, and most of all, I miss his love.

My Purpose?

I was in my classroom on the last day of the semester, grade day, when the doctor called to tell me that it was time for Jeff to enter hospice, that there was nothing else they could do for him at the hospital, that he no longer needed acute care, that the end was near, that all he wanted to do was go home and spend time with me.

I held myself together until the final bell rang and everybody, students and staff, were happily leaving campus to go home to their families and celebrate the holidays.  I was in my classroom sobbing when one of my fellow teachers came by to say goodbye.  He saw me crying and immediately hugged me.  I told him what the doctor said and he asked me if I was religious.  I told him that I wasn't particularly religious and he then changed tactics and said a line I continuously go back to, "well, maybe your purpose is to make sure he has a good ending."

For some reason, this one line struck me to my very core.  My purpose here on earth was to make sure that Jeff had a good ending.  I honestly think that I did help him have a good ending.  I tried to make sure he was as comfortable and stress free as possible.  So I am comfortable in knowing that I fulfilled that purpose if that truly was my purpose.  But what does that mean for the rest of my life?  What is my purpose now that he is gone?  I am now just trying to hold myself together and not go scattering in multiple directions in the wind.

I didn't think that my entire identity was wrapped around being his wife, his partner, his best friend, but now I'm not so sure.  I try to remember that I am a daughter, sister, aunt, friend, teacher, and nurturer of those I love as well.  But he was my entire world.  Every day, my actions mainly revolved and were affected by him.  Multiple times a day I would wonder what he was doing, where he was on his route when he was still driving, how his day was going, how many stops he had, what time he would be home.  And then once he was undergoing treatment, how he was feeling, if he had eaten, if he was in any pain or discomfort, what he wanted to eat for dinner, if he would be up for any of the tentative plans we had made, and of course, what the dreaded cancer was doing in his body.

He was my purpose in life.  But now he's gone.

I hear and read about it all the time that I need to find my "new normal."  Of course I realize this and it has helped me through some of the darker times.  But now I'm realizing that I need to find "my new purpose" as well.

I thought my life was set and clear.  I felt that no matter what life threw at me, I would always have him and I could handle anything with him by my side.  He always said that all that mattered was me and him and now he's gone and I'm left alone trying to not be scattered in the wind.  People all tell me I'm so strong but it really is all I can do to hold myself together some days when that wind really blows.

Aftermath of April 8th

I've heard that getting through the major anniversaries and celebrations the first year after a loved one's death is the hardest.  I sincerely hope that is true because my first wedding anniversary now that Jeff is gone was one of the hardest weeks so far.

Thank God for my girlfriends.  They give me just enough space to mourn on my own but also do not allow me to dive down into the deep, black chasm of grief and drown.  They made plans to go out to dinner and gently pushed me to celebrate and not just mourn.  Right after work I went to the cemetery to spend some time with Jeff and then I went and met them at a local restaurant.  It turned out to be all of the girls who flew out to our wedding three years ago.  So we spent some quality time together laughing and loving each other.  I am truly grateful to these girls for how much support they've given me through this most difficult time in my life.  I don't know what kind of hot mess I would be if it wasn't for them.  They all took time out of their busy Tuesday night and left their husbands, boyfriends, children, and obligations to be there for me.  Girlfriends truly are the new husbands.

April 8th

April 8th will be our three year wedding anniversary.  I don't know how I am going to feel.  It's on a Tuesday this year and it will be the day after I start the fourth quarter of school.  It will be the first day I start the after school class I took on for a little extra money.  I'm hoping the day will be so busy that I will barely even notice it.  I'm hoping that I won't be overcome with emotion and fall into a depression or have an anxiety attack.  This is one of the anniversaries I haven't planned for, probably because I don't know how I'm going to feel and if I'll even want to do something or if I'll want to just sit at home and be numb or cry or who knows what.