I Signed a Contract Last Night ……

…… to sell our house.
Not my home, the one I live in when I’m in Texas, but our house.
The one where Jim and I raised our children.
The one the boys and I lived in at the time of his death.
The one we stayed in during the first several years of the horrible “after”.
The one that used to be a home.
The one Jim and I thought we’d own for a very long time.

But “we” didn’t.

I haven’t lived in that house for a year now. A year on May 1st, to be exact. I signed a contract on my new house that day and never spent another night in the other one.
In September of last year I started renting it to a family. The day I signed the rental agreement was the last day I was in that house.
The last day I drove down that street.
I’ve never been back, even though I still live in the same small community.
I was done.
I didn’t want to have anything more to do with that house and looked forward to the day I could sell it.

Or so I thought.

I signed a contract last night.
And this morning, the power of that signature …… the officialness of it …… is bringing tears to my eyes.
I still don’t want that house, and I really, really don’t want to live in it again.
But I guess my heart kind of does.
Not as it is now, but as it was.
In my “before”.

I’m crying for something I don’t really want.
And for something I simply can’t have.
Ever.

But then again, it’s not that simple.
Here in the “after”, my emotions rarely feel simple. They’re often mixed with feelings I can’t describe, emotions I don’t understand, tears that sometimes come out of nowhere.
And that’s difficult to grasp, let alone explain to someone else.
Or write about on a blog.

None of us can have the past.
But it’s not really the past that I want.
It’s the now …… that was supposed to be.
I wish with all my heart that “we” were still in that house.
In our home.
But wishes don’t always come true.
That one never will.

I know that I’ll be relieved when we close on it in a couple of weeks.
I also know that I’ll most likely cry at that closing.
But hopefully not for long.

My “after” is good.
It’s not what I wanted, but it’s good.
The future is unknown, but it’s also something I look forward to experiencing.
Finally.

Life goes on.
And I’m moving forward.
Sometimes with tears, but I’m ok with that.

And, in what can only be described as the irony of moving forward …… the day that I signed a contract to sell our house, Daughter #2 signed a contract to buy her first house.

Sometimes life goes full circle.
🙂

hr3322536-1-1

Alan Alda and Softball ……

…… have absolutely nothing in common (as far as I know …… which isn’t all that far) except that I saw both of them last week. Like, close up.
I love NY. 🙂

Gracie and I have been spending as much time as possible walking and hanging out in Central Park. The baseball/softball fields are close to my apartment so we’ve spent a few afternoons just watching the little/big boys/girls play ball.
On Thursdays the Broadway shows play against each other, so that’s kind of neat to watch.

Gracie enjoys hanging out in the Park …… and most of the people who walk past us seem to like her, too.
Whenever someone walks by us, she tries to run up to them (she’s on a short leash), barks and hops on her two back feet, while pawing at the air as if to say, “Play with me!! Please, please play with me!” And most people can’t seem to resist.
IMG_0266

It’s really nice to walk with her because she has the ability to make people happy. Even when she’s in the sling and we’re walking through the city, people stop me and ask if they can pet her. Then they ask whether she’s a boy or a girl, what her name is, her age (9 big months!), and her weight (3 whopping pounds!).

Last Thursday I went to an event called The Moth. You can Google it to find out more than I can tell you, but it’s listening to people tell stories, centered around a certain theme. It’s really neat. And Alan Alda was there with his wife.
I really, really wanted to go up to him and give him a hug, but fortunately, I managed to overcome that desire and stayed where I was. Which was probably a good thing …… for both of us.
IMG_0262

In other news, my house in Texas (the one I live in …… don’t get me started) didn’t flood.
Whoop!
We received weather reports that there could be flooding in our community because they were letting water out of a nearby lake …… uncontrolled. That didn’t bode well, but it seems that we dodged that bullet. Thank the Lord. I talked to my neighbor today and she said that the sun was shining and is supposed to do that for the next 10 days.
Triple whoop!

May was a rather busy month here. My mom came for a week a couple of days before Mother’s Day. We had a good time, though I think she needed to recuperate from all of the walking we did.
She hung in there, though and was game to go anywhere.

My sister and her best friend came for a week, too. We had a great time seeing the sights. They saw more than I did, since I didn’t feel the need to accompany them everywhere. It’s very nice to have visitors who are willing to go sight seeing on their own.
There’s only so many times you can take someone to Ground Zero.
We did manage to have some fun in the Diamond District. 😉

I’ve seen a few shows since I’ve been here this time.
I know, huge surprise.

Here they are, in no particular order:

1. On the Town — it was cute, but not one I’d see again
2. On the Twentieth Century — I LOVED this show. So much that I saw it twice in less than four days (I took my mom to see it after I’d already seen it). Kristen Chenowith (“Wicked”) and Peter Gallagher (“While You Were Sleeping”) are in it and it’s a lot of fun. It’s my new favorite right now.
3. An American in Paris — a friend and I went to see this and we thought that it should’ve been presented as a ballet, rather than a Broadway musical. It’s more dance than show. Mostly ballet. The dancing is beautiful, but I would’ve preferred more of a story line than dance. The two leads have never been on Broadway before and have both been principal dancers in wonderful ballet companies (like the NY company).
So if you’re a huge dance lover, you’ll like this show. If not, you might want to skip the line and go see something else (like On the Twentieth Century!).
4. Two Gentlemen of Verona — Loved this show. It’s in Brooklyn, in a theatre I’d never been in before. The staging of it is fun, as is the entire show. I’d see it again (probably the best thing I can say about a show).
5. Kinky Boots — This was the second time I’d seen this one. My sister and her friend wanted to see it, so we all went. It’s still a good show and a lot of fun.
6. It Shoulda Been You — This stars Tyne Daly and is another fun show, though I’m not sure that I’d see it again. It was cute and has a surprise ending, which was fun.

I think that’s it. For now, anyway.

I started volunteering last week at a small theatre and have enjoyed it. Because it’s small, and relies heavily on volunteers, I’ll get to do a little bit of everything. Last week I worked as house staff during a show. Tomorrow I’ll work in the box office, which will be my main job for now.
This theatre has a huge program that reaches out to kids in the Burroughs, and introduces them to theatre by auditioning them for an annual talent show. The kids don’t know it, but everyone makes it into the show. From that point they can be in a program that helps kids know what it’s like to be prepared for job interviews and everything it takes to get to that point, and beyond. These are mostly kids who’ve never seen themselves able to do that. It’s a wonderful place, as well as a terrific nonprofit.

In yet other news …… last Thursday (the day I saw The Moth), was supposed to be my 32nd anniversary.
But it wasn’t.
Technically.
And, for what I think may have been the very first time, I didn’t cry. My eyes watered as I read a text from one of my daughters, telling me that she was thinking of me, and that she’s thankful for the example Jim and I were of a couple who loved God, each other and our children.
I know! Are your eyes watering?

I didn’t feel depressed or blue that day. I mostly felt blessed.
Blessed to have had Jim for as long as I/we did.
Blessed to have been married to my best friend.
Blessed to have 6 people who are part of him.
Blessed in way too many ways to blog about. It would be too long and probably too boring.
But I felt blessed. And happy to have wonderful memories, rather than tears of grief.
Don’t misunderstand …… there will always be grief, but not in the way there used to be grief.
Thank God.

So here’s to what would’ve been 32 years.
And the memories that 27 years brought.

20071220_124146_0

100_0595

Have a great Monday, Peeps.
🙂

I Can NOT Believe ……

…… that I was just working on a post to catch you all up on everything I’ve been doing the last few weeks …… and when I tried to upload a video to the post, it wouldn’t load.
That itself isn’t a big deal. Disappointing, yes. But nothing upsetting.
What IS upsetting is that I had at least half of the post written, but when the video upload failed, my post disappeared.
Completely.
Gone.
And that borders on infuriating.
Not when you compare it to life in general, but in the world of blogging …… it sucks.

So …… I’ll attempt to do that post again …… later.
My sister and her best friend are arriving in NY tomorrow so I’m not sure that I’ll have time to blog.
But I’m hoping to catch you up soon.
Because the longer I wait, the more I have to write.
And the more I write, the possibly-more-bored you become.

So there you go …… much ado about nothing.
Sounds like a great name for a play.
Does it not?

Sorry, Peeps.
I’ll do my best to write a better post soon.
As long as we all know that “soon” is relative.
🙂

Such A Simple Act ……

…… can bring forth so many emotions and memories.

I went to the theatre last night with several friends. Four of them were married couples. I sat next to one of them, chatting and laughing until the lights were turned down and the play prepared to start.
At that point, the husband simply laid his hand on his leg, palm up. With no words, and hardly any time at all, his wife lovingly put her hand in his.
And there they remained.

So simple.
So full of unspoken words and swirls of emotions.

I miss that.
The simplest of acts.
Yet it can speak volumes.

Jim and I never talked about holding hands. It just grew into a natural occurrence. Whenever we walked anywhere …… on a path, into a building, around an exhibit …… anywhere, our hands automatically found each other. It wasn’t even a thought most of the time. It was like our hands were magnets that drew each other together.

So simple.
And yet so very, very missed.

As I watched my friends hold hands throughout the play, I didn’t feel sad. I felt more wistful, I guess. I felt warm memories and I was happy for them …… that they, too, had this simple act between them.

I smiled.
For them.
And for me.

20071220_210147_02

A Walk in the Park ……

IMG_9974

…… without a George sighting today.
Sigh.

But Gracie and I had a nice time anyway.
She’s a very interesting dog to take on a walk.
That’s because …… and this might be considered TMI …… or humiliating for her …… but, she does not “do her business” outside.
Not at all.
Nope.
Nothin’.
Zip.
Nada.
No matter how long we stay out.

It seems that she doesn’t think she’s supposed to go anywhere else but her litter box.
Which cracks me up.
And makes me proud.
She has too much class to relieve herself in public.
I admire her fortitude.

She still stops and sniffs at every single tree and pole.
IMG_9970
But that’s all she does.
Just sniffs.

She also wants to meet and greet every single person/dog that comes our way.
And I’m not kidding when I say ……
Every
Single
One.

It makes for a much longer walk than necessary.
At least she’s friendly.

She has surprised me with her friendliness.
When we’re at home and she hears someone outside, she barks like a maniacal Doberman.
Seriously, she thinks she can take anyone and anything.
Napoleon complex, anyone?

But she doesn’t bark at anyone or anything when we’re out walking.
She just wags her stubby little tail and silently begs people to play with her.
And then sadly watches them go past.
IMG_9978

IMG_9971

Then she looks at me …… with sadness in her eyes, as if to say,”Why won’t they play with me?”
Bless her teeny tiny little heart.
IMG_9980

As we walked back to the apartment I started noticing that suddenly we seemed to be surrounded by high school-looking students who were dressed in shirts and ties (the boys) and dresses (the girls …… just in case you couldn’t figure that out).
And by surrounded, I mean there were hundreds. If not thousands.
There were school busses parked and double parked all up and down Central Park West (the street behind my apartment building that borders the west side of Central Park).
Here’s a small sample:
IMG_9961

IMG_9962

I still have no idea why they were there.
It’s May Day, but do kids dress up for that and get to take a field trip to the city?
Anyone know what the deal is?

Well, that’s it for my day.
I know, it’s almost too exciting for you to handle.
Take a deep breath and try to calm down.

Before I end this post I want to say thank you to all of you who commented here and/or on Facebook when I wrote about my secret feelings and sadness the other day.

I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. And how surprised I was by the number of widowed people who are reading my blog.
I really didn’t think many people read it at all, widowed or not.
So thank you.
Thank you for letting me know that I’m not alone in feeling that way.
Thank you for telling me that you felt less alone when you read it.
It feels good to know that you’re out there.
I appreciate you.
Very much.

Have a great weekend.
And if anybody out there knows where George likes to hang out …… please let me know!!!!
🙂

Back ……

…… in my happy place …… New York City.
The weather here is absolutely beautiful.  I have the windows open and am enjoying the street sounds as well as the “fresh” air.
I use quotation marks around the word fresh because …… well, because “fresh” may be a relative state.
I love being able to open the windows in the spring and fall.  In Houston that would be approximately 2.5 days of the year.
I get a lot more days here in NY, but the more I keep my windows open, the more I have to dust.
And dust a lot.
Like …… every day.
And sometimes it seems/looks heavier than regular dust.
But I try to not think about that as I feel the cool air and listen to the sirens, honking, and music that drifts in through my windows.
Or maybe, slams in through my windows.
You get used to the noise.
Really.
I can sleep with my windows open and the noise doesn’t bother me at all. I wonder if I should make one of those sleep machines that has the ambient noises on it, like the sound of rain, a babbling brook, the ocean waves, etc. and add NYC noise?
I bet one or two people would like it.
Besides me.

I’m currently sitting on my sofa with a worn out puppy laid out next to me.
I know how she feels.
As much as I love this city, sometimes I think it’s trying to kill me.

This morning I went to the MET to take a “class” with some other women from the Manhattan Women’s Club. It’s called MET 101 and it’s 4 sessions. I missed the first two, but made it for today and plan to go next week.
Today we talked about painters from post-something to pre-modern. Or something like that.
Don’t judge me …… my brain holds only so much information now. To learn something new, something old has to fall out.

Anyway, we followed our lecturer (very nice and interesting man) through that museum for 2 hours.
TWO.
HOURS.
Of museum-walking.
Which is TOTALLY different from walking on a street, in a park or around a track.
It’s walk a lot-stop-walk a bit-stop-walk a bit more-stop-walk a lot-stop, etc.
It’s a back-killer.
Or maybe that’s just me.

But it was a very interesting morning, in spite of my screaming back and feet, which I totally ignored as I walked 2 miles back through the park, to the grocery store and then home.
The park was so lovely with tulips and pink budding trees all over the place. A bride and groom were doing their pictures in one spot. Behind them was a group of about 5 young people who were singing/selling their cd’s.
Further down was a group of young men who entertain people all over the city. Either that or they all have clones who do.
They do a lot of gymnastic stuff, including lining up about 7 men from the crowd and having one guy run and flip over them. Kind of like Evil Knievel. If you don’t know who that is, you should be on Instagram now.

There was a guy who was using a stick and string to make those huge bubbles, there were people painting/drawing scenes or caricatures of tourists (because people who live here don’t pay anyone for that).

All in all, it was a great walk on a fabulous day.
In spite of my back.

After I got home from the grocery store I did a work out …… still in spite of my screaming back.
And now I’m paying for it.
Well, not if I don’t move off of the couch.
But I’m not sure how long I can sit here without having to get up to do something useful, like finding the TV remote or going to the bathroom.
TMI?

Gracie got to go on a walk this morning, too. Daughter #3 and the little boy she nannies for took her out. She was less than thrilled that I left her with them, but hopefully she behaved herself soon after.

By the way, I learned how difficult it is to do a workout in a room where your puppy is.
She kept trying to get me to throw her toys, pick her up, jump on my feet, back, legs, etc. and just plain give her my attention.
She was a pain.
And now she’s snoozing.
Like messing up my workout was a huge workout for her.
Sheesh.

So, yesterday before my flight up here, I picked up a People magazine. I didn’t pay much attention to the front of it until right before my flight.
That’s when my heart started slamming into my chest and I think I may have hyperventilated a little.
Because of this:
11179970_10153268476711506_5870490326537696862_n
Oh.
My.
Word.

I have every intention of becoming a serious stalker.
I knew that he had been up here doing something, but I had no idea they were living here.
How did I know that he was up here?
Daughter #3’s BF sent me these, the day after I left last time:
IMG_9956

IMG_9958
He added, “So … George is here shooting a movie… Just saw him. Thought you should know.”
I wanted to kick him.
The BF, not George.
I mean, how dare he see George?!!!
Yet, I liked the pictures.

So now I’m on the search for George. I’m not sure what the first step should be, but hopefully it doesn’t involve me getting off of this couch.

🙂

P.S. Here’s a picture of Miss Gracie, being excited to find herself back in the city!
IMG_9954

Life is Full of Seasons ……

…… good, bad, fun, boring, happy, content and downright horrendous.

The thing about seasons is …… they come around again and again, though you never know when to expect them.
Or …… what special effects they’ll bring along with them.
And most times …… you don’t know how long they’ll last.

But, I think I can tell you, with some authority, that the bad seasons …… you know, the tear and snot-filled, cold and black, grief-filled seasons …… get shorter and shorter.
Just so you know.

I’ve been in one of those negative seasons for a few months now, though I only admitted it yesterday. The further out I get from Jim’s death, the more it feels like I’m not allowed to have a bad season. “Holy cow, it’s been over 7 years now …… and you’re STILL grieving?!” “Good grief, aren’t you over this yet?!”
“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” “Why aren’t you doing anything to get yourself out there and dating.”

I really have no answers to questions like these. Not nice, polite answers anyway.

Overall, my life is good. Often great.
But there’s always a caveat there, and most people don’t understand that.

My life is great …… as great as it can be without Jim.
That’s a fact.
Or, as I used to tell my kids, “It is what it is”.
I don’t choose to have that missing piece of my joy.
And I can’t replace it. With anything or anyone.
We all know people who’ve tried …… and failed.

Thankfully, for me, I also have God.
Not that He’s always been one of my favorite people (I’m sure He could say the same of me!), but He’s always been there.
Even when I didn’t feel Him.

Most days I can praise and thank Him.
Even when I don’t feel like it.
There’s always something in my life to be thankful about.
Just as there’s always the missing of Jim.

But I had to learn how to choose to be thankful, and choose to praise Him.
It didn’t come back naturally after Jim’s death. And it took me a while.
But I finally reached the point where I could choose to just sit in my grief and let it stunt and rob me of the rest of my life …… or I could choose to start seeing the things/people in my life that I’m thankful for.

The funny thing is …… once you start feeling thankful for a few things, it kind of snowballs. Your eyes open to more and more good things in your life, in spite of …… so much.

So this is what I’ve learned: when the seasons come …… and they DO come …… I need to just sit in them for a bit, let myself feel them, and see if there’s anything new in them. Once I let myself feel them and just “be”, they slowly start to fade. And that’s when I can choose joy.
Not 100% of the time, though ……. I’m no angel and I’m about as far from perfection as one can be. But I’m a work in progress. Sometimes the progress is painstakingly slow, sometimes I catch on quickly.

I am who I am.
And it is what it is.
Grief. It’s not just for anybody.

There Are Things I Whisper ……

…… only to myself.

There are some pains that can’t be said aloud. Well, technically they could, but societally, they can’t. If I were to say why I feel sad …… why I’ve felt sad for weeks now, there would be angry comments. And I can’t say that I’d blame the commenters.

Yes, I’m a widow.
Yes, Jim was wise and planned ahead for an event we never thought would really happen.
No, I don’t have to work to make ends meet.
Yes, I am blessed.

But financial security doesn’t cure loneliness.
Money can’t help me fill my house with anything but things.
I can’t buy someone to hold me while I sleep and still love me when he sees me in the morning.
(Yes, I’m aware that money certainly can “buy” someone to keep me company …… but that, also, doesn’t cure the loneliness in my heart).

The security I have didn’t help me this morning as I sat in a meeting with my accountant and another guy who helps me …… biting my lip the entire hour to keep the tears from spilling over.
I hate those meetings. I end up depressed for at least a day because they bring back the memories of those first days and all of the meetings I had to attend in the wake of Jim’s death.
And I usually don’t understand much that’s said, which makes me feel sad …… and stupid.
As soon as I get back to my car, the dam breaks and the tears pour forth …… all the way home.

But if I were to tell a group of people how lost I sometimes feel, how “afloat” I am …… how purposeless I feel, I know that the common reaction/thought would be, “Oh, poor you!”, (in a snarky tone.)
I don’t expect or want anyone to feel sorry for me.
I don’t feel sorry for myself …… I just …… miss him.
I miss what we had, what we were …… who I was.

I can only imagine how much more difficult and painful my life would be if I had to struggle financially. I didn’t do anything to deserve this, anymore than I deserved his love.
He just gave it.

I wish that someone had told me about the guilt that comes with each check that’s deposited. It’s difficult to enjoy “death money”. Especially when you’d much rather have that person than a check.

I wonder if I would still feel purposeless if he were alive?
Is this a part of the “empty nest syndrome”? Once our children don’t really need us any longer, is this how we feel?
I think I’d probably still feel that way, though I’m sure it’s magnified by widowhood.

And while I am beyond blessed to be able to live in two wonderful cities, it’s difficult to feel connected in either one.
I know …… poor me, right?

As I’ve said before, and will continue to say, “I am blessed.”
I was “before” and I am in my “after”.
But blessings sometimes come with pain, and tears.
Like childbirth …… and parenting.

Maybe the more we are blessed …… the more susceptible we are to hurt.

Or maybe I just need to find a new “purpose” in my life.
And stop whining.
There, I said it for you.

I knew I should’ve just whispered it to myself.

Just Like The Iceman ……

…… the taxman cometh.

And at least once a year, but more like four, this causes me to hyperventilate, and even cry.
I hate this day.

For 25 years I never did anything but sign where indicated. I’d laughingly question Jim while I signed, asking, “This won’t put me in jail, right”. He’d just shake his head.

You see, that was our agreement. Before marriage. When we went to our very last pre-marital counseling class with his pastor (do they even have those anymore?!), we each took a quiz, asking who we saw doing different household tasks.
When it came to paying the bills, I had always seen my parents sitting at the dining room table, doing them together. And so I answered, “together”.
However, when the pastor read our answers out loud, Jim had answered, “me”.
What the what?!!!
Evidently my body language of crossing both arms across my chest, although saying nothing, spoke volumes to the pastor.
He stopped everything to address the question …… and my body language. He asked me why I evidently didn’t agree. I said that I just thought we’d both do it, and that I was just as qualified as Jim to do our bills.
(Did I mention that I was a bit offended by his answer?).
The pastor turned to Jim and asked him why he answered the way he did. Jim said, “Well, I just figured that I do the bills since I’m the accountant.”
To which I replied, “Fine. You’ve got ’em”.
And that was the last time we discussed the bills.
Ever.

So you can probably imagine how beyond stressed I felt the first time I sat down with the bills in front of me.
Especially since, as Jim always said, we weren’t just a family …… we were a corporation.
Xanax, anyone?

I feel like such an imbecile when it comes to taxes. Thankfully I have a good CPA. And he, thankfully, has me.
But I still tend to hyperventilate when it comes time to find everything he needs, because I never get it right. Something is always missing.
And it slowly makes me resent the fact that I’m the one doing this. Just me. Alone.
This was NOT supposed to happen.
And then everything comes flooding back and there I am, sitting and crying over what was …… and what was supposed to be.
But that’s today.
Let me tell you about yesterday.

My CPA sent me three tax forms that needed to be sent in, and paid, today. He sent them by email. So I needed to print them off in order to send them in (all while truly hyperventilating at how much I feel like I’m being robbed).
I had used my printer a few days ago and everything was normal.
But this day? This day the printer decided to die a slow death. And a painful one. At least for me.
First, the pages were barely legible. I debated for a while just sending them in that way because why should I care if some IRS dude/dudette has to squint? But I’ve heard how testy they can be, so I investigated.
I added more ink cartridges. No better.
I cleaned the cartridge heads. No better.
And then, to top everything, I ran out of paper.
Of course this was at 5:00 p.m., when I knew that traffic would soon be at its peak here.
And there was a letter I needed to print off, sign, scan and send back.
God has such a sense of humor.
(I was not amused.)

So I put Gracie into her kennel, which is like giving her the death penalty, and headed to Target, where I bought a new printer, ink and paper.

Who, but me, would this happen to??!!!

I made it to the post office today, saw them stamp the envelopes and then breathed a sigh of relief.

I hung out with some friends today and of course the subject of taxes came up. There were many complaints, of course, but I just listened. And then one woman said, “I don’t mess with any of that stuff. My husband takes care of it.”
I should’ve told her how awesomely lucky she is.
And blessed.
And to not take it for granted.
But I just sat there, trying to control my breathing so that I wouldn’t cry.
Because that’s exactly what I used to say.
Used to.

The missing of that man will never, ever end.
It does ease, over time …… thank God.
But it will never end.

But then, neither will our love.

Here’s What I’ve Realized ……

vcx copy
(source)

…… in the past two days.
Everybody …… absolutely every single person on this earth …… needs to know that they have been missed.
Because being missed means that you matter.
To someone.

Yes, I realize that this seems like a basic piece of knowledge, or maybe it should be. But I’ve found that it’s not really. We all need to be told that we are missed …… and we all need to tell people who matter to us that we miss them.
This is not one of those pieces of information that you can take for granted …… but we do.

Sure, you think that your loved ones know you miss them.
So why bother to get all mushy and tell them, right?
After all, they know.
Right?

No. That’s not right.
We are human beings, and as such, we can be very fragile, no matter how hard we pretend that we aren’t. Because being fragile is negative, isn’t it? We should be strong. Who cares if we’re missed or not missed? We can do just fine on our own, thank you very much.
We just slip on one of the many masks we keep hidden in our closet and voila! No one knows what we look like beneath the mask. No one can see the tears, thankfully.
No one can see that we’re …… God forbid …… human.

And so we help to perpetuate the myth that all is well. We’re all strong. We’re all just fine, thank you very much.
If we’re missed, great. If we’re not, no problem.
If we’re loved, nice. If we’re not, it’s your loss, not ours.

What a load of crap.

I’m just as guilty as anyone else in this category. I miss so very many people. On a daily basis.
Hell, on a second to second basis.
But I rarely tell all of those people how much I miss them.
First of all, it would take all day.
Second of all, what if they don’t miss me back?
Ouch.

I have deeply missed the people at my “old” church. And the responses and comments that I received telling me the same (from my previous post) made me cry.
I didn’t realize until then how much I need to feel missed.
How much I need to feel loved.

There are people in my life who tell me this on a regular basis, as I do them.
I’d say that 99.9% of them are widowed. Or have experienced a profound loss, too.
Once that changes your life forever, you can’t help but love people fiercely and tell them so.

It’s the people in your “before” life that fall into the cracks. There’s no finger of blame to point, I can’t come up with a reason why, it just happens. On both sides.
And that’s a shame.

I need my “before” people in my life.
I need people who knew Jim.
Who knew Jim and Janine.

Yes, it can be a huge relief to have people in my life who only know the “after Janine”, as I’m sure any widowed person feels.
But I think we still need those who knew and loved the “before us”.

I think I’ve been pondering this more lately because my heart has been hurting so much for my sweet friend whose son died recently.
I’ve never experienced the death of a child. And yet, the two of us are connecting with the grief our hearts hold. I’m not sure if it’s because I loved her “before”, or because she’s a single parent and so she’s going through this loss alone. I think it’s probably both.
Her heart not only breaks for the future her son will never have, but for the future she’ll never have with a partner. Both losses are slamming into her on a constant basis.

I always thought that if one of our children died, Jim and I would get through it together. The loss of him was greater than the potential loss of one of our children.
But now, with him gone, the loss of one of my children would …… I can’t even go there.

Yet my friend wakes up there every single day. I want to take her pain away. But I know I can’t.
I want to tell her that things will get better soon. But we both know they won’t.
All I can do is be there for her. Sit with her, listen to her, cry with her.
But she needs more than just me. She needs a boatload of people who can, and will, do this with her.

Grief is exhausting.
And hard to carry alone.
If you know someone who’s carrying it, please help them.
Just offer to sit with them.
Tell them that you love them.
Tell them that you miss them.
Tell them, above all, that you miss their loved one.
Because that matters.

You matter.
Your words matter.
Your feelings matter.
So share them.

And help someone know that they matter.

Life is too precious to do alone.