Well it's the official start to summer and most years I would be so excited to have 2 1/2 months off. However, this year is a little, no strike that, a lot different.
This summer I won't have to try and keep the kids quiet while Steve is in his office working.
This summer it is me who will be planning the family vacation.
This summer it is me who will have to do all the driving.
This summer it is just me....with so much time on my hands.
So yes, I am afraid that with so much time on my hands there will be so much time on my hands that thoughts and memories will overcome me.
Yes, the kids will keep me busy, but when I was teaching, there wasn't time in the day to break down, I couldn't just say "excuse me class while I have this small melt down". I was hoping that at 10 months out it might be easier, but I am beginning to think if it will ever get easier. Yes, we have happy moments, but there are still the out of the blue smack you in the face he is gone forever moments too. So here's to summer.....here's to praying that healing will continue and that we will survive and make wonderful memories together.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
How Can You Help Me...
This was taken from Widow's Voice Blog, so much of what I am feeling or have felt.
Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk about him, and I need to do it over and over.
Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.
Don't abandon me with the excuse that you don't want to upset me. You can't catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I most need to be cared about. If you don't know what to say, just come over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, "I'm sorry." You can even say, "I just don't know what to say, but I care, and want you to know that."
Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I feel only if you really have time to find out.
I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel that you don't see me. I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving and that's different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after my loved one's death. Don't think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for our children, the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.
I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.
I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just not acceptable. When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don't make it worse by telling me I'm not doing this right. And remember, I was a capable adult before his death and I still am.
Please don't tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start dating again. I may not be ready. And maybe I don't want to be. And besides, what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren't. Whoever comes after will always be someone different.
I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get on with your life." My life is going on, I've been forced to take on many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.
I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in my own way, and in my own time.
Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you some ideas:
(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, our wedding anniversary, his birthday, and the anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can't make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I may say no at first or even for a while, but please don't give up on me because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you've given up then I really will be alone.
(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples, to walk into events alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable.
Please don't judge me now - or think that I'm behaving strangely. Remember I'm grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I'm experiencing a pain unlike any I've ever felt before and one that can't be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.
Don't worry if you think I'm getting better and then suddenly I seem to slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don't tell me you know how I feel, or that it's time for me to get on with my life. What I need now is time to grieve. Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding.
And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss - when you need me as I have needed you - I will understand. And then I will come and be with you.
--Author Unknown
Please talk about my loved one, even though he is gone. It is more comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk about him, and I need to do it over and over.
Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.
Don't abandon me with the excuse that you don't want to upset me. You can't catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I most need to be cared about. If you don't know what to say, just come over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, "I'm sorry." You can even say, "I just don't know what to say, but I care, and want you to know that."
Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I feel only if you really have time to find out.
I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel that you don't see me. I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving and that's different. My grieving may only begin 6 months after my loved one's death. Don't think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had for our children, the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.
I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.
I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just not acceptable. When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel badly enough that my loved one is dead, so please don't make it worse by telling me I'm not doing this right. And remember, I was a capable adult before his death and I still am.
Please don't tell me I can find someone else or that I need to start dating again. I may not be ready. And maybe I don't want to be. And besides, what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren't. Whoever comes after will always be someone different.
I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get on with your life." My life is going on, I've been forced to take on many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.
I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you just to be with me, and I need to be with you. I need to know you believe in me and in my ability to get through my grief in my own way, and in my own time.
Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you some ideas:
(a) Bring food or a movie over to watch together.
(b) Send me a card on special holidays, our wedding anniversary, his birthday, and the anniversary of his death, and be sure to mention his name. You can't make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.
(c) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I may say no at first or even for a while, but please don't give up on me because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you've given up then I really will be alone.
(d) Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples, to walk into events alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable.
Please don't judge me now - or think that I'm behaving strangely. Remember I'm grieving. I may even be in shock. I am afraid. I may feel deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I'm experiencing a pain unlike any I've ever felt before and one that can't be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.
Don't worry if you think I'm getting better and then suddenly I seem to slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don't tell me you know how I feel, or that it's time for me to get on with my life. What I need now is time to grieve. Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding.
And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss - when you need me as I have needed you - I will understand. And then I will come and be with you.
--Author Unknown
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Finally...my post about the run...
Ok so I know I should write something fabulous here about our run and I have started this post a million times over, but it is hard to write down all the emotions and feelings that I had and that I am still having after running in OKC. To put that the weekend was an emotional roller coaster is a HUGE understatement. There were times during the weekend that I would catch myself thinking "I can't wait to tell Steve about....". I am truly AMAZED at the love and support from many angles that helped us accomplish our goal.
I still remember vividly the night that Linda, Sue and Ed brought up the idea of us running the marathon in relay teams. Truly what was running through my head was "I don't run, I don't like to run, I don't want to run, but I will for him". So I trained and I ran...for him. We started planning this a little less than 9 months ago and it seemed like forever before we would actually run. So much to look forward to.....and then it finally arrived.
Again so many emotions...the kids and I drove to OKC on Friday in order to spend time with family. On Saturday several of us went to the Expo to pick up packets....so hard as I could imagine Steve there just 3 years earlier picking up his racing bib and then stopping off at some of the booths, but not purchasing anything because that was just his personality. One of the most emotional times for me was dinner Saturday night...the carb loading night. It was a sight to be hold..60 people, yes 60 people were there to honor him and support his family. What an amazing tribute...I did break down at one point as it was all so overwhelming for me.
Everyone after carbing up for the big raceThen Sunday morning came......up early and getting ready to go. I remember the morning Steve ran, I think he changed clothes a few times and wasn't quite sure what to wear, I was in the same boat. Decisions were made and we were off to the start line. The race was delayed because of rain, and because Steve wanted to give us a concert before it all started...lightning and thunder. It rained the ENTIRE time and the temperatures dropped as the race went on. We saw everyone off at the start line and then headed to our post for the relay exchange. It was exhilarating and difficult all at the same time. My feet were going to touch the same path that Steve had run....overwhelming. The exchange happened and we were off to run our 3.2 miles of the race...in the rain.... I don't remember many of the sights along my path, but I do remember vividly two places....it was the two places I had stood 3 years earlier to cheer Steve on...tears streamed down my face and it was difficult for me to breath...I guess it was good it was raining at that point, then know one knew if it was tears or rain. We finished our leg and then we headed in to warm up a little before heading to the finish line to see the others. Thanks Wendy for the hot chocolate and warm place to hang out!
Some of Sam's biggest supporters...teachers and the director from her school
The 3rd leg of the relay
The 4th leg of the relay (minus Sue..who I think was taking the pic??)
The finish line...what a difficult place....I stood for awhile watching and my chest grew tighter with each passing moment. For I knew that my dear, sweet, husband would not be crossing this finish line and it was beyond hard for me to stand there and watch. After seeing 2 people cross the finish line I had to leave...it truly was too much for me to bear. So to those of you that I didn't watch cross, I truly apologize, but hope that you understand. I think the breaking point for me was seeing my nephew Austin carry one of Steve's shoes across the finish line. For those of you who may be confused by this, let me explain. Steve's siblings decided that Steve was going to run another marathon...with them. So the marathon group took one shoe and carried it the entire way, and the marathon relay teams passed it off at each leg. So in essence Steve ran another marathon with us. Now leaving OKC was probably one of the hardest times too...the kids and I left by ourselves...we didn't have the "FINISHER" in the car with us, and that was very hard.
Was the weekend good....yes
Was the weekend hard...yes
Would I do it again....in a heart beat.
Thank you to all those who came and ran and those who were are cheerleaders, those who prayed for us and to those who were Sami watchers....LOVE, LOVE you all.
So mark your calendars for April 29, 2012 because we need runners and cheerleaders, and if I can run 3.2 miles, anyone can. Go Team Steve!
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