My First Love Taught Me

My first love was Chucky, and I'm trying to remember if I dated anyone before him. I think I dated Trevor for like a minute and Tim for a very short time. That was in early high school. Chucky and I met in middle school, but we started dating during my sophomore or junior year—I’m not sure which. I got to know him on a bus trip with the marching band, but romantic feelings didn't take over until we were in the middle of a car crash after a Sandi Patty Messiah concert. 

There was a lot that Chucky taught me. Most of it was probably not good, but he did teach me that people are who they say they are. He showed me that fighting for someone's attention isn’t worth it and that compromising to get what I want in a relationship doesn’t end well.

One thing about Chucky was that he didn’t require me to be anybody else, and he didn’t expect me to play dumb. Chucky valued my intelligence.

A lot of high school guys were put off by my intelligence. They felt like I was insulting them by using words they didn’t understand. But Chucky never felt like I was talking down to him. He was proud to have a smart girlfriend—and that was important to me. Our conflict came from the fact that he wanted to have sex, and I didn’t. So, he would drop me anytime he thought he had a chance with another girl, especially if he thought he could get sex from her. Then, inevitably, we’d get back together because that’s how those kinds of relationships go. I learned from him that a person who won’t say they love me, really doesn’t love me—even if I feel loved by them. He taught me what conditional love has to offer.

I know it’s not okay, but I feel like I still do that—I still accept less because I don’t expect more. It was kind of fair, though. I wanted love from that relationship, and he wasn’t willing to give that. He wanted sex from that relationship, and I wasn’t willing to give that. If we had been mature adults, we might have recognized that we wanted different things and should’ve just let it go.

Chucky and I navigated that teenage stuff together. I’m incredibly grateful to have had someone who was gentle and fun to go through all of that nonsense with. I don’t know if it would have been any better any other way.

I don’t know what I would have learned if I had found somebody who genuinely loved me and was willing to say so. You’re not in love in high school. You just aren’t. So the fact that he wouldn’t say that he was—maybe that’s good. I don’t know.

He certainly didn’t do anything to curb my fear of abandonment. He would just abandon me if he thought he could get laid with someone else. But he did teach me that it’s important to have fun. Chucky lives for fun—that’s his thing. So what life lesson did my first love teach me? There’s no value in compromise.

I feel like he taught me that if I accept trade-offs, I will get trade-offs.

Nothing to Fear

I haven't written poetry since I was an angsty teenager, but this one came to me line by line in a moment of meditative prayer. I'm pretty sure I'm meant to share it.

The battle inside you has been raging for eternity.

It's not new, it's not you

It's good versus evil.

Those demons aren't yours

They're just using you.

They cower from Truth.

You can banish them.

In the begining, there was Light.

This is the Word and it's right. 

Speak Truth to the devil

and he must flee. 

Shine Light into darkness

And it can't be. 

The enemy stalks you but can't come near. 

There is nothing to fear but fear. 

If this speaks to you in some way, then stop reading and keep your own meaning. If it doesn't and you'd like to know what it means to me, continue on. 

This poem speaks to the process of changing my life through Christ. God wasn't being mean to me. I live in a world that has fallen to darkness. God didn't single me out for hardship and pain. Hardship and pain are an inevitable part of the human experience. We don't have personal demons. Our enemy, Satan, and his minions use our painful experiences to torment us. Satan and his demons have no power against the truth of God's love for us. If we bring Jesus into the fight, our enemy will turn tail and run. 

The second half of the poem starts with a paraphrase of John's description of Jesus and a nod to the bible as the infallible word of God. Truth, Light, and Word are capitalized because they reference Jesus/God/Holy Spirit. The last line can be read as a comforting truth or powerful declaration of victory. 

 

Communication is Key

Every year as the holiday season comes to an end, I ask God to give me a single word that will serve as a guide for whatever the coming year has for me. This year God gave me the word "participate."

Although there’s a lot more to this story, for the purpose of brevity, I’ll start in October. That's when my very best friends, who accounted for at least 70% of my social interactions, moved to Minnesota. 

My first reaction was a bit of panic. What would I do without them next door? How was I going to fill the gaping hole that would be left in my day-to-day life?

That thought process quickly yielded to the acknowledgment that God brought them into my life to serve a very specific purpose and their departure would also have purpose. 

My second thought was that God was probably making space in my life for a significant relationship to form. I was so very ready for that to happen, and I really wanted to get the ball rolling. (God loves a doer, right?)

I understood the assignment. I was pretty sure I'd need to put myself in a position to meet new people. I would need to participate in activitiesand groups and events. And if a romantic relationship was on the horizon, I should put some effort into my looks -- lose weight, wear makeup and maybe even dress like a girl from time to time. 

It’s not biblical, but it makes sense, right?

Abstract concepts related to participation started floating around right above my head like one of those word clouds graphic designers like to use to visually represent a complex concept.

I met a Christian man on a new Christian dating app and I was convinced this was it. Everything seemed to be lining up and it all made sense, right?

I wasn’t really attracted to him, but we had some things in common. I was convinced that this must be the guy God had for me, so I pursued it. People in their 40s don’t get swept up in attraction and chemistry the way people in their teens and 20s do. Right?

To my simultaneous disappointment and relief, he admitted he wasn't attracted to me either and wasn't interested in a romantic relationship with me. 

My parents arrived in November for our holiday visit, so dating fell completely off the radar. I guess I misunderstood what God was saying.

Around mid-December, it was clear to me that participate was my word for 2022. The word was everywhere. It came up in nearly every conversation and just wouldn’t go away.

I had no idea what it meant or how to act on it, but with uncharacteristic humility and patience I decided to let God reveal it to me.

My typical strategy of guessing God's will and making assumptions about his plan for my life was proving unreliable, so I waited for clarity. 

I asked for clarity in my prayers. I looked for clarity in the Bible and meditated on its words during my daily devotions. I listened for clarity in the praise and worship music I enjoy during my morning walk. 

I didn't rush into action. 

I even engaged in fellowship with trusted Christian advisors to help me avoid running off in the wrong direction. 

For the first time since this journey began, I am genuinely excited to participate in God's plan for my life on His terms. To collaborate with Him toward the fulfillment of His will and to partner with him on the project he started in Genesis. 

Slowing down and allowing God to speak to me in his own time has been a game changer. Impatiently finishing His sentences or rushing to action before I have the full instructions has been a barrier to communication in the same way it would be with anyone.

Participation has already been an incredibly important word for me this year and I suspect it will continue to apply to various situations throughout the year.

Communicating effectively is the first step to growing a relationship with anyone. 

It’s been a huge obstacle in my relationship with God, but I feel like I might finally be getting it.

I do think God made space in my life for a significant relationship to grow. I believe that relationship is with him.   

Something Is Happening

Note: I'm no longer apologizing for the "churchy" stuff, but I will provide a glossary of terms at the bottom to promote clarity of communication between me and any of my readers who might not know what these words mean.  :) 

Something is happening. I don't know if it's just for me or there's something happening on a much larger scale, but I can feel it. The spirit of God is in motion. 

If you've been with me since June of 2015 or at anytime in my life before that, you know I've been on a journey. I didn't come easily to a place of faith, trust and obedience to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. I struggled with it. I doubted God and Jesus. I doubted myself and my ability to recognize truth in reality. 

I asked a lot of questions along the way and I still have a lot of question. If you are interested in that process, it's pretty much all in this blog. I tried to represent my journey as honestly and accurately as possible - for my own benefit and for the reader's benefit. 

One part I didn't write much about is when I stopped going to church for a bit. My grief journey was completely integrated with my faith journey and I needed a minute to parse it out. 

I had begun to worship my church instead of going to church to worship God. I had developed a dependence on the emotional high of the Sunday service and it was interfering with my relationship with God.

I was having a hard time communicating with God because I still didn't know him all that well yet and I couldn't discern his voice from the noise of my own thought processes, the theatrics of the worship service and the conflicting opinions of my family and friends. 

My time alone with God started in 2019 prior to the COVID19 pandemic and extended to nearly the end of 2021. During this time I prioritized prayer, bible study and stillness. I spent LOTS of time talking to God and trying to be open to his answers. I also spent a lot of time in silence, just letting my thoughts untangle themselves. 

I started feeling a call to return to my church home in late summer 2021. Toward the end of October God opened up space in my life and the Holy Spirit has been stirring ever since.  

Grief brought me here, but this new story isn't about grief. I can't wait to find out what it IS about. 

OK. You're all caught up, now. 

Glossary of Churchy Terms 

The Spirit of God (AKA the Holy Spirit) = similar in effect to intuition or a gut feeling. 

Promptings of the Holy Spirit = a gut feeling/intuition that nudges one to act or not act. Promptings are crystal clear. You know what it is that needs to be done or what you need to stop doing. 

Communicating with God = Praying to god. Reading the bible, listening for the holy spirit to provide answers. Singing praise songs/ hymns, being open to hearing the voice of God speaking to you. 

The Voice of God = This is not typically meant literally. Its every way that God communicates with you - intuition, emotion, words from other humans, bible study, devotions, etc. 

Bible Study = this IS literal. Study the bible. Not just the words in the bible, but everything about the bible. Who were the authors, what is the intent behind the literary style of a particular book? What is the historical and personal context of the words in front of you. 

Stirring of the Holy Spirit = this is similar to the promptings but without the prompt. You know something is coming but you haven't figured it out yet.  Sometimes the point is to figure it out. Sometimes the point is to be patient until the purpose is revealed. 

Life is GOOD.

It's been awhile since I've written about my experiences as a widow. The memories and influences of my late husband Brian are no less prominent in my life, but I've processed the emotions of my loss and there's not as much need on my part to continue talking about it. 

That said, I think telling my story as it unfolds does have value to the widows coming up behind me and any of the readers out there who have lived through something that dropped the bottom out of their lives, left them in a dizzying free fall and obliterated every single one of their plans for the future. 

The truth is, my life as it is now is better than it has ever been and the depth of contentment I have as I experience it is way beyond anything I would have been capable of before Brian died.  I'm incredibly grateful for my current state of being and ALL of the life experiences that brought me here. 

That last paragraph is a monumentally big statement to make and I don't take it lightly. I've put lots and lots of thought into it. I've poured over the accuracy of those ideas and whether it disrespects Brian's memory to say it out loud. I've pondered how Brian would feel about those sentiments in their entirety. What would he think about his passing being a catalyst for so much personal development and success. 

So let's break it down a little. 

We'll start with the last sentence since that one is the hardest for me to both articulate and to accept as true.  

I'm not glad Brian died, but I'm grateful for the life experience of having been completely devastated and recovered. 

There's something liberating about losing everything you value to forces and events that are completely beyond your control. It is such a powerful lesson and I don't think you can learn it secondhand. You might know that life is fragile as an abstract concept, but I don't think you can internalize it without going through it. 

I'm definitely not glad Brian is gone, but I'm grateful to have the time alone and the opportunity to examine my life, my fears, my faith and my values. I was 18 when we got married, so this was the first chance I've had to get to know myself and establish my own identity outside of the context of my family or my marriage. 

And when I say my life is better than it's ever been or that I wouldn't have been capable of experiencing this depth of contentedness before Brian died, it's not because I feel that Brian held me back. 

Nearly everything good in my life started when I met him or was in one way or another a result of his influence. 

Our marriage was structured according to biblical principles. Brian was the head of the household and his main goal was my wellbeing and happiness. So while it's true that Brian was driving the bus and I was a passenger, he always took us in a direction that was in my best interest.  He did not limit or impede me in any way. 

I've reframed my internal conversation on these issue. Instead of feeling guilty for enjoying life now more than I ever did when Brian was alive, I like to think that he would be happy with the idea that the trajectory he left me on was a good one and that through my grief, I was able to propel myself to a place of complete contentedness, genuine hope and abounding joy. In fact I'd bet he would take full credit and be quite proud of himself for his accomplishments. 

Five Years Today

It's been 5 years since Brian passed and I still miss him like an idiot misses the point.

Shortly after he died, I wrote, "If I were a Mad Lib, Brian was the random, funny words that filled in the blanks."

To this day i can't think of a better way to explain it. He made my life interesting and comical and fun.

In the 5 years since his passing I've healed and I've grown.

I've learned to kill my own spiders, carry my own heavy stuff and put furniture together with an allen wrench.

I figured out who I am without him and I've rebuilt my life in a way that is incredibly fulfilling to me.

That said, I'm also fairly certain I'll never have as much fun as I had with Brian.

We had A LOT of fun together.

The Grey Volkswagen Story

Disclaimer: These are my experiences. Going through what I've been through has shifted my perspective and introduced me to a depth of faith that simply wasn't possible before. My faith informs my reality, and my reality is that almighty God, who created the universe and everything in it, knows me personally. He made me to fulfill a specific purpose within His creation, He loves me as His own child and like any good father, He is available to me any time I seek him out. 

I spend time with God every day and feel as though I've gotten to know him quite a bit better in the process. Being mindful of God's presence and providence in my life has been like turning on a light in a dimly lit room. I was slow to get here, but I'm here now and it's indescribably better than trying to see in the dark.

I read the Bible and pray as a part of my morning routine. My daily prayer is pretty simple. I ask that God's presence be felt in the lives of everyone I love.

Easy.

So I was talking to God on my drive to work the other day and I made my normal request. I then added to it. "...And everyone I don't love too." Then, for good measure, I added, "...and in my life. I would like to feel your presence in my life today."

I ended with "In Jesus name, Amen." As all good Christians know that's how you let God know you are serious. I then turned up the radio and went on with my day.

A few seconds later I was stopped at a red light and I was JAMMIN'!

I had a song on that I love to sing along to. I was singing at the top of my lungs and doing my best driver seat dancing.

I looked in the rearview mirror because that's what I do when I'm stopped at a traffic light. I look into the windows of the drivers around me and wonder about their day and what they might be up to.

The well-dressed, dark-skinned businessman behind me in a grey Volkswagen was be-bopping along to whatever song he had on his radio and the bearded tradesman in the work truck to my right was thumb dancing to something upbeat.

I immediately recognized this as God's presence.

The three of us were connected to God by the humanity of that moment. Music and dancing and the circumstances of having to get to work for the day and passing the time while stopped at a red light.

As the light turned green I thanked God for the revelation and continued on my way.

A bit later, I wanted to change lanes but the Volkswagon was where I wanted to be. I couldn't quite figure out if I should speed up to get ahead of him or slow down to file in behind him. I eventually turned on my blinker and accelerated.

The gentleman in the Volkswagon flashed his brights to let me know he was going to let me in. It was a very simple act of courtesy, but if you've spent any time in the southeast valley, you know it's pretty unusual. As I pulled ahead of him I waved to show my appreciation.

At the same time, an impatient 30-something in a BMW sped past both of us. I could be imagining it, but the BMW seemed to punctuate the interaction between me and the Volkswagon making it clear that our little happenstance connection was of God and that it was real and that it meant something.

After a few more minutes, the Volkswagon changed lanes and was going to pass me as I slowed to make my right hand turn onto Pecos.

I wondered if I should wave or if that would be weird. I wondered if he had any indication of how significant our brief connection was or that he was being used to illustrate God's presence in my life.

As I was pondering it, I looked over and he gave me a little wave and a nod. I waved back.

I asked God to show himself to me and he did. He showed me his presence in humanity in general and in the kindness of strangers and in the connections we are capable of forming with other humans in a very short time without a word being spoken.

It was an incredibly powerful moment for me.

And that, as they say, is that.

My birthday yesterday concludes the 2019 season of grief.

 I did a few things differently this year and it feels like my focus is shifting. I'm looking more to the future than to the past for my identity and to inform my decision making.

It's not easy to do things with only yourself in mind after 21 years of marriage. I don't even have children to consider.

While the inability to have children and the untimely loss of my husband are an absolutely cruel combination of tragedies, I'm starting to feel the freedom and opportunity in my predicament.

I will never be a mother and I will always be a widow, but those aren't the only identities available to me. (Traveler and adventurer are the identities I'm most looking forward to.)

I bring Brian with meas I move forward
through my life.

The cake is a lie...

On my recent trip to Vegas, I passed on alcohol and gambling, but I did overindulge in cake. In fact, I managed to give myself a cake hangover on my last day in town. (Totally worth it, by the way.)

It's mostly funny, but it also makes a nice metaphor. Grief is chronic pain. I manage it with antidepressants, exercise...and cake. 

Anyone who knows me knows I want cake pretty much all of the time. If the question is "do you want cake?" the answer is always yes.

Cake is my favorite comfort food and, despite how things might appear on the surface, I have a fairly constant need for comforting. 

Some people have a drink at the end of a rough day. I have cake. 

The problem I run into is the conflict between self-comforting and self-care. 

As I've said in the past, every step forward feels like a step away. Moving toward my new life, goals, and pursuits creates distance from my old life and the goals and pursuits Brian and I shared.

It's an ongoing cycle of breaking and rebuilding myself. Sometimes consuming a few calories and carbs is necessary to kick in the dopamine and get me through the day. Sometimes it's just a fat girl eating cake. 

FYI - I hate sprinkles almost as much as I love cake.

'Bout that time, eh chap?

Note: If you don't know the quote for which this post is titled, drop everything and watch this video.

Hokay so...

Brian's birthday is tomorrow which for the past 3 years has marked the beginning of a fairly rough season for me.

I'm pretty sure the milestone dates are always going to be emotional - his birthday on March 7, the cancer diagnosis on April 27, the cholangiocarcinoma diagnosis on May 7, his death on June 13, our anniversary on June 18 and even my own birthday in late July seem to be tough days for me despite of my best efforts to remain balanced.

I don't think the last one would be emotionally tied to the grief experience except that it was so soon after his death and it was my 40th birthday that year and he had already started planning the party before he got sick. I still have the little plastic pirate figurines he ordered from Amazon to put on my cake.

The point is, spring through early summer has consistently been a challenge and it's good to be prepared.

I'm expecting this year to be quite a bit less intense. I like that my brain or my soul or whatever it is that controls love, grief, and human connection requires me to recognize the milestones - to think and feel and to remember. I wish it were less disruptive, but I'm guessing that comes with time.

So if you will be interacting with me in the next 5 months or so here are some of the things to look out for:

• I talk about Brian or about grief much more than usual.
• I run late for appointments or meetings 
• My emotional responses seem a bit exaggerated or disproportionate
• Early stage dementia-like symptoms 
• Lack of motivation or...
• Inability to be still 

Here are some of the ways my friends can be helpful

• Listen to and care about my stories. They aren't sad or depressing. They are my life.
• Send a text reminder before a meeting giving me ONLY enough time to get ready and get there. I run late because of either inertia or distractions. 
• Just roll with it and know that I know I'm crazy sometimes. 
• Don't ask me to remember an important date or phone number. If you need me to accomplish a task, text it to me. 
• Leave me alone or come over. I'm not going out.
• Come chat with me while I'm mopping the garage or feather dusting the roof tiles.

Brian's 42nd Birthday Cake

My 40th Birthday Cake

The Story of Tess and Brian

Tess was Brian's dog from the split second we met her. We were driving home from shopping or something equally benign in Queen Creek on New Year's Eve 2009 and were actually talking about the possibility of getting a dog when we saw the sign on the side of the road for "AKC Labrador Puppies."

We were on Rittenhouse/Gary Rd and traffic was at a standstill at the Combs intersection. There was probably an event at the Olive Mill or something, so we had plenty of time to have the following discussion. I don't remember the exact words, but you'll get it.

Brian: "We could just go look..."
Me: "That's such a trap."
Brian: "We won't buy one, we'll just play with them.'
Me: "We can stop if you want to..."
Brian: Immediately pulls the car over to where the puppies are.

I think you know how this part of the story goes.

So we pull over and jump out of the truck. As we walk over the guy with the sign approaches us and tells us he's only got one puppy left and she's in his truck.

So we go with him to his truck and when he opens the door, this sleepy little bundle of fuzz tumbles down off the seat, clumsily makes her way to the ground and starts licking Brian's toes. (He was wearing sandals.)

I'm pretty sure for Brian it was a moment similar to when the doctor puts your first born child into your arms. He immediately fell in love with her.

...So much so that he left me with a complete stranger on the side of the road at Rittenhouse and Combs to go to an ATM and get cash and then battle traffic to get back.

The guy gave her to us for $300 which was the most Brian's bank would let him take out at one time.  I don't know if the AKC papers he gave us were legit or not, but that was an incredible price for such a fantastic dog. He said it was because she was the last one of the litter and he just wanted to go home.

We drove home with her in Brian's new Avalanche. I was instructed to keep her on my lap so if she peed it would be on me and not on the truck.

She was the absolute cutest puppy and Brian was head over heels for her. I loved her too, but no one ever loved anything the way Brian loved Tess.

She went through her phases of peeing and chewing and shedding and...well the shedding wasn't a phase.

She was never more than two feet away from Brian at any given time and if he was gone to work she'd get something of his out of the laundry and carry it around or cuddle it.

We went on a cruise in 2011 and visited with my parents in Florida. We were gone for one week, and about three days in Brian told me, "This is fun, but I miss Tess. I don't want to leave her again."

She was always a little clumsy and a little derpy.  She just didn't know where her body was or that her tail was in motion. She was always super excited to see... pretty much everyone. Everyone was her best friend but Brian was her soul mate.

We had a whole house full of people over to watch a football game or a movie or some such. Brian went out to get something out of his car and she sat at the door and cried until he came back.

They were so fun to watch together. She brought out the best in him. He taught her how to climb a ladder so she could get into the above ground pool at our San Tan Valley house and she would just swim and float and hang out with him. She would watch TV with him and he would take her about once a week to McDonald's to get a cheeseburger and fries. She slept at his feet every night.

When Brian got sick, Tess knew something was wrong. When he passed, we brought her in to say goodbye and although it took her a minute, she finally caught on and just laid down by his feet. She watched over his body while we called the people who needed to be called and made the arrangements that needed to be made.

She wasn't the same without him. Cooper bounced back, but Tess was really never the same. I tried to love her as much as I could and to make sure she was getting plenty of attention. I just couldn't love her the way Brian did. No one could.

Tess became very important to me after Brian died. She was a living connection to him. I got a little paranoid about her health. Anytime she slept too quietly I would check to make sure she was breathing. She had an incident where her eye got a little droopy and I thought maybe she'd had a stroke. Every time she got a little lump or bump, I would have the vet check it to make sure it wasn't anything.

I thought a lot about how I would manage her end of life care. I didn't want to cut her life short, but I didn't want to keep her away from Brian when the time came. I made that decision almost 4 years ago. She would never have surgery. She would never go through anything with an extended recovery time or that would leave her less capable of enjoying her life.

Tess was here for me when I needed her and she was an amazing and loving companion to me. We shared a soul mate and it bonded us. She was incomplete without Brian and we had that in common.

Even though I had spent so much time thinking about it, when she got sick the decision making didn't come easily.

She was bleeding in her urinary tract and we couldn't figure out why. We did test after test. Two ultrasounds and an x-ray. Urinalysis and blood work and cultures and nothing gave us even the slightest clue. All the while she was losing blood faster than her body could produce it.

Her last blood test indicated that she was still actively bleeding and that she would need a transfusion soon if it didn't stop. Their best guess was that she would need kidney surgery to stop the bleeding and I knew I wasn't going to put her through that.

The blood transfusion was my stopping point. If the problem didn't resolve and she needed a transfusion, we would just call it.

When I took her in for another blood test, she was so anemic they decided she couldn't afford to lose even a single vial of blood. She needed a transfusion.

Everyone knew what that meant, but as a Hail Mary, we tried blood pressure medication and ordered a TCM product that had had some success treating dogs with bleeding due to stomach cancer.

The thing is. She was in really bad shape.

She had no blood volume left and at some point, her heart was going to fail. I wanted to be with her when she went. I didn't want to come home from work and find her or to wake up and see that she's not breathing.

I made the appointment. I didn't wait for her medicine to arrive. No one really had any confidence that it would work. I knew the decision I was facing was unavoidable, so I made it.

I wanted her to be with Brian again. I know I did the best that I could for her, but it's harder to make a decision like that when there is a financial benefit in not doing everything that could be done. Was I really acting in her best interest or was it about the money and the stress and the inconvenience?

Regardless of motive, I believe the action taken was, in fact, in her best interest. I don't think her life would have been improved by any of the options we had in front of us.

I miss her. I miss her companionship and how she was always nearby and the sound of her tail thumping on whatever it was that she didn't know it was thumping on. The house is so quiet now, but an interesting thing has happened.

I used to get really sad looking at pictures of Tess and Brian together. I would think, "This should still exist. This is something that was right in the world and it should still exist."

After we let Tess go, looking at pictures of her with Brian makes happy. I know that they are together and when I see them in pictures I can feel that it exists again.


Links to my favorite Tess Photos and Videos:
Best of Tess Photo Album
Best of Tess Video Playlist

Brian was pretty sick by this point. I'm pretty sure Tess knew.

A Letter To Brian

When I started this blog I committed to writing it for myself as if no one else would read it and to share even when it's uncomfortable. This is uncomfortable for me to share and it might be uncomfortable for you to read. Please don't feel obligated to read it just because I wrote it. It's not really for you. :) 

Brian,

I love you and I miss you and I wish I could talk to you. I think you'd be surprised at the path my life has taken since you've been gone. I think you'd be really happy about a lot of it and really disappointed in some of it and downright pissed off about some of it, but you're not here so you aren't any of those things. 

I don't really know what happened to you when you left. My pastor says when you agreed to have the hospice chaplain come over to say the Jesus prayer that you confirmed your faith and that it didn't matter that he didn't get there in time. His theory is based on the thief on the cross from Luke 23. Mom says you told her you said the magic Jesus prayer at camp when you were a teenager. I know you liked to be contradictory and argue with me about things, but I do think you had at least some faith. There's a verse in 1 Corinthians that says my faith would sanctify you so that our children would be holy. I assume it works even though we couldn't have kids. I should have just said the prayer with you myself, then I wouldn't have this to think about. 

Sometimes I think maybe you are just ashes now. Maybe there's nothing more. It bothers me that we burned you, but I think it would bother me if we buried you too.  I wish you hadn't made me watch so many horror movies with you. I wish you could just tell me what your experience has been since you left. 

I feel like if you were here I would feel your presence, but who knows. I don't feel God's presence most of the time and he's supposedly always here. Sometimes I do feel God's presence. I never feel you. Sometimes I have dreams and you're there as if you never left, but I'm pretty sure that's just in my head. Maybe God's presence is just in my own head too. 

I've chosen to believe what I believe because I believe it's a choice that I have. There's no way to know the truth and living as a Christian has been better than not living as a Christian. I am pretty sure you would ridicule how serious I've gotten about it. But you aren't here. So it's really up to me to figure out on my own. 

I'm getting better at being self-sufficient. I had to kill a scorpion. Can you believe it?! It was comical. I used my monopod because that was the only melee weapon I had with any range to it. I screamed when it crunched and I cried afterward. 

I take the trash out. I carry my own heavy stuff in from the car. I don't like it and I get mad at you sometimes, but I know you wouldn't have left me if you had a choice. I sometimes get mad at God for taking you from me, but there's very little point in that. 

I still get mad about the children thing sometimes too. I'm not mad at you anymore. Once you were gone it was entirely up to me and I decided it wasn't actually what I wanted. I'm sorry for how much drama the kid thing was. I wish I could have just gotten over it. I'm still not really over it, but it's taken a backseat to the process of getting over your passing. 

I sold our house. I hated to do it, but it didn't make sense to keep it and I wanted to move into my own space. My new house looks very similar though. It's smaller and much easier to afford. The McDowells are still my neighbors. How crazy is that?? Remember when you told me I would be ok and that Allison would be my new best friend after you were gone? You were right. 

It's funny to me that she scoffs at my faith when she is the single biggest piece of evidence I have supporting it. That church that mom and I went to up the road has become really important to me.

You would HATE it. You would like all of the people though, but it's one of those places where they raise their hands and get really emotional. I stopped going for a while after I moved out of our house because it was a little too emotional and I was a trainwreck and couldn't take it. 

They're making a live action Alladin and Will Smith is going to play the Genie. Remember when I used to fall asleep to that every night in my dorm? Remember the night I fell asleep watching the Lion King and you had food poisoning and threw up on me? I'm still not over that. :) 

I wish I had appreciated you more while you were here. I had NO IDEA how much you did for me. I know I can't live in the past and I can't hold on to things like guilt and anger, but I wish I had known how much better you made my life while you were still living. That's probably just how it is. I'm sure I've probably redacted your memory a bit as well. No point holding on to the negative, right? 

Tess is 10 now. She's starting to get lumpy the way labs do when they get old. She has that old-dog walk sometimes too. I remember talking once about how much you loved her and that the knowledge that you would outlive her was hard to think about. She's still your dog. She loves me, but not the way she loved you. I love her too, but not the way you loved her. 

Cooper is still a shit. He's adorable about it though, so I let him live. 

I like to read your old letters from when you were in Kosovo and Iraq and your Facebook posts and I have a few videos of you that I like to watch. It keeps your voice fresh in my head and I can hear your snarky, sarcastic tone in the letters and posts. 

Jason flaked out. I don't know what happened, but I don't think it was Lynn's fault like you might think. They got married, by the way. I think he's happy. I like to think that he missed you too much to be around me, but I don't know. He just quit talking to me and eventually I quit talking to him too. 

I still see Robert and Jenn from time to time. It's nice to be around people who knew you. Most of the people around me now have never even met you. I wish that weren't the case. I wish I had people around who really knew you who could tell me stories I haven't heard before. 

Gary Shull came to your memorial dedication. Oh yeah! You have a memorial bench in Lumiere Garden! I thought you'd like that location. It faces the sunrise, but of course, there are houses and stuff there now so it looks a little different than when we used to walk over that way. 

Anyway, Gary came to your memorial and he told me a story about you programming the remote buttons on the mirror of your Monte Carlo to pop some guy's trunk and that when you would drive in to work every day you'd open that guy's trunk. I had never heard that one and I thought it was hysterical. It certainly sounds like something you would do. 

I try to tell some of your stories sometimes, but I can't tell a story as well as you could. I wish I had recorded them. We should have thought of that when you first got sick. 

I talk to you at your bench and at the places where your ashes are. I don't actually think you can hear me and I know you'll never respond. I just really miss talking to you and no one else who's still living seems to be able to understand me.

I looked into it a bit. Catholics believe in praying to the saints, but there's a sole mediator thing that's really important to Protestants and there's the cloud of witnesses verse that some people seem to interpret as the dead looking down on us, but I don't think that's what it means. I think it's just a reference to the people who came before. It's a figure of speech like standing on the shoulders of giants.

My hope is that whatever you are up to now is so amazing that it wouldn't even occur to you to look back or to check in on me. Also, no offense, but I can't live my life worrying about what you think about the choices I make and how I choose to move forward. I still love the crap outta you, but you're dead and I'm alive and that changes things. 

Thank you for 21 years of fun and laughs and sarcasm and conversation and love and tolerance and acceptance and taking the garbage out and carrying the sodas in from the car and being the outgoing one. Thank you for working so hard to buy me things I didn't really need and providing a nice lifestyle. Thank you for being prepared and making sure I had what I needed even after you were gone. 

Writing this has been really good. I wonder if it's unhealthy...

I miss talking to you so much and I could probably go on for a really long time. So much has happened. But you are dead so you can't read it anyway and I'm tired. So I'm going to wrap this up and go to bed. 

I love you. I miss you.

Tricia 

Tess and Brian at the house in San Tan Valley.

If you didn't know, you might not know.

So here's the thing. I'm still cut in half.

I'm doing really well, so if you didn't know what happened, you might not know anything  happened. 

I would imagine the experience of losing my husband is similar to the experience of losing a leg in some kind of terrible accident.

At first, there is crisis mode - stop the bleeding, keep your heart beating, keep breathing, survive. Just survive.

Then there's recovery mode - Learn to walk, deal with the emotions, get yourself back to a state of functionality. 

Then there's the rest of your life. You will never be as you were before, but you overcome it. You learn to get around without assistance and most folks you interact with don't even notice a limp.

If you don't tell them, they'd never know. 

That's kind of where I'm at. I've lived every single day since June 13, 2015 missing my best friend and soul mate. I will live every single day until the end of my own life missing him. 

I've recovered, but I'll never be healed. 

I'm not unhappy, but I am sad. I'm not in pain, but I hurt. These are constants. They don't go away, they won't go away and there is no point dwelling on it.

So I have this secret life of grief and, for the most part, I'm ok dealing with it by myself. I don't need help. I don't need sympathy or advice. In fact, I find sympathy and advice a bit condescending. 

I just want to acknowledge that it exists.

The day we traded my G6 hard top convertible
for a  hunter green Subaru station wagon. Meh.

Aaaaaand it's June Again...

June 2015

June 2016

June 2017

So it's June and June sucks. My life circumstances and the events of the day don't always coincide with the emotions I experience in June. Widow brain is back for good or bad and everything gets much more intense. I wanted that to be what this post is about, but it's just too negative.

June sucks, but my life doesn't suck. In fact, my life is so good that I am regularly overwhelmed by how good it is.

I was born in July of 1975 and from that day until now, I have never been better than I am right now. That includes the 17 years of my Rockwellian midwest childhood, 21 years of marriage to my best friend and soul mate, 3 years living abroad and the nearly perfect final year spent together in our dream home before he got sick.

I know I would not be capable of this level of joy without going through what I've been through. The experience was a catalyst to all manner of emotional and spiritual growth.

Brian's illness and death shattered my illusion of control. That may sound like a bad thing, but it forced me to examine my faith which resulted in a deeper understanding of and a more genuine relationship with both God and Jesus. Grieving Brian's death taught me to let go of the bitterness and disappointment I felt over what should have been.

I still carry the sadness of loss like a wallet in my back pocket. Most of the time it's barely noticeable. Other times (particularly in June) it's a giant pain in my ass.

It's surprisingly conflicting to be doing so well. My biggest struggle since Brian died is to acknowledge that the end of Brian's story happened in the middle of my own and that my time with him was only a chapter in the ongoing story of my life.

I won't lie. Typing that made me cry. A lot.

He's been gone three years this month and I'm still very reluctant to imagine my life and my identity defined by the context of something other than my relationship with Brian.

Let The Good Times Roll

Like a Phoenix rising up from the ashes... or something.

I'm very aware that the rest of my life has started and I'm empowered by it.

The optimism I'm feeling about the present and the future is completely foreign to me, but I like it. 

Until now, life mostly happened TO me. I would get halfway through a chapter before looking back to see the point at which things changed. 

This time is different. This time there's intent. 

My options were to be still and reflect on what has been or move forward and find out what will be. 

I chose to turn the page. 

I felt God was leading me and I made the hard decision to obey. I pushed through an exceptionally painful transition and when I felt I couldn't take it, I relied on Him in a way I'm surprised I'm even capable of. 

Obedience and reliance are uncomfortable words for me. It's taken me some effort to get over the idea that it is in some way invalidating or disenfranchising to acknowledge the role of God's providence in my successes. 

I'm proud of myself and my accomplishments. God gave me free will and agency to make my own decisions. Seeking God's voice with intent and following his instruction with purpose has consistently been the right decision for me to make. 

It's odd to say, but I honestly believe my life has never been better than it is right now. 

I have great friends and an amazing community. I love my job, I'm financially stable, I have everything I need and I'm content in a way I can't remember having ever been in the past. 

Grief is still a constant and it is odd for me to say that things are better than they've ever been. It's a challenge to allow myself to progress past where I was when Brian was alive, but it's a disservice to him to hold myself back in his memory. 

If he had lived we could and probably would be this happy together, but he didn't live. I lived and I'm still living and it's time for my epic 4th quarter comeback! 

Our honeymoon at King's Island in Cincinnati, Ohio.
June 19, 1994

Cliff Jumping

I'm standing on the edge of the rest of my life.
Everything I've loved stands behind me.
It's been a long night,
but the pre-dawn light
reassures me the Way is inviting.
I'm strengthened by the weight I have carried.
I'm empowered by the challenges I've overcome.
The Son's light illuminates my path. It chases away every shadow.
I have no need for doubt or fear or guilt or regret.
I am ready to set out unencumbered.

Uncharted Territory

2017 was a year of seconds. I changed jobs for the second time in six months (this was also the second time in my life that I've been blessed enough to land my dream job).  I got baptised for the 2nd time in my life.  I ended a romantic relationship for the 2nd time in my life. I sold a home for the second time.  It's the second time I've been through the construction of a brand new home. I did nothing I haven't done before, but it still managed to feel like uncharted territory.

A good friend of mine told me once that the hardest thing to do is to break your own heart, even when you know that it's the right thing to do. Selling the home Brian and I shared broke my heart into tiny pieces. I had gotten pretty comfortable living with him in the past. Moving out was one of the hardest processes I've gone through since his death, but I know it was the right thing to do.

I know because as 2017 came to a close yesterday, I found myself feeling only mildly reflective. I wasn't looking back. I wasn't mourning another year lost to grief. I was genuinely looking forward to what is coming -- and not just the stuff I know is coming (like the new house, financial stability and a much-needed trip back east) -- I'm excited about the possibilities.

Moving out of our house was like cutting the rope that tethered me to the weight of my loss. I know I will still experience grief, but Brian's memory is not a heavy burden. I can easily carry it with me - even into uncharted territory. 

Max kept unplugging the Christmas tree. Brian was trying to reason with him. 

Another First

I went to the movies by myself for the first time in my life today. I saw Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. I enjoyed the movie and felt empowered by my decision to go alone. There was quite a bit about the movie that spoke to me and I was particularly aware of an underlying theme to let go of the past in order to realize your future.

I believe my current season of solitude is an integral part of my story. I have been wrestling with this from the time we knew Brian would not live through his illness. I had JUST gotten past the devastation of learning I would never be a mother. The idea that I would now also lose my husband and the love of my life seemed unnecessarily cruel.

God's hand in my current isolation is as obvious to me as the build-up of support prior to Brian's illness and death. I believe it's important that I'm alone right now and that this loneliness has a purpose. I have asked why and for how long at least a thousand times over the past two and a half years. No answer.

I have tried to find my own solutions. I've dated. I've joined groups. I've gotten involved in church activities. I've volunteered. I have met a TON of amazing people who are all probably reading this and thinking, "How can she feel alone??"

To that, all I can say is try not to take it personally. I love you and I feel loved by you - but from a distance. I'm not where you are and you aren't where I am and that's ok.

Over the past week or so, I've had some really good in-depth conversations and I think I'm starting to get some insight on what this is all about.

The most important insight is that it's special and unusual to be alone with God. I shouldn't take it for granted or let even one day slip away. Time alone is where relationships develop. It's where love deepens and grows. This is my time and place to fall in love with God.

Another insight is that deep and lasting love doesn't always feel exciting. Those endorphin-driven emotional experiences that happen when a spark turns into a flame are fun and necessary whether it's a romantic relationship or a relationship with God, but in both cases, it's just superficial brain chemistry. It is necessary and good for things to settle down over time and transition to something more genuine and sustainable.

I've also come to the conclusion that my season of isolation will most likely transition into something else eventually and I genuinely believe that the 2nd half of this story is going to be epic. I'm poised for the type of comeback Tom Brady and Bill Belichick can only dream about. I just have to be patient and wait it out. The final insight is that God is in the waiting.

If I can learn to love anything the way Tess loved Brian I think I'd be doing pretty good.

Thanksgiving Observations

This was my 3rd Thanksgiving without Brian. I think the weirdest thing about this year is how not weird it was.

I don't really remember the first year. Most of 2015 is hazy for me. Mom, Dad, and Grandma came to stay with me through the holidays that first year and I think the focus was primarily on distraction.

I was still working at the college at the time, so I had a lot of time off for holiday breaks. We did some fun local activities and a very nice day trip to the Verde Canyon Railway. As far as Thanksgiving day went, Mom did most of the meal prep and I believe we ended up serving a party of about 14 (Petorella's x5, McDowell x4, Daley x3, Jason and I).

The 2016 holiday season was a little less dramatic on the whole. My parents came to stay again, but we kept it low key. We did a few day trips, but nothing spectacular. I put the magazine on hold and didn't yet have my job with the Boles Group, so once again I had plenty of time. Mom and I shared the meal prep, but it was a much smaller group. If I'm honest, I don't remember who was there. I know the Petorella's ended up going out of town, and the McDowells were there. Other than that I think it was just Mom, Dad, Paul and I.

This year was different, but in many ways, it was less disruptive. My parents didn't come to stay this year because there is simply no place for them to come or to stay. I was really worried about being alone, but it turned out ok.

I was invited to have Thanksgiving dinner with a family from my church who made me feel 100% at home. In fact, it felt exactly like it would have if I had been at home. If my mother had hosted the dinner herself, it would have been nearly identical. The home and the table were beautiful and it was clear that quite a bit of thought and effort had gone into the arrangements. The dinner was perfectly timed and everything was fantastic.

On my way home from dinner, I stopped by a friend's house with whom I have a special bond. Her parents were in town and we visited for a bit before I had to go home to bed. 

The rest of the weekend was spent with the McDowell family (which is the same as saying the rest of the weekend was spent with MY family). Friday we went to Butterfly Wonderland followed by lunch and Saturday we made candies and had a slightly scaled down Thanksgiving dinner.

All in all, Thanksgiving 2017 was good.  I was surrounded by people who love me and whom I love. Although I'm still not comfortable being comfortable with it, I think Brian would be glad to know that his absence played a much less prominent role.

"Remember me and smile, 

for it is better to forget than to 

remember me and cry." 

-Dr Suess. 

In the Meantime...

I find myself reminiscing a lot lately. I think it's because there's nothing in the present worth thinking about.  

I'm in a bit of a holding pattern until the new house is complete.  I'm really uncomfortable living in my tiny little temporary apartment with disposable furniture, loud neighbors, and cheap appliances. I feel a little removed from reality - like I'm in purgatory waiting to find out what the rest of eternity will be. 

This apartment and the economic restrictions of my saving-for-the-new-house lifestyle have taken me back in time about 10 years. I'm a little surprised by the impact of my current environment on my mind and even my personality. 

If you spend time around me you may have noticed that I've regressed back to relating EVERYTHING to Brian or our life together. I tell almost as many Brian stories now as I did when he first passed away, particularly stories from the early years of our marriage. Some other peculiarities include a strong desire to smoke when I'm on the balcony, increased use of vulgarity in casual conversations and I'm back to eating a majority of my meals at Taco Bell. 

I find that I like thinking about Brian. I like keeping his memory at the front of my mind.  Every step forward into my own life is a step away from our life together and selling the house was a pretty big one. What I'm coming to realize, however, is that it's not a step away from Brian. Brian is no further away than he's ever been or ever will be. 

Driving To Las Vegas for my birthday in 2014.