Month: January 2015

Roses in Winter

Z. making my way, memories, Stages of grief , , , , ,

M’s mom, JM, came into town between the Christmas and New Years holidays. How are there even words to comfort a mother who is there to collect her child’s belongings and settle his outstanding affairs?  The night she got into town, JM went to “her” house to see what was to be collected and to make a plan on how to get the items moved out.

The day of the move came and “all” of M’s items were out in the yard. I’m not sure who helped her move stuff out of the house or the garage but it was all on tarps and no one was allowed to go inside the house. Our church had several men with trucks and trailers ready to help move items to donate, to ship back to AZ, to trash, or to return to me. They were in and out of there within a two hour time frame with everything neatly wrapped up. Notice I put the word “all” in quotes above… there are still a few things that are unaccounted for– things that anyone that knew M knew he would never have parted with, but they are gone and the only assumption is that they are with her and allegedly her new boyfriend. (shaking my head)

It’s been three weeks and I finally went into the garage to see what came back to me. Each item could tell its own story, each item had a memory of its own… each item was so definitely M and my life together that where once I was so sure it was going to be easy to part with them, now I pause to consider the act of saying goodbye.

Some items will be sold, while others donated, many of the items will go to friends of ours….things that I think they would like to have to remember M. One that brings to mind so many memories is our GPS. If you read my earlier blog post you know that I sold my ring and purchased a GPS for myself since M had taken both of ours. I got a message about a week ago that B had located our primary GPS (which we had named Conway Twitty) tucked far beneath the driver’s seat of the car.  I thought Conway Twitty was gone for good but I’m so thankful that it was found and that its coming back to me. Conway Twitty took me and M on adventures all the way up the east coast as we visited his family in VA and NY, and it provided plenty of direction in GA as we learned new destinations. Additionally, stashed in M’s large roll away toolbox was found the handheld GPS that was used for geocaching. Appropriately enough we named that one Johnny Cache. These two items bring back smiles and I’m glad that even in the midst of all the craziness of what went on, that I can still find good memories and I can smile at the good times. I will keep Conway Twitty but Johnny Cache will go to friends that used to geocache with us–hopefully it will provide them memories of good times in the past and memories that their family can enjoy for the future.

I know M doesn’t exist in his stuff, but looking at all of it, its still easy to see him. Since M was no longer a daily part of my life, it’s still hard for me to believe that he is gone. I find that I repeatedly look at the death certificate for confirmation that he really is dead — I have a hard time typing that word, let alone saying it out loud.

When I was younger, I cross-stitched a small sampler, “Memory is the power to gather roses in winter.”  I’m not naive enough to think that my roses with M didn’t have thorns, but I’m thankful for a memory that finds the moments when my thorns had roses.

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Whoomp There It Is

Z. new way of life, Stages of grief , , , ,

We all have friends who see through right through us. Some friends are gentle about it while others just come right out and call Bullshit.   My friend A is one that just calls it as it’s seen.  Our conversations usually start with me throwing out some questions, mostly pondering but inevitably A will always say… there seems to be more to that question and I usually respond with “No, not really, I was just wondering.“ A few more questions and more pondering from me, and another question from A, “What is the basis for these questions, stop beating around the bush.” And in the midst of just chatter, it finally comes out… “I feel alone” and A says…. “there it is.”

I think I feel alone because there just don’t seem to be enough of the “right” words (whatever those might be) to soothe my soul, to soothe my mind, to soothe my heart. Friends share words that offer me great comfort but I don’t know if I need twice as many words because I’m splitting my grief between the loss of my marriage and then the loss of M. I honestly don’t know.

I have another friend MB, she is more of the gentle side of calling bullshit. MB has been in the thick of it all with me since day one — 5 months ago. A few months back, before M passed away, MB and I were getting our nails done and she was remarking on how I was doing. Based on something I said she called me out on a way that I had been acting around her. And she was right. I do act differently around different people. Some I feel safe around to just be as I need to be in that moment, while others I feel are tired of hearing me talk about it and don’t want to be in the trenches. And I’m personally torn because I still feel as if I need to be/should be “over” this by now. Anyone that knows me, knows that when a task is at hand, I like to rip it apart and work right through it, sometimes, making up the solution as I go along.  Up until these past few months, I was always the practical one, now I tend to be more emotionally driven.– be it working through a problem because I’m happy, or sad, or motivated.

There really isn’t a sense of normal anymore, but then again, I don’t know what normal would look like. I get to make up my new normal now and I’m wondering if I’m ready for it? I guess that’s the big question during all of this chatter that I’m saying now…

Am I really ready to move forward?  and there it is.

GoBlueBlog – 2014 in Review

Z. looking ahead, making my way , , , , ,

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

August 2014 I started goblueblog hoping to just have an outlet in what I intended to be an open letter to M. A letter I was going to share with him the day our divorce was finalized. I never did share it with him and just 62 days after our divorce, sharing the blog link with M became a moot point.

Blogging has been an amazing experience and I recommend it (along with therapy!) to anyone looking to find their voice. You’re not as alone as you may think or feel and you never know the folks that will walk along this path with you…many never to be known.  WordPress provided me with my little blog’s year in review which I will share for a bit with you too. May 2015 yield God’s blessings upon all of us and all the love we can absorb from friends and family.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,000 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

When You Don’t Know What To Say

Z. Stages of grief, what I wish I knew , , , , ,

Since the day M took his own life, my world has once again become ground zero for the stages of grief.

I’m still in the angry stage–angry mostly that I’m asked to speak on behalf of M, or to know what exactly is going on. Truth is, I actually know a bit about what is going on because I still care. I care about M, I care about his family, I care about his friends. I care about my family, I care about my friends. I have some answers but like everyone else, I have a lot of questions that will never be answered. When I was with M, I knew his routine backwards and forwards. When he left, I lost all sense of that balance. So I do ask a lot of questions, some out loud, and most of them rhetorical — often just the impulse of a mind that is searching to put together pieces of a puzzle.

All I know (at this moment) is that 190 days ago M started making choices. Choices and decisions that would affect so many people in this small community that I’ve lost count. Choices and decisions that led to consequences for not only M but also her. I understand that her choices and decisions are solely hers, but the outcome affects me directly and has forever changed my life.  When it was just the infidelity and consequential divorce, there were no shortage of stories shared with me of common experiences, no shortage of people that were angry at M and angry at her, no shortage of people that would give me advice on how I needed to proceed during the divorce. However, add in suicide and the fact that all of this has happened in just 150 days, all of a sudden there aren’t so many shared stories, and not so much in the way of advice.

And this is why I say that when you don’t know what to say, it’s perfectly okay to say that. Please don’t try to find words to fill the silence. You should know that my mind takes care of that on its own. Squeeze my hand, hug me round the neck, tell me “yeah, this sucks,” or simply “I’m sorry, I don’t have any words.” Even a sad smiley emoticon can convey your heart.

But you should know that I like when you can relate. Your stories give me strength to move forward and follow your example.  When you can share a story that shows how you handled a hard time, that gives me hope. However, while not impossible, it’s highly probable that you don’t know how I feel, know what I’m going through, have been where I’m at, know just what I need to do, or can imagine what I’m experiencing. Most of the time, I’m not entirely sure myself.

My self talk is filled with doubts and shoulda/woulda/couldas. And yet, I know that there wasn’t anything I could do to change the course of events once M started down that path. I know that I’m not responsible for his actions. I know its not my fault. Remind me of these things–I need you to be positive and encouraging. I feel as if I am on the brink of my own sanity holding tightly to the edge as I watch my faith being challenged.

Yup, this does suck, no other way to say it… and I’m okay if you say it too.