Sunday, March 23, 2014

Help my friend

Yesterday, my friend and former roommate lost her husband.
He had a rare type of cancer that Jennifer fought so hard to help find a cure.
She is young with a young daughter.
Many of you know how hard this journey is.
Many of you know of the cost of the first few weeks and the uncertainty of it.
Any thing you can do will help.
If you can't help personally, send to someone who can.

Help if you can:

Monday, September 2, 2013

Selling Your House

I did not imagine it would be this hard.
After every thing else this month.
It has been a headache and at times a body ache.
It has been stressful and work.
And a money suck.
But I am in the process of selling the rental.

It was always the plan to sell it.
Sooner than later actually.
It was actually not the plan to rent it.
But the market crashed and we had no choice.
And now the market is on its way back up.
Your neighborhood is hot right now.
People want to live there.

The sell process has been going to so smooth.
Thanks so much to our friend's help.
It will all be done in almost a month timespan.
It is going to a young couple.
Who I know will love the house as you did.

But alas I am a bit emotional at it not being mine.
Maybe its normal to be a bit sad at selling a house.
Maybe it's not just a grief thing.

I keep thinking of the first time I was in the house.
Getting stuck at the gate.
The way I wouldn't let you hold my hand closest to you.
There was a scab on my hand so I made you hold my other hand.

I think about the time you gave me a key to your house.
I was waking up from a nap and instead of leaving I had a key to leave when I wanted.

The silly fights I started because I was scared of getting close to you.

I remember when I proposed.
Watching you from the patio move from room to room.
Flipping on all the lights.
And then your face when you saw me on the patio.

I think about our parties.
July 4th.

Watching TV together.
Your big pile of clothes in the guest room.
Our bright yellow, thankfully temporary, bedroom wall.
Your attempt to match the color of the front door.
Putting up the new light fixture in the dining room six times till you got it right.
So many memories.

I hope to find some time in the next few weeks to just be there.
Maybe you'll join me.
For one last time.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Why Five Years Was Hard

Sigh, I am so glad to see March flip onto the calendar.
February was so so.
Until about the 18th of February.
My fifth would-be wedding anniversary was quickly approaching.
And why was it so hard for me?
Oh so many reasons.

First, the anniversary was on the same day of the week, Saturday.
With each passing day, I could remember
On this day, we did x.
On this day, we did y.
It was too eerie.
I felt like the days just ticked by and the memories flooded.

Second, Roger and I were always making plans.
We had ten year plans.
And of course five year plans.
Now that I was at one of our marks just hurt.
Especially since we were on the fence about having kids leaning toward no.
We said at our fifth anniversary we would make the decision for sure.
And now that I am mostly on board for having kids it just feels weird.

Third, looking at how different my life is from then.
I know no matter what my life would have changed.
My life has changed over the last year.
But looking at our friends & our family then.
And then looking at it now.
It makes me sad to have lost so many people for various reasons.
In some ways my life is now is better.
Like my job and deeper friendships.
But I miss some of those old ones especially when reading the first year of this blog.

The actual day itself was fine.
The days before, not so much but...
On February 23rd, I kept myself very, very busy.
Did not let myself think too much.
I did find myself not being able to remember my thoughts mid sentence.
Walking into rooms with no idea why I was there.

But alas, I survived.
As always.
I survived.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Living Through Hell

One of my former roommates from when I lived in New York City is going through her own sort of hell. She asked me to guest blog on her blog. Check out her blog and show her some support as many of you did me. It was an interesting experience to look back at those first months/needs.

Here is a link to my post.
Advice of What to Say/Do

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Dear Daddy

Over the last few days there has been a countdown.
Putting me in a funk and way down low.
My dad's death anniversary.
Until reaching today.
Two years.

I cannot believe it has been so long without you.
Although I have gone longer.
Years without you before realizing how much I loved you.
How much you loved me.
How much I needed you.
Before I realized just how much I am like you.

The way we sit.
Our allergy to conifers.
Our nomadic tendencies.
Our aversion to being too still.
Our addictions.
Our curls.
And our eyes.

I still do not understand what happened that morning.
Why would you?
How could you?
With no warning.
With no final goodbye.

You lived through heartaches before.
Profound losses.
Struggling through life.
And you rolled with the punches.

But yet in ways I understand.
It seemed easy for you.
To be be released.
To be done.
No more thinking.
No more emotions.
No more heartaches.
No more tears.
At least for you.

My dear daddy I miss you.
I love you.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012


Sleep has been escaping me the last few days.
And this year it is not due to the first days of school.
So I am grumpy.
And tired. 

A few nights ago, I had a somewhat disturbing dream.
Part of the dream I have about every other month.
I will describe that part of the dream first.
When I first moved out of my parents' house, I moved in with my boyfriend of the time.
One time, and only one time, when we broke up, I moved back home.
For about forty-eight hours. 
It was not a terrible experience.
But some reason, I am terrified the possibility of this occurring again.
So I dream of it.
At least every other month and, in the dream, for a weird variety of reasons.
I wake up immediately and I am relieved that I am actually at my own place.
And I do not need to move back home.
Or pack.
Or find a new place to live.

Well, a few nights ago, I dreamt I had to move home again.
But this time it was because Roger and I were getting divorced.
I was so upset because it was my second marriage. 
I have no idea who I married the first time.
My sister was living at home too. 
We were back to sharing a room.
She was helping me pack. 
Also, I can never find all my stuff during this reoccurring dream. 
Which is frustrating as hell.
In this particular dream, another ex-boyfriend of mine was helping me find a new place.
It was very strange but Roger was alive.
And he looked good but he would not talk to me.
I woke up in a panic.

Then last night I could not help but think of the shirt Roger wore August 21, 2008.
I still have it.
It hangs in my closet.
I have never worn it.
Although it has been washed once.
After he died. Boo on me.

I remember him coming home from the rental house.
It had been pouring from Tropical Storm Fay.
I had just straightened my hair chemically for the first time.
I remember where I was sitting on the sofa.
I remember Roger just standing there. After driving in pouring rain.
He was frustrated with driving.
I smiled at him. Trying to get him to notice my new hair.
Less than ten hours later.
My heartache begin.
And prayers went unanswered.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012


Reality kicked in at the rehearsal.
I realized I was about to take vows again.
To another man.
I was about to be someone else's wife.
I started to cry.
Everyone thought it was the stress of the day.
I was not stressed about the wedding.
I hired great vendors.
The wedding was taken care of.
But my widow friend knew it was something else.
Something more emotional.
Something more abstract.
I was getting married.
This was real.

I know Roger would want me to marry again.
I have no doubt about that.
During my honeymoon with Mr. X, I had a strange nightmare.
Roger wanted Mr. X and me to re-do our ceremony so he could watch.
So we did.
He watched from the side line.
Afterwards, he said congrats.

It is strange saying husband to Mr. X.
I did not say it much at first.
For me, "husband" referred to another man.
A dead man.
He was a dead husband longer than he was a live one.
And thankfully I have not had to refer to Roger has my "first husband" or anything like that.
(I only had to correct the social security office in that I was NOT divorced but a widow to help her understand why I was keeping Roger's last name).

This past Saturday I had too much time alone.
I watched a sort of sad indie film (The High Cost of Living).
Then I was driving in the car listening to the song I walked down the aisle to in my wedding to Mr. X.
I just started crying.
The school year was done, I pretty much knew my work situation was solved, and we were home from the honeymoon.
I finally starting soaking everything in.
I am married.
I am married to a great guy.
But I was also married to another great guy.

It is scary being married again.
Scared for my heart.
Scared for Mr. X.
Scared for the future.

Yep, August is coming.