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.

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

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.

Sigh...

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.

T.E.R.R.I.F.I.E.D.

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.

Reality

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.
Again.
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.

Gotta Love the Federal Government Or Maybe Not

I am called by my middle name.

Always have.

As a kid, it was annoying.

I was shy and having to tell my teachers the first day of school to call me "Star" instead of my first name was a dreaded experience.

What would the teacher say?

What would the other kids think?

But over the years, I started to like it. 

I noticed that my name was a conversation piece.

People would always ask about my name.

"Where does it come from?"  "Who named you?"  "Are your parents hippies?"

And as an added bonus, I could tell who knew me when the phone rang depending on what name they used.

When I married Roger, it was easy legally to change my name.

I dropped my maiden last name and added Roger's last name.

Cool.

No problem really.

Except for just feeling weird about a new name.

When Mr. X and I become engaged, I was distraught with the name situation.

Mr. X wanted me to have his last name.

Which I get.  Which I want.

But how to change it?

I was concerned about my name being so long if I had four names.

And which parts go where into the standard three part forms if I had four?

And I did not want to drop "Star".

And I did not want to drop Roger's last name.

And I did not want to have a hyphenated last name after talking with some friends. 

What to do? What to do?

At least eight months of indecision, asking others, and debating within myself.

Finally I decided I would drop my first name. 

I got comfortable with that decision.

I got excited about my new upcoming name.

I made up my mind.

So when we came home from our honeymoon to find our marriage record, I was psyched. 

I could start the name change process.

First stop, the federal government's lovely Social Security Administration office.

I checked in.

Opened my book and started reading.

Miraculously after about thirty minutes, my number was called.

Cool.

But then bad news.

Federal government.  Homeland Security.

Cannot change my given first name in anyway.

Cannot be dropped.

Cannot be added to. 

First names must stay exactly the same.

Ugh.  Ugh.  UGH!

So I have four names now.

First Star Roger's Mr. X's. 

I have two middle names.

Which of course is the shortest field of most forms.

This should be fun... Sigh.

Federal government strikes again.

Tomorrow

I am getting married tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
To. mor. row!!
So many feelings.

I woke up at 7am.
I could not go back to sleep.
I am going to be married.
But I was married.
I was happily married.
Before.
Before my life was ripped away from me.

I am so scared.
Scared it is going to be ripped away again.
I cannot go through that again.
Scared Mr. X will leave me.
Scared life will not be as I think.
As I need.
As I want.

It is weird to think I will not be a widow anymore.
At least to most people.
People will think I have forgotten Roger.
Or that I have moved on.
That I do not think of him.

The truth is I think of Roger all the time.

And even more so the last few days.

I cannot even begin to describe how hurt I am that some of Roger's family has abandoned me.
They don't visit when they are in Orlando.
They did not even RSVP to the wedding, respond to messages, texts, or phone calls.
I feel like this wedding is the line in the sand with them.

Some people in my future may never know Roger existed in my life.
And in some ways that is good.
And in other ways it makes me sad.

I am trying hard to focus on the positive feelings.
Push away the fear.
Enjoy the day.
Enjoy my new husband.