Wednesday, June 30, 2010

My Arm

I hate the scar on my forearm from the accident.
For some reason, especially in the last few months, it seems to be in view all the time.
Every time I look down, it is there.
Every time I look in the mirror, it is there again.
Staring at me.

I thought it would look different by now.
I thought it would blend in more with my skin.
I thought the hair would grow normally like the rest of my arm.
Instead it is still very pink and darker skin tone.
The hair grows backwards.
The skin pulls strangely when I rotate my arm.
There is a strange light pink line that goes toward my hand from it.

The scar reminds me that I survived.
That my injuries were recoverable.
Roger did not survive and his injuries were too great.
With this scar staring at me, I will always have to live with some remembrance of the accident day on a constant basis.
Of course, I would probably remember every day anyway.
But the scar makes me think about the accident versus remembering Roger on everyday before August 22nd.

I have tried creams.
I take vitamins which did initially help some.
I just want it to be less obvious.
To be something I do not notice ALL the time.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

MySpace Fail

I decided about a month ago I finally wanted to delete Roger's MySpace account.
I was getting strange comments and messages.
Plus, it was just starting to bug me that his profile was out there.
With pictures and his words floating in cyberspace.

In the two years I have had to deal with estate issues, deleting a MySpace account is up there in the top ten annoying and frustrating things I had to do.
I had access to his profile.
I could log in so of course I had access.
So you would think I could easily delete his profile.
Nope. Not at all.
I do not have access to his old AOL email account.
So I cannot complete the confirmation process of deleting it.

I emailed their helpdesk.
I needed to make a copy of his death certificate and prove my relationship with him.
I found a few moments yesterday (the joyous things I get to do in my spare time) and I scanned in a copy of his death certificate into a PDF.
Finally, I thought, I can get this done.

The email address I was asked to send it to does not accept this type of attachments per the automatic response.
So I turned my husband's death certificate into a JPEG.
Same damn response.
The actual person kept replying they had not received any attachment.
I replied their firewall was blocking the attachments, dimwits.

The attachment must be smaller than 4MB.
I edited my husband's death certificate in Photoshop to make it smaller.
Now that's not an odd sentence.
Sent again.
Same fucking response!

Real person replied.
Just fax it over.
Or put "Remove Profile" in his "About me" section.
No fax access. Just the "Remove Profile".
"We will submit the profile for removal consideration."
Consideration? CONSIDERATION!?!

Of all the crappy things I have been charged to do in this whole process.
I swear, fighting with MySpace has once again confirmed my dislike for the site.
Where is that dislike button?

My own MySpace is now gone gone gone.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

365 Days of Star

A few months ago, I saw the movie (500) Days of Summer.  
Today Mr. X and I celebrated his 365th day of Star.  

It is hard to believe I have been dating for a year now.

But I am glad.
I am lucky to have such a great guy who understands.
Who lets me cry.
Who lets me laugh.
Who does not judge me when my widow humor gets the best of me.  

I am lucky to have a guy who boldly meets those who loved Roger. 
To have a guy who is okay with me saying "Roger" every once in a while.
A guy who will listen to my Roger stories and really listen.

Although Mr. X does not read this blog, I would like to thank him for 365 days of love and understanding.  

Monday, June 21, 2010


Lately quite a few people have told me I look happy.
And I am happy.  
I do not want people to think I am not happy.
I am definitely in a better place emotionally.


And maybe this is selfish but sometimes I am afraid to say "I am happy."
I am afraid people will suddenly be like "Oh good, I can stop asking about you and go on with my own life."
I am afraid people will think I do not think of Roger or still love Roger.
I am afraid people will think the grief is over.

I still have sleepless nights.  
I still have a permanent video tape that runs through my head of the accident.
And another one of Roger actually dying.  
It has recently been on almost full time.

There is still a part of me that is sad.
I still cry on a fairly regular basis.
But I do not talk about it.
Or even let anyone, including Mr. X, see me cry.  

I try to think back before all of this.
Was I ever truly "happy" before?
Did I answer "I am happy" before?
In fact, I did say it before.  
But back then I did HATE my job.
I did have insomnia every Sunday night.
And I was not completely happy with my body.
But I still answered "I am happy".  

I almost feel like people are tired of me.
They want me to be happy so they can feel released.  
And part of me wants to give it to them.
And part of me does not.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day

One of my cats was undeniably Roger's cat.
Roger and I joked that she had his personality.
Where I like order, Roger did not mind chaos.
Gizmo's coat was anything but symmetrical or ordered.
One foot does not even look like it belongs to her.

Gizmo is not a huge lovie dovie cat.
Roger was not a hugely physically affectionate person.
Gizmo likes to be petted but not come and sit with people.
She likes to be challenged.
She likes puzzles like Roger.
She is quiet.
She stares with intensity.

She loved Roger.
She would sit near him and would greet him when he came home.

After Roger died, she became a little more attached to me.
Siting next to me.
Coming up on the couch to be near me.
Greeting me upon my return home.

However, since about six months after Mr. X started hanging around more, I become replaced.
Gizmo loves Mr. X.
She will abandon time with me to go wherever he calls her.
She will talk to him.
She will almost fall off the couch to get near him if he standing nearby.
She has become his cat.

And this morning I thought about how my cats are like my very furry kids, I wondered if my cats are now "step-children" for Mr. X.
He feeds them.
He loves them.
He plays with them.
And I was almost tempted to say "Happy Father's Day" from Gizmo.
But something would not let me go there.
Something felt weird to say it.


Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Weird Conversation

My sister-in-law, Grace, and I get along really well.
She is more like a sister to me.
Like a big sister I never had. Until now.
I love spending time with her and we make a good team, I think, when we have to do things together.
As we have found out in the last few years.

To top things off, we sort of look-a-like.
Dark hair. Darker complexion. Dark eyes.  Similar body type.
At one point, her mother, my mother-in-law, mistakenly thought I was Grace from behind.
We have been asked many times if we are "real" sisters.
This weekend was no exception.

Grace and I were setting up some tables for a family baby shower this weekend.
A distant relative who was in town came up to us.
The following happened:

Distant relative: "Are you two sisters?"
I look at Grace and she looks at me.
I say, "Sorta" and smile.
Grace smiles as well.
Roger hated to be reminded that we looked alike and could be sisters.
Distant relative: "What do you mean 'sorta'?"
I was thinking: "Really dude?"
I said: "I was married to her brother."
"Oh, are you divorced?"
Thinking: "Oh my. Really?!?  Because no one my age is widowed, right?"
But said: "No. My husband died."
"Oh, that was you?! In the car accident.  I saw the pictures but never realized..."

Then the situation just got awkward.  I just smiled and zoned out.
Grace, living up to her name, handled the situation.
I just continued to smile and say "Thank you" after he offered his condolences.

I hate getting "caught" like that.
I did not think this weekend or place would ever have those weird conversations.
I guess I am never safe.
I really need to come up with an approach.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Seven Pounds

"Seven Pounds" came out in December after Roger died.
Per many of my friends, it was on my forbidden list of movies to see.
And for a while I obliged.  

I sort of knew the premise of the movie - a guy donating his organs.
I did not realize the entire plot of this movie.
Over the weekend, I watched this movie as it was on TV for free. 

Will Smith's character was texting while driving (a huge pet peeve of mine).
And was in a car accident where his wife was killed along with the people in the other car.
Smith's character decides to kill himself however he wants to donate parts of his body and life to people he deems good and deserving.  
At the end of the movie, those who benefited from his gift get to meet each other.

It was a great movie and great story line.
Back in December 2008, I thought people did not want me to watch the movie due to the organ donation part.
What I did not realize was the car accident part.
The widower part.
The part where perhaps my friends and family thought I may have been suicidal.
Maybe they thought I would try something similar or thought it was a good idea.

In reality, I was never suicidal then or since then.  
But it was a good idea for me not to see that movie back in December 2008.

At home on my own couch, I started to get antsy as the movie progressed.
As he flashed back to the accident.
As he saw his wife's bloody body at the scene.
I could relate.  This part of the movie was right on the money.
I have been reliving the accident a lot lately.
I have been seeing Roger's blood on my hands and on his head.
I have been trying to remember the details (again).
It never goes away really but currently it is fluxing again.

As the movie ended, I was in a heap of tears.
Afterwards, I had to walk away. 
The emotions were overwhelming.
Thinking back to it, the tears reappear.

Thinking back to it all, the tears reappear.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Our First Trip

Travel is super important to me.
I love to travel and explore new places and new cultures.
I have not been able to do it as much recently but I do love it.
Love. It.

I knew one thing Mr. X and I would have to do together before moving onto the next step of our relationship was... travel together.
I am picky about my traveling partners.
In the past, I traveled a lot alone just to avoid a traveling partner and related issues.
Paris. Sydney. London. San Diego.
I like to do what I like to do on a trip.
When in a serious relationship, traveling together can make it or break it for me.
So this was an important step.

My nerves and PTSD started to rear its head.
A trip.
A highway to the airport.
In a car.
Just like the trip to the airport with my mother, I was super anxious.
However I was in the driver seat.
And I thought maybe the situation would be reversed.
I had visions of me bleeding from the head and Mr. X looking at me from the side of the car.
But we arrived at the airport safe and sound.

We flew together.
We had fun together on the plane.
We were a team.

The weekend went well.
No other PTSD effects.
No fighting.
Lovely traveling together.
A good travel partner indeed.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Ding Dong

Yesterday I had to go to the rental house- Roger's first house.
I have not been there in a long time.
My renters are fantastic and I rarely have to go to the property.

But starting at the exit off the highway.
Yes, the same highway the accident happened on.
The memories starting flying into my head.

The hundreds of times I drove this exact path to Roger's house.
The hundreds of times we drove this path together.

Driving into the neighborhood, it was strange.
Most things are the same but things are also different.
Trees are a bit taller and fuller.
More ducks are lining the street near the front.
The pavement has been redone recently.

As I drove down the street the house is on I wondered if anyone recognized my car.
I wondered if they recognized me.
I seriously doubt it but I still thought it.

I had the house painted last year so at least that looks different.
The big oak tree in the front though and the palm tree I could see from the master bath.
They are the same. Bigger, but the same.

Then when I rang the doorbell.
I almost for half a second expected Roger to come to the door.
I felt this sort of anticipation of seeing him.
I looked in the side window hoping to see him walking toward the door.

I remembered the times I would ring the doorbell even way after Roger gave me a key.
I did it as a joke.
Knowing he was probably under dressed.
I would see his feet first as he got close to the side window.
Then his skinny legs.
And his smile.
I would smile as he answered the door in his boxers and making sure no one else could see him.
"Why did you ring the doorbell?"
"No reason" as I just smiled.

I half expected him yesterday.
Except then I remembered this is not his house anymore.
And he does not live there anymore.