Little old me.
It was just a great present for me.
I was so thrilled to have them here.
Here with me.
As a family.
Roger's mom had not been up to visit the house since the funeral.
I knew it may be difficult for her.
And based on some things she said to my sister-in-law, she was a bit taken back with all the changes in my house.
I mean, I have covered furniture with slip covers.
I have painted the walls.
I have removed some Roger-specific decor.
I have added my own sense of style.
I have moved some things.
I have removed most of the wedding pictures.
I have started to make it my house.
I have to in order for me to be able to stay here and be comfortable.
In order to start to move forward.
When they left on Sunday afternoon, I also had Grace, my sister-in-law, take my wedding dress.
I could not stand it to me here any longer and it did help to have it removed.
This was also hard for my mother-in-law.
She told Grace she was afraid of losing me.
She is afraid of losing me?!
And perhaps she thinks I am eradicating Roger from my life.
Which is impossible like I have said.
Roger has made a huge impact on me.
And nothing will change that.
No amount of stuff or new people in my life will change that.
The crazy thing is I had the same thoughts back on Tuesday night, August 26, 2008.
As the doctors told me that Roger was not going to survive.
That he was going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life.
That he was never going to open his eyes.
That he was never going to walk again.
That he was never going to be Roger again.
And they also informed me, if all that was not enough, that I was legally responsible for his care.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Some of my first thoughts as I knew what the right decision to make was that Roger's family was going to hate me.
I kept repeating it to the doctor, the nurse, my doctor friend, and the chaplain.
"They are going to hate me. They are never going to speak to me again. They are absolutely going to just hate me."
I was so scared of losing them.
They are my family.
I did not nor do I ever want to lose them.
Any of them.
I am one of the lucky ones.
I married into a wonderful family.
My sister-in-law is the best.
My mother-in-law is fun, sweet, and adorable.
The cousins are fantastic.
The aunts and uncles love me like I am one of their own.
I got a great deal- an amazing husband and his amazing family.
I was stoked to be part of that.
But standing there in the middle of that ICU, I thought the walls of that great family support system was going to crumble.
I was losing my husband. I did not want to lose my family.
I could not bare the thought.
And for the most part, I have not lost any of them.
They love me just as much.
They never hated me.
They knew I made the right decision.
And they call still me their niece, their cousin, their daughter, and their sister.
And I am very grateful.
I love them so much.
The fact of the matter is they are stuck with me.
No matter what happens in my life.
No matter when I get remarried.
No matter if I have children.
They are my family and anyone I bring into my life will be their family too.
Death may have ended my marriage.
But death does not separate families.
So to all my inherited family out there reading this blog, you got me for life.
And for that I am eternally grateful.