Defending Roger

Roger's Diploma on the office wall (camera phone photo)*

I cannot remember when I took Roger's diploma off the wall in the office.
But at some point I moved it into the office closet.
I had a plan for it.
Not a great plan though according to Mr. X.

Roger's diploma was professionally framed.
It was fairly expensive.
So I thought once I received my own diploma I would open up the back and take Roger's out then put mine in.
About a month ago, I received my diploma and one afternoon I decided to implement my plan.
Mr. X was home.
I told him I was going to go frame my diploma.
He followed me into the office as I took Roger's diploma out of the closet.
"What are you doing?!?"
"I am going to put my diploma in this frame."
"No you are not.  That is Roger's diploma."
"Yes, I am going to take his out and put mine in."
"And then what?"
I was not sure.
Mr. X continued to push for Roger's rights.
"That was a big accomplishment for him.  You should not take it out of the frame.  What will you do with the actual piece of paper? Put it away in a closet? Look at it every five years?"
I really did not think that far in advance.
Mr. X continued...
"We should have it on the wall."
"But where?"
"In here.  In the upstairs bedroom. On a wall. But somewhere, not in a closet"
I asked, "What about my diploma?"
"Just spend the money and get it framed."

I started to tear up.
Mr. X was defending Roger.
Two of them against one of me.
So I gave in.
And agreed to take my diploma to Michael's to have it framed as well.
But then another thought...

"What about our kids?" I asked.
"What about them? They will know Roger. Would you not tell them about him?"
And Mr. X is right. It is not like my house is completely Roger-free.
There is a picture near our bedroom.
Roger's clock in our office.
A few pictures in the office.
More pictures in the workout room.
A trunk full of Roger related items upstairs in a closet.
So he is still here in ways.
And I am really not sure how or when I would tell my children about Roger.
When they ask?
Or as they visit Abuela's house?
And how do I explain death to them?
I guess we'll figure it out as we go but I could not help and think of how to explain this person Mommy was married to before Daddy.

Today I received my diploma back.
So on the wall it went.
And Mr. X hung Roger's as well.

*I purposefully blurred out Roger's formal name and inserted "Roger's name".

I Wore a Gold Dress

I wore a light gold dress to Roger's graduation.
It had glitter within the material.
Every time I wore it, glitter would be all over my face and my body.
And whoever else was near me.
For days.

As I walked in to the arena that morning, a man commented on my dress.
"Lovely dress."
I smiled.
"Thanks!"

The weather was slightly cool that day.
But beautiful.
Grace, Roger's sister was there, as well as my mother-in-law.
We were all so proud.
We were all so happy for him.

Roger did not need a degree exactly.
He had loads of experience in the computer industry so he could easily get hired anywhere.
But most of the time the HR department of companies wanted some sort of degree.
So Roger went to school part-time for years to get his bachelors.
In philosophy, no less.
Not computer engineering or computer science or anything like that.
He liked the logic and elegance of philosophy.
So yes, perhaps a crappy degree for finding a job right out of school but it was a degree none the less.
The piece of paper he needed.

After Roger died, I let a friend borrow that gold dress.
And I never got it back unfortunately.
In a way, I want to wear in on Saturday for my own graduation.
To remind myself of Roger.
To have him close to me.
To remind myself of his day.
But sadly it is not in my closet.
Sigh...

Forgetting

My dad & me - Easter 1981

Maybe I needed a new dose of grief to remind me of how far I have come in the last 2.5 years.
I am mostly okay during the day.
I can get through life and joke and smile.
I can do the tasks I need to do.
Much different than the first week with Roger's death of course.
But my dad was not part of my everyday routine.

It is at night.
When the world starts to shut down.
It is when I am not busy.
It is when I pass by the picture of my dad holding me as a baby that has been in my kitchen for a while now.
I was about six and half months old and my dad was about to turn twenty-two.
In this picture, like in most of my memories, my dad is smiling.  Maybe even laughing.
I can still hear his laugh almost giggle.

On Tuesday, I just wanted to call my dad.
Tell him this horrible nightmare I had.
He would tell me I was being silly.
Nothing like that would ever happen.
But it did.
A week ago today.
Three Kings Day will never be the same for me.
The official end of the Christmas season will always be a bit tainted.
Sigh...

Thirty

My daddy and me - May 2007

A few weeks ago when I was re-learning earth science for one of my certifications, I learned this term called constructive interference.

Basically, it is when two similar waves are in the same medium the waves combine into a bigger wave.

On Thursday afternoon, a new wave came.

My dad unexpectedly passed away.

I have been debating whether to write how he died but since this grief is a bit different, I will reveal.

Thursday morning, my dad committed suicide.  

He was not old.

He was not sick.

He was not in an accident.

He decided for himself the day he would die.

It was selfish and I am angry.

But I am also very very sad.

It is very unlike him.

I have other family members who threaten suicide like they are ordering dinner.  

But not my daddy.

Nope. 

He was happy go lucky.

He was always smiling and laughing.  

We did not have the closest relationship.

My parents separated and later divorced when I was four.  

It was a tremulous divorce to say the least.

My mother hated my father and she was not afraid to tell us.  

But when I was in my early twenties I realized it was not him.  

He did love me.  He did care about what I did.

I could call him and truly talk to him.  Not just a surface conversation.

The day I changed my last name.  I called my daddy.  

When Roger died, my daddy drove from Virginia to Florida to help me.  To be with me.

He was himself and talked with my friends.

He helped clean out my garage and organize Roger's tools.  

My daddy and I look alike.

We act alike.  

I am my father's daughter. Proudly.

When I look in the mirror, I see my daddy.  I have for years.

But now it is painful.

I forgot how all of this feels in the beginning.

How my body is heavier.

How I just feel low and blue.

How my attention starts to drift after just a few minutes.  

I thought I was feeling a bit better until I came back to my home in Florida.

Back to reality.

For the first time since Thursday afternoon, I am alone.

And I certainly feel it.  

I know this will be different. 

My daddy was not a part of my everyday life.  However, my heart is still broken.

I feel even more of every feeling for his wife.

I hate she has to start on this journey.  

Join the club no one wants to join.

I wondered how old I would be when one of my parents passed away.
Thirty.

18

During one of my grief sessions, my counselor asked me who I was before.
Before I was a bride.
Before I was a newlywed.
Before I was a widow.
She asked about things I enjoyed before.

It was a hard question.
At that point, it had been a long time that I did not have any of those titles.
We were engaged for fifteen months.
Married for six.
And I had been widowed for about six months.

I started to talk about photography.
How I loved taking photos.
How I always had a point-n-shoot camera in my purse for years and years.
My smile started to appear.
She encouraged me to pick my camera back up.
To start finding things to enjoy again.

Photography relaxes me.
It makes me smile.
To capture a bit of beauty in a strange new way or a true smile of a child or the expanding belly of a pregnant belly.

The past few weeks I have been struggling so much.
Sadness is been sweeping over me.
Loneliness is sitting on my shoulders.

I wanted to take some beautiful photos this past weekend.
While on a tiny vacation, I wanted to find some things to capture.
Things to photograph.
But... disappointment is all I found.
While Mr. X and I explored Charleston, rain poured from the sky for two of our three days.
I saw tons of things to take photos of but I could not risk all the rain.

Sigh...

Being Brave

Time and time again I was told, especially in the beginning of this journey, that I am brave.
And as I have said I do not see myself as brave.
I am a widow.  I get up out of bed the same way as everyone else.
I breathe in and out because I have to.
I go on because I have to.
Bravery is more about doing something frightening voluntarily.
I did not chose this life voluntarily by any means.
I just have to live in it.

However, a little while ago, after some encouragement from some fabulous friends, I did something brave.
I decided to start a small photography business.
Location photography for families.

Roger encouraged me a lot while he was alive to pursue my love of photography more.
He tried to get me to sell my calendars I would make each year.
He tried to get me to sell my photos as stock photography.
But I did not have enough faith in myself.
I just had fun when I took photos of my friends and family.

When I got the website to a rough draft level, I cried.
I wanted to show Roger my work.
I felt proud of myself.
I am actually doing it.
Roger would be proud, I think.
Even if it does not work out, he would smile at me.

I feel like this adventure is walking out on a limb for me.
I could easily fail.
And perhaps I am not the greatest yet.
But I am the beginner.  This I accept.
I have a lot of improving to do and knowledge to gain.

This to me is scary.
Investing some time, energy, and money into something that has a 50% failure rate.
Something that a year from now may not exist.
This is being brave.

Three Years

Three years ago, this picture was taken.
I was giddy.  Roger was sick.
Three years ago, we moved into this house.
I finally had the stability I needed.

I had dreams of Christmases to come with family and friends.
Of Thanksgivings with the Jimenezes.
Of July 4th parties with all our friends.
Of Halloween parties.
Maybe some neat flowers and gardening.

I wanted to make "our" place.
I wanted to paint the rooms.
Decorate in "our" style.
We had the perfect niche for wedding photos.
Roger dreamt of having a personal gym at home.
Maybe one day of teaching some small groups again.
We had our offices.
We had tons of room to grow together.

And Roger's mom had dreams too.
She wanted to hear the pitter patter of feet as she stated during her Thanksgiving grace prayer.
The one and only Thanksgiving we had together here.

And as I have stated, I reflect a lot.
I reflect on then and now.
It is not a new habit for me.
Quite an old one actually but it is a bit more melancholy now.

I started thinking of how different my life is now.
I live in the same house.
A small feat for me as I have not lived in the same house for more than 2.5 years since I was in middle school.
A girl who in the span of ten years moved about twelve times or more.

And although my address is stable.
This is not the life I thought I would have standing on the lawn of our new home that day, smiling from ear to ear.
I have a roommate again.
A situation I did not foresee ever happening again.
I am not with Roger.
I am with Mr. X.
I am not working.
I am in school full time.
I am not a software analyst consultant.
I am going to be a teacher.

Yes, I have our place.
But now "our" is a different pair of people.
It is scary to me to see how different my life has become.

What will the next three years hold?
What will the next year hold?

Halfway

I loved the priest who married us.

He was a cuddly old man who you just wanted to hug.

He felt grandfatherly.

He was also humorous.

He made fun of Catholics.

To top it all off, he had a brilliant idea right before the wedding.

I was walking myself down the aisle.

I was independent. I could do this myself.

But...

Father Ed told Roger to meet me about one-third of the way from the alter.

So then Roger would escort me to the alter.

As a couple we would approach our wedding ceremony.

As a team we take our vows.

The day of the wedding, Roger met me with his gentle smile and loving eyes.

He looked so cute.

His hair a little messy.

All dressed up in his morning suit with his tux tails.

I did not have to take those last steps down the aisle alone.

He offered me his arm. And I willingly accepted.

Roger was by my side.

We were doing this together.

I was no longer alone.

P.S. Just FYI, clicking on the photo brings up a larger version

October 1, 2007

It was a Monday.

It was my birthday.

I took the day off.

Roger had bought us two year passes to Universal.

We were on our way to ride some roller coasters.

I was excited.

I love roller coasters.

We also had dinner with friends.

Just a few friends at PF Changs.

Followed by a night of bowling.

It was a fairly low key night.

But I was excited about one important thing.

My last single lady birthday.

By the next birthday I would be married.

I could not wait for my first married birthday.

To get my first "wife" birthday card.

But, the next year, October 2008, I was not married.

I did not receive my first wife card.

I went to the beach with some friends.

Had dinner with some girl friends.

And the day after my birthday, I met with a life insurance guy.

To "investigate" Roger's death.

Crapola...

August 7, 2007

It was August 7, 2007.

Roger was turning 33.

And as he proclaimed the year of his enlightenment.

The year of his life he would become a husband.

He compared it to the same year of Jesus' life and Mohammed but I am not sure what exactly he meant by that.

For his birthday that year, he wanted to learn how to surf.

"Yes dear. Whatever you want. It is your day."

It was one of his life goals. How could I say no?

Why would I say no?

It was a Tuesday.

We both took the day off from work.

We woke up semi-early.

Drove over to Cocoa Beach.

And met up with the instructor.

Roger was excited.

Like a little boy getting his Christmas wish.

I was official photographer.

Not great photographer but the day was recorded.

There is even a video somewhere.

Roger was a natural at surfing of course.

He was so athletic that he got it right away.

He was happy.

I was happy.

The few hours of lessons went by quickly.

He wanted more.

Afterwards, Roger talked about how he was going to do this more and more.

He even wanted to buy a board.

"Sure dear. After the wedding. And you have come here several times before you commit to a board."

He agreed.

And perhaps he would have done this.

I would have not minded at all.

I was never one to stand in front of Roger's dreams.

If he wanted to do something and we had the money, then I would encourage him.

So he had a lot of random hobbies.

So what.

He was enjoying his life.

And that is what makes me happy most days even now.

I was with him while he was enjoying his life.

He was meeting silly life goals like learning to surf.

Why would I stop him?

I am glad I got to be with him in his year of enlightenment.

I am glad he had a great year being 33.

I am glad I was there.

"You Have All the Time in the World"

I hear "You have all the time in the world" a lot.

Especially when talking about getting school finished.

Working.

Dating.

Traveling.

Living.

Over and over again.

But how do people know I have all this said time.

I thought I had all the time in the world to spend with Roger.

Roger thought he had all the time in the world.

But he did not.

He ran out of time.

What if I run out of time?

Life is short.

Life is too damn short.

Roger used to say the same thing to me about having loads of time.

When we first started officially dating and I started to really fall for him, he was really busy.

He was going to school, working full time, and then he was out of town on the weekends.

So for about six weeks, I barely saw him.

I was annoyed.

I was very annoyed.

Roger kept saying, "Don't worry. We will see each other soon. We have our whole lives to spend with each other."

Of course he said this way before we were even talking about marriage.

Or at least before I was thinking of marriage.

He was already threatening to propose at that point.

But we did not have our whole lives.

We only had three years together.

We were only married six very short months of those three years.

And he died one random day.

He was not sick.

He did not have cancer.

He was strong and healthy.

So, how do people know that I have all this time?

How can they be so sure?

Did they know Roger was going to die?

Did they know and not tell me?

I think not.

No one knew.

And yet everyone keeps telling me how much time I have.

Ugh.

More Photos to Share

These photos were taken at Lake Eola in downtown, Orlando.  

I love my camera.  

I love creating something like this.  

It gives me a new joy.  

It is my new therapy.  

I hope you enjoy.

Click on the photos to see a better view.

I <3 Scoobie

A few months ago, my wedding photographer turned friends, Scoobie and his wife Lisa, asked what they could do for me. At first, I could not think of anything.

What did I need?  

But finally, I found something.  A small thing.

I decided that I wanted to do some professional pictures that were of just me.

Me alone.

Me alone and not wedding related.  

Not to mention, I feel different.

I feel like I look better than before.

I look more like me.  

The vision of me.

The me I have in my head.  

So two weeks ago, he did these photos.

At one of my favorite Orlando locations, Casa Feliz.  

And I love them.

He did an amazing job as always.

A good photograph just boosts my confidence so much.  

Makes me feel less defeated.

More determined to make it through.

A boost that I can do it.

I have done it.

And I will continue to do it.

Some Cool Camping Pictures

Ormond/Flagler Beach

Nearby River

Road to the camp site

Old tree near our campsite

Some of my photos

A few weeks ago, I bought a new camera.

A cool fancy schmancy one.  

I love it and its just so much fun.

It is also just so rewarding to have something that turns out good.  

Something I can sorta kinda control.

At least I will be able to control it in the future when I experiment more.

But here are some of my photos.  

Don't judge too harshly.  

Photos

The ring

I talked about my new ring back in December.

I also mentioned the meltdown I had in the jewelry store.

However, I forgot to actually show the end product.

So this is it.

My new ring.

The center diamond is my engagement ring diamond.

It is surrounded by my wedding band diamonds and some sapphires I added since our wedding colors were blue and navy.

I am so in love with it.

I love looking at it.

I love looking as my hand rests on the steering wheel while driving and seeing it.

It almost feels like it did when I first put it on as an engagement ring.

And then again as a set.

It no longer has the feel of "I am a widow".

I am no longer haunted by what it used to mean.

It is new again.

And yet it still reminds me of my beautiful husband and our beautiful marriage.

I no longer feel like people are staring at my hand and if they are it is because they are mesmerized by my beautiful ring.