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.

40 Some More Days

Weddings should be a time of stress, excitement, and happiness.
But I feel like I am tainted.
I am excited.
I am happy.
I am stressed.
I am also scared.
Not of things at the wedding going wrong.
But of life going wrong.
Again.

For my birthday, I want a wife card.
But what if I am not a wife on my birthday.

Mr. X talked about having a wife for Christmas this year.
But what if...

Part of me is so beyond scared.

What if life falls apart again?
I do not know if I have the strength to go through this again.
As all widows know, we are still going through it the first time on a daily basis.
But to have double....

Please dear God.
Please.

"Family"

This Christmas was going to be the first.

The first time I (and Mr. X) went to Miami for Christmas since Roger's death.

The first time we were going to spend this holiday with Roger's family.

I was excited.

I was nervous.

I was looking forward to it.

I remember the Tuesday when the doctor wanted to speak to me in person.

The day when he told me all bets were off.

Roger was done.

"This is as good as it will get."

A million thoughts were running through my head.

And one big thought: I was going to lose Roger's family.

First, they would hate me.

Because of course this was all my fault. 

Second, they would leave me.

This wonderful gift of family that Roger had given to me was going to disappear.

But I was reassured.

I was told that would never happen.

"You will always be my prima."

"My niece, Star."

And I believed it.

Those who loved me before would love me still.

I believed it with my entire being.

In some ways, it is true.

Some of the family is still my family.

Like I feel so connected to Grace.

She is truly a big sister to me.

I can talk to her about anything.

I cannot imagine my life without her in it.

And sometimes, for a tiny, minuscule split second, I forget how we are connected.

How we both miss him.

How things would have been.

And in other ways, I feel the pulling.

Especially now that I am getting married again.

With June fast approaching.

Family that barely says anything to me when I am in the room.

Family that visits Orlando without even a peep. 

Family who will not even consider coming to my wedding to Mr. X.

So Gizmo's health this holiday season dictated that we would not go to Miami for Christmas.

We fear the stress of leaving her may hurt her kidneys more.

And I can almost feel the relief of some.

To know the Gringa will not be there.

Do they think I do not think of Roger daily?

That I have forgotten?

That because I am getting married I am over it all?

That I did not love him?

That I do not love him still?

That I cannot talk of Roger?

That they cannot talk of Roger?

Sigh... 

What would Roger think of you all now?   

The Veil

My veil from my first wedding was amazing!
I loved it so much.
One of my maids of honor made it custom.
On one of my trips to New York, we picked out all the materials.
I loved the soft tulle and lace along the edge.
It complimented my dress perfectly.
People still make comments on my veil.
The best part it only cost $57.

The veil currently lives in the Roger closet upstairs.
Every once in a while I pull it out.
Touch the soft fabric.
And then put it back in the bag.
I wish I could find someway to use it again.

When Mr. X and I got engaged, I started thinking about what veil I would choose.
No veil I could purchase would compare.
And the maid of honor who previously made my veil no longer lives in the US.
But I do not want another veil.
I do not need another veil.
I cannot imagine wearing a different veil.

Mr. X is super understanding.
He is awesome in so many ways.
But there are limits.
And limits I completely understand.
I asked Mr. X if I could re-wear my veil.
But he does not feel comfortable with that idea.
And I get it.

So for me.
This time I will not wear a veil.
And in a way, I see it as a symbol.
I have been unveiled.
I am not the innocent bride I once was.
I have lived the worst nightmare ever.
And I am a survivor of that nightmare.
Yes, the grief monster still lives in my closet and under my bed.
But I am not hiding.
I am not veiled.

The Dress

Last time, I had my wedding dress within the first thirty days of being engaged.

And that was way early.

Roger and I were engaged for a total of sixteen months. 

Mr. X and I have been engaged for two and a half months.

I have walked into one bridal shop for about fifteen minutes.  

But I have not tried one dress on.

Why?

First, because I am scared of it.

I know I will feel like a bride for sure then.

It will truly sink in.

A bride.  Widow-ness in the shadows. 

Right now I feel like I am planning a party mostly.

And a tiny bit like a bride. 

Secondly, because I am not happy with my body.

I remember looking at my wedding photos to Roger on my first anniversary.

I was huge.

I did not feel huge then.

But once I went on the dead-husband diet, I was so skinny.

And I looked pretty hot and sexy. 

I was hot when Mr. X met me.

And although I am working on it with diet and exercise, I know I will not be where I want to be.

I do not feel hot.

I do not feel sexy.

I feel huge.

And I will be a huge bride again.

Which makes me sad.

So part of me wants to wait.

Wait on my body.

Wait on my spirit.

But then the planner part of me wants to check it off the list.

Even the online checklist is yelling at me to start shopping.

I partly want to go alone.

But I know I will regret that decision within about five minutes.

In my very brief walk into that one bridal store, I was trembling.

And I wanted my friend who was waiting with her daughter (no children were allowed) to be by my side.  

Sigh... 

I know I have until September/October to do this.

But I also know my life will get super busy very, very soon.

I wish I could lift my confidence.

I think that would help me.

Confidence, please go up.  

Please!!

The Top Tier

On Monday, Mr. X and I are meeting with our caterer to discuss the details of the wedding.
I am looking forward to this but there is one question...
The top tier of our cake.

Roger and I did not save ours.
Well, we intended to.
But that cake was damn good.
So we ate it before our honeymoon and when we got back.

And after he died,
And as I approached the my first wedding anniversary.
Alone.
I thought about the what if.
What if we had not eaten our cake?
How long would have that tier stayed in my fridge?
Would I have eaten it alone?
Would I have thrown it out?
Would it still be there sitting three and half years later?
Haunting me?
There or not, it does still haunt me.

And now as Mr. X and I approach our wedding,
What will we do?
Eat it?
Save it?
Risk it?

And yes, my fear is, we will not make it to our first anniversary.
Not because of divorce.
Because of death striking one of us.
I have never had a wedding anniversary.
My marriage ended after only six months.
We did not even get to celebrate that.
The accident was the day before.

But do I risk it? Or eat it?
And if we eat the cake does that mean I do not have the faith we will make it?
Or that it is another fantastic cake?
But what if "it" happens again?
What if I get stuck with a top tier of cake in my fridge?
Sigh...

Being Recognized

Yesterday Mr. X and I went to a food tasting for our caterer.
They are public group events where they put out about twenty different menu options to try.
While looking at table linen options, a girl approached me.
I had seen her when we first went in and noticed she stared at me.
"Star?"
My first thought was one of the readers of this blog recognized me as I tried to place how I knew her.
"Yes?"
"I met you at Rusty's wedding. We sat at the same table."
I started to remember her.
At Rusty's wedding, I sat with one of Roger's old friends from martial arts club, Nathan, and this girl who was his girlfriend at the time.
She remembered Mr. X as well.
It was the first wedding we attended together.
She is no longer dating Roger's old friend but one of the instructors from the martial arts club.
The instructor insisted he was at my wedding to Roger.
I asked if he was sure.  I mean, I did do all the names for placecards and I have looked at the pictures a million times.
He was not at my wedding.  Roger did not even like this guy.
We did not invite him. And he was not anyone's plus one.  I knew all the plus ones.
No, I know where he was.
He was at Roger's funeral.
That I remember.
It was a shock he was there.
Those are mostly the people I remember at the funeral.

It was beyond weird to run into this girl.
And her new boyfriend.
Weird especially to be reminded of Roger's funeral at a wedding-to-Mr. X event.

Picking Out Vows

I have to say for the most part wedding planning is going very smoothly, knock on wood.
I am even enjoying myself.
We are getting the vendors we want.
All my bridesmaids said yes.
And things are shaping up fairly well.
Mr. X and I are getting quite a bit done before I head into the classroom in the fall.
The tricky parts are, of course, making it "our" wedding.
And making it a different enough that it is still me and does not remind me of wedding #1.

One of the things that tugged at my heart stings quite a bit was picking vows.
Our officiant gave us a huge list of ones to choose from but Mr. X did not want too much "God" talk.
And I did not want any "one true love".
Or super short vows that did not sound sincere and sacred.
Oddly I wanted "death do us part".
And from this huge list we did not find any that we loved.

So I went into the office.
I had a book.
Actually I inherited a book.
A wedding ceremony book.
As I searched for the perfect set of vows I saw Roger's small handwriting from the one wedding ceremony he had performed.
But in that small brown book I found them.
The absolutely perfect wedding vows.

"I, Mr. X, take you, Star

As my dear and lawful wife.

I commit myself to you as your faithful husband,

To honor you as a person,

To love you as my companion,

And to cherish you.

I intend the love I have for you now to be only the beginning of the love I will come to have for you.

I look forward to sharing my life with you,

Whatever the future holds,

And I will comfort you,

Confide in you,

And travel with you from this day forth,

Whatever the conditions of our lives or of the world around us."

As wedding planning is coming into full force
And Father's Day is almost here
I am missing my dad sooo much.
Daily there are reminders he is not here.

My dad did not attend my wedding to Roger.
He was not sure his truck could make it.
And he did not have the money for the flight.
I accepted this fact as much as I could.

So I walked the aisle myself.
We did not do a father-daughter dance.
No photos taken with my daddy in my wedding dress.

And now as I plan my next wedding,
[It always sounds weird to say: "my first wedding" or "my next wedding".
Sounds like I am a collector of weddings.
Or worse, like I choose to end my marriage.]
I keep thinking about my dad.
I think about how he drove all the way to Florida to get to Roger's funeral.
He was the only family member from my side of the family that came down on his own accord to be with me.
To help me.
He jumped in to cleaning up Roger's mess in the garage.
To be social with my friends and Roger's family.

I wish I could have him with me now.
I wish I could call him on Sunday and wish him a Happy Father's Day.
It was Father's Day years ago that we reconnected.
When I realized my mother had contaminated my relationship with my dad.
That he was not the bad man she tried so hard to make him out to be.

And now as I plan my wedding to Mr. X, I will walk the aisle alone once more (perhaps) but for a completely different reason.

The Other Shoe Has Dropped

Yesterday I received some heartbreaking news.
I knew this would happen.
I almost knew this was true.

A few years ago my sister was diagnosed with some clotting disorders which have caused her to miscarry several times.
Being sisters, I knew I may have a risk of also having these genetic disorders.
About a month ago at my yearly check-up, my own OB/Gyn insisted that I get tested now since there may be some contraindications of taking hormonal birth control and having these disorders.
So on May 13, I gave eleven tubes of blood.
I prayed that everything would be normal.
I prayed I was not broken.
That somehow my genetics would be completely different than my sister.
By some miracle.
Don't I deserve a miracle?

Last night I saw my doctor's name and number appear on my phone.
I have been trying to get the results back for the last week like a mad woman.
I answered the call to hear my doctor's voice on the line.
She confirmed my gut.
Yes, I have both MTHFR mutation and protein C deficiency.
No more hormonal birth control for me.
And hard pregnancies in the future.

I have been on hormonal birth control this time for about eight and half years.
It has kept my PCOS under control.
Which I have no idea how that is going to play out now.
Mr. X and I were not planning on trying for children for at least two more years but now it looks like that may get pushed up a year if it is going to be harder for me to get pregnant and harder to stay pregnant.
Something I did not even want to do until almost two years ago.
Part of me wishes I still did not want children.
At least maybe then the heartache would be less.

Why can't I get a break?!
Why can't things just be easy from now on?!
Can't I get some sort of immunity from bad things happening?
Ugh...

The Other Shoe

It is really hard for me to enjoy myself right now.
To be happy for myself.
I get scared.
Mr. X and I got engaged on Saturday, May 14 and then on the Wednesday following I got my first teaching job.
Things are going well for my photography business.
We went to Alaska and I got to travel which I adore.
So now I am getting nervous.
I am waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Waiting for the "bad" thing.
I tried to tell myself getting a horrid head cold before the vacation and while on vacation was the "bad" thing.  But...

Immediately after Mr. X and I got engaged we drove to a friends' house for a housewarming party.
It was pouring down rain.
We were on the same highway as the accident.
Opposite direction but same damn highway.
I kept thinking "Please dear God do not let anything happen now. Please. Please. Please."

The week after getting engaged, I was talking to one of my best friends about the engagement and such.
This is the friend who I called immediately after the accident.
The one who has been here through it all.
And she said something I was already thinking and knowing.
Once Mr. X and I are married, I will be extremely nervous about the six month mark.
I cannot even imagine the day of it.
I know getting to that first anniversary will be a big deal to me.
And sadly, part of me is trying to protect myself from being too happy.
I almost feel like I will not be extremely over the clouds happy until after that six month mark.
Don't read this wrong.
I am happy.
I am excited.
I know this is the right thing but I am still nervous about Mr. X dying suddenly.
This cannot happen to me again.
It just can't.
It. Just. Can't.

I'm Getting Married, Again

[I tried to write this post over a week ago before going on vacation but blogger was being weird.  This is part II of this post but it has been more than ten days now so...]

Mr. X has been telling me how much he wants to marry me for some time now.
He has even revealed that he thought of proposing last July but did not.
But in March of this year, he said he would ask me to marry him by the end of the year.
All my friends said it would be while we were on vacation in Alaska.
I thought it would be while I was in Alaska.
But he surprised me a bit.

Over two weeks ago, Mr. X and I were at home on a Friday night just relaxing.
He had just sold some things on eBay.
He turned and told me to find a ring I loved.
We had looked at rings over Christmas and I even tried on a few.
Orginially I was going to go with the traditional diamond engagement ring.
But about a month ago, I decided I did not want another diamond ring.
I had a diamond ring.
I am not a huge bling person and why would I another diamond ring?
I wanted something different.
Something other people would not to compare to the first ring that I still wear on my right hand.
So I asked for a blue sapphire.
A sapphire would match my right hand ring.
And Mr. X and I both love blue.

I found a couple of rings online that we could go see that night in person.
Mr. X told me to get my shoes on.
He was buying me a ring.

We went to two stores.
The first ring was amazing.
But I had to try on the second one at a different store.
I decided the first ring was the ring.
Lo and behold, the lady who helped Roger and I with my first diamond was the only one available to help us.
What are the chances?!
She did not recognize me.
As the girl I was in 2006.
Or the new widow I was in 2008.
Or at least I think not.
At least I hope not.

Mr. X had a plan to present me with the ring the next day with a nice speech after my return home.
But the ring was not ready in time.
We both went to pick up the ring instead.
It started to pour.
I tried the ring on to make sure it fit and gave it back to Mr. X.
It is beautiful.
It is so unique.

We ran back to the car.
Mr. X gave me a small speech that I only remember one specific part.
He said I made him feel like he was at home.
Same thing Roger said to me in the love letter I read after the accident.
I said yes.

A widow getting married.
The Talking Heads song that inspired the title of this blog instantly filled my head.
But I like it here.