"Everything happens for a reason"

I have believed in this saying for a long time.
And I still believe in it. I do.
I hate it right now, but I do still believe in it.
It hurts right now.
It does not give me much comfort but it does give me some.
Just a tiny tiny bit.
I think it’s the reason I still get up each morning.
Besides the cats.

I was having breakfast with a friend and we were talking about this.
When I think back to my first migration to Florida, it was not under the greatest circumstances.
I moved with a guy from the same small town in Virginia and we were not very good to each other.
As boyfriends go, he was pretty bad.

He cheated on me.
I cheated on him. Yes, I know. I was angry and 19.
We said nasty things to each other.
We spied on each other.
It was awful.
In our defense, and yes "our", we were very young.

However...
After all the heartache and all the pain, we were good for each other.
We were with each other for a reason.
We both left a small town that we may not have left without each other pushing.
We both grew up.
I learned how to manage myself on my own.
I became even more independent.

Through him and all those experiences, I became me.
And I love me.
I love who I became.

I was talking to him recently.
We were discussing how we helped each other now that hindsight is 20/20.
I thanked him for our relationship, the good t hings, and the bad things.
And he thanked me too.
Everything happens for a reason.
And I think I met him for a reason.

Now we have something else in common than just the same small town.
Sadly, we went through some pretty hard shit with his mom.
We both know what it is like to take someone off life suppor t.
Even though I thought about this a lot when I was having to make those decisions about Roger, I forgot that my ex did that ten years ago.
And it was really comforting [so not the right word but I cannot describe the feeling perfectly...] to have someone I once knew well and someone who once knew me well share that experience with me.
Just someone to talk to for a few minutes.
Someone to vent to.
He probably has no idea how much he helped me a few weeks ago.

After today's breakfast, my friend and I went to see "Slumdog Millionaire" which I highly recommend.
And the character’s life sucked at times.
There were some pretty shitty times in his life.
But they all got him to the point he is at right now.

I have to believe I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
And things, in the end, will work out.
I have to hang out to that.
No matter how much it hurts and pains me now.
And to quote another movie: "Life is the way it is suppose to be."

And this is all going to work out, right?
Right...

Wrong Side of the Bed

Roger slept on the left.
I slept on the right.
Usually I had a foot hanging off or gliding on the edge.
I would agrue that Roger actually slept middle-ish left.
Roger would agrue he was always on his side of the bed.
We would argue about who had more room.

Now I have the entire bed.
I have the most room.
Not exactly the price I wanted to pay for it.
Now I sleep a little diagonal.

But not on the right.
I can't bring myself to sleep back on the right.

The night of the accident, Holly and Scott came home with me.
Holly slept in the bed with me because I did not want to sleep alone.
She slept on Roger's side of the bed and I slept on mine.
She continued to sleep there for the next few nights.

Then Cecilia came.
Cecilia slept in bed with me as well.
She also slept on Roger's side of the bed.

After they went back to their lives, I crawled over to Roger's side.
I wanted to be closer to him.
To be where his last night at home was.
To maybe be near where some of his germs are.
[I swear I was my sheets, I just have read a lot about how germs and skin get into the mattress.]

After a while, I remembered, Roger slept middle-ish left.
And more middle if I was making the judgement.
So I moved to the middle.

I sleep in the middle most nights.
Just diagonal.
With my feet on the left side and most of my body in the middle.

I tried to go back to sleeping on the right.
But I can't. Just can't.
It feels to far away from "him."
It feels safe to be middle-left.
So much for even wear.

And because I can't get rid of his zillion pillows even though I only sleep with one, there is a pile on the left and a pile on the right.

And when I get up in the morning, even though my phone is usually on my old side of the bed and I need to disconnect it, I get up on Roger's side of the bed and walk around.

My old side just feels wrong.
I just can not imagine sleeping there.
I just can not imagine getting up from there.
It is the wrong side of the bed.

I hate February

It is less than three weeks from my one year anniversary.
It is less than two weeks till the most in-the-face-couple-showing holiday of the year.

I hate both of these days.
I hate this entire month.

I dread the Monday morning I have to wake up single and alone.
On my one year anniversary.
The anniversary I worked so hard to create.

I worked so hard to make sure I chose an appropriate husband.
I worked so hard at my goals to make sure I was ready to be married.
I did everything right.

Yet, here I am a year after planning the perfect day.
A year after we saved and spent a lot of money.
And I am alone.
Unmarried.

And where are most people I know right now?
Well, most of them will be married in the next thirty days.
Fuck.

I know I am not a failure at marriage but it sure does not feel like a success.
More of that grey area I guess. Just annoying. Very annoying.

How did I end up the single one?
How did I end up going home to a house with no one else but me?
How did I end up not having someone to ask me about my day?
How did I end up watching television alone?

The sad thing is I do not think most people get it.

Why could I not just get to the one year mark?
Ugh!

Deflated

I am very thankful for all my friends and family.
I do not know how I would have gotten through yesterday without them.
They held my hand.
They let me just cry.
They gathered information for me when I just could not listen anymore.
They went to a bar to help lift me up again.

I just feel deflated.
I just feel neglected by the court system and by the police system.

The police witnesses failed to show up.
The civil case against him dismissed.
How is this possible?

How is he walking away.
How can he just drive away.
This is another con-artist.

And I can hear Roger saying "Just 20%! Just let me get rid of 20%"

I do not quite see how this court system is fair.
It is deflating.
A real judge should be able to use judgement, not loop holes.
A real judge should be able to look critically at a situation, not just say "Oh, well there is no proof he was the driver..."

Ugh...

Stupid car

Stupid stupid car.
I hate you.
You constantly follow me around and I see you everywhere.
I never used to see you.
And I swear I was looking before.
I swear you were rarely there.

You are no longer even being made.
You have not been made since 2006 which really means 2005 in car years.
You should be disappearing.

But now, you are here and there and everywhere.
You are at school.
Someone moved in down the street and guess what, there you are again.
I go to the store, you are parked next to me.
I am driving home from the parks, there you are in front of me.
You are orange, white, black, silver, red, and I think I even saw you in blue.

I find myself mesmorized by you.
I stare at you.
Or follow you.
Or look inside you to make sure.

I am thankful you kept me safe.
I am thankful you are tough.
But why do you haunt me?
Why do you tease me?
Why must you be in every moment of every day?

Ugh...

The Proposal Story

So I wrote about how Roger and I got to this point and here is how we got engaged.
Since I am school and taking a speech class, I just told my class about this story on Friday.
I got an A on it.
I am especially proud of myself for not crying during it.
My voice did crack near the end but otherwise I did fantastic in my eyes.

---

Let me set the scene:
It is Halloween 2006 at about 5:30pm. It is getting dark outside.
I am sitting on my boyfriend’s patio in his backyard.
My hands are sweating. My heart rate is up. I feel like I am going to pass out or vomit.
There are some things a girl is not suppose to do.

How did I get at this point? Let me go back a few weeks:
My boyfriend, Roger, had been threatening to propose to me for a few months.
I had been putting him off. I kept giving silly excuses as to why not yet.
The time was just not right yet.
I had huge commitment-phobia issues. I was being the guy.

In an online conversation, Roger said maybe I should propose. I laughed at his suggestion. Girls do not propose to boys.
My good friend, Siobhan, and I were discussing this conversation at work the following day and she says to me “Oh, you should totally propose to him.”
“Really, you sure?”
“Oh, yeah!”

So over the next two weeks we prepared.
Halloween was Roger’s favorite holiday so that would be the day.
Siobhan helped me find a nice wedding band to serve as the ring and had it delivered to my office.
I spoke to Roger’s sister to make sure she thought Roger would really like the idea and would not be upset.
She was excited. She thought it was an excellent idea and Roger would love it.
She also told me how it was similar to their dad's wedding band.

The proposal itself would be a sort of scavenger hunt with me being the ultimate prize.
I made these owls here and each one held a note in its feet.
They told Roger why I thought he was an amazing man, what I loved about us, and a clue to the next owl.
The last owl would lead Roger outside to me on the patio. I would hold the last note.

So Halloween came.
I placed the four owls in their positions, lit a candle next to each one, and turned out the lights.
I slipped out to the patio to wait for Roger to arrive home from work to find me and the owls.
Wow! In all this preparation, I had not considered how nervous I would actually be.
This is why girls do not propose.

Roger arrived home. Even though the blinds were closed to the window, I could see Roger’s shadow crossing the house back and forth, from room to room, reading each note.
My heart was racing. I could not take a deep breath. It felt like time was standing still.

Roger finally appeared on the patio.
He gave me a funny look.
He asked me, “What are you doing? Are you proposing?”
I could not even speak.
I handed him the last note asking him to be my husband. Thank God I actually wrote it all down.

He started to cry. He was so happy, so surprised, and completely stunned.
And being Roger and a typical guy, his answer was “sure.”
I asked him to say the actual word “yes.”

In February 23, 2008, we became husband and wife. It was a glorious day.
The wedding was amazing. It was what I dreamed of.
On August 28, 2008, Roger passed away after we were in a car accident.
I will never regret proposing to an amazing guy.
But there are some things girls are not suppose to do.

Being Married...

...is hard work.
It is especially hard work when it is to a dead guy.
And even though legally I am no longer married, sometimes I still feel married.

Previously, I have wrote about how hard just the chores are.
I hate taking out the trash.
And now I do not do it every week when we used to do it twice a week.
Now I might get it down every 3-4 times the trash comes.
I always forget until it is really dark outside or it is really late or it is really raining.

Or buying groceries.
My grocery bill has gone from $300 to $50.
Why? Cause I hate going.
I hated it before but I especially hate it now.
And there is no one else to do it.
But there is also no one to really do it for.

Then there are all the decisions to be made about maintaining the houses.
Yes, plural. Houses.
I could easily make these decisions when I had a two bedroom apartment.
But two bedrooms is a lot different than two houses.

What color do I paint this room?
What color do I paint the other house?
Is this a big issue to fix now or can it wait?
Is this price reasonable or am I being taken advantage of?

Then there is the sex and physical affection.
It just sucks when the other person is dead.
It is not the same alone.
And the after sex ritual, yeah, that is non-existent.
There is no snuggling, no kissing, nothing.

Hugs just suck. The cats do not like to be hugged.
No one will just hug me for a few minutes.
Very annoying.

And then, this is the part that is so heavy on my heart right now, communication.
I just cannot get answers to my questions.
I cannot argue with a dead guy.
I cannot scream with a dead guy with the same impact (trust me, I've been screaming lately and no one cares).
I cannot tell him how hurt I am for what he did.

Marriage is just so hard.
I think I liked the first six months of marriage better.
Those months were so much easier than now.