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Saturday, May 13, 2017

Basic things are still hard some days, but at least I'm able to breathe without being reminded which I suppose is something to applaud

Dearest Nathan, 
I recently read an open letter titled "To the New Suicide Survivor", I felt like whomever the author was, she had lived my life and was writing down all my thoughts and it forced me to remember and reconcile with those first few days and weeks that my brain has done a damned good job forgetting. A defense mechanism I think. 
In the letter she kept saying that the new survivor would be okay. I don't know if I agree with that. I am certainly not okay, but I am surviving. I'm getting through my new normal relatively unscathed which is more than I could have even begun to hope for in the beginning. I think that's as good as it's going to get for me though and even though I am not okay, that is okay. 
I still remember the sound of the gun. I still remember the moment our eyes locked for the final moment. I remember the pain in my heart when the officer said "I'm so so very sorry". I remember not having a clue where or what our children were doing but knowing that our neighbors were taking care of them.  I remember telling my dad and Tahnya both I wasn't sure I believed that God existed anymore. I remember hugging both your brothers, almost hyperventilating when I saw your dad, calling Lindsey and being stone cold sober as I told her the news, and even thetears Cory   and I shared as we discussed what we would do about Sawyer. 
I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone. I know you had a traumatic brain injury and I know you also believed that we deserved more than you could give us. If you could have seen him yourself through our eyes you would have known that we thought you were a hero. You didn't just have mine and our children's hearts, you were our hearts and they permanently broke when we lost you. So many other hearts shattered when you died too. I think if you would have realized the torment and utter wreckage you would leave behind, you never would have left. I don't believe you would have done it had you known how broken the kids and I would be. God how I wish you would have known. 
The week after you died is a blur, I received more hugs, phone calls, letters, and meals than I have ever received in my life. So many loving words and even some unnecessary and mean words from people who sought to hurt me and tarnish your memory. I gave my Facebook password to Tiya and she sifted through some messages trying her best to keep me from seeing anything that was less than helpful. 
My sister and Lindsey force fed me all week, Tahnya messaged me at least three times a day on the days she wasn't able to come be with me and my parents made sure I didn't feel alone. Angela did my hair and nails because otherwise I would have looked like an unkept bum at your service.  Chanda drove all the way from California to be with me and her presence did my heart wonders. Erin and Jenn did entirely more than I can write here or thank them for. And Kate. God. She didn't even know me and she dropped everything for me on more than one occasion to be with me. The one person who really understood. 
I am not a hugger. I don't want to be touched. Outside of you and our children their are only a few who are exceptions to this rule, however I am so thankful for the hugs I received in the first few weeks because a hug is a person's way of physically telling you that you are loved and I needed to feel that in those first few weeks. 
I needed to especially feel that in the first week because in that first week I had some scary thoughts. Very scary thoughts and although having your own suicidal thoughts is normal in the wake of your spouses suicide, I am thankful that I was never left alone long enough to truly realize those thoughts because had I been, those first days were dark enough I likely would have followed behind you with little to no hesitation. 
Basic things were so hard. Lindsey and Christie and so many others kept reminding me to breathe and I think if they hadn't I might have literally forgotten how. Basic things are still hard some days, but at least I'm able to breathe without being reminded which I suppose is something to applaud. 
I still remember the sound of your work van being towed and the way the glass looked on the ground. I could stop staring at it. A part of me died that day but the part of me that survived, she's still surviving and I think you'd be proud of that. 
Had someone told me this would happen I would have laughed in their face. I never would have believed it and if I'm honest, even six months later there are still moments when I still can't convince myself that you're actually gone and never coming home.  I still cry at least once a day. I've decided that, that is both healthy and also a testament to the love that we shared and the love that I still have for you. 
I don't think I'll ever be fully okay but I am better than I was in the beginning and some progress is better than nothing at all. 
I love you. I miss you. Forever. 

Friday, May 12, 2017

this idea is often offered as a solution to their broken heart. Simply find another and the pain will cease... as if losing a spouse and then finding a new one is like trading in an old car.

Dearest Nathan, 
It's been so long since I've written. Part of that is I still haven't gotten internet set up at the house and it's a pain to do from my phone. The other part is I'm just tired and emotionally drained and so usually by the time I have a moment I just go to sleep. I'm going to be better about writing to you though because it's good for me and I feel like it keeps our connection intact. 
National Widow’s Day was a few days ago.  May 3rd to be exact, just three days before the 6 month marker of losing you and International Widows Day will be on June 23rd. Fifteen days after what should have been your thirtieth birthday.  These are days that I didn't even realize existed until I was made a widow myself and two days that I have turbulently mixed emotions
One half of my heart is screaming that I hate those days. I hate them with every fiber of that half of my broken heart. It's a reminder of what I desperately wish I could forget. It's a reminder that this nightmare I walk in, isn't one I'm going to be able to wake up from. It's a reminder that the life I had, the one I chose and built with you, the one I loved even in the ugly times was snatched away in mere seconds and without my input at all. It's a reminder that I have lost not only my husband but my best friend and that 26 years has been reduced to loss and heartache. 
These days are a painful reminder that I am different from my peers. I am separate from them. It is isolating in an already isolating situation, particularly as a very young widow. 
Yeah, half of my heart loathes this. It loathes that there is even a reason for a day like this to exist. A day for society as a whole to recognize the widows in the world for their achievement of not only enduring but somehow surviving the inexplicably  soul shaking, heart crushing, earth shaking, life changing, all consuming pain that comes with the loss of ones better half. From losing half of yourself.
And yet... the other half of my heart appreciates it. The other half of my heart realizes that it's nice to be acknowledged and thought of.  I know that probably reads a little funny, but the truth is that widows are very easily pushed aside, even forgotten sometimes.  It's not done with menacing intention. In fact sometimes I'm not even sure it's done on purpose, it's simply that where our lives stopped theirs continued but more than that it's that we are an unwanted reminder that pain and fear are very real and that mortality is a huge part of life. No one is immune from or can escape death. To really acknowledge and embrace a widow you must also acknowledge and embrace their grief, this is something that takes strength, courage, and understanding and not everyone has those things within themselves. 
Grief and heartache. Depression and anxiety. They're all things that are uncomfortable and so with time, people begin to view a widow's widowness on a diminishing scale. The more time that goes by, the less that many people choose to allow a widow time, space, and patience to feel those things. We put a time limit on pain.   And the fact is the younger that the widow is the more that this becomes truth. People decide that because a widow is young they have the time and potential to find another spouse to settle down and share life with. Not only is it assumed that they can but it is assumed that they will.  In fact this idea is often offered as a solution to their broken heart. Simply find another and the pain will cease... as if losing a spouse and then finding a new one is like trading in an old car. 
It seems to be forgotten that the love they had, they still have, it didn't vanish simply because their soulmate died. It is forgotten that the loss is no less painful or significant than it would be if it had happened when they were old and grey. In fact in someways the grief might be more treacherous because they not only grieve for what was but also what should have been. It is a different loss, yes but it is certainly not less. 
I've heard so many times that I should be over it. I should move on. The words used are often different but insinuation is apparent.  I hear "time to get out there" or "you can't live in the past" or the one I hear most "you're only thirty, you'll meet Prince Charming and he'll adore you and your kids"
It's enough to make your head spin. I want to scream at them to shut their foul mouth or push them away. I don't do either because the truth is people don't know any better. They think what they're saying is helpful.  They can't truly understand either the magnitude of my pain or their words because they haven't experienced this type of loss. They have not walked this road and thus don't really know how to navigate.  And it'd be unfair of me to hold their ignorance against them. In fact I'm jealous of them. I used to be them and I pray they stay blissfully ignorant until they are old and grey. 
I can't hold it against them because if this had happened to someone else instead of me, I would likely have said and done the wrong thing too. I wouldn't have gotten it right because I wouldn't have understood either. If this hadn't happened to me but rather someone else I too probably would have forgotten that your level of widowhood doesn't depend on age and that a widow doesn't cease being a widow after a certain number of months.  Not because I'm cold or cruel but simply because like it is for the vast majority, it would simply be difficult to relate to and empathize with such an unthinkable situation. Why? Because when you're young you mistakenly fall into the trap that you'll always have more time and that nothing like this could happen to you. 
Yes. I recognize an acknowledge that it is difficult to be around a widow. Especially a young widow. I understand that it's hard to watch her cry and grieve and sometimes supporting her feels like too big of a burden for one person or friendship to handle and carry.  I acknowledge and accept that as truth. However, here's the thing... as hard as it is to support the widow, it's a thousand times more difficult to BE the widow. Until you are a widow you can't fathom the amount of tears that are cried. The heaviness of grieving and single parenting at the same time or grasp the harshness of the deep loneliness that comes with losing a spouse and best friend. 
Suffice all this to say, I think a bigger part of my heart is in favor of widow's day. I think you would be too, Nathan,  because it's the one day out of the year in which the awkwardness and the fear is removed and people are able to embrace and acknowledge my loss and the loss of other widows. It's the one day when I can grieve without judgement or time limit because the significance of the loss can be felt simply through the deceleration of a day called widow's day.  
The day takes away the ability to ignore the widow and for that I appreciate the day because to ignore the widow, to demand she move on and forget is to ignore the person that she lost and I refuse to allow you to be forgotten or ignored. You mattered.  You still matter. You were important. You are still important. Not only to me but to our amazing children and I'll be damned if that's brushed aside because people are uncomfortable by grief. The world would be a better place if we'd all get a little uncomfortable. 
The truth is, and people don't like it when I say this, but I will always ache. For the life that we had that was snatched away both quickly and traumatically. I will always have times of sorrow and tears for not only what was but for what should and could have been. I will grieve for as long as I loved you. I will grieve because I still love you. I will never stop loving you and I wish people could understand that and yet I am relieved that they don't. 
I am not pathetic for any of this. My life is not pathetic for the pain it holds. My life is hard and unique. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even my truest enemy, but with this life I have been granted a profound ability to understand, empathize and offer compassion to others.  I have been given a deeply rooted knowledge of life, love, and even death that is hard to adequately put into words. I have been given the opportunity to speak out about things like grief and suicide. To educate and make people aware even if it's uncomfortable and I will do it because your memory deserves that. 
Speaking of National Widow's Day, Tahnya brought me flowers and a card. She's one of the few not afraid of my grief. One that doesn't demand I move on. I am blessed to have her and I know you're glad that if I can't have you that I have her.  
Anyway, my hope is that whomever reads this letter will make a mental note that International Widow's day is June 23 and that they will remember a widow in their life on that day. It's awkward and uncomfortable, but widow's often feel lonely and forgotten so my prayer is that they are allowed this day to be remembered and embraced and loved for the treasure that they are. 
They often feel expected to satisfy some unrealistic expectation of “happiness” that may or may not be reality simply because some amount of time has passed. They have often mastered the fake smile, talk the small talk, and tell you how well they have been doing, regardless of the truth that you may or may not want to hear. A widow knows that talk about sleepless nights, unstoppable tears, or the fears of living a life without the one they loved most are topics of conversation that will leave them feeling emptier than  before and more than that they know the awkwardness it brings the other person in the conversation and so instead we talk about anything that leaves you telling us how strong we are; a phrase most despised among the bereaved, but often brought on by our own decisions to put on the strong face. 
On June 23 I pray that whomever reads this letter will allow a widow in their life to be honest even if that means being weak for a moment and to love them through it because sometimes it's what they really need. 
Anyway, I know you've been visiting Sawyer and playing with him lately. He tells me about the things you guys have been doing and calls you silly all the time. I'm glad you're near because he misses you so badly. He keeps telling me that it's okay because daddy Nathan is happy. As much as I wish you were here with us I'm glad you have indescribable joy in Heaven. You deserve that.  I can't wait to be reunited with you someday in the presence of Jesus. 
Until that day though.... we love you. We miss you. Forever. 
Always, 
Jess 
 
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