Well. It’s New Years again.....

My dearest Nathan,

It’s New Years again. Another year without you has come and gone.

Hold on I need to take a second to let that sink in.

So, 2018 was hard, but I have finally started dancing with my grief  more than I am being crushed by it. Those are words I never imagined I’d say but I have and I will continue in 2019. The start of the second year was so so hard. The end was both harder and easier all at once. It was beautifully bittersweet in moments. There were simply sweet moments and admittedly totally bitter moments. I suspect the third year will be much like that, two completely contradicting things all at once. Easier and harder. Beautiful and ugly.  Both bitter and sweet and especially both heavier and lighter.  I have never been afraid to sit with and experience my grief. I’ve never been ashamed to speak about it or to acknowledge it and I’ve never been scared of the words suicide or mental illness because they are my reality and they shouldn’t be so stigmatized.

What I have been afraid to do is to let myself get lost in the joy of moments. To hope for anything besides what I know is on the other side of heaven. I haven’t allowed myself to hope for my children’s futures or for my future. I haven’t planned or dreamed. I have felt guilty for laughing and finding joy and happiness but this year I’m letting that go.

I will always have pain. I will always have so much love for you and I will always miss you as much as I loved and continue to love you, but I am going to allow myself to plan and to hope and to dream and to laugh and to remember that it’s okay for me to continue to live. My life ended with yours but it started over too and I am giving myself permission to remember that you would want that. That you see me and you see our kids and you smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh and you want us to dream and to hope and to plan and to love life. I am going to share my story and my hurt....our story  and my happy and watch as through our darkness Jesus continues to bring light to other people.  He uses the broken people. The dark stories and though he’s been using ours I’m going to open myself up to that even more so.

We are allowed to grieve and to hurt and to cry and to miss you, those things never really end they just get different BUT I am freely reminding myself this year  that when we do ALL of the things in the previous paragraph we are honoring your memory just as much if not more than when we are weeping.

2019 will be a year of continued grief but more than that a year or love, laughter, joy, and growth in person and in Jesus.

Until the next letter,

We love you. We miss you. Forever.

Two years without you.

Anyone who has spent any length of time with me recently knows I’ve been dreading today. Dreading it the same way I did last year and likely the same way I’ll dread it again next year. My mind spent all of yesterday trying to make itself believe that it was the seventh yesterday as if skipping today would someone how bring you back or make this whole thing easier. 

Unfortunately you can’t skip a day or remove it from the calendar and wishing someone back to life just doesn’t work no matter how hard you try and trust me, I have tried. 

People give suggestions on what they think or hope will make it easier. Dating, moving, traveling, taking down his pictures, Jesus, and so much more.  Sometimes I wonder if they’re trying to help me feel better or themselves but it doesn’t matter, I’ve learned most people mean well regardless. They miss the mark with their suggestions.  They forget that even when or if I choose to date again that, that won’t negate from the love i still and will continue to have for you and it certainly won’t stop the grief. I have enough widowed friends to know this with certainty and quite frankly I wouldn’t want to take either away either.  No not even the pain, as crazy as that sounds but I’ll save that explanation for another time. There’s the people on the other side of the coin who want me to wear black and a veil and be in a constant state of agony.....luckily I can roll my eyes at that because you’d have never wanted that for us. 

They forget that if even if I traveled eventually I’d have to come back and though I’d have enjoyed myself, nothing would be different upon return.   Talking down your pictures? That’s not even a suggestion I entertain, rather just smile and shrug. The only two they hit the mark with is moving and Jesus. 

I’ve considered moving recently. Not now but in a few years. It’s a nice thought, knowing that I can come back often to visit and that even when I pass, my body can be brought here to be buried next to you regardless of where I live but I wouldn’t have to be surrounded by the places that still bring the trauma of that night and the heaviness of your loss to the forefront of my mind and make me feel like I’m drowning when I least expect it, it’s an almost peaceful thought. There’s the people on the other side of the coin saying “what about the good memories, won’t you miss them?!” these are the ones who have never experience something like this. They don’t realize that the good memories are always with me, they’re what bring me peace in the hard moments. They can’t be ignored the way that the painful ones can.  Yeah sometimes moving sounds nice. 

And Jesus. We both know that outside of the deep love I have for our children Jesus is the only thing that’s gotten me through. That has helped me find a new normal. That has helped me navigate this. I don’t know how other people do it without, I sure couldn’t. 

It’s been two years or rather it will be at 8:03pm.  Somethings are still the same, I have great family and friends, some old, the ones you would expect like Tahnya Nicole and Lindsey, but some really wonderful new ones too like Cortnee and Raquel,  there’s others too, I think you’d really  like most of them. I’ve lost some friends too, by choice and it really wasn’t as painful as you’d imagine. I think when you’ve gone through the worst, It makes everything easier. That and I’ve learned in your loss that I don’t have time to allow toxicity into my life. We already carry enough pain without anyone adding to that. 

It’s been two years and I laugh more freely and without feeling guilt that you can’t.  I find joy in our children and I can listen to music without wanting to crawl out of my own skin for the most part. I’m still so angry with God sometimes, but now it’s different. It’s not constant and not to the point where I consider leaving him entirely. 

It’s been two years and I can get through most days okay. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion but not a constant state of pain or panic. I’m still in a constant state of missing you but I now smile when I think of all our memories instead of wanting to die to be with you.  I’m still in pain. I still cry and I still want you daily, but I’ve also found some joy and happiness. 

It’s not better. But it’s different and I’ll take that.  730 days without you and instead of wishing I was dead with you, I try to live for you. 

See you someday soon, babe. 

I love you. The kids love you. We miss you. Forever. 

A letter to our daughter on her second birthday

Dearest Nathan,

You should have been here to share in the joy of our daughter’s second birthday but you’re not. You’ve missed this and so many other things and right now.... right now it’s too painful to address this as evidenced by my lapse in entries so instead I’ll share with you the letter I wrote to her. Our sweet wild baby.

“My darling Aria-Lyn,

Happy birthday, baby girl! Can I even say that anymore? After all two is hardly a baby…no, it’s official: my baby is no longer a baby. And, while part of me is grieving that you’re no longer the tiny infant you used to be, the whole of me is excited for who you are now and who you are becoming. 

This has been a year of incredible growth and change for you. This week I was looking back at some photos of you from this past year and I couldn’t believe how much you have grown in 12 short months. 

You went from being a tiny, sickly (but still so beautiful) baby who was just learning how to crawl (and by crawl, I mean that adorable little scoot that you used to do!) to a bright-eyed toddler in who quite literally never sits still, running after her brother with her pigtails bobbing. You went from tasting your first mashed-up foods and absolutely hating them to out-eating what your dad used to eat at most meals which is really saying something, because boy could he eat!  

Every day I look at you I see a bit more of the girl you are becoming, and it’s beautiful.

Your personality has grown with you this year, too. You are incredibly caring and loving when you want to be, whether he is sad or hurt, you have a tender compassion for your brother, though admittedly as much as you love each other you fight enough you make me want to rip my hair out. 

Speaking of fight, a few weeks shy of this day, it happened. You reached the terrible twos, and suddenly everything was even more dramatic than before. I wouldn’t have thought it possible because you’ve always been a vocal, spirited girl, but you have become even more vocal. More spirited. More stubborn. More independent. More loving. More emphatic. And you can throw quite the fit and you do. Often. Little miss think she’s in charge. A wild woman with more sass than most people can handle. 

As challenging as your temperament is and will continue to be for me and my constant quest to teach and discipline appropriately and in a way that still shows you love, i am actually very happy that you are your own little person even at this young age. You know what you want, even if you don’t yet know what you need, but that’s a struggle even for adults sometimes, and once you know what you want you are not easily deterred. That won’t be a bad thing as you get older. 

You can definitely hold your own and all I can say is, good luck to anyone who messes with you! Between your over-protective older brother–and your ability to take down a full-grown adult with your tackles, nobody should ever give you any trouble! I’m also pretty sure that you’re not going to be allowed to date until you’re in your 30’s, but we can have that conversation later.

You are finally walking and catching up in all the areas there has been struggles due to health issues and the complications that a baby suffers after losing a parent.   

You have overcome so much and I can’t even imagine what adventures still lie ahead, but I am so excited to watch because this year, your third year of life, will bring so many new opportunities and growth. This year will bring preschool (WHAT?!), potty training....which means we will officially be a diaper-free household–sweet Jesus, pinch me is this is real?  I am a little terrified for the latter because as easy as potty training your brother was I think you will be a struggle.  This third year will bring our first multi-word conversations, travels, and so much more.

Please remember that as you grow, there will be people along the way who will try to tell you that what you want to accomplish is impossible. That you are not good enough, that you are not strong enough, that you are not enough. I hope you stay as pure as you are now, to know what you want and go after it regardless of the naysayers. You can do away with the tantrums, but please stick to your guns and keep that determined nature. It will serve you well in life.  And always remember you are enough. You are strong. You are brave. You are beautiful. You are loved and you always have a safe place with me to land. 

Nurture your loving side, too. You can never give too much love to the people close to you.  You can never tell them you love them too many times. Be free with your kindness, with your smiles and laughs.

Remember, when you get hurt you gotta “shake it off, shake it off....cause haters gonna hate hate hate”.   This applies to more than just a booboo on your knee. You’ll see.

Aria-Lyn, I just can’t wait! Life with you is so exciting albeit also exhausting! 

Thinking back on how far you’ve come in two short years, I can’t help but be amazed. It feels like just yesterday we were welcoming you into the world, and yet simultaneously it feels like you’ve always been a part of our lives. And maybe that’s true. Maybe a piece of my heart has always belonged to you, even before you were born–it just wasn’t until I met you that I knew who that piece belonged to or even recognized it was there. 

My heart belongs to you and your brother, yes you must share and I hope you always know how much joy, how much light, laughter, and love you bring to our family.  I still can’t believe that you’re mine. Happy birthday, baby girl (and as I tell sawyer, you’ll always be my baby). Two down, and many more to go.

I truly believe you are destined for greatness. Don’t forget to be graceful and gracious in all your successes and failures. We love you so much. 

Happy birthday. 

Love,

Mommy.”

I love you, Nathan James. So do the kids and we miss you so so much. 

Happy father’s d in Heaven

Nathan, 

This is your second father’s day in Heaven and it’s still so surreal.  Grieving your loss was hard but grieving it for our children assed a larger layer.  

You loved Sawyer as your own and you were the first man Aria-Lyn ever loved. It may seem so strange to the latter since you were around her for such a short time, but given her body’s physical reaction and also the colic that set in almost immediately after you died, it’s obvious. To me, to friends, and even to her doctor. You were such an involved dad and in the two short years with Sawyer and the even shorter month with Aria, you created so many memories with them and even though she may never remember there are so many photos to show her and even more people to share stories of your love for her, with her. Especially her brother, he already tells her about you. 

Some days are harder than others, many involve me thinking about what you have missed out on and will continue to. In those moments I try to remember that you continue to go through life with us, just in a different way. Just looking at Aria is a reminder that you will always be one of the best parts of our family. 

Most people say Aria-Lyn is your spitting image and other than the eyes and the red in her dirty blonde hair, I agree , but then there are the people that  never got to meet you that say She looks like me. I smile and shrug and tell them that they’d change their mind if they saw you. 

You’d be so proud of both of them. They argue and are mean to each other all the time but Sawyer is Aria’s fiercest protector just the same. She’s finally getting the courage to walk. It’s a soul process particularly since she got so sick.  She’s such a happy baby, a lover, wild, daring like you, no fear. Her giggle is one of the sweetest sounds in this world. She points to your photos and smiles and says dada. Don’t worry she knows who you are and she always will. 

Sawyer played t-ball. He hated it and insisted it was fake baseball because he had to use a tee instead of it being thrown. He only liked going to games to get an “atorgator” he still loves to ride his bike and go to bmx though with school and baseball  he didn’t go as much this year. He talks about you EVERY time he rides.  Actually, he still talks about you all the time and still sleeps with Nate the lion. Aria sleeps with her pink giraffe. He says it makes him feel closer to you. He sleeps with his blanket made of your shirts and your pillow too. For the same reason and I hope one day Aria will feel the same about her stuffy and blanket. 

You were the best dad, I hope you know that now. They were so blessed to have you for the time they did even though it needed and should have been longer. We love you. We miss you. Forever.  Happy Father’s Day

Happy birthday

Nathan,

I posted on Facebook and Instagram for you on the 8, but forgot to put it here which is why this seems late. 

Today would be your thirty first birthday and the second one you’ve spent in heaven, the second we’ve been without you. 

This isn’t the way it should have been. I should have woken you up at midnight to make sure I was first to say happy birthday. I remember the night of your last birthday, laying with my head on your chest listening to your heart beat, you sighing contently and talking sleepily about how your next birthday we would be a family of four and you couldn't wait. In that moment I fell in love with you all over again. 

I hope you knew in life that you didn't just have my heart, you were my heart. I loved you more than anything else. I was so proud of the man that you were and no matter what anyone else thought or said I was so proud to be your wife. I still am.  I guess I  find comfort in that if you did not know then, you know now. 

I wish that you were here celebrating with us. I wish I could watch you play with the kids. I wish we were planning to our next family vacation. Most of all I wish you were here to hug me. To tell me that you love me. To reassure me that I am a good Mama and that everything will be okay.  I guess everything is okay though isn’t it? We breathe now without having to think about it and we laugh and we smile and play, most of the time more than we cry and we do it in your memory. We hold our memories and they bring more joy than pain now and I am thankful for the time I had with you even if I still wish it was more. 

I talked to one of your friends recently and he told me one of your favorite stories, too much to drink and a donut shop. I think your friends think about you as much as we do and that makes my heart happy too. I think it would make you happy to realize you mattered more than you ever realized. 

We miss you. Hug my mom for me. Hug your mom and the rest of our family members for me.  Enjoy celebrating with them and with Jesus. I can't wait for the day we are reunited. 

The kids and I, your family, and many of your friends.... we all love you. We miss you. Forever. 

Happy birthday, Baby. 

https://youtu.be/DVzDXZHhUNg

"Just because you're gone doesn't mean that I've moved on. I still love you just

Mother’s Day is bittersweet

Dearest Nathan,

Mother’s Day is totally bittersweet when you’re widowed.  I love my kids with every fiber of my being. I am so thankful to be their mother and I would immediately take a bullet for them in the event that it was necessary. Those sweet babies in those pictures are literally the only reason I am here and made it through the first months of grief. They are why I am stronger now than I ever have been and why I make sure that good comes from their daddy passing. They are literally my heart and soul BUT.....

Widowed parenthood means that sometimes you wish you didn’t have your kids, not because you’re selfish or because you don’t love them with all your being but because watching them grieve might slowly kill you. And trust me they grieve. The doctors say a lot of Aria’s health issues are from grief and the stress of losing a parent and if you take even five minutes to talk to Sawyer you’ll walk away knowing how much his heart aches.

It’s feeling like you’re failing because your grief pains them.  Because you can’t stop either of your hurt and because you know it doesn’t get better it gets different and you learn to live with it and find joy in your new normal.

It’s the worry that they might do the same thing that their dad did because statistically just the fact that he died by suicide means that they are more likely to also die that way.

It’s the guilt that comes with knowing what they’re missing and wondering if you could have done more. It’s the guilt that comes because there are some days you wish they could just go away so you could have a second to just breathe.

It’s the worry about what happens to them if something happens to you and yet the indescribable pull towards wild and reckless abandon which just so you are aware, creates more guilt.

It’s the guilt that comes from not being able to protect them from the tragedy  that they’ve had to endure. The worry that you yell too much from a combination of stress and grief. The lack of patience. The worry that you’re not doing enough to prove that you love them

and the secret nagging voice in your head that tells you they lost the better parent. You’re failing them. You will continue to fail them and everyone knows it. It’s a matter of when and not if. All anyone sees is the poor pitiful widow and that’s all they’ll see too.  You try to quiet that voice but sometimes it’s enough to drive a person mad.

Mother’s Day isn’t joyous most of the time anymore, it’s just another reminder of what we lost and what we deal with everyday.   It’s loving your kids but wishing they had something different.

An example of reckless abandon 

I’m a different person...

I posted a video on Instagram of a song I composed.  It is the last thing I ever composed. It was in December 2016 when I felt everything and nothing all at the same time.  I could barely remember my own name let alone to eat or to sleep.  I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing his final moments and breathing, something that comes so innately suddenly took so much work. December was a month I didn’t actually believe I’d survive, I’d tell people I was fine just so that they’d stop talking because the sound of their voices literally made my insides hurt.

I remember very distinctly waking up and this melody being stuck in my head and no matter how much I cried or prayed or tried to cancel it out by listening to my baby’s breathing beside me, it wouldn’t go away and so I hummed a recording of it into my phone. One that’s long since been deleted and the next day as I sat at my friend’s house, wearing pajamas (yes, pajamas) that made little sense for the weather because I’d given up on both wearing anything but pajamas and his old sweatshirt unless I had to and on taking care of myself beyond what my friends and family mandated as a must to be considered “moving forward healthily”, reminding myself to breath in and then out and then rinse and repeat I listened to that recording and somehow put it into a blend of music notes.

I still have no idea where it came from or why. And it’s strange to watch it now because I  don’t really enjoy playing anymore. The videos I post seem like ages ago, like I’m watching an entirely different version of myself play and I am okay with that because I breathe without thinking about it, I can genuinely laugh with people without any sense of  guilt, I remember to eat and to sleep, and I tell people I’m fine not because I’d do anything to stop them from speaking even one more word, but because I really am fine. 

I get paid to write articles and people genuinely want to hear what I have to say. I’ve spoken to amazing people like Trent Shelton and I tell a story of devastation in order to lift others up. I’m a different person than I was when I had him. When he was here and his smile was the best thing in my life.  Now I have other things and that’s okay.  I don’t argue as deeply. I let things go that don’t matter and hang on tightly (maybe to the point of obsession) the things and to the people that have touched my life or that I believe in so deeply, even when other people don’t understand why. I’m not as stubborn and I’m much patient and forgiving.  I like to think I’m better than I was but that’s hard to judge yourself on. 

That’s not to say I don’t miss him. That I don’t think about him. That I don’t  talk about him. I do. I do all of those things daily. But I’ve learned to live without him. I’ve learned to be happy without him. And I’ve learned that’s okay. That’s what he’d want.  And it’s okay that I’m a totally different person than the girl that composed this, what would be 2 years ago in December, because  I make a choice daily,  that he simply couldn’t make anymore. I make a  choice to live, because he couldn’t. And not just live but live a life that brings me joy and hopefully in some small way brings those that are lost a little bit of hope.  And I think he’d want that for me too. 

sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in second, somewhere between awake and asleep - where dreams could still be real and you could still be here.

Dearest Nathan.

It's been so long since I've written.  Two months, nearing three.  I didn't mean to let so much time pass but I also didn't want to write, but I was accused of only writing and talking and remembering you for attention and as wrong as it was, it still stung and made me both mad and sad all at once and suddenly I didn't care if anyone else remembered you.  I didn't care if we raised awareness.  I didn't care.  I only cared that you were remembered by me and by our children and  I wanted to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself where they were safe from ridicule and where no one could ever possibly tarnish the memories I have of you.  But then today I realized something very important.  I don't care what people think, and I want to say your name, and I want the world to know that you're not only remembered but that you were important and that you were loved - are loved and you wouldn't want me to take anyone's incorrect opinions of my motives to heart anyway.  I remember.

You were the one. From the day we started dating, I knew you were the one.  Maybe I had even known in high school when we were just friends. We started dating. We moved in together. We lived. We were happy. That's the kicker... we were happy.  Despite the problems, and the heartache from various things both past and at the time, present, we were happy or at least i thought we were happy.

And then you killed yourself.

It was a cool evening in early November, but despite being cool it was warmer than usual. It was a Sunday, we had argued the day before but that day had been good with no real cause for any sort of concern- we had spent the day with my family and some close family friends, he had met my biological mother’s best friend and we had laughed and shared stories and good conversation. It wasn’t how we spent most sundays but it also wasn’t out of the ordinary. Just a regular lazy sunday - family and then to the grocery store and making plans with friends for the following week, and preparing for the monday work day, the same way sundays had been for as long as I can remember.

When we got home you started acting weird, but I didn’t think it was anything too serious.  I told you to go take a breather, so you didn’t worry Sawyer.  I wouldn’t have let you out of my sight had I known that would be the last time I would ever talk to you.  I would have said so many more things to you.  So many things.  

I remember taking the kids side and setting them down.  I remember you getting into the work van.  I remember you yelling and looking to see what happened.  You had a gash on your head, but I figured I’d get the kids settled in and then go check on you.  Had I known then what I know now, I would have left the kids and checked on you immediately but I guess what they say is true.  Hindsight is nearly always 20/20.  

The gun went off.  I was screaming like a banshee.  The neighbors scooped me and the kids up and rushed us into their house.  The police showed up at around eight o' clock.  The cops asked a lot of questions.  The broke the window to the van, there was no other way to get to you.  They tried to resuscitate you.  I’m not stupid, I know that they did this for much longer than they usually do and I know they did it for my benefit and no other reason but that.  I suppose that’s what happens when you know so many police officers and firefighters.  Everything was so slow motion.  I remember talking to Tahnya and my parents and to Lindsey and to Cory, and the lady was that called Jenn.

I don't really remember much more after that. I know that the officer was trying to put off telling me you were dead and even the knew, I still made him tell me before I would answer any of his questions. I called my parents, my sister, Tahnya, Lindsey, and Cory.  I don’t know how your family knew they needed to come but they came and they all hugged me and told me they were sorry, but they didn’t realize that no one would ever be as sorry as I was.  I don’t remember most of what I said to anyone or the names of the police officers or the name of the lady who called Jenn. I don’t remember so many things.

But I do remember watching you die when I ran outside and feelings it in my heart the moment you left this earth.  I remember the old man across the street asking me if I was okay and yelling back no and pleading with them to call 911.  I remember not understanding how you could leave me and more importantly how you could leave the kid.  I remember picking out photographs for the obituary and for the service.  I remember picking sunflowers and carnations and your red guitar - the same guitar you used the first time you ever played for me. I remember the red shirt you were wearing that night and making plans to have dinner with Linds the following tuesday. And most of all I remember what you smelled like, what your laugh sounds like how you smiled first thing in the morning when Sawyer climbed into the bed. I remember the small scar on your hand from tile work and the way your kisses tasted like Five peppermint gum.

I remember all of it. Just like it happened yesterday. 

That was almost 15 months ago. I'm still trying to work through things. We seem like we have it all together and that we have mastered our new normal but Sawyer and I still haven't quite adjusted to life without you. I don't know if we’ve really had the chance, mostly because it’s chaotic with two kids and two dogs and two fish and only one parent. I still talk to and about you often, even if talking to you really means just talking to your picture hanging on my bedroom wall - the one that everyone signed at the service.  Sawyer still talks about you all the time and smiles when he sees your picture.  He likes to talk about his memories and reminds me often that you’re still with us and you’re happy.  Tahnya and Lindsey still talk about you too and Peyton loved and misses you so much she wanted to take on of your things to show and tell to talk about her Uncle Nathan.   I truly believe that you are  the first man I ever really loved, everyone that came before you - I cared for them, I wanted to love them, but I didn’t feel for them the way I felt for you.  You were the first man I ever truly gave my heart too, the first man I ever loved with my whole being and somewhere in my heart I'll always love you. Always.  No matter where life takes me.

So many of my friends are scattered across the country, in some cases the world and so sometimes we go a long time without talking- but we're all still tied together somehow.  They’re all doing their own things. Getting married, having families of their own, living life by their rules.  I am so happy for them, but sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in second, somewhere between awake and asleep - where dreams could still be real and you could still be here. I move through life slowly, but with purpose. I try to do my best. To make sure our kids know of the man you were and remember how you cared for them and for me.   To hope for good and know that love is real. 

Because I remember.

It’s been one year but it feels both shorter and longer...

I kept thinking words would come. Words that would somehow adequately describe what I was feeling. I am a writer. I maintain a blog. Words ALWAYS come. They come even when I don’t want them to. This time though, this time they never came. 

There are simply not words to covey how in one year everything has changed. Everything is different. And yet, in its difference, it is still immensely painful.  Grief always meets me in the quiet dark of the night but now I don’t run from it. I embrace it like an old friend. I remind myself that the amount of pain I carry with me is a testament to the great love we shared. 

Everything is different. Aria-Lyn is crawling and talking and Sawyer is in school and acts like a teenager some days. Everything is different. I can smile and go out to spend time without friends without being smothered by guilt. I can talk about you and though sometimes I still cry I think of you with so much joy at the happiness you filled my life with. 

Everything is different and yet nothing has changed. You are still the last thing I think of at night and the first I think of in the morning. I still miss you so much my heart physically aches.  I still wish you could somehow come back and say it was all a mistake. Sawyer still talks about you all the time and asks me to watch ninja turtles and power rangers like you used to and Aria still won’t ever have a true memory of her own. Everything has changed and yet nothing has. This still is the worst pain I’ve experienced and the most awful hand I think our children will ever be dealt. 

Sunday we went to the cemetery with your sister and it was a nice moment to share with her. We went back yesterday.  Tahnya made me the sweetest gift in your memory and she took you a red rose and got me one to match. It may be one of my most treasured gifts. It equals that the thumbprint necklace and the wreath are. 

 We laughed and ate junk food (so many of your favorites), drank some wine (I know you think we should have had beer instead), we listened to Chevelle at exactly 8:04 PM (I know it made you smile) and have decided to dub the day “Nathan’s day.” It sounds much less grim than the anniversary of your death and some how helps us to smile a little more. 

You’d be so happy that Lindsey, Chera, and Tahnya were there for us yesterday along with so many more friends and family members who took time to text, message, and call to check on us.  You’d be so glad that so many of these same people continue to love and be there for us on a daily basis.

I am thankful you know what a treasure you are. What a great man you were. 

Until we see you again. 

We love you. We miss you. Forever. 

It'll come. I know it will. It always does, but for now....for now it seems impossible.

Dear Nathan,
From the very start of this horror, I have said that there would be good that came from this.  That beauty would come from the ashes because you deserve that, I deserve that, and most of all our children deserve that.   And so after the initial fog lifted and I made it past the first two weeks of the nightmare that had somehow become my life, I started talking.    After the realization that even if you're living in a nightmare, you simply can't wake up from your life finally set in, I started telling our story and I haven't stopped.  I have been candid in both my pain and with exactly what you did.  I have no secrets.  I will answer just about any question that someone asks me, and I have had my share of inappropriate questions, suggestions, and comments.  They've made me angry, they've made me sad, and they've flat out mind boggled me,  but I have handled them with as much kindness and dignity that I could possibly muster because this isn't about those people or even about me.  It's about the fact that if I am not speaking out, if I am not advocating, then  I am doing a disservice not only to the great man that you were but to the love that we shared, to your pain, to my pain, and to a great many others who may carry around this type of pain.

I am becoming a part of the problem if I am hiding my pain, the kind of pain that is all consuming.  The kind that swallows you whole as you lay in bed trying to will yourself to fall asleep.   The kind of pain, that finally helps you to understand why they say that sleep is a cousin of death.

I speak out because we need to be aware.  People need to know that suicide is real.  Traumatic brain injury is real.  Mental illness is REAL and no matter how you hide from it or try to push it to the darkest recesses of your mind, it is real and it will continue to be real and ugly and awful until we stop hiding.  Until we pull it out to the middle of the room and push our thumb into the huge gaping wound that it is, it will be real and we are failing the people around us.  I refuse to be a part of the problem.  I refuse to be part of the stigma and the shame.  I couldn't save you, but if your story, our story can save someone else than I have somehow in some small way righted a wrong that can't really be righted at all.

That said, I need prayer.  As I am sure you recall,  our church, just before the sermon launches, shares a life story.  They're beautiful stories about good coming from the ashes, light shining in the darkness, and the ugly becoming beautiful.   They are stories that need to be heard and I have been asked to begin the process of sharing ours. 

The first stop on the journey is to type out the story.

Seems easy enough for someone who has used writing both on facebook, in a blog, and various media outlets on the world wide web as her platform for sharing.  Should be easy for someone who has begun the process of writing a book, right? You would think so, but you would be wrong.  I have sat down to write it out several times in the last two weeks and have deleted what I manage to get out and given up.   I start to write and I suddenly feel as though there isn't really a story to be told here.  There isn't anything to say that anyone should or would want to here.   There is only a dull ache in my heart and the reminder that my children are growing up without the daddy that loved them so much and I am going to bed by myself again.

I can literally feel every ounce of hope draining from my body,  every ounce of hope that I usually try to give to others suddenly seems to be running for cover. 

I know that there is a story and I have hope and I know that I need to share that hope, but something in me just shuts down.

It'll come.  I know it will.  It always does, but for now....for now it seems impossible.

As always I wish you were here to help me battle this, but I guess if you were here I wouldn't be battling it.  It's a catch 22, if there ever was one.

Whatever.

I love you.  I miss you.  Forever.

Maybe I just couldn't love you enough....

My darling Nathan,



I remember the day we decided to take our 26 year friendship to another level. You had been through a string of bad decisions, broken hearts, and disappointments.  I had too and yet you were everything I wasn't, and I think that's what attracted me to you. There were a thousand things about you that drove me crazy, but just as usual; I picked the ones who were the absolute worst for me.

Although it was what I had always wanted, I didn't think we'd work as more than friends back then, but it quickly evolved into exactly that…something that worked. What we considered "dating" was really just two people learning about each other. Late night phone calls where we'd talk about anything and everything, late evening sitting in your truck, we'd share a bad cup of coffee from a gas station, getting completely swallowed up in conversation. I knew I was in love with you about a week later. I had never been so sure of anything in my life. We got married exactly a month later.  We talked about the future, growing old together, about how we wanted a daughter, and about how if we simply couldn’t fathom how either of us would ever survive without the other.  I was in love with you. Almost everything about you.

Things weren’t perfect.  Nothing ever is, of course, and anything worth having takes work.  We had a difficult season.  It was so hard, but we fought through it.  We fought and clawed our way to the other side and came out standing.  And not just standing, but standing beside each other, hand in hand.  We had a daughter, to complete our family.  Sawyer adored you as much as I did.  We were in a new home.  We were FINALLY through what I was sure would be the hardest season of my life.  We were finally sharing more laughs and smiles than we were sharing tears and heartache.  We were finally happy and everyone who saw us in that time says the same thing.  We appeared so happy, looking forward to the future.  We were.  Or I thought we were.  I was naive.  I should have known that things can always get worse than the worst that you think they’ll be and they did.  We were in a happy place and you still took your life and for me, things got a thousand times worse than they had ever been before.  I am surviving but it’s painful and it’s not the life that I wanted for me or for my children.   What's left of the life we had is shattered into pieces, and there's so many I don't know where to begin to put them back together. I'm good at picking up the pieces and putting them back together, I've done it many times, over and over. This time the pieces don't seem to fit together like they did before.   

I've replayed conversations in my head. Over and over, on repeat until I wish there was a way that I could make it stop. "Promise me you’ll always be there. Promise me, that we’ll get through anything together.” I should have known, but I guess I was blinded where you were concerned. "I promise. I’ll never leave.  I’ll always weather the storm right beside you.”  Yeah right.  After everything that’s happened…all I can say is yeah right.

Why didn’t I see this coming?  You were my person, my heart, how did I not see this coming? That’s one of the many questions that I ask constantly and as much as I wish I could turn off what I feel, it's there. I’ve had people tell me to move on. As if that's something as simple as just saying "I'm going to move on."  As if it’s as easy as deciding what you’re going to eat for breakfast.   As if I can magically stop loving you, and decide that I didn’t want and expect to be married to you for the rest of my life. "Every day gets easier..." It doesn't. Some days it’s harder.  Most days it’s not easier or harder, it’s just different.  I heard someone say that the pain from the loss of a spouse changes, it stops feeling like someone is stabbing and suffocating you all at once and becomes more like the pain of arthritis.  Not as all consuming, but still there and though you can ignore it some of the time, it’s impossible to ignore it all of the time.  You can get through the day but it’s still always there.  Maybe I still have some days that are harder because we share the most amazing daughter. And we have a son that still says he wishes you could come home.  That he misses you.   Our beautiful girl and that handsome boy are the best part of my life; they are my happiness.  They are perfection in an imperfect world. 

I guess I just want to know why everyone seems to get a perfect little family and we didn’t.  My pain most days now, is much more arthritic than a gaping stab wound, but that doesn’t take away from the difficult  moments in which  I want answers that aren’t coming, that won’t ever come.  It doesn’t take away from the times that I miss you, like when I forget to take out the trash because that was always your job.  The days when I need something fixed and I have no idea what the hell I am doing, but I have to figure it out because you’re not there anymore.  Or like how I have no idea how I’ll explain everything that’s happened to the kids when they’re old enough to comprehend.  How I’ll make them believe that you loved them and that if you could have you would be there to watch him take vows to his wife and walk her down the aisle to her husband.  How are they ever going to understand this when I don’t even understand. 

  All I know for sure is that you did something that wrecked so many things and so many people, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I’ll keep saying it until I am blue in the face.  I forgive you.  I’m not angry.  I never have been.  Mostly, I just want you to know I don’t think of you as a mistake.  You were a blessing even after everything.


Even through everything that has happened I have loved you.  I have loved you every minute, everyday.  I loved you through the hard season.  I loved you through our triumphs.  I loved you through the trials of parenting Sawyer and through the birth of our perfect daughter.   I loved you even when I hated you and I know that you are gone, that you can’t come back, that my life has to keep going on without you, and that I likely have a long time before I’ll see you again in Heaven, but I can promise I will never stop loving you because of what we share and because you never stop loving your soul mate. I wish I knew how you got to the point that you did or how we could have fixed it or what you were feeling in that moment, but those things don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Choices were made, and although I didn’t get a say in the biggest choice that altered my life so profoundly, what’s done is done.  

I’ll just end with this,  I prefer to think no one could have loved you the way I did and still do, maybe I was….maybe I am wrong. Maybe I just couldn't love you enough.   Either way, I’ll see you in Heaven, love.

We love you.  We miss you.  Forever.

i am thankful that though there is pain in this fallen world, in the next there will be none

Dearest Nathan,

Today was a hard day. We have experienced great heartache this year, the kind that could tear people apart and our  family (for others reading this: Nathan's side) has suffered yet another tremendous and unexpected loss.  However instead of letting it pull us apart and expose our ugly human sides,  we choose to allow it to bring us together, to surround each other in love. 

This loss has reopened painful wounds, that although I know won't ever completely heal, I had naively believed had become tolerable...even ignorable.  It has reminded me that pain, although survivable will be a constant in my life for the rest of my days.  It has made my longing and grief for you rear it's ugly head,  though in truth it's never really gone at all.   However, it has allowed me to count my blessings that are easily forgotten in the monotony of the day to day and so I am thankful. 

I am thankful that we used today to both celebrate your uncle Ken and enjoy time as a family. I am thankful that BOTH of our kids are so loved by their grandparents and their many aunts, uncles, and cousins and step aunts and uncles and cousins. I am thankful for friends like Tahnya who accept the role of auntie and are there when we need them. For friends that have walked beside us through the good, bad, and ugly we have experienced since losing you. 

Mostly I am thankful that we know through Psalm 34:18 that God is near to the broken hearted and saves those crushed in spirit and that we will see the ones we love once again in Heaven and what a glorious reunion it will be and how my heart will rejoice not only because I'm in the presence of both Jesus and with you and my other loved ones again but for the peace and reprieve from grief I will finally be granted. I am thankful that He knows our pain and he takes us in his arms and holds us near. I am thankful that though there is pain in this fallen world, in the next there will be none. 

#missingnathanalways but #hopefulthroughjesus 

Things are not better, but they are different.

To my dearest Nathan,
One of the things I heard over and over directly after you died was that it would get easier and the pain would lessen.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that cliche is bullshit.  I thought for a moment that I should apologize to anyone reading this for the expletive but honestly I write these letters for myself and to you, and you would have just chuckled so I'm not going to.  For that reason and because there isn't anything that accurately describes my thoughts on "things will get better" than that.  They absolutely without a doubt do not get better and the pain doesn't lessen.  It doesn't do either of those things but it does get different, though I am not even sure that's the right word.  It's more that you learn to live with it than anything else.  You learn to lean on Jesus and to figure out what makes you feel the most joy in a really awful and sad life that you didn't ask for but were handed anyway.

I still miss you as much as the day it happened and the pain in my heart is still as real and intense as it was back then.  The difference is that I have learned to smile and laugh with our children and do it genuinely most days.   I get up and I clean the house, I run errands, and I spend time with friends.  I pray and I read my bible and on the hard days I pray some more.  I am still super angry with God, sometimes more so than others, but I am working on it.  I get asked often how I am and I always say that I am okay, sometimes I mean it and sometimes I'm lying, but that's okay because at least I am surviving.   I am sometimes okay, but I am never better than okay and I think that things may be like that for a long time and I think I'm fine with that.  I read once that the size of your pain is equal to that of the size of your love and if that's the case than my pain will be infinite just as my love for you was, is and will be forevermore.

I laugh without guilt anymore and most days I can say honestly that this wasn't my fault though sometimes in the stillness of the night the guilt and the questions and the what ifs creep up and I find myself wrestling with them as hard as I did in the beginning.  For the most part, I have released that burden.  I have given myself permission to say that this was your choice, not mine and that had I know, I obviously would have done anything in my power to prevent it.  I have allowed myself to find peace in the fact that you had a frontal lobe brain injury that impaired your judgement and decision making and that, that injury was likely at least 90% of the reason that you made the decision that you did.  It's utterly heartbreaking, but at least I know it's not something that you sat there and thought about for months, weeks, or hours.  In fact you probably only thought about it for mere seconds and had you thought about it a bit longer and let thoughts of the children and myself run through your mind, you'd still be here.

I am able to talk about you and smile instead of crying the majority of the time and I talk about you a lot.  Too much maybe, I am sure there are many that are tired of hearing about you, but I won't ever stop.  I embrace and find thankfulness for our memories and our good times.  Our marriage was short, but our friendship was so long and I am so grateful for that.  I still cry but not as often as I did and I find so much joy in hearing Sawyer talk about you to people especially his sister and it makes my heart swell when he tells me how happy you are and that you are with us. And although my heart breaks into a thousand pieces when he says he misses you and wants you to come back, and even though those pieces break even more when I remind him that you can't and his little voice sweetly says please mama,  I love that he still loves you  so damn much.

Things are not better. Things are okay and they are different but they are not better.  Things are not better, but we are learning to live again and find the joy in the small moments even if that joy is fleeting, and that's more than we were doing a month ago.

We miss you.  We love you.  Forever.

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. 

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