Shift

You keep changing on me. Every time I get used to where you fit in my life, something shifts, is it me? Am I the one who’s changing? I can’t tell. It used to be such a constant. I was just sad all the time, I missed you and it was so easy to identify. I missed you with intensity because you were stolen from me. I was sad and I was angry, left to raise our kids and watch them grow without you. I felt a hole in my heart that I grew to accept as a part of me.

As time passes, the empty hollow feeling seems to come and go rather than persist. It hangs in the background and I am able to brush it aside with less effort than before. I feel as though there are times when I can choose to be sad rather than have those times choose me. Have I just learned to wrangle this grief or is it really, truly fading? The answer to this question changes depending on what challenge I face today or the next.

Each time I watch our children do something amazing, whether it be Noah printing his name for the first time or Audrey dancing in a recital I am caught between two opposing feelings. At first, my heart feels heavy and aches because you aren’t here to witness them; your absence is never forgotten. Sadness still creeps in when I catch our kids growing before my eyes. Then, I remember the way you used to smile when Audrey did something so ordinary. I remember how Noah’s squeal as a babe made you smile ear to ear, I can picture you clear as day nearly three years since you’ve been gone. You were in awe of our little ones from the day they were born; you cherished them like precious little gifts without any direction from anyone.

This true delight you took in our kids is something that trumps the sadness every once in a while for me. I can’t say I don’t get bogged down by my circumstances because I do (and I vent and I cry). But as time passes, I feel like it’s becoming easier to catch Audrey and Noah being kid-like and to let go of this pervasive gloom that has become a part of me. I try not to forget that you would give anything to have another moment with them; I’m now learning to be thankful that I get to have a lifetime with them.

Connected

There are people with whom we rub shoulders with everyday, be it on the bus, in a line up at the grocery store, or strangers that sit across your desk each day that can instantly jolt you back to another place and time in your life. Maybe it was a good time, or a time we would rather forget. Sometimes it’s a look, maybe a smile, or the tiredness you see in someone’s eyes that makes you remember.

I met a woman today who looked like she hadn’t slept in a year. I knew the look well having seen it in my own reflection for months on end. I felt an admiration for her and at the same time an absolute sadness overwhelmed me. A total stranger, evoking an emotional response in me that was more than what I was prepared for at 3 o’clock this afternoon. I felt such an ache for her knowing that she was doing what any other wife would do in the same situation. As our conversation evolved she confirmed what I had suspected after exchanging only a few words with them. Husband, diagnosed with cancer and has been fighting the disease for five years. The outlook, getting more challenging as the days pass and complications arise from the 5 types of cancer he has been fighting.

One of the hardest parts of being a widow is simply belonging to this stupid club. Having this premature knowledge of knowing what its like to lose your husband is cruel in it self. I felt pain for this woman today, a total stranger, knowing how much sorrow she is in for. I felt so sad for her knowing how helpless she feels now and how devastating it will be to watch the person she loves deteriorate and ultimately die from cancer. I wanted to take it away from her, the burden of responsibility to have to be strong enough for two. It made me think of the other women in my life and how they too might have to endure this cruel reality one day.

It seems that some sort of heartache, its foolish to think otherwise, touches everyone. It makes you wonder how when submerged in it and living that reality everyday, how does one smile? And then, I remembered…

Her husband was quiet, but strong in a silent kind of way and very sweet, he called her “Tootse” like the Tootsie roll. He was trying to take care of some financial matters without stating the obvious, all the time being very sensitive and respectful of her feelings. When he spoke to her, it made me smile. Then it dawned on me. His demeanor reminded me of Mark and how Mark used to take care of me. He used her nickname, which he had probably called her by for over 40 years and took care of things in a quiet, noble kind of way, in a very “Mark” sort of way. He was taking care of his “Tootse” and that’s all that mattered to her today. Even when your world is crashing down, I believe that when you feel connected to another person, you can smile and face anything.

Steel

Big wide wold of JK...with a little help.

Wakefield Steam Train

Fishin'

Birthday girl