A Rough Couple Of Days

Yesterday marked 5 months that Mitch has been gone. 

Yesterday, we were informed a family member has 2 weeks- 2 months left with us. 
Today, Megan had softball. 

She had a rough day behind the plate. She felt like she was screwing everything up. 

She started to cry. She cried hard, and for quite some time. 

The girls almost had to forfeit the game, because without Megan on the field, we didn’t have enough players to finish the game. 

I didn’t tell her to go out there. I told coach that I could never tell her to do that. Her emotional health is far more important to me, than any win or loss. 

Watching her cry, uncontrollably, for so many other reasons, outside of softball, hurt so bad. When she stood up, and walked out onto the ball field, by her own choice, was heart wrenching. Everyone out there watching the game, cheered for her. Even the other team’s parents were cheering for her. 

As the only person out there, that really understands what she is dealing with, and not being able to do anything to make it better, it sucks. I am her mom. I am supposed to comfort her when she is hurting. I can’t.

 All I can do is hold her until the tears stop.  When her tears stop, and she steps away, my heart breaks a little. Tears well up, and I fight them down.  

I have my good days, and I have my bad days. But, I don’t think my worst days hurt me as badly as Meg’s bad days do. 

I love her, so very deeply, that I can’t handle it when she is hurting. I mean, I CAN but I don’t like it, at all. 

It hurts. Bad. We miss him. 

Knowing Death is Coming

I received some sad news today. I am not going to reveal who, or what but, we were informed that a close relative is very close to death. In some ways, it’s comforting to know that this person will no longer be suffering once they have passed on, but, it hurts to know that death imminent. It hurts to know that hope is gone, here. Now, it’s time for comfort care.

Death is approaching much quicker now.

I had to tell Megan, and she broke down, and bawled her eyes out in the car.

There was so much hope, for this person. So much. My heart is shattering again, knowing that someone else is going to have to go through the pain that I have been going through.

I don’t want anyone else to die. I don’t want anyone to suffer. I don’t want anyone to feel the extreme pain of this form of  loss. I wouldn’t wish this life on my worst enemy.

So, as I sit here, crying over what is to come, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act. I don’t know how to help, or be.

It hurts. This person has been around for over half of my life. All of the people involved have been.

Most of you may not know, but I have only lost one person, who was really close to me, and it was a life changer. It was my husband. My step-brother and my Uncle fought battles of their own, and decided the only way to win the battle was to take themselves out of the equations. So, their deaths were their choices. It still hurt, when they died. It still hurt knowing that I wasn’t going to see them on random holidays or birthdays. But, my first REAL loss, was my husband. The first loss that put me on my knees, and curled into fetal position, crying, out loud. The worst pain I’ve ever felt.

Now, I know that another family member is going to experience, in their own way, the pain, and heartache that I am experiencing.

My hopes are that there really is an afterlife, and that Mitch, Megan, and many other family members are there to welcome this loved one, into an afterlife of no pain, no sadness, no anger, and no regrets. An afterlife of happiness, and joy, and love.

Hug your loved ones often. Tell them how much you love them. Be there when you can, and make time. Put forth the effort to be around.

 

My scars have been ripped wide open, today.

Time to restart this healing process.

peace Mitch

5 Months Without Mitch.

While Mitch was alive, I was always worried that I would die before him. I was afraid that I would die, and leave him a single father, caring for our daughter. I was afraid he was cursed, you know. I didn’t want to die and leave him a widower. That wouldn’t be fair. He lost his mom, when he was very young. He grew up, pretty rough. 

That day, when I drove out to FedEx, exactly 5 months ago, and the officer dragged me into an office, and told me he was found, unresponsive, I was broken. I was broken, but, I was also relieved that I didn’t die, and leave HIM broken. 

I can’t say that he would be doing better or worse, right now, in this position. I CAN say, that I am so glad he doesn’t have to be the one going through this. That would not have been fair for him, at all. And, yes, I know that life isn’t fair. 

Someone posted this photo, on Facebook, and they said “thoughts?” 

I responded with this: 

“I’ve been widowed for almost 5 months. I am breathing, standing, walking, climbing, running, sprinting, hurdling, etc. it sucks so so so bad! But here’s my reasoning: My husband was the kind of man who made the BEST of EVERY situation. It didn’t matter what the situation was, he looked at the silver lining. He found the good that came from every bad thing. He taught me to do the same. With my husband’s death, at the young age of 34, of natural causes (heart failure), many many family and friends flocked to their doctor, to have their hearts checked. Some found they were healthy as could be, others found they needed further checking, because their white blood count was off, or their whatever was bad. It’s been a hell of a ride this last 4.95 months, and I am heart-broken, but I have a 12 year old daughter who NEEDS me! My husband has passed on, so he no longer NEEDS me. He would NOT have wanted me to screw up my and our daughter’s lives, because I am sad, or heartbroken, or have depressed days. He would have said “look, Tabbie, my death saved my dad’s life!” Because it DID! So, I will sprint, and breathe, and walk, dance and stand. Some days I may wobble, or fall, but I will keep putting one foot in front of the other. I hate this, but I will SURVIVE! We all will.”
I feel like people believe I make widowhood look easy. I don’t try to. This isn’t easy, at all.  I try to live each day. I try to make our lives happy, even when we are sad. I go through times where I feel guilty for thinking other men are attractive, or if I have sexual thoughts about them. I also know that having those thoughts and feelings are totally normal. I am only 34! I am a HEALTHY 34. I am not acting on each thought. That’s where we would have a problem.  But, thinking about things is not a crime. It’s just something that happens. 

Again, not easy. 

One income. I’ve had people say, “Well, there’s one less person, so one less income shouldn’t be too bad.” Well, when you are used to living with double the money you have, it is a TOTAL adjustment! 

I know, that the things people say, are meant to be comforting, and coming from some people, it is comforting. When it comes from someone I am not close to, it doesn’t come out like that. It isn’t taken like that. For some reason, it really is irritating. 

I have always known that I adapt to change pretty well. I typicallyvadapt to change better than most people I know. However, I didn’t realize how well adapted I am, until it was brought to my attention, that I am USED to sleeping alone, already. I have no desire to have someone sleeping next to me. I thought I was going to need friends to sleepover, in the beginning, and I never did. Meg and I slept on an air mattress together for nearly 3 weeks, and both of us got so uncomfortable, she started sleeping on the couch, until we moved into our apartment. I have reverted back to being a bed-hog. I am regretting my decision, to buy a queen bed, rather than a king. I had a king bed, when I was a teenager. I think when Meg gets a “new bed” it’ll be my bed, and I’m getting a king. All that room! 

Now, unrealistically speaking, I would give everything I own away, if it meant I could share a floor with Mitch. But, that’s unrealistic. I can’t BRING HIM BACK! No matter how much I want it, it doesn’t work like that. No matter how hard I cry, or how much I miss him, it just doesn’t work that way. 

Maybe, when my time comes, I’ll see him again. He was a good person. I try to be a good person. Maybe that means our afterlives will be good, if there really is an afterlife. 

I could totally see Mitch and I haunting people, together. Hilariously haunting family and close friends. 

Honestly, I still don’t get signs from Mitch. I haven’t dreamed about him, except the only 2 dreams I had. Maybe he leaves me alone, because he is afraid I’ll lose my shit? Maybe he leaves me alone because I am “doing just fine”? Maybe he thinks I need to continue to “be the inspiration” that I have become? Maybe, he doesn’t visit me, because he is afraid I will be committed to a psych ward, and leave Meg without a parent? Maybe he doesn’t visit, because I told him he wasn’t allowed to haunt me? Jokingly, of course, because when one dies, they can do whatever they want. 😉 And maybe, JUST maybe, he doesn’t visit, because he can’t. Maybe that’s not a true option, after death. Whatever the case, he doesn’t visit me or leave me signs, like I hear everyone else talk about. I have little tidbits of “oh my, Mitch would have said that!” But, nothing too ghostly. 

So, here I sit, 5 months without my Mitchell. I am stronger than I have ever been, in all of my life. I am happy in all areas of life except the part where I am a widow. I still truly believe that EVERYTHING happens for a reason, even if we haven’t figured out that reason, yet. 

Maybe it’s something so simple as my words, helping someone get through THEIR grieving process, just a little bit easier? Who knows if I’ll EVER know the reasoning behind Mitch’s death, outside of the scientific, biological part. 

Keep Living. 

One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other. 

Skip. Hop. Run. Jump. Walk. 

Keep going. 

Empty Seats


I remember the first time I went out to eat, after Mitch passed away. It hurt so bad, to look across the table, at the empty seat that Mitch should have been sitting in. I cried, and felt so bad about it, because that night was to celebrate my brother’s birthday. It was supposed to be a night of happy thoughts, to ease my mind. It wasn’t. 

As I sit here today, in Memphis, TN, I see the empty seat in front of me. It still hurts, but I can bear it. I can handle the pain. I am pulled toward tears, but I blink them back faster than they can spill over. 

I am sitting with my family, having lunch, and finishing up the last of our, incredible, vacation. 

That seat is still empty. 

My heart still aches.

The tears still threaten. 

However.

My heart still beats.

My lungs still breathe. 

I keep moving. 

The world keeps spinning. 

Life keeps going. 

 

Father’s Day Without Dad

So, today has been such a bittersweet, heart happy/wrenching kind of day. 

Let’s talk about the good, because, we all already know about the bad. My heart has been so heavy, today, but we managed to have so much fun, as well.

Today started early. 4:30am, up and making breakfast for my 2 brothers, my mom and Megan. 

My two brothers and I went out on the ocean, to do some deep sea fishing. It was amazing. 2 hours in, my little brother started to puke. We told him to take the Dramamine, but he refused, saying he would be fine. HA! He puked like 5 times, and I got the first one recorded! I laughed so hard! 
And I said “I told you to take that stuff!” 

He hugged the palm tree when he got to dry land. 

Since he wasn’t going to make it the remaining 4 hours, Brady and I swapped him out for our mom, and went back out there. It was so amazing. Mom caught fish. I caught fish. Brady caught fish. And before the swap, Nate caught some too! 

I caught a Cobie and had to throw it back, but it was pretty cool! It looked like a mini shark! He held it because we had to keep it alive to send home, so it wouldn’t be too hurt. 


Here were the ones we caught and got to keep. Plus the two Nate caught before his barfin’ party. 


We used Brady’s GoPro to record us sending Mitch’s ash into the ocean. And of course, the wind changed and blew his ash right into our faces! That definitely lightened the mood. 

Megan didn’t want to go out that far in the ocean, so she lounged around, all day, until we got back, and Brady decided to take her for a Helicopter ride! Yes! You read that correctly! Meg went up into a helicopter, and proceeded to “squish” things below, just like her dad would have done. 

When we arrived, we went straight to the beach, and sent Mitch out. He would have loved every little bit of this vacation.

 Every. Little. Thing. 


Please, excuse my face. This was immediately after our 16 hour drive. 

I hate that Megan has to spend this, and every following Father’s Day, without her amazing father. It isn’t fair. But, LIFE isn’t fair. Thank the gods we already know and understand this, because if we didn’t, we would be angry. We would be defeated. We would be far more broken than we are. 

Happy Father’s Day, Mitchell John. We miss you. We love you. We will carry on your laughter, and your positive attitude toward life. We will continue to live our lives to the fullest, and never miss an opportunity to be kind to someone.  Our lives have been forever altered with your passing, but we will make it! You were the most amazing father, husband, and friend. You gave us the greatest gift (outside of your love) of all! Your family, who is OUR family, still. I am SO happy that Meg was old enough to have that bond with you. It’s such an amazing thing. 

I Am Tired

Exhausted would be a better word to use. I am exhausted.

It’s only Wednesday, and this week has been incredible, sad, scary, but, most of all, it’s been FUN!

It’s been very fun! A Concert on Monday, with a great friend, who I hope to get to hang out with more often, followed by a mom/daughter day on Tuesday getting our hair, and nails done, went out for dinner, and had ice cream cones, from our favorite ice cream shop.

Today, I will go watch Meg catch for her softball team, and hopefully slay the competition. (I’m THAT softball mom.)

I’ve been a bit more sad than normal, this week, and I realize why. Father’s day is on Sunday. This is going to be a rough one.

Megan’s first father’s day without her dad. My heart aches for her. My heart aches for ME! I never had the opportunity to have the beautiful father-daughter bond, that Megan and Mitchell shared. I used to just sit back, and watch them, in awe of how amazing they were together. I got to see that it is real. Sometimes, those perfect movie families can be REAL! Sunday is definitely going to be a rough day. We will have a drink with Mitch for father’s day (Brady and I. Not Megan!), in Florida.

I have felt very close to tears, multiple times this week. Hell, I cried at the hair salon, last night! I was blogging, but decided I didn’t like that blog, because it was just awful, and it would most likely piss people off. So, I deleted it.

I am in no mood to keep pissing people off. I am just living my life, like I need to do.

I am really goal oriented, and have discovered, I typically get the things that I want. I work for them, and I get them. Proudly. I am not sure why I wasn’t trying before. Maybe I just didn’t care, before. I was happy with my life. I am figuring out how to be happy, still. It’s different, now. I am always running. I work, I parent, I am supposed to cook, regularly (haha!), and make sure the apartment is clean, and then I have to also adult! Pay bills, get my oil changed. The works!

So, in the last 4 months, I have learned to do all of the things that Mitch did, and continue to take care of the things I used to take care of. It is exhausting! I decided I didn’t want to just work and sleep, and clean, and pay bills. I decided that with all of the “UNfun” stuff, there should be something fun thrown in there, too! Something just for me, or just for Megan, or just for us together.

So, If I am exhausted, it’s because I am making time for the fun. We need that. Everyone needs it. I recommend that.

Between the tear filled days, we must find the happiness. We must laugh, and tell our memories. We must keep our good people close, and cut loose the ones who try to bring us down. There’s enough going on in my head, that I do not need, or WANT anyone’s attempts at mind games. No time for that. I have many more important things to focus on.  So the only thing to do, is cut them loose. It could be a friend, or part of your family. It doesn’t matter, if they attempt mind games, say goodbye. You will thank yourself, in the long run.

Now, it’s time for me to do that “adulting” stuff, I talked about earlier.

 

haircuts

 

Do You Know What You Want in Life? Sex? Relationships? Money?

Or, do you only THINK you know?

Recently, I had myself convinced I wanted to be something I am not. I wanted to let myself go, with abandon, and not give 2 shits about it.

I wanted to be this person, who I have never been. Or so I convinced myself. Maybe I do want it? Maybe not. Most likely, not.

I am still figuring things out.

I found I like things I never thought I would like, and that’s what I am going to take from this life lesson. Because, honestly, everything is a lesson, in life. Right?

After being with someone for nearly sixteen and a half years, it’s hard to really know what you want, outside of that relationship, and all of the things that come along with it.

Many of our friends would joke about who wore the pants in our relationship. They always said it was me. It was, mostly. And there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s just how we were. I, more dominant than he. (and before anyone gets all weirded out, I mean in every aspect of our relationship. Not just sexual.)

I had convinced myself that I don’t want those pants, again. I don’t. I say “convinced myself”, but I have figured out, I don’t ever want to be that person who is bossy, and bitchy, and argues, and always gets her way. I was spoiled. Mitch spoiled the shit out of me. I am NOT complaining, at all. He was perfect. Perfect for the person I was. Perfect for the family that we created. Perfect.

Becoming a widow has opened my eyes to many things that I could do differently, when it comes to the next step. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not ready for relationship status, and won’t be for a long time. That’s just not something I want, right now. I wanted sex, sure. But, I realized, after a very long, drunken, conversation, that I didn’t actually want what I was asking for, but for some reason, I thought I did. And that’s fine. I have no regrets.  But, enough about that.

In life, I want to be happy. That’s something that many people struggle with. I am doing everything in my power to keep myself and my daughter happy. Being widowed has shown me, no more “next year! We will do this NEXT YEAR!” No, we will do it NOW! Next year may never come for us. There’s a deep longing to be free. To do everything that I have ever wanted to do. That is one of the reasons I have started traveling. Short, weekend adventures, to run dirty, muddy, obstacle course races. The people I find myself surrounded by, during these races, are genuine people. They are happy. They are out there, playing in the mud, and swinging from the monkey bars, like overgrown children. Happy.

I want to be successful. I want to continue to be successful in my career, in my friendships, and in my LIFE. There’s nothing wrong with being an independent woman. I really hate that the way I had to realize how independent I am, was losing the love of my life, my soulmate, the father of my child.

I have had a rough few days, thinking about everything. I go through phases. Sometimes, I accept what is my life. Other times, I question it all. But, the last few days have been more like living in a dream. I am back to that. Like, I am going to wake up, soon, and everything that’s wrong in the world will be right again. I just need to let the dream go a little bit longer. Just a little while longer. I’ll wake up, soon.

But I am awake. I am completely aware of how awake I truly am.

I have started to spread Mitch’s ashes, as I travel. I placed him in the Grassy Knoll in Dallas, TX. I know it sounds insane, but Mitch was such a nerd, he would have LOVED it there. I placed him by a quote from Kennedy’s speech, that he never was able to give. It reads:

“We in this country, in this generation. Are-by destiny rather than choice-the watchmen on the walls of world freedom. We ask, therefore, that we may be worthy of our power and responsibility, that we may exercise our strength with wisdom and restraint, and that we may achieve in our time and for all time the ancient vision of “peace on earth, and good will toward men.” That must always be our goal, and the righteousness of our cause must always underlie our strength. For as was written long ago: “Except the lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.”
–John Fitzgerald Kennedy

It’s a beautiful place, with beautiful words. And just to make it so much more emotional, there was a man, playing the violin, in the gazebo, and we could hear his music, as we spread the ash. I cried, harder than I’ve cried in a long time, that afternoon. Spreading his ashes was like conformation that he is actually, physically, gone from this place. It hurt. It hurt so bad.

I think that’s when I started to feel like I was in a dream. Or, like I am just a character in a movie, following the script I was given. It’s a very strange sensation. I am not sure what to think of it. I am not sure where to go with it. I am not sure if anyone else feels this way, or if it’s just my widow-brain.

I was chatting with a friend. A very handsome friend, but no worries there, we are both very dedicated to our children, live 1,000 miles apart, and if anything went down between us, it would be at least 6 years from now. ;P But we were chatting. We were talking about how I have always wanted to live in the country, and how he has always wanted big city life. Funny how that worked out, huh? But, my point, we were talking about being single, and how it sucks, but it is what it is. I told him that I feel like people are scared of me. He asked why, I told him, because I am a widow. That’s terrifying to so many people. And that’s okay! I’ll say, you should not be scared of me, because of my being a widow. I’m not exactly sure what there is to be afraid of, but if anyone has any insight, please, share!

I know, that in the future, I will want a relationship. I will want something fun, exciting, sexually adventurous and strong. Key words: In. The. Future. Not now, not next month, and probably not next year. But, I already know that it  will be something I want. I can see it in my head.  Right now, though,  I want to continue to find myself. It’s important to me, to find out who this new woman is. Not knowing myself will be a problem, for any future endeavours.

So please, bear with me, here, as I continue to search within myself, and find out everything I ACTUALLY want. Sexually, in life, or in general. Only I can discover these things.

And keep in mind, this is much harder for me, than anyone will ever realize. I struggle with myself, daily. Like, do you really want to do that? Yes. No. Yes. No. It’s a cycle that I must work through. I’ve only talked to one man about this stuff. Poor guy. I’ve treated him like he’s my private journal, rather than a friend. Sorry, man. I’m working on it.

Now, about money. I know what I want in the money department. I want to be comfortable. I don’t need to be dirty rich, I can’t go back to paycheck-paycheck. I like where I am, with savings, with budgeting, with being able to vacation. I like it. I know that when I do start dating, my number one thing with be, that man has got to have his own self comfortable, financially. I don’t want to worry about someone else’s struggles. That sounds terrible, but I am being completely honest. I have my own money. I have my own savings. I am financially stable, and don’t plan on screwing that pooch. I think, even if in 5-6 years, I end up married to someone else, (IF!) I would not merge bank accounts. I am working too hard to fix all the shit that we screwed up, as youngins. I will never risk ruining my hard work.

In all honesty, I really don’t care about YOUR money, just as long as you have your OWN, and aren’t interested in MINE. Does that make sense? I’m not into sharing anymore. 😉 (dear goddess, I sound like a bitch. oh well. I know the truth.)

My Best Writings Are My Most Private Ones.

Unfortunately, it is true. My most private of writings are my best ones. I love to share how I am doing, where I am, what my emotions are, and how I really feel about my emotions.

Emotions are finicky things. How can you feel one way, then feel pissed off about it?

How can you miss one person, so deeply, and still be happy around another?

Don’t get me wrong, I am not “around another” right now.

I don’t know where I go from here, or what I do. I know that I just keep being me, and keep bettering myself, each chance I get.

I become stronger with each obstacle I surpass. Just like when I am racing, so is my life.

I start off running a good pace, I hit an obstacle. It slows me down. I get through it. I run again. I hit another obstacle. I can’t do it alone. I get help from a friend, or a stranger. I get through it, and continue to run. I may slip, and fall in the mud. But I get up, wipe my hands and keep moving forward.

My ultimate goal? To finish. My goal is always to finish.

If ever I come upon an obstacle I just cannot complete, I skip it. I choose my battles. I go around it, and plan to work on that for next time. One day, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, I WILL complete every obstacle thrown at me.

Until then, I will keep choosing my battles. I will keep being me. I will keep working, and striving for greatness.

 

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The last birthday, of mine I got to spend with Mitch.

A Widow and Her Word Vomit

I will apologize in advance, for this post. I have so much to say, and haven’t really thought it through, yet.

I have found myself in tears, a lot the last couple of days. I think my strength is dwindling, with the migraine I’ve had. I found myself on Mitch’s facebook page, looking through old videos and photos. Man, I miss him so much! His goofy smile, his “everything will be fine” mentality, his warm hug, that made everything really feel like it was going to be fine.

As I scrolled through the pictures on his facebook, laughing at the memes he made or shared, the pictures of him and Megan, and the ones of us, I realized, I can tell you things that happened the days that most of those pics were taken. I can tell you that in this picture, we had argued, right before getting out of the car, at his Aunt Cindy’s house. I don’t remember what we argued about, but I remember we were having a tiff. All ended up fine, as it always did with us. I mean, who can stay mad at those dimples?

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I have been thinking a lot. My brain has been in overdrive, and I just lay here, and think, “This is really happening? This is really my life? Why? What the hell did I do? Why does whoever is in charge think this was necessary? This sucks! I am strong, but damnit, I don’t want to be!”

Things like this are a regular cycle through my head, recently.

A small part of me is still hoping this is a joke. Or maybe Mitch witnessed something, and is actually in the witness protection program. But, my realistic mind overrules those thoughts. I know what’s real. No matter how much I wish it wasn’t, this is fact. Mitch has passed on, and is without pain or worries. He is free. He is with his mom, grandmother, and many of the greats.

I am here. Meg is here. We are making the best of this situation. We are not just surviving, we are THRIVING. We are being the best that WE can be. We are working to better ourselves each day, with every step and every human encounter we make.

As I lay here, and mourn the loss of such an inspiration to my life, I know it is just my selfish nature, wanting to keep him just for us. He was MINE, and I only shared with Megan. When she was born, he became OURS.

I read, quite a bit, like I’ve said in previous blogs. I actually read a new one, within the last couple of days about “Widows should only date widowers.” My initial thought was “WHAT? WHY??” Then, “NO THANK YOU!” As I read along, and it makes quite a few points about why it should be that way, I still disagree. I think that the right person for any widow or widower, will be the person who is the strongest, and the one with the most understanding. It’ll be the person who doesn’t get jealous over a deceased spouse. It’ll be the one who says “Let’s go to *insert place here* and take some ash!”

It doesn’t have to be a widower. It doesn’t have to be someone who “understands”. It just needs to be someone STRONG. Someone who is willing to understand YOU as a person grieving, and know that there can be a bond, but a different kind of bond that you shared with your deceased love.

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I am going to talk about Mitch, probably until the day I die, because he was hilarious, and such a HUGE part of my life, not to mention, he fathered my amazing daughter. So, STRONG and secure in oneself, are a must, when it comes to that point in my life. And, honestly, who knows when I will ever be to the “dating” point? It could be months, it could be years, it could be never, or tomorrow?

It’s funny, when I think about dating. I had seriously sworn off all men, the night before Mitch came into McDonald’s and invited me to his 18th bday party. Sworn. Off. All. Men! I was done! I had it and didn’t even care to talk to them.

Then, in walked Mitch with his dazzling (ornery) smile, with those dimples to die for.

It was over. I was finished. We were going to get married. Plain and simple. I knew it, and I hadn’t even kissed him yet. But, I sure had plans to put my lips on him. And I did. In front of ALL of his friends. I don’t think one person, at his birthday party,  missed our first kiss.

And then came our very brief “dating”. We took Michael and Katy to their skate parties, because going with a super awesome big brother and his girlfriend is WAYYYYY cooler than going with the dreaded parents.

Our first movie date is questionable. We can’t remember if it was Coyote Ugly at the Drive in, or Bring It On at the theater. Neither of us could remember. We didn’t actually care.

I remember walking in front of some strip mall somewhere, and we used to write things on the palm of each other’s hands, with our fingertips, and try to guess what we were spelling.

That was how he told me he loved me, for the first time.

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I remember our first apartment, together. We were insane! We picked one of the most expensive complexes with one of the most expensive layouts we could find, and only lasted about 3 months there. We were 18, and had our 17 and 16-year-old friends move in with us. We all lost or quit our jobs. How does one pay rent and bills without a job? hmmmm….

We moved out.

After that, for Mitch and I, it was a downward spiral with bills and bill collectors, and we were sued once for a car accident, in which  our car insurance company dropped us instead of paying for the other car to be repaired! We were so broke that we nearly lost our shit when we were sued for $1,000. Really? We couldn’t manage that? I worked at mcd’s, he worked at Two Men and a Truck. I think collectively, we made about 36,000 a year. Then, I was put on bedrest, about 2 months before Megan was due. Pregnancy and I didn’t get along. Reason number 1 that we didn’t have more children.

Luckily, the older we got, the better we became with taking care of our bills in a reasonable manner. But, enough about that. Bills and money are boring, when it’s not about winning millions, or earning millions.

Many of you read this each time I post a new blog, some may not, and that’s okay. If this is your fist time reading, It is important to know that my husband was 34 when he died from heart failure. His heart just stopped ticking. Now, you’ll understand the next part of this story.

I have been very busy. I have been to Georgia, near St. Louis, and in Fort Worth and Dallas, TX. That’s just in the last month. I have taken a vow to better health. I have hired a trainer (JRenFitness) and have been trying my damnedest to keep up with the regime. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up, because of my job, but I try. I think I may have overdone it recently, so I am happy to be taking a mini-break. I am planning 3 or 4 more travel weekends soon, for racing. But first, I go to Florida with my family. I am excited to do workouts at the butt-crack of dawn on the beach. It will be our first family vacation, ever.  It’ll be my first time seeing the ocean. It’ll be my first time in Florida. There will be a lot of firsts that Meg and I will do together.

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One thing we will not shy away from? Talking about her dad. I am sure there will be very emotional times, while we are there. I am sure we will laugh. I am sure we will cry. I am sure we will have an amazing time.

We. Are. Still. Alive.

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When I was in the ER for this terrible migraine, they came in to ask me all the questions for billing, and they asked “Is your emergency contact still Mitch Wood at…” and I started crying, and said no. Of course the next question was “marital status, still married?” I said “no, widowed” and kept crying. I didn’t think that qeustion would effect me as it did, but it did. And I was alone in the room with the poor girl taking all of my information.

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Now, it’s weird for me to think of myself as “single” because that word is so much less than what I am. I am not with anyone, anymore, but I am a complicated mess of human emotion. I will never be “normal” again. And that’s okay. Who wants “normal” anyway? “Normal” is overrated.

 

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Our Football Rivalry! Mitch would be proud to know, Megan prefers the Seahawks.

Grieving Publicly 

The moment I wrote Mitch and my love story, days after he passed, is when I decided to make my grief cycle completely open. Public. For those who follow my blog, and know me in person, you know I’m intense, and whatever other words you so desire to use. 
There have been a few people who’ve said,  “you shouldn’t share so much.” 

But, this is who I am. This is what I’ve decided I want to do. This helps ME, and may help others as well. 

With my blogs, I am not looking for acceptance, attention, love, friends, or anything. Instead, I am hoping to help someone, anyone, know, they are not alone. This journey of grieving is different for every person who is thrust upon its path. The one thing we have in common is that NONE of us asked for this, but we got it anyway. 

With my last post, it was questioned as to why I would have wanted to share it. “That’s personal, and not everyone needs to know.” 

No, not everyone needs to know, but there might be some widowed man or widowed woman out there, feeling awful because they are having the same sexual desires. They may need to see that, no, they aren’t the only one going through this. 

Where I grabbed the bull by the horns, others may be too afraid of what comes next. That’s okay. I was afraid of what would happen after, as well. Hell, I messaged my in-laws before posting my last blog, because I didn’t want them to find out through my blog. I hit the send button, and immediately scrubbed in for surgery. I felt like I was going to puke throughout the entire surgery. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared, directly, with them. Maybe it’s okay? My only hopes is that they understand I told them, because I respect them so much, and feel they have a right to know before the world knows. (Or the blogging world) 

So, my story will be open to the public. I am not going to write about every sexual encounter, but that first one was an important part of this story, a chapter that couldn’t be left out.