This Widow’s Life


I’ve been MIA for a couple of weeks. It’s been a busy, non-sleeping couple of weeks. Texts in the middle of the night, drive to Georgia, and back, kind of craziness. Megan graduated from Elementary school, and will be a middle school kid! And, this weekend, I am driving almost to St. Louis to run, yet another race, then I’m driving straight home, right after.

My mind has been tossed from one place to the next, and I haven’t sat down to actually contemplate how close it is to what would have been Mitch and my 14 year wedding  anniversary. I took this weekend as a “no-call” weekend, so that we could go out, and do things, like dinner, a movie, and S-E-X! Whaaaaat? There will be no sex for me this weekend. =P (that’s fine, too)

How does dating work, anyway? As a widow, do I date someone I know, or do I go with a stranger who doesn’t know my situation? Is there even anyone who doesn’t know my situation? This may come as a shock, to most of you, but, I’ve tried to dip my toes in, and I am fucking clueless! One guy was a stranger, and learned very quickly of my situation, because of my very public facebook page, and blog, and the other is someone who has been around for a very long time. like 10+ years (as a friend of a friend).  I know I don’t want a relationship, because, dear sweet baby jesus, that would be a ticking time bomb, right now. At least that’s what I’ve read, in multiple places, plus, I am not ready for relationship status. I am not ready to say “Hey Megan, I have a boyfriend.” So, I don’t want one. But, I am young. Between the two I was talking to, they were extreme opposites, prude/freak, and it’s already over. I was told I am an overthinker. So, there’s that! Tell me something I DON’T know. 😉 I have too much going on, these days, to worry about dating, anyway.  I just have wants.  Wants that are low on a list of things I want for myself. I allowed the possibility to cloud my priorities, if I am being completely honest. For shame! Thank the gods for honesty.

And, for anyone who is wondering how I am “moving on” it’s not like that. I know, in my heart of hearts, that no man will EVER live up to Mitchell John, and I have accepted that. Now, if someone comes out, and surprises me, so be it, but, I don’t see that happening. I am not moving on. Mitch will forever be in my heart, and on my mind, no matter the situation, or place in my life.

Give me a minute while I screw my head back on, straighten my spine, and reset my priorities. Back to my family and friends. It was fun while it almost lasted? I have no idea.

P.S.  #NoJudgingZone Also, I am not spell checking, or grammar checking this blog. I need to go to work!




I haven’t blogged in a few days. I have been wanting to. I have just been trying to figure out how, best, to write this blog. I touched on it, a little, a while back. It was about sex, and missing it. I have found that there is no easy way to write this. So, I am just going to write what comes to mind, because, what kind of blog would this be, if I weren’t making my confessions?

Lately, I’ve found myself lusting after men. No, I am not acting on any of it. Dear God, not now. That would be ridiculous.

But, it’s true! I’ve thought about sex, and when I saw it in my mind, it wasn’t Mitch. I hated myself for it. Really. It’s been almost every day now. It’s insane!

I have my theories as to why it is happening. I was never without, when it came to sex, and intimacy.  I never had to worry about any of that. I was SEVENTEEN when Mitch and I got together! I don’t KNOW what celibacy is! My body REJECTS it! Not really, but, sometimes, that is what it feels like.

So, one theory I have, is kind of sciency. Pheromones. Maybe, Mitch’s pheromones were so much made for me, that it drowned out all other pheromones, the whole time we were married? Is that possible? Who knows? I like to think that Mitch and I were so much made for each other, that I never caught a “whiff” of another man. And now, I don’t have him here, so I am being overwhelmed by all of these other pheromones. I don’t know. Sounds like, with the right wording, it could be legit. Right?


Well, I am embarrassed as could be. I feel terrible. But then I remember, I am 34. I am not 74, or 84. I am a very healthy, active, 34 year old woman. I will, most likely, have sex again. I can’t pretend that I will give that part of life up, because, let’s face it, sex is great. But, let’s be real. It’s going to be a while, before I even dive into that, again, no matter how much I tell my friends that I want to. I want to, but I DON’T want to, more. If that makes sense.

Control. I remind myself, that no matter how much I am wanting to jump some guy’s bones, I shouldn’t do it, because it’ll be a disastrous mess. I don’t have time for that. I have too much to take care of right now, so sex is not even really an option. And, even though my body is revolting, my brain and heart are not. I am not stupid enough to attempt a sexual encounter right now.

Could you just imagine? Oh My God! I would be that woman who cried after sex, and totally freaked some dude out! Funny as that would be, far in the future, it’s not worth it, now.

And, please, guy friends of mine, don’t worry. I am not, as Mitch would say, “damp” over any of you. (Did I really just type that?) Most of my dreams are about men I barely know. Which is good, I guess. right? I don’t think I could look someone in the eye, if I had some steamy dream about them. The dreams. I will bet the sex dreams are a way for me to release the built up stress of this widow’s life, in a healthy way. Again, I was sexual with the same man for 16.5 years. I never had to worry about “releasing stress” in a healthy manner.


But, these are my confessions. This is what I am dealing with. And, I am comfortable letting you all know. I don’t feel like the ones I love and care about, and the ones that know me, will make judgements. I feel like they know me, and know I won’t be whoring around town. 😉 They know I am smart. I care about my healing process. I care about all things that actually matter. I care about how Megan sees me healing.

This too shall pass?

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

August2008z 063
Mitch’s face when he didn’t get his way. 


Has He Really Been Gone Over Three Months?

Yes. He has. I feel it, every day. Every message I send, looking for a ride to school for Megan, shows me. Every day, after work, when I pick Meg up, and come home to cook dinner, I feel it. Every night, as I crawl into bed, alone, it’s clear.

Last night was rough for me. I get scared at night, after nightmares, or just seeing creepy shadows, casted by darkness. Last night, I awoke, at 2am, with this overwhelming fear. Prior to 3 months (and 2 days) ago, I would have just snuggled up, next to Mitch, and his sleeping self, would wrap his arms around me, and I would be comforted. I would fall back asleep, no worries. Not last night. Last night, I was like a child, again. I turned my bedroom light on, and pulled the covers over my head, so I could go back to sleep.

It’s almost embarrassing to admit that, but I know many adults, who still turn the lights off from the doorway, and run and JUMP into bed, to “avoid being grabbed by the monster under the bed.”

Taking Megan to her softball practices, and not having dad “coach” from the OUTSIDE of the fence, is hard.

The nights, when Meg waits until the last-minute, to tell me she needs something for school, the next day, I TOTALLY feel it! Mitch would ALWAYS be the one to go get whatever she needed, and I would crawl my butt, into bed. Mitch stayed up late, anyway, so he and I agreed it was better for us, if he went. Plus, she would wear what he bought, or use what he bought, no question. If I picked it out, we would be in trouble.

Any time I have “technical difficulties” I feel his loss. Mitch was my go-to guy for computer issues, hooking up electronics, etc.

When I step into my shower, and there isn’t 5, almost empty bottles of mens body wash, scattered about, I feel his absence.

Every day, as I wonder if this bill or that bill was paid, I feel him missing. Mitch paid the bills, before. He managed the money. Now, I wonder, then realize, DUH! I did!

When I go out to big family dinners, I feel his absence. I have to drink 1 beer, upon arrival, and then a TON of water or tea, to flush it, before I leave. Before, I would just drink what I wanted, and Mitch would drive, or I wouldn’t drink at all, and I would drive. It’s amazing, when you can develop such an amazing partnership, like that.

When I got the money from my work, my first instinct, was to text Mitch. I grabbed my phone, and went straight to his contact!

There are times when I deal with debt collectors, because lord KNOWS they sure do swarm at the worst possible times. I talked to one yesterday, who said she sure does have over $1,000 just sitting around, for when a bill collector calls. I called her a liar, and hung up. =/ When I paid off all of my old debt, I thought for sure, it was all gone. I applied for a car loan, and BAM, all this shit came at me. WTH? I paid everything except for the old apartment, because that should have never been charged, but that is a story for another time. So, as I am sitting in the dealership, and the guy is pointing at this and that, I am like, whoa! I wasn’t very bright in my 20s, just sayin. I saw credit card stuff, that I had completely forgotten about!

As I talk about the debt, now, I can see and hear Mitch, “Tabbie, stop stressing yourself out! You got that car loan, didn’t you? You got out of that piece of shit house, ran by a slumlord, didn’t you? You got into an apartment you have always wanted to live in, didn’t you?”

Yes. But, I would choose that piece of shit car, with that piece of shit house over all of this new and “great” stuff, if it meant having him back.

Now, in the opposite of Mitch fashion, time to request a copy of my credit report, and start paying that crap off, because that’s the only way I won’t stress about it.

I am unsure, as to when I will ever NOT feel Mitch’s absence, or if that is even possible. The fact that I feel his absence every single day, means he was doing something amazing, while he was here. There are so many memories, brought to my attention, every single day.

So many pictures, that I had to sneak of him, because he, like Megan, would cover his face, in all pictures. So many, “Mommy, remember when Daddy would…” So many, “Tabbie, remember when Mitch did…”

Yes. I remember. But, keep the stories coming.

Mitch and his apple

3 Months Since Our Last “Date”.

Three months ago, exactly, Mitch suggested we go downstairs, into his man-cave, and watch the girliest of chick-flicks. 

Beautiful. With Minnie Driver. One of my favorite movies. 

I never, in all my years, would have thought THAT would be our last movie, together. 

We had Eat. Fit. Go. For dinner. He was excited and said there was crack in the chili. 

He was lively! 

He was turning back into his old, pre-injury self. His energy was back. He was happy that he could walk to the basement, without stumbling. 

On this eve of the 3 month marker without him, I ache. I ache so deeply, today, that even some of my co-workers noticed I was quiet today. I woke up crying, and I’ll fall asleep crying. 

It hurts to think of him as dead, deceased, passed on, or in a “better place”. 

I have a race coming up, on Saturday. I remember how PROUD he was, about the first one I did. He couldn’t believe I did it. He shared on Facebook how “amazing” I was, for it. 

I’m no speed demon, and I’ve never even come CLOSE to winning one, but he thought it was just the greatest, something to brag about, even. 

What the hell am I going to do without my biggest fan?

 This race, I’ll be running with new friends, and I’ll have fun. I’ll remember all of the encouraging things he ever said to me. I always get SO NERVOUS before every race. I panic at the top of every tall obstacle, and fear a broken neck, or just a bone, even. 

Mitch would talk me down, every time. “Tabbie, have you broken a bone yet?”

“Well, no. But did you see the report about how the rig broke in (insert city name here)?”

“Really. Tabbie, if that did anything, it made them rethink how their inspections go, before each race. You’ll be fine!”

Every time. 

The person who got the flesh eating amoeba in her eye, and ended up losing her eye. There was a race where a TON of people got some nasty GI bug. 

He would find something to calm me, every time. 

It’s only Monday, and my anxiety is through the roof, about Saturday. 

My god, I miss him! 

Also, on a different subject, I feel guilty about being happy that I was able to buy a new car, and get it affordable. Why? Because we couldn’t have done that, together. It took both cars, a rebate and sheer determination to get ONE NEW CAR. The simple fact that we couldn’t accomplish this, together, makes me sad. It may not even make sense to you. It may never make sense. But to me, it feels like I am happy about everything. I am not. It’s such a bittersweet thing. 

I feel guilty because, financially, we are fine, where before, we were paying way too much for everything. We were so broke all the time, because we had all of these terribly high bills, and state taxespayment plans   and all kids of stuff. Now, I’m TRYING to take the minimalist route. I mean, I buy the things we NEED, and every now and again, the things we want. 

Goodnight, sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. 

I do have my moments. Red eyes. 😢

Car Dealership VS The 34 Year Old Widow

So, I have been running around, like a 5-year-old, who got the Barbie she always wanted, for Christmas.

I BOUGHT A CAR! A brand new, never owned before, car!

I was at the car dealership for six and a half hours, getting them to lower the price/monthly payments/interest rate. I have been telling everyone, who will listen, about said event.

I went in strong. I started spouting off all of these numbers, like I REALLY knew what I was talking about, and THEN I sat down. The salesman leaned forward, eyes wide, mouth agape, and said, “Where are you getting all of your information? It’s all very accurate, but, where?”

My brother told me what to say. He told me what questions to ask. I knew what I was looking for, but I have always just been the woman at the dealership with her husband. Now, don’t get me wrong. that statement was sarcastic. It means that I was, basically, overlooked when we were car shopping. Not by Mitch. The salesmen wouldn’t talk to me. They would always direct every question to Mitch, as if I had no clue what I wanted, or needed.

I know my credit is crappy. I said it, immediately after telling the salesman what I wanted, and what I “knew”. I felt good.

I felt STRONG! Independent! Like a fucking goddess!

I got what I wanted, just with a bit higher interest rate, and, I get it. I was lucky to even get approved for a loan, to begin with. But, by golly, I sure did get it, and I sure did get it REAL close to what I was asking for.


On the downside. I came home, and all I wanted to do was tell Mitch how amazing I was, at the dealership. Reality hit, and felt tears and sobs coming, but I was so exhausted from haggling, that I just passed out. I had to work today, so sleep took over.

I didn’t eat dinner last night, because I was too busy buying a car.

My brother is in the process of packing all of his stuff, since he is moving out of his smaller home, into a larger one, VERY SOON! He was storing Mitch’s things in his basement for me. It’s all here. My halls were lined with all things Mitch, when I got home.

I see all of his stuff through the clear totes.

I was sad, because my seattle seahawks stick family decals were gone. I was sad, because that car Mitch drove, that always made my heart jump, even though I KNEW he wouldn’t be here, is gone.

I may look strong, and brave, on the outside. On the inside, I am jello. I am scared. I am in so much pain, I can’t even describe it.

I bought a car! Yay!

I traded Mitch’s car. Not-so-yay.

Yes, I laugh. Yes, I love. Yes, I can be happy for those around me, who are getting engaged, buying new homes, or having new babies. I am genuinely happy for your happiness.

I am also happy for MY happy things. I’ve talked about it before. I am happy that I bought this new car. I am so happy that I can afford it. I am happy that when it’s paid off, it’ll still be under warranty, and Megan get it, when she turns 18.

All of that happiness, but, I am devastated that Mitch died. I fucking hate it. I hate that I don’t have him with me. I hate that Megan will be a teenage girl, without her daddy.  It’s not fair! He would have been SO amazing with her, through her teen years. He had so much patience! Watch THIS video, to see.

I remembered, a few days ago, that just about a week before Mitch died, I was talking to a friend about how I wouldn’t have to ever worry about being a single mother, because Mitch was phenomenal! Even if he was messy, he was amazing!

And, since he was so amazing, I have taken the best of his shirts, jerseys, hats, etc, and split them up, amongst his 8 siblings, and parents.

I am excited to give them each, their own little Mitch souvenirs. I don’t expect them to wear the clothing, or hats, or anything like that. But, to have it, and hug it, or put it on a pillow to hug, when they are missing him, will be nice.

God, gods, goddesses! I am SO glad we married young! I got to be with him, for HALF of his life! I got HALF! That’s AMAZING! More than half would have been better, but damn! We are only 34.

I’ve also had to stop wearing my wedding ring, on my finger. I have added it to my urn necklace, and his ring. It looks very good, together.


I Miss Sex!

FAMILY, you have been warned, just by the title of this blog! 

I know! Let me explain, before you tear me a new one. 

I’ve been debating with myself, about even posting this. Really though, I feel like anyone who loses their spouse feels the same way, and are ashamed to admit it. We shouldn’t be ashamed about this. And before any weirdos offer up a piece of their junk, the answer is no. I am not wanting to have sex. I just miss it with my husband.  

Here is the deal. Mitch and I were together for 16.5 years. I am only 34. I was 2 months shy of 18 when we started dating. 

That’s 16.5 years of never having to go without. That’s 16.5 years of “when we/I want it, there it is!” His goofy self, always dry-humping me, as I changed my clothes, or as I stripped to take a shower. The “oh! We got off of work early, wanna do it while Meg is at school?” His goofy comments, and silly pickup lines that he STILL used on me, after 16.5 years together. Every single day, he told me how much he loved me, and how lucky he was to score with such a hot chick. Of course, I would just giggle, say “I love you too.” And tell him to “shut up, I’ve got mom-bod now.”

Now, I don’t have that. I don’t have the ease and comfort of just “hopping in bed” with my husband. I mean, I could take his ash box to bed, literally. But where does it go from there? That’s creepy and I wouldn’t chance spilling his ash. I would HATE myself if a part of Mitch lived on in the vacuum cleaner. 👎 He would probably HAUNT me if that happened!   And ew. I feel gross just typing that, but know, that’s intended to be something for you to laugh at, not take seriously. 

But really! 

I TOTALLY took Mitch’s penis for granted! I thought it would always be here. 

Here I am, at the “height of my sexual prime” and I don’t have my man. 

So, as I boldly type this, and share it with the world, I am thoroughly grossed out about the ash box comment, and hope you can find the humor in my ridiculous mind. 

As my heart aches each day, it does heal. Little bits at a time. 

I’ve got this! 

I CAN do this! 

And family, if you held on, and kept reading, I’m not sorry. You were warned. 😘

Fun Facebook treasures. His humor, though.

Fresh Pain. Memories are Everywhere.

After yesterday, and not being able to spend the holiday with Mitch, it reopened my slowly healing heart.

I cried a lot yesterday, as I already talked about.

Today, I received a text message that read:

“I was a little sad, last night, after I read your blog. Then, the most awesome event happened. I had a very vivid vision of Mitch and his mom holding hands, looking down on your day (easter), they were just enjoying it all, with BIG smiles. Then Meg (Mitch’s mom) said, ” I am so glad you found a strong woman. We do not have to worry.” My heart expanded in my chest, I swear and felt light and not as sad… for just a bit. Wanted to let you know.”

I just happened to check that message, between surgeries, today. I was trying to clean my OR, and had tears falling. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to stop, but I had to reign it in. We were so busy, today. There was no time for me to take a break to put myself together.

Now, just a bit on why it made me cry.

I am happy that I can picture him with his mom, because she was murdered when he was 9 years old. My heart had always ached for him, because of that. He was so well adjusted to living, that no one believed it when I told them about it.

I am sad, because, in order for him to be with his mom, he can’t be with me or his daughter. That’s my selfish nature, but, really, who can blame me? Right? I miss him so much, every day.

I was driving to pick Megan up, from her friend’s house, today. I was stopped at a red light on 75th in Metcalf. Memories from every corner.

On one corner stands price chopper. I hate that grocery store, with a passion. I remember going there with Mitch, and telling him how sucky that store is. The set-up is so bad! I remember, most times we went there together, I sat in the car, because I hated it so much!

On another corner, there is a Dunkin Donuts. We went there for brunch one day, and Mitch got some kind of powdered donut. He got the powdered sugar all over his face, and started talking about how it looks like he’d been partying with Charlie Sheen.

I look across the street, and on the south-east corner sits a CVS, which was once an Osco drug. I remember when I was pregnant with Megan, Mitch stopped there, so I could go pee, because I didn’t want to go anywhere else, and this was before there were gas stations on Metcalf. This was the place I had to go, to have my prescriptions filled, when I was pregnant. This was the place that gave me that crazy nasty powder, to mix with “my favorite lotion” for the P.U.P.P.S. rash I developed during pregnancy. This is the concoction that Mitch mixed and helped me rub all over my body.

On the South-west corner stands a Wal-greens. I made Mitch stop there, so I could pick up this super cool science kit for Megan, that was only $5, from one of the facebook swap sites. I had him take me there, so I could use my coupons, and only pay the tax on some hair products. He would laugh at me, because I would complain about having to pay taxes, when the product itself ended up free, because of the coupon magic.

So, as I sat at the light, waiting for the light to turn green, I cried. Loud, mascara running down my face, snot-cry. As I cried, I realized that Mitch and I were EVERYWHERE around here. I will have memories at every turn I take. Some will probably cause sharp pains. Some will probably make me laugh, hysterically. Some, some may cause me to lose my breath, for my heart to skip a beat, or stop me in my tracks.

I will keep going. I will keep healing. I will keep breaking, and healing over and over again. There’s nothing that I can do, but embrace this thing we call grieving.  No matter how much I wish it weren’t true. No matter how much I wish this were all a dream.

Again. I am a realist.

I am an optimistic realist.

I will stand tall, when I have the energy, and I will allow myself to break, when it happens.

11 weeks and 5 days, since he has passed.

It seems like an eternity.

Please, let there be an afterlife, full of amazing things for such an amazing human being. Please, let him be with his family that has passed, prior.

Please, let him be happy. Let there be no sadness in the afterlife.

How I like to remember Mitch. Goofy. Happy.

Royals Baseball and Easter. Baseball and the First Major Holiday Without Mitch. 

Hard? That’s an understatement. 

We went to a Kansas City Royals game last night, and memories of my first time there came flooding back. Mitch took me. When the people sang the national anthem, lay night, I cried. 

I cried when I woke up, and set Megan’s Easter basket out. 

I cried again, when I took a shower. 

As I was showering, I was listening to music. 90s R&B, to be exact. 

I feel a cold breeze. And Color Me Bad starts singing… I wanna sex you up. 

I started to laugh, then I cried. I imagined Mitch, how he used to peek in the shower at me. The realization that he wouldn’t be peeking in my shower anymore really hurt. 

I cried harder. 

Monica. Angel of Mine. If you don’t know this song, look it up.  More tears. 

I didn’t think I was going to make it through today. 

I cleaned my face up, moisturized and put makeup on. I did my hair, and put on my most comfortable black dress. Also, my ONLY dress. 

We had Brunch with my family at 11:15am at Union station, and all went well. We walked through the park, as part of the walk we took. Quite a few homeless people were napping on the lawn of the park. It was serene. So peaceful. 

After brunch, we went to Easter at Mitch’s adopted side of the family. It was pleasant. No one really talked about it. We weren’t there for very long, as we had a 3rd stop to go. While there, everyone asked how we were doing, if we were okay, and if we needed anything. I got to see my pregnant sister-in-law, Katy, (Mitch’s bio-mom’s daughter, so bio-sis) and smooch her big’ol beautiful belly, and talk to my niece, Hannah Mitchell England, aka “Mitchee”. I love her so much, and she isn’t even here yet! ❤️

We, then, traveled down the street to Mitch’s biological family’s Easter. As always, we had fun. We took pictures, as we always do, when we are there. We had hamburgers and hotdogs and socialized. 

My youngest pup, Moose was there, so he was in the family photos. In true Mitch fashion, Moose turned his ass to the camera. He tried to knock Summer (Mitch’s OTHER prego  sister!❤️) over, using my body, and made the picture hilarious. Sorry, Summer! Love you! 

Now, I am home, sitting in a lavender infused bath, typing up this blog, with a GIANT glass of wine. 

I’ll finish the wine, watch an episode of the Detour, and go to sleep, so I can get up tomorrow morning, go to work, and make the money. 

Living without Mitch sucks! It sucks so hard. But, lucky for Meg and I, our family makes it that much easier. 

After a Royals Win!

What Do I Want?

Good news. Bad News. News.

Yesterday, I found out a friend’s step-father died. This morning, I found out a woman I know, the mother of a little girl I coached, died. these people were not old! They didn’t die from old age.

People are passing away, left and right. It’s insanity! We will never know when our time comes, until it is upon us.  It got me thinking. What is it I want from this life?

So, here it is.

In life, I want to be energetic. I want to inspire people to do good. I want people to look at me and say, “Damn. I want to be like her, when I grow up.”

I want to be like Mitch. Everyone wanted to be like him. Right?

In death, I want people to say, “We really lost a great one, with her. The world will never be the same!”

I want love, in life. I want to give and receive all of the love, I can endure. I want to be a great friend. I want to truly listen when people talk to me. I want to be there.

I want to be the kind of mother that makes other kids jealous of Megan. (no offense, mom-friends.) I want to make Megan’s life easier, but, not restrain her from her full potential. She’s going to be amazing! (she already is, and she’s only 12)

I want to be everyone’s big sister, in the way that Mitch was everyone’s big brother.

I want to navigate through life, similar to how Mitch did, only MORE.

I want to be the Aunt that nieces and nephews can confide in, happily.

I want to live beyond my years.

I also want to be the type of Mom that Megan wants to be like, when she grows up. I want to set an example worth following.

I want to pay my bills on time, and maybe, one day, buy a condo or a loft.

I want to be the kind of person that can walk into a room of strangers, and walk away with a room full of new friends.

I will.

I can.

Who’s going to stop me? IMG_20150401_170454

Only I can stop ME.

Be Happy

I am having an exceptionally well day, today, so I am going to take advantage of it. I want to tell you all, it is OK to be happy.

Of course, I am not happy that my husband is gone. I will never, ever, ever be happy about that.

I watched a video of a man, who lost his child, he said the same thing.

Happiness isn’t what happens in your life. Happiness is what YOU MAKE of what happens in your life.

I am HAPPY that I got to have Mitch in my life, for the amount of time I was allotted.

I am HAPPY that during that time, we produced one of the most amazing humans, in the world!

I am HAPPY that Megan and I are as close as we are, and she can talk to me about ANYTHING.

I am HAPPY that we were happy!

I am HAPPY that we loved each-other so much.

I am HAPPY that Megan got to know her father’s love, unlike so many people.

I am HAPPY that I am strong.

I am HAPPY that I have all of Mitch’s family surrounding us with love and comfort.

I am HAPPY that I have my brothers, who talk to me, and help me when I need it.

I am HAPPY that I have a brother, so close, that he can pick Megan up, on a whim, and take her to the park. Or to the batting cages, or where ever they feel like going.

I am HAPPY that I have a job, that allows me to afford LIVING!

I am HAPPY that I use writing as my kind of therapy.

I am HAPPY that I have some pretty amazing friends!

I am HAPPY that you are reading this, right now!

I am HAPPY because I have a job, that was willing to change my hours, so that I could be home, in time to cook my daughter dinner, every night.

I am HAPPY that I have co-workers who were willing to donate their, hard-earned, paid time off, to me, so that I could take time to grieve without feeling rushed back to work.

I am HAPPY that when I went back to work, that first day back was like walking into the arms of family.

I am HAPPY that I am alive.

I am HAPPY that my cat is fat, now.


It’s okay to find, and focus on the good.

If I sat around, being negative about being a young widow, all day, every day, I don’t think I would have the support that I have. I am sure I would have a few dedicated people, in my life, but, mostly, people would surely get tired of feeling depressed around me. I know, because I am one of those people. I can’t handle when someone is so negative all of the time. Yes, something bad happened to me. Does this define me? Does this make me a different person? It may change me, but I am still that gal that sees the silver lining in everything. I am still going to have my “down-days”, as I like to refer to them. But, don’t we all? I may cry harder, tomorrow, than I have cried, ever, since the death of my young husband. I don’t know that, but I know, not today.

Today, I am going to focus on being my best person.

Today, I am happy.

Bird Flippin McCulloughs

Mitch and 2 of his sisters.