What Is Life, Without A Little Death?

Here death strikes again.

So many people, such a short time.

It has happened since long before any of us, and will continue with us and way after us.

Death

It’s inevitable.

We all live our lives. We go and go. Some of us are moving so quickly through life, that we are missing out on the things that really are the more important things.

I was guilty of this. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I have since figured out a better balance, though.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love racing, and birthdays, and listening to my people talk about their lives, and the things that they are passionate about.

I’m not very good at asking the questions, or initiating conversation, but that’s because I will listen to you tell me about your passions, your grief, your day at work.

When Mitch died, in January of 2017, I was confused. I wasn’t angry, I didn’t really wonder why, so much as “What the Fuck?” It wasn’t an angry wtf, so much as a confused, how could this have happened type question. Once we knew the science and biology behind, I stopped asking. I knew.

That question was answered.

You hear people say, all of the time, “god only gives you what he knows you can handle.” If you believe in God, this has to be true.

You may not know you have it in you, until LIFE (or death really), slaps you in the face.

Wednesday, after I ran 10 miles and was in my car, headed to get some food, I received a phone call. My father in law lost his girlfriend. (They might as well had been married. They had that connection, and that unconditional love. They were only missing the legal documentation).

Let me throw out a little back story on this man, without going too deep into details, or anything.

This man was married to my husband’s biological mother. He adopted my husband, and had 2 more children with his wife, Megan.

When Megan was in her early-mid twenties (I don’t want to screw up on the details), she was murdered in a bar, by a crazy man.

This man, Mike, became a widower father to 3 children, one of which was a tiny baby girl.

He did not handle that well. I mean, who could blame him, right? His wife was murdered. What was he supposed to do?

Fast forward through some addictions and runaways, some verbal fights, and a bit of time in jail, a couple of marriages, divorces and a couple more kids, grandbabies and sobriety.

Here we are, he’s the father of 5 now. He’s gotten his head together, he’s trying very hard to be a good man.

His eldest son dies. The son he adopted, when the son was just a boy, and had his mother ripped from him. The father who may have had his problems surviving this life, lost his son.

He had an amazing woman by his side, to help keep him together. She was there to keep him steady, and remind him that he would be okay. He would make it through this.

Fast forward a little over 2 years, and his girlfriend is now with his first wife, and eldest son.

If god is real, and only gives people what they can handle, he sees something heroic in Mike.

I’m so devastated, for him, and can’t even begin to imagine how his mind is processing.

I’ve been told I’ve handled all of my adversity with grace, and I don’t know. It’s what everyone on the outside sees, when my insides are a screaming and tangled and threatening escape.

But death. Death is one thing we are all going to face.

Death is inevitable, and I don’t think we should fear it. I’m not afraid. I don’t want to die, and I’d never do anything to speed up the process, or invite it sooner. I want to live into my old age, maybe meet a second soulmate, and grow old together with them. I want to have grandbabies and a son-in-law (or daughter-in-law. I’m not picky)

I want to watch my daughter grow into a woman, and watch her find her soulmate, fall madly in love, marry, and grow into her adulthood.

I really love living. I think that Mike is realizing that he loves living as well. Even through the grief that seems to keep being added to his plate, he becomes just a little bit stronger, each round.

I wanted to share his story, because many people judge. Many people do not KNOW. People will never truly understand. But, just the briefest summary of the shot hand this man was felt, and he’s still here. He’s still standing. He is STILL putting one foot in front of the other.

The world we are on is still spinning.

The bills still need to be paid.

Our work here isn’t done, yet.

Death: The only thing guaranteed of life.

Live while you can!

Find happiness!

Be who you are!

Never stop saying their name!

Mary. Megan. Mitch. Sandra. Annie. Gramma and Grandpa McAnany.

Only their bodies are gone. We are forever able to remember them through our pictures, and our memories. We have videos, and voices recorded, now.

On the days we miss them the most, I think their spirits are the closest. Our human form cannot process their presence without their human form, so we interpret their spiritual presence as sadness, and yearning, and missing them.

We FEEL them, but we cannot touch or see them.

May all of our loved ones be partying like rock-stars.

Annie.

Has.

Arrived!

We will miss her, of course. But she is definitely in good hands now.

I See So Much Mitch, in My Daughter’s Face.

The other day, my daughter says “Mom, you should check your photo album, because there are some pretty sweet pics I took for you.”

I knew it was going to be a ton of selfies. It’s what she does. I finished my workout, and checked my phone, and there were 30-ish photos, of her, most in black and white.

I’ve always known Mitch’s traits were stronger in her, than mine. But, seeing these particular photos, really REALLY proves it.

I may or may not have cried, looking at these photos. My little (who is clearly taller than me) is absolutely beautiful, inside and out, with a LOT of her father’s sense of humor.

Looking at her does NOT make me sad, like I’ve seen it does to other people in our situation. Looking at her, and seeing him live through her brings tears of joy to my eyes. Absolute, joy, that he will live on, through her.

There are things that make me miss Mitch more than other things. Like all this snow we’ve had recently. He would have been BEGGING me to go sledding.

I would have said no, and suggested he take a friend, and kids.

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with snow. I hate when it touches my skin, but I think it’s absolutely beautiful! I’m about to sound like one of THOSE kind of women, but seeing all the glistening snow reminds me of all the happiest Christmas, and romance movies. I love standing outside and spinning in circles, taking in the beauty of the snow covered tree branches and rooftops. I feel a bit of hope, when I look at it. The smell of snow, is the smell of happiness, and purity, innocence, and clarity. If all of those could be smell, it’d be the smell of fresh snow.

I do love sunshine and beaches more, because, well, I enjoy outdoor activities that don’t involve snow touching my skin. Sand is a welcome touch though. Sunshine, and ocean water, bbqs at the park, and trail running on mountain bike trails. Most of my races are in the warmer climates, and traveling is easier.

But, none of those summer things give the feeling if hope. Maybe that’s why there’s been all this snow. Maybe it gives a lot of people hope, and whoever is in charge of snowfall, (god, goddess, Mother Nature, whatever you believe) decided “It’s time!” And has been dumping on us, consistently for 2 months now.

Every time the snow melts completely, it snows again. This is our spring snow. It doesn’t look too bad, today.

_________________________________________

I feel as though my posts are fewer and fewer theses days, but I realize, maybe it’s because I talk about Mitch every single day. I make social media updates, see all the pictures, and have accepted my fate, as the woman widowed at 34. The widowed mother of a teenage daughter, who couldn’t be any easier to have a child, than she is exactly how she is.

I think, daily, about how proud I am of myself, for fighting to get paid what I was worth, in October of 2016, because if I didn’t, I’d be making $10/hr less than what I make now, and most likely be living the roommate life, or living in a tiny, uncomfortable apartment, somewhere that I don’t want to live. Megan even mentions it, once in a while.

Well, it is time for me to get my day started, so until next time, friends and family.

Much love to you all. And may anyone suffering from such a loss, find hope of happiness, and laughter, in things around you. Remember, there’s always a silver lining, and if we focus on the beauty, rather than the ugly, we can keep on putting

One foot in front of the other.

And always remember, you aren’t moving on, or forgetting anything. You are only moving forward, and making progressive movement.

9 Months A Widow

A lot can happen in 9 months. Hell, you can conceive a baby, have it grow from one cell into a newborn baby in that little of time. 

Your heart can break over and over and over, in that amount of time. 

Your daughter can experience her first boyfriend AND first breakup in that short of time. 

Good god, I miss the crap out of you. Your easy laugh. Your bright smile. Even your stinky ass feet. 

I miss random, goofy Facebook posts, and random texts. 

I miss it all, but I am trying to find my “happy”. 

You’d be proud of Zaida, Katy, and Michael! They’ve done SO good these last 9 months. Hannah is beautiful, and Katy and Bobby are doing so good with her!! Zaida is going to Emporia! Michael has the same job, and he’s killin it. 

Summer and Boni, Heather, John John, Savannah, and Jack are all doing well. (I haven’t heard anything bad really) 

John and Tracey, Mike, Dee, grandma Kathleen and Aunt Cindy, and Grandpa Parsons all keep up with us, and haven’t lost touch. 

Every single one of us misses you. 

That will never change. 
I am working out, regularly. I am COOKING! I am making it a point to hang out with my friends, new and old. 
It’s been exactly 9 months, since you’ve gone on, to whatever came next for you. I really hope that wherever you are, you are happy, pain free, and hanging with all the greats! Going by the life you led, here on earth, you deserve the best, wherever you have gone. 

You were one HELLUVA human being! I am so proud that you chose me, out of all the choices you had to pick from. 

I was one lucky bitch! 

I think you’d be proud of me, too. I mean, that’s what everyone tells me, and I am starting to believe it. 

I am more serious than ever to eat right, work out regularly, and am already signed up for 10 obstacle course races for next year, and am about to make it 11. Meg joins me for all of the CTG races, because she is AMAZING in the merch tent. Good God she is fantastic with people, just like you always were! 

Her teachers (most of them) love her, and she jokes with them on their level, but also as a child. You know, like the Shrek movies! PG enough for kids, but funny for adults too. 

I am trying to encourage her to be more physically actuve, but, it’s not working, right now. 

I am terrified of being a solo mom, to a teenage girl! I was TOTALLY relying on you to be around for the “daddy’s girl” part, because it’s inevitable, all teenag  girls hate their moms for some portion of their teen lives. I don’t want to do it! I will survive it, but it’s going to suck when that time comes, and kicks me in the ass. 

But I’ll keep moving. I’ll keep “mom-ing”. I’ll try to be everything I can be, and everything that you were for her. 

I am only human. But, I will try. 

I hope you are proud of me. I make sure I’m a good person, and always am considerate of those around me. I really do think about all the ways you were a better human than most people I know. And when I say better than most, there are a very few humans who are equally as good as you were. But, when I meet one, I acknowledge them. 

Oh! And another thing you’d be so proud of!! 

I cooked dinner tonight! A super healthy, tasty dish, and even made a healthy bread to go with it!  I wish I knew how to cook like this, before, because I’m slaying the kitchen, now! 

I made chicken “ala King”. Onions and leeks and coconut cream, and red peppers and spices! I am so excited about this new food adventure I am on! I never want to stop! Not kidding, I’ve spent so much on groceries this week because I didn’t have the staple ingredients for healthy cooking/baking. Now I do. 

It.

Is.

On!

Not only did I make a meal from scratch, I freaking cleaned the kitchen afterward! This is where you’d pat me on the back and say “welcome to my world!” That’s what you did all the time! It may not have always been healthy, but, by god, you could cook! 

I remember the day I overheard you tell me friends that you enjoyed cooking. I though, “Holy damn! JACKPOT!”  I didn’t like cooking. Now, however, it’s another way to release the stresses of everyday life. I am learning, from an amazing human, about cooking, and eating clean. No one has ever taken the time to say “get this brand, over this because *insert reason here*” it is so much better when you have the reasons as to WHY one is better than the other, and CHEAP is always a favorite word! 

So, I am here, in this world, missing you, in your new world, but, I am O K. We are O K. It sucks, but we will live, until it’s our time to exit this world, and possibly,  join you in your world. 
 

So much love to you, Mitchell John. No matter what EVER happens in THIS world, my new world without you, I will NEVER stop loving you. No matter who I date, if I ever fall in love again and wind up remarried, I will NEVER. STOP. LOVING. YOU! Never. You are my number 1, and most notable love of my life. 

You are my Mitch. 

My hero. 

My soul mate. 

Love you always, 

Tabbie

Solo Parenting

I am so super stoked about Megan’s bday presents! I need to grab one more thing, and it’ll be complete! I hope she likes it all, as much as I think she will! ❤️ FYI, I cannot believe it is happening! Next Saturday, I will be the mother of a TEENAGER! 


Parenting alone is hard, sometimes. 

I can’t bring myself to refer to myself as a “single parent”, because I am not. I am a widowed parent. I am the mother to an amazing girl, who has lost her dad. 

I still have to make all of the decisions, alone. Sometimes, I ask the sky, the air (Mitch) what I should do. 

I don’t get answers. 

But I try to focus, really hard, to find the right answer. To make the best decisions. 

Megan is my number one. She is my everything. I just want to raise her the way Mitch wanted her raised. Well, to some length. If it were up to him, she would wear long dresses with long sleeves and high collared necks. This is where I would step in and say “it’s okay, Mitch. She is covered, and not sweating her face off.” 

The first time he saw her with lip gloss, ready to leave the house, he nearly pissed himself. 


I had to explain that the gloss was CLEAR just glittery and shiney. It was okay. Not like red or bright pink. He settled down. 

I encouraged Meg to play in makeup at home. Never to leave the house with it on, but to play in it, so she could learn, for when she got older, and WANTED to wear it. Because, let’s face it, she will want to wear it at some point, and I don’t want her walking out of the house looking like a two dollar hooker. 

Half of the time, Meg would get the makeup out, and make herself look like a monster, or a clown, or something incredibly strange. So I was even more okay with it. She was having fun, experimenting with makeup. 


Who knows? Maybe she will do makeup for a television show like the walking dead, movies, or actors like Johnny Depp, and directors like Tim Burton, when she grows up. It could happen. 

But, being the only parent means I have to be the bad mom and good mom. Or mean mom/nice mom. 

So far, I’ve been pretty lucky with Meg. We have a very open mom/daughter relationship. At least I encourage the openness. Some days she talks, and others she is silent. 

She did tell me, any time she holds the urn necklaces, she gets a severe, sudden headache, that goes away as soon as she sets it down. So, I no longer ask her where her “dad” is. 

I know she has her necklace safely tucked away, somewhere. 

I know she loves and remembers her dad. I also know it hurts her to talk of him in the past tense. She has done so, more and more, but not a lot. That’s okay,  too. We all grieve differently, no one way is better than the next. 


Megan is a one of a kind kid. She is beautiful, talented, and smart. She has the world in front of her, and a whole life ahead. 

My main concern is making sure she knows her voice is heard. Her ideas are important. Her opinions are hers, and no one should force her to change. I want her to know how amazing she is, not because I am her mom, but because she IS amazing! 

But, really, being the mean mom is my least favorite thing. I’m not good at it. This is where I feel like I might fail. Discipline. 

Well, wish me luck, as I enter this brand new work of parenting a teenage daughter, alone. 

Solo Parenting

I am so super stoked about Megan’s bday presents! I need to grab one more thing, and it’ll be complete! I hope she likes it all, as much as I think she will! ❤️ FYI, I cannot believe it is happening! Next Saturday, I will be the mother of a TEENAGER! 


Parenting alone is hard, sometimes. 

I can’t bring myself to refer to myself as a “single parent”, because I am not. I am a widowed parent. I am the mother to an amazing girl, who has lost her dad. 

I still have to make all of the decisions, alone. Sometimes, I ask the sky, the air (Mitch) what I should do. 

I don’t get answers. 

But I try to focus, really hard, to find the right answer. To make the best decisions. 

Megan is my number one. She is my everything. I just want to raise her the way Mitch wanted her raised. Well, to some length. If it were up to him, she would wear long dresses with long sleeves and high collared necks. This is where I would step in and say “it’s okay, Mitch. She is covered, and not sweating her face off.” 

The first time he saw her with lip gloss, ready to leave the house, he nearly pissed himself. 


I had to explain that the gloss was CLEAR just glittery and shiney. It was okay. Not like red or bright pink. He settled down. 

I encouraged Meg to play in makeup at home. Never to leave the house with it on, but to play in it, so she could learn, for when she got older, and WANTED to wear it. Because, let’s face it, she will want to wear it at some point, and I don’t want her walking out of the house looking like a two dollar hooker. 

Half of the time, Meg would get the makeup out, and make herself look like a monster, or a clown, or something incredibly strange. So I was even more okay with it. She was having fun, experimenting with makeup. 


Who knows? Maybe she will do makeup for a television show like the walking dead, movies, or actors like Johnny Depp, and directors like Tim Burton, when she grows up. It could happen. 

But, being the only parent means I have to be the bad mom and good mom. Or mean mom/nice mom. 

So far, I’ve been pretty lucky with Meg. We have a very open mom/daughter relationship. At least I encourage the openness. Some days she talks, and others she is silent. 

She did tell me, any time she holds the urn necklaces, she gets a severe, sudden headache, that goes away as soon as she sets it down. So, I no longer ask her where her “dad” is. 

I know she has her necklace safely tucked away, somewhere. 

I know she loves and remembers her dad. I also know it hurts her to talk of him in the past tense. She has done so, more and more, but not a lot. That’s okay,  too. We all grieve differently, no one way is better than the next. 


Megan is a one of a kind kid. She is beautiful, talented, and smart. She has the world in front of her, and a whole life ahead. 

My main concern is making sure she knows her voice is heard. Her ideas are important. Her opinions are hers, and no one should force her to change. I want her to know how amazing she is, not because I am her mom, but because she IS amazing! 

But, really, being the mean mom is my least favorite thing. I’m not good at it. This is where I feel like I might fail. Discipline. 

Well, wish me luck, as I enter this brand new work of parenting a teenage daughter, alone. 

Today, I Put Up Curtain Rods and Curtains, by Myself.

I’ll start with admitting that I love power tools. I do not own any power tools, though. 

I went to IKEA, to pick up curtains and rods and things to hang the rods and everything. 

I get home and have been super busy, until tonight. 

I put up those curtain rods, and hung my curtains. I don’t even have a leveler! 

It’s just another thing that I took for granted. I never had to do any of the stuff that a man would “typically” do. 

But I did it, today. I’ve done it, for eight months, 2 weeks and 2 days. 

I built a book shelf. I’ve hung shelves. I have gone to the car dealership, and bought a brand new car. I’ve hung photos, and art. I have hosted a party. 

I have done the cooking, the cleaning, the driving, the nurturing, the punishing, the praising, and the caring, when it comes to Meg. 

I have been playing the role of 2 people for these 8.5 months. 

I used the winnings from a scratch-off ticket (that my awesome, amazing brother bought me for my bday), to buy all of my adult-like curtains. 

I work. I pay the bills. I rarely sit down. 

This life is go-go-go! 

I am learning, and will continue to do so, how to find the happiness. I will always find the silver lining, sure. Being truly happy is something that can be tricky. I have to tell myself, “It is okay to laugh, Tabbie! It. Is. Ok!” 

Not all the time, but sometimes. You may catch it on my face, every now and then. I will have a thought, and my face feels like it loses all the blood supply. My mouth goes slack, and my heart skips a beat. I, sometimes, will cry right after, or the feeling will pass. 

It. Is. Okay. To Smile! 

It is. 

I know it is. 

Sometimes, there is a memory that makes my chest ache, because I know, I’ll never see or hear Mitch again. I’ll never sit and listen to him tell jokes, or watch him make a whole room of strangers fall in love with him. 

I’ll never lay with him, again. I’ll never hold his hand or kiss his lips. 

I’ve, honestly, come to terms with all of  this. But, every now and then, it sneaks up, and bites me, right in the heart. 

How could it not? It’s only been 8 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days! Not even a whole year. 

The way my mind has worked through all of this, completely surprises me. I never knew I had it in me. 

I lost the man who had my whole heart, for longer than any other person in my life. 

Before he died, I thought, many times (because, again, we had some pretty fucking morbid conversations, during our life together), that I would lose my mind, if he died first. 

I used to tell Mitch, “there are three people on this planet that their death would put me in a mental ward.” I believed it would be him, my brother Brady, and Megan. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d be devastated if I lost any of my brothers. But, throughout life, Brady has been through almost every journey, WITH me. From foster care, to our mom’s not-so-great choices of boyfriends, high school, the loss of our step brother, our uncle, and most recently, the loss of his best friend, his “brother”, my husband. 

We have a closer bond than any of my other siblings and I.  It’s just how life worked out. 

But, now. I think back to those conversations with Mitch, all those times, through the years. 

I had no idea I had it in me, to carry on, to keep moving forward. 

Everyone at work knows about Mitch, obviously, but when I meet new people, be they reps or new docs, or new nurse hires, I tell them “Hi, my name is Tabbie, and I was widowed in January. My late hisbabd’s name is Mitch, and I tell you this because I openly speak about it, regularly.”

After the initial shock and stumbling over their “I’m so sorry!” everyone asks! EVERYONE! It’s okay! It gives me a chance to talk about how awesome he was, and how it’s so important to know your family history, and to have yourself checked regularly, if heart disease runs in your family. 

It really opens people’s eyes, because after we chat, they’ll ask me “how old was he, if you don’t mind?” And when I tell them he was only 34, their jaws hit the floor. It never fails. It CAN happen to you! 

This birthday, 10/10/2017, my 35th, was the first birthday I spent without Mitch, since my 17th birthday. I was with him for my 18th bday, through every birthday after, until this one. I did okay. Much better than expected, on my birthday. 

Megan’s bday is coming up, and I’m not quite sure what to expect. We are going to worlds of fun, again. Last year, Mitch and I took 6 or 7 girls to worlds of fun, for Meg’s 12th bday. Now I’ll be taking Meg and 3-4 friends, by myself. I’m positive memories are going to bring me to my knees, but, I guess I won’t really know until we are there. I’ve surprised myself before…

With that, I wish you good night. I’ll tell you sweet dreams. 

He. 

I like him. 

It hurts, but it is also amazing. 

I like him. 

He isn’t afraid of Mitch. 

He isn’t afraid of my grieving process. 

I like him. 

He isn’t jealous of Mitch.

He understands.

Not completely, but he underatands enough to allow me to grieve. 

He is kind.

I like him.

He cares.

I like him.

I won’t tell everyone his name, for I am afraid not everyone will be okay with my liking him, but, I will tell you, he is kind, understanding, affectionate, and caring. He doesn’t want to replace Mitch, he is 100% okay, coming after him. He thinks Meg is an awesome kid. He thinks I am amazing. 

I don’t know how long we will last, but, I’d be okay knowing I met a man as amazing as he, after knowing and being with Mitch for so long. 

I will say I was unlucky to lose Mitch, no doubt! I was, however, lucky to have gotten half of his lifetime. Half of it, with me. I grew up with him. I learned from him. I taught him. We loved and lived for each other. He shaped me into the woman I am. 

This new one. He knows that I wouldn’t be the woman I am, without those years with Mitch. He would thank Mitch, if he could, for helping to shape me into me. 

How can I be so unlucky, yet so insanely lucky at the same time? 

Trust me, saying, to myself, that I’m “lucky” is a very hard, strange thing. I have to separate the things that are unlucky (Mitch passing away), and the things that count as “lucky”: having 16.5 years with one of the most amazing men on the planet, followed by someone who is amazing and awesome in his own way. I must have been one hell of a saint In My previous life, because, to deserve the men who walk into my life, and choose to stay, (the good ones) I must have done something amazing, right? 

I have to admit, that I am a bit on the odd side. I am not afraid to share how I feel, and for me, that makes them uncomfortable. Luckily, I have learned that the ones who feel uncomfortable with how I feel are the ones that aren’t worth my time. The one who sticks around and understands, or at least tries, is someone worth trying for. 

He texts me, every night, “good night, hottie! Sweet dreams”

And every morning he sends me “good morning! Hope your day is amazing!” Text. 

That, in and of itself, is quite amazing to me. 

I like him. 

It’s Really Been 8 Months and 1 Day. 


8 Months and 1 day. 

Mitch and I would always joke about how we couldn’t remember life without each other. Like we had been together forever. Our minds may have blocked all things prior to our getting together. 

It’s strange though. I mean, the sensations are awkward for me. I remember every single thing, about him being here. I remember his laugh. I remember his voice. I remember how he would try to be all sexy, and fall off of the bed.  I remember everything. It is how my mind works. 

I am so lucky to have been blessed with the life, and love of Mitch Wood. 16.5 years of being loved like I was a queen. 16.5 years of being doted on, of always being right, of bliss. 

For the last 8 months, I have learned that there are people who you thought you could trust, who you absolutely cannot trust, and there are people who you think are something they are not. I have found that some of my favorite people are, obviously, my and Mitch’s families. (They are all my family, but, for clarification purposes, I’ll say Mitch’s fam). 

There have been times where my intuition was wrong. I was guided into the wrong direction, because I felt like it was right. I haven’t really had to rely much on intuition, or my “feelies” as I refer to them, in a very long time, because I didn’t have anyone trying to get close to me, intimately. My feelies are rusty. They’re getting better. I am reading people better and better every day. 

8 Months ago, I was absolutely terrified of living alone, as I had NEVER lived by myself, let alone caring for another human life! 

Now, I am doing it. I am paying the bills, I have savings. I pay for Meg to play sports. 

I. Am. Doing. It!

I even remember to feed the cat! 

As hard as the last 8 months has been, physically, emotionally, and mentally, I have learned so much! 

Some things are things I didn’t want to learn, ever, in all my life. (Hello, being a widow isn’t something I wanted to learn how to do!)  But other things, like learning that I can be independent. I am good at being independent. 

I have learned that, because I went to college, and then fought for a raise, so that I was being paid what I was worth, I can afford to pay ALL of my bills, save money, AND play. I never would have imagined that would have been possible. Not in a million years. 

Now, please, don’t get me wrong. I know that money doesn’t create happiness. But, paying the bills, without worry, relieves stress. 

That was one thing that we worried about more than anything. We always worried about it. We had enough to pay the bills, and started to figure out how to keep some extra, but, some new debt collector would pop up, and there it all went, again. That was the story of our lives. 

Now, I only have one after me, and they’re stupid. An old apartment complex I lived at had a horrible flea problem, prior to me having any animals, ANNNNND some water damages caused by the pipes in the apartment, and they are charging me $2000, for the carpet. I called multiple times about the fleas, and when I called about the water leaking from my lights, it took them 3 days to come out and fix it. I told them to send it to collections, because I’m not paying it. Crazy bastards. 

I learned that I can negotiate like none other! It took all night long, but I got a new car, and got the price down to what I wanted it to be. I also got he interest as low as I could get it, with my crappy credit. But, I learned I could do it! 

When I cry, now, it’s for less time than before. It’s at the memories of Mitch, that, first, make me laugh, then I cry, because he is gone. 

I look at pictures, and sometimes, they kill me. Other times, I laugh and retell the story behind the photos, inducing laughter from anyone who is around. 

Megan has even started saying things like “remember when daddy would do *insert goofy shit here*,” and start laughing. 

Within the last 8 months, Meg and I have had so much personal growths, and have had to deal with things we never wanted to deal with. 

We have cried. 

We have broken down, to where we had to pull off the side of the road, and hold each-other. 

We have been immensely sad, and heart-broken. 

We have learned. 

We have grown. 

We have found some semblance of happiness, in this post Mitch Wood world. 

We are moving, ever forward. 

One step at a time. 

One day at a time. 

One week.

One month. 

Each day, we put one foot in front of the other. But we never forget the life Mitch gave us. We never forget his huge heart, or his goofy faces. We never forget the pride he showed, any time Meg accomplished something she was working for, whether it was a math problem, or catching in softball. 

Keep moving, but never forget anything.

#OneFootInFrontOfTheOther

#MitchWood

#LoveAlways

Do Me A Favor


The next time you happen to come across a widow, of any age, engage. 

Ask them questions, but not about being a widow, or about their late husband or late wife. 

Ask them how their job is. Ask them about their gramdkids. Ask them about their desires in life. 

Ask them their drink of choice, and buy them a drink, even if it’s just an iced tea or a drink. Pepper. 

Tell them they are strong, because they are. As a widow myself, I know the strength it takes to take each step every day. I know the feeling of being judged, for things that only feel natural. 

I know the pain of wanting something more, but, being afraid of loss. 

I know the feeling of loss. I know the feeling of fear that I’ll lose my extra family, if I fuck up. (Even if it is mostly an irrational fear). 

I told my work fam that I was going to start dating. A woman, a coworker, who I love, very much tells me, every time I see her, “Tabbie, you know I think it’s too soon.” 

Love you, lady, but, I will be the judge of that. Kissy face emoji. 

I don’t take it bad that she tells me this. She cares about me. She worries about my heart, mind, and soul. 

She also knows that I am very strong-willed and would never do anything that I had ANY doubts about. I only go full force if I am 100% sure. 

I am 100% sure. 

I’m moving forward. 

I am taking each step as they come. 

I am terrified, but excitement is there, as well. 

I received the most amazing of messages, it had me crying my eyes out. And honestly, as I was screenshotting and cropping to hide the identity of the sender, I, obviously, read the messages again, and started crying… again. 


Amen! Life is NOT about the breathtaking moments. It’s about the moments that take your breath away. ❤️

Let your breath be stolen. And let it be stolen often. 

Cherish those moments. 

Love with your whole heart. It’s scary, but worth it. Holding back doesn’t allow for the full feelings to shine through. When you love wholeheartedly, you do things you would never do, in another case, or for another human. You go out of your way to make that person happy. 

I’m not fully vested in astrology, but, I do feel very in Line with my sign: Libra.

My sign says I bring balance. I believe that. I feel that is a true assessment of who I am as a human. I hate an imbalance in fairness, love, friendships, etc. 

I love to make people happy. 

I can’t help it. I don’t do too much, to make people happy, but I will be damned if I have a friend or loved one who is upset About anything that I have done. I will work to make it better. 

Anyway, I just wanted to share with y’all the amazing, heartfelt message I received. (Well, parts of it anyway). 

Goodnight, world. 

I Won’t Stop Sharing. 

There are things about me that I share too much. 

Not everyone needs to know all of my business.

But I won’t stop sharing. It’s not that I think everyone WANTS to know all of my business. I just put it out there. It makes me feel better. 

I have withheld, from a great many people, friends and family. But, all will come out, eventually. When the timing is right, and when I decide. I have actually been told by a couple of men that they either A: wanted me to write about them in my blog, or B: “Please don’t write about me!” I laughed at the guy who asked me not to write about him, because that’s what I do. I’m not going to tell you his name, but the idiot sent me a picture of his crotch! 🙄 

Yes, I’m jumping into dating. No, I’m not looking for “Mr. Right”. I just want to hang out, and have a good time, with an adult who may not know my entire history. Someone that I can have fun with (not necessarily of the sexual nature, either!) and then be okay with seeing or not seeing again. 

I am on a dating app, and I see people I know. I start laughing, and have swiped some, just to make things awkward (hey there sales rep! 😜). Ha! 

Right now, I’m just trying to make the best of this. I have most of my ducks, lined nicely, and orderly, and my child is well cared for. I deserve to have fun, every now and then. 

I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings for going out with people. That’s not my intention. I’m not “over” Mitch, and I know I’ve said it before, so I may be a bit repetitive, but, I’ll never be OVER Mitchell. Never. He is the most important human to have ever walked into my life, and that doesn’t go away. He gave me the best thing, any man can ever give a woman, and that was unconditional love, loyalty, and compassion. And, he always let me win the arguments. 😜 

Mitch set this bar, and this bar is so high. So, very, very high. It would never be fair to compare any other man to Mitch. The other man would lose every time. But it’s okay to give chances. It’s okay to expect the important things, like kindness, acceptance, and sense of humor. 

Another reason I am not looking for “Mr. Right”, is because it wouldn’t be fair to him, or to me. (Or to Megan, for crying out loud!) 

In the event that I found Mr. Right, tomorrow, and he loved me, like Mitch loved me, and wanted to give me the world, I would tear him apart. I obviously wouldn’t do it, on purpose, but, it would happen. Holidays are approaching, and I feel my heart becoming heavier, dreading Megan’s 13th birthday, and our first thanksgiving and Christmas without him. How fair would it be to have a man so into me, be crushed by something so natural? I couldn’t live happily with myself, hurting someone, even though it’s a natural process. 

As for me, I know, the man who gets my heart, next (if I ever give it away again), will be one lucky bastard. And I don’t mean that in a conceited way, either. I mean that in the way that I already know I’ll love harder. I’ll be more kind, and compassionate. It’s a different kind of love, that I’ll have. I already know. I’ll be the one giving my everything. What happens if I give my everything to someone, and they break me? That would be hard. It would hurt. That wouldn’t be fair. 

It’s also not fair to ask someone to match my level of wisdom, when they’re not me. They’re not walking my path. This is my path, that’s been laid out for me, and I must walk it, run it, or drag myself through it. I can’t ask people to wear my shoes. I can only tell you what my path is like. That’s the best I can do, and all I ask is for you to listen, without judgement. 

So, as for me dating, again. It’s for fun, and that’s about all I can give.  One day, I’ll be able to give more. One day, when I’m able to give more, I hope I run into the “first first date in 17 years”, man. He was fun, and funny, and good. And he is kind to the people he meets. That’s cool, right? I’ve read his customer reviews online (business owner/operator). All of his business reviews are 5/5 stars and mention him by name. That’s impressive. 

I find myself sensoring more. I mean, to be completely honest, I’ve friend-zoned one of my guy friends, and have my one female that I talk to. These two humans know EVERYTHING about me. Everything. Ins and outs of EVERYTHING. Every tiny detail, that people shouldn’t know. I’m letting them “shrink” me. Haha! Not really, but the guy that’s been friend-zoned is my insight into the single male brain, and my girlfriend is the insight into my mind. 

These two people are the best! I’ve thought about starting a group chat with them, so I could see their responses to my questions right by each-other. But, these two friends have allowed me to be a little more sensored. “Tabbie, you shouldn’t share that. That’s too much.” “If a woman made that offer to me, I’d be all over it, unless I was all up in my feelings about her.” These things make me smile, and think twice before sharing certain things. 

I decided I needed a single, straight guy friend, to help my understanding of the male brain. I thought about it, and remembered how in tune with my guy friends I used to be. I was always  one of the guys, growing up. And I’m not complaining, but I lost that touch, during the nearly 17 years with Mitch. I didn’t give a f*ck. I knew what MITCH liked and wanted, and that’s all I cared about. Everyone else could’ve fallen off a cliff, with their genitals ablaze, and I wouldn’t have noticed. 

#LiveLifeFree #BeYourBestYou #OneFootInFrontOfTheOther