Dear Mitch,

 

I know you are probably looking down at me wondering “what he hell are you DOING?” OR “Don’t! Not him! He’s a moron!”

Don’t worry. I’m not.

Not with him, or with him.

It’s okay. You remember, I like guy friends. I always had more male friends than female friends, growing up.

I think I have an equal amount of guy/girl friends, now.

But I do like dating. I like meeting all the new people, which is weird, but not too weird, since you know me.

I miss you, tremendously. I have this empty spot in my bed, that only you could fill. I prefer not sleeping next to someone, even if we have sex. I send them home, or to the couch. No, I’m not whoring it up. I just have sex every now and then with one guy.

You’re probably laughing at me, or wondering what the fuck is happening in my head because he’s so much younger. But, you also know, I have always said “If he’s old enough to buy me a drink… Legally… then he’s old enough for me!” Of course, back then, I was referring to the celebrities on TV (cough cough Zac Efron cough cough). haha!

I miss talking about the hot guys on TV and having your unnecessary, jealous stare. It was so funny. You would get so offended about the celebrities I would never meet. I would do it on purpose, just to get a rise out of you. Why? Because I LOVED that you were jealous. Your slight jealousy was comforting. I knew I’d never lose you. At least not to another woman.

I appreciate you. I appreciate all of the patience you held when I was freaking out, right after we got married. When I got “cold feet” post wedding vows. When “forever” sounded like a life sentence. You were there, but not all over me. You allowed me the space I needed, to clear my mind and really figure out who I was, and what I wanted.

Can you even believe that I thought I was a lesbian? I still laugh at that! I was REALLY freaking out about being married. Then, I reminded myself, it was you. YOU. The best of the best. No one other human on this planet could handle me. Not like you did. You spoiled me, in so many ways. Not materialistically, either.

You spoiled me with love. You showed me that good men DO exist, and let me tell you, I can spot them. You spoiled me by doing for me. After a long day at work, you made me mixed, fruity drinks, and ran me a bath with epsom salt. Not because you were trying to get in my pants, but because you loved me. You wanted me to be happy and felt that I deserved to relax.

Oh, remember when we gave each-other massages? That was so long ago. Like in our early 20s! haha! it got to a point where you would give me a massage first, then I would fall asleep and never give one back. Big mistake on my part, because you finally quit giving me massages, and I developed carpal tunnel.

Remember the Christmas 2003, when we decided it would be funny to tell everyone that we were having a baby? hahahahaha!! Oh man! That was so hilarious. Then, in January, we were pregnant. Easy as that. We found out March 3rd, but, still. It happened so fast.

I remember the conversation we had. We were on I35 in 75th street exit. It was Christmas, 2003. We decided we were strong enough, together, to handle ANYTHING. We decided to stop PREVENTING pregnancy.

Oh man. It happened so fast. We had the most perfect little baby. Oh,  I bet you’re freaking out, when you see her, now. I do have to say, at least she’s covered! She has a mouth like her mother, and the wit of her father. She will go far in life.

I am so glad you were able to stick around long enough for her to know, and remember how amazing you were. I am so glad that I won the bet that got me a baby before I turned 22 (actually 18 days after my 22nd birthday, but who’s counting?) If you won that bet, I would have been a widowed mom to a 4 year old! It goes to show that my belief in “everything happens for a reason” is real. I needed to have a preteen. I needed a well rounded kiddo. I needed a kid who understands far beyond her years. And that’s what we had. We had the perfect-for-us child. Weren’t we lucky? Aren’t I lucky, in that way?

Everyone always says, “I’m so sorry for you!”

I bite my tongue, because I want to ask why. “Why are you sorry that I was able to spend all that time with the most amazing man on earth?” I got 16.5 years with you! That was half your lifetime!

There are so many women who don’t have the luxury I have, of saying, “I found my perfect match. My perfect love. Someone who loved me unconditionally.” I have that! I had that. I was able to feel that. I was able to live that. I was so fucking lucky!

It’s so weird to say that, though. People are always so good at twisting words to make things sound bad.

I was so fucking lucky in the way that I met you, had you, loved and was loved by you.

I was unlucky that you died.

But the beauty is that I was able to know you. I was able to have and to hold you.

You taught me how a man should treat a woman. Hell, you taught Meg how a woman deserved to be treated.

Amazing.

You will forever live in my mind and heart, and the hearts of so many who knew you, as amazing.

Ah

Maze

Ing!

My inspiration to be a better human.

My everything.

I miss you.

I am so glad that I had the opportunity to be graced with your presence.

I am so happy that I had the ability to be loved and spoiled by you.

Thank you.

Thank you for teaching me.

When you died, I thought I was done. I would never get to a point in my life where I could allow feelings for anyone again. It isn’t worth it, I would think to myself. I was mentally crippled by the loss of your presence in my life.

My mind said “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING??? How do I DO this?” I also had thoughts along the lines of “no one will want me.” But I didn’t care. I bought baggy clothes and hid my body so no-one would even WANT to look.

Those thoughts are pointless.

More importantly, I want you to know, that I hope you are proud of who I am, who I have become. I hope you are proud of my strength and ability to find happiness in such an awful experience.

There are days when I wake up in the morning, and really try to wrap my mind around the fact that you’re no longer here.

Every time I have that thought, my entire body reacts. It’s like I KNOW it is true, but my mind and my soul still refuse to believe.

That’s the impact you’ve left in my life.

With that, I must go to bed.

I will love you always.

I will forever cherish the memories we shared.

You will forever be in my mind and heart.

Love you always,

Ms. Tabbie Wood

 

 

 

 

10 Things I Love About ME! 

I’ll start by saying, it’s taken me nearly 35 years to truly LOVE myself. I mean, really, truly, loving myself, and all the things that make me ME. I have liked myself, sure, but love? No. Not really. I am so glad I finally decided to look at myself, how others see me, or how they SAY they see me.  


My Heart

VI love that I have a big heart. I love that I love so openly, and freely. I love that I can love  without being loved back. I love that I care about everyone and their situations. 

Being an Empath

I love that I can feel what you feel, without you having to speak. I love that I can see your lies, before they exit your mouth. I love that I can read people. I love that I am able to open myself to other people’s feelings, and normally, release any energies I absorb. Being Empath is a curse and a blessing all rolled into one. It’s something you’ll never understand, if you are not a true Empath. 


My Drive, and Persistence. 

I am amazed at the drive I’ve developed after the horrible, unfortunate, and untimely death of my amazing husband. I had a bit of drive while he was around, but, now, the drive I have, to stay healthy, and live happy,  has really surprised me.


My Brain

I love that I am smart. I love that it’s street smart AND book smart. I don’t have to rely on one or the other. 


My Body

I love my body. I love my stretch marks, and my jiggly booty. I love my thighs and I love my arms. I love it all. I love that I am short, and commonly referred to, by my friends, as the “tiny human”, or the “midgy”. 

My Eyes

I love my eyes. There may be wrinkles, but, those wrinkles are from all the laughter, and all the happiness I have been so lucky to experience, throughout my life. I love that when I smile, you can see it in my eyes, as well. I love that I can tell whole stories, just with my eyes. 

My Ability To Write What I Feel, And Somehow Make You Feel It Too. 

When I write, I pour my heart and soul into it. I write exactly what I’m feeling, as I am experiencing the feelings. Somehow, it transfers to my readers. I love that. It’s always amazing when I get a text message from family or friends, and they say “I was crying so hard, or laughing so hard, trying to read what you wrote, that I had to stop reading for a few minutes!” 

My Hair

I love that I can do my hair, in nearly ANY color or cut, and I can pull it off. I love my hair! 

My Ability To Be Honest, Always

There is something that people tell me, all of the time. It is this: “I love how honest and raw you are! It’s amazing!” Yes. I am always honest! I won’t let a friend go out in an outfit, if it makes her look fat. I won’t tell you something, if it isn’t true. Period. I find no benefits in lying. Nothing good ever comes from lies. Nothing is ever good from HIDING truths, either. The Truth will ALWAYS come out. ALWAYS. 


My Strength

Unfortunately, the death of my husband, my hero, was what showed me my mental strength. I never knew I had it in me, to be as independent, and as strong as I have proved to myself, in the last (almost) 6 months. My mental stability, and strength, I believe, is BECAUSE of Mitch. He taught me to choose my battles. He taught me to keep moving forward. He taught me that dwelling on the bad things ONLY made them WORSE. He taught me all of these things, without ever really speaking the words. He SHOWED me, in his actions. He was a man, raised by an adoptive father, (who may have drank too much), a man who lost his mother to murder at age 8, a man who, as a child, started caring for his little brother and little sister. An amazing man taught me how to be strong, mentally. I love him all the more, for being HIM! 

Physically, I am pretty darn strong. I train, to be stronger. I’m 34 years old, and run Obstacle course races, FOR FUN! I love squats! I know, I’m strange. No need to point it out, because I’m FULLY aware. 
I LOVE ME!

Remember to tell yourself, every day, something you love about yourself! Really! Do it, every day!