Another Dream of Mitch! 


I dreamed of Mitch, Thursday night! I didn’t want to wake up. It was a very “normal” dream. 

He was here, at my apartment, like he had never been gone. He was laying in my favorite spot on the couch, and we were discussing whether or not, he should go get a job, since we were doing so well, without a second income. 

I told him no. I told him to stay home, take care of home stuff, and we would be okay. 

He told me I should probably change my tax status, back to married, instead of widowed, because he didn’t want us to get in trouble on outer taxes, ever again. 

It wasn’t a sexy dream. It was as if he really was here, discussing the crap that we discussed on a regular basis, before. Money, paying bills, Megan and school. Like he had never left. 

In my dream, though, I KNEW he had been gone all this time, yet, there he was, looking mighty alive.

 However, I never saw his face. 

What in the world could that mean?! I haven’t forgotten what he looks like. I haven’t forgotten his voice or anything. His voice is crystal clear in my dream. Except that one, where I couldn’t hear him at all. 

I miss him so much, and all I want is one of his big bear hugs, where he smothers me in his chest. I want to breathe in his scent, one more time. Breathe him deep into my soul. Every now and then, I’ll get a quick whiff of him, but as quickly as it comes, it’s gone. 

I RARELY dream about him, and when I do, it’s strange. Once, just his voice, like he was trying to find me, and nothing else. Once, just him, but I couldn’t hear him, even though he was talking to me, right in front of my face. And this latest dream, where I could see his waist, legs and feet. The details in his feet, like his veins, and bones, the way they looked when he sat with his feet propped on the arm of the couch, one foot crossed over the other. It’s all in there, in my brain. I remember every detail of him. 

He is my soulmate. There’s no question about that. We were put together so many times before we realized we were meant for each other. 

At age 17, I knew, the first time I kissed him, that he was my forever guy. Forever wasn’t as long as it was supposed to be. 

When I moved into his house 2 weeks after we started dating, everyone said we were nuts! Horrible idea! (In their defense, in a normal teenage situation, it would have been a horrible idea. I don’t recommend it to everyone. We KNEW!) When we got engaged a year and a half after we started dating, (2/2002), everyone said we were being ridiculous! No one realized how perfectly we were made for each other. That’s okay, though! We knew! When we got married, at age 20, not even old enough to LEGALLY drink our champagne, we were congratulated, yes, but also told we were crazy! “You’re too young! It’ll never last! Bad idea!” Again, in most cases, statistically, these are all true statements. In our case, they weren’t true. We. Fucking. KNEW! 

I was slightly annoyed, when we were younger, about people continually telling us we were doing things wrong. But, the older we got, the closer we grew together, and the more everyone else saw it. They KNEW! They KNOW now! 

I miss him. I miss my partner, my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, my lover, my husband. 

It hurts, but, I’m healing. I know that’s what this is. I can’t, and won’t be “broken” forever. Scarred? Sure, absolutely! 

Beautifully, and uniquely scarred. So unlike anyone else. 

I really hope there is an afterlife. I hope Mitch was welcomed by his momma, and family and friends that passed before him, and that he welcomed his grandma Sandy, with that big, bear hug, that I miss so much. 

May they be partying it up, in the happiest of afterlives. 

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. 

<3 Dreams Of a Loved One, Passed <3

If this is the first time you’ve read my blog, I suggest going back to the beginning, and getting caught up.

I haven’t really dreamed much about Mitch since he passed. I don’t know why. I don’t look for him in my dreams, because I feel like that will just set me up for disappointment. The few dreams I’ve had of him, have been of him, being his usual silly self. In the couple that I have had, he was rubbing his penis on me. Not bare penis, but, more like a dry humping with clothes on. He would do that, all the time. It didn’t matter where we were. He would wait for Megan to turn her back to us, and do it. So, those little split-second dream-flashes were funny, and comforting. They would make me wake up, and I would giggle, and shed a tear.

Last night. I dreamed about Mitch all night. It was a strange sensation. My dream bounced back and forth between a house I’ve never seen, and me chasing Megan down Southwest Blvd, near the i35 bridge, where I grew up.

Mitch and I were talking, in my dream, but it was like I was trapped and didn’t know what was being said. I was looking through my own eyes, but, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I couldn’t even hear what I was saying in response. He would laugh, but I couldn’t hear him. I could see him clearly. He sat on the couch, and there were children between us. He leaned forward, and said something, and I couldn’t understand. Dream Me knew, but I couldn’t hear. He nodded, like “watch”, then it was me, chasing Megan down the street. She ran down into a parking area of a car repair shop. She refused to come with me. She was being very unlike herself. Very rebellious. I was telling her to get in the car, and she kept saying “No, I don’t have to.” There were people, everywhere, staring at us. I started counting.

“1…2…3…4”

Dream Meg said “Oh, how high are you going?” in a very snarky-you-won’t-do-anything way.

“5…6…7”

She started walking to a box full of clothes, in this parking area, and grabs a shirt.

 

“8…9…10!”

And I spanked her. She wasn’t listening. I whomped her right on her butt, in front of everyone.

Then we started giggling.

We were laughing about me spanking her.

Then we were back in this house, I’ve never seen. Mitch was nodding. I couldn’t hear, again.

Then he nods forward, again. He’s showing me something, again.

It’s me, telling him we should have more babies. My exact words were “Maybe we should just quit trying to prevent pregnancy.”

He said, “How about we keep practicing, and wait longer.”

Back in the house, He looks and just gives me the “good thing we didn’t” grin.

At this point, I am almost positive I was sobbing, in bed. I have a vague feeling that I was crying last night, and, kind of remember being partially awakened by my own sobs.

I held on to the dream for as long as I could. It was like he was telling me it was all for a reason, but the reason wasn’t revealed.

Like him showing me our conversation about more babies, and how he said no. He said no, for a reason. He may not have realized the reason, when he was here, and when we had that conversation, but, it was like he realized it, now.

Each day, it gets better and worse. It’s not fair that he’s not with us anymore. It hurts so bad, to think of that. I miss him so much. I miss his laugh. I miss his embrace. I miss his dry humping my leg. I miss him pissing me off, because he couldn’t have a serious conversation. I miss his whiskey nights, and him trying to talk religion and politics with me. I miss his presence. I miss his big headedness. I miss his perfect demeanor. I miss his ability to keep his cool under any circumstance. I miss his way with Megan, his ease at being a father of a little girl. I. Miss. Him.

That Next Chapter…

No one looks forward to what may come, after the loss of their spouse. I know, from experience. I find myself, quite frequently, looking back. Because, back there, that’s where the best memories of my life lay.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that Megan and I are going to create many more amazing memories, but, right now, my favorite things are the things that happened when Mitch was right here, next to me. Next to us.

And, that’s okay.

Someone told me, today, “It takes about 2 years to really feel like you are starting that next chapter, in your life.”

I disagree, but totally understand why that may be the understood perception of grieving, or how the majority feel. I’ve never really been part of the “majority”.  I am a very matter-of-fact. I already feel like my “next chapter” is being written. I am very aware that this is really happening. Even as I wish it weren’t true, and that I was actually stuck in a very bad nightmare. I get it. I know THIS is my life now. THIS is OUR life. (Meg and I).

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t really change anything, except my ability to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Life demands that I keep moving. I don’t do it for distraction or because I need something to do. I do it, because I have bills to pay, and a roof to keep over our heads. I do it, to put food on the table. I do it, because it is what Mitch would have wanted me to do. I do it, because I want to be happy, although, if and when I am happy again, it won’t be the same. It will be with a  new take on life.

I can tell you, I already see a difference in my attitude towards certain things. Today, I am almost positive they were talking about me, and only because, before I lost Mitch, it would be an accurate statement, I overheard someone say they were glad the one person was in that case, because “another person would be freaking out.” 2 Months ago, that would have been true. Now, I have bigger things to freak out about. I am not mad or hurt by that assessment. I am not even positive it was me they were speaking of. But, ya know, “if the shoe fits…”

Today was the monday-iest, monday ever! I was late to work, had to do total joint surgeries (meaning we had a lot of things to open, to even get that party started), and our OR was missing many essential items. Normally, I’d be freaking out. Now, I was complaining, no lie, but, I told myself, “It could always be worse.” Because it can. I can’t get TRULY mad, because someone had an “off” night, especially because I was having such an off day. I dropped instruments, and had to make my nurses run and grab more. My reps were probably ready to strangle me, because of an issue with a rep tray. But, what can you do? The shit already happened. Is dwelling on it going to make it better? NO! It’s going to cause me unnecessary stress, that I don’t need in my life, right now. I will choose to learn from what happened, and try to prevent it, next time, but really, most things that happened today, aren’t really preventable, by myself or my circulating nurse.

Shit. Happens. PERIOD.  In most cases, there is always tomorrow. So, on the crappiest days, instead of dwelling on the crap, I am going to vow to make tomorrow better.

You have two choices, really. YOU decide your own happiness. You can choose to laugh at your mistakes, and try not to make them again, or you can beat yourself up and not move on. Who do you think is going to be a happier person, in life?

On how we are doing:

I am doing. I am coping. I am working through the emotions that I didn’t plan on having until I was senile. I am throwing all of my heart at my daughter. I am making sure we are keeping our friends and family close, for our sake, and for theirs. I know having us around makes people sad, sometimes, but it also brings joy to them, because we are like having a little piece of Mitch around (mostly Meg, because she is TOTALLY her father’s daughter.)

 

Megan is doing good. I know she is hurting, just like I am. Mitch and I were never really ones to wear our feelings for the world to see, because our feelings are just that. Ours. Meg told me that she had many nightmares that one of us (Mitch or me) died, and in the dreams, we couldn’t afford to live. We couldn’t afford food or rent. She said “It still sucks and it hurts really bad, but, it’s not as bad as my nightmares. At least we can afford to pay our bills, and buy food.”  She is so matter-of-fact. Like her father and myself. She’s lucky like that.

She knows that my “door” is always open. She can talk to me ANYTIME she feels ready, and that she isn’t being rushed to talk, or pushed to stay quiet about it.

 

We talk about the things that daddy would do, in certain situations, and laugh, because most of the things he would do, were hilarious, ridiculous, and absurd. I will miss that, so much! Things like walking into Target, and he would pull his pants up as high as they would go, and tuck his shirt in, just to embarrass Megan. Or, when we would go to the mall, he would flap his arms and “Kaw! KawKaw!” like he was a bird. And one of my favorite Mitch Memories, was our VERY FIRST trip to Victoria’s Secret, as a couple. I was talking to him, and I turned to look at him, and he wasn’t right beside me anymore. He had fallen back, waiting on me to notice. And when I found him, we had pulled a mannequin bra down and was groping the breast. I nearly died of embarrassment, but was laughing so hard I nearly peed my pants. That moment, was the one that shaped me into the woman I became. ❤

Live Freely.

Laugh A Lot.

Love Fiercely.

Forgive Often.

Make an impression!

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This was the first annual Framily Picnic that Mitch created, so family would stay in contact through the “non-holiday” seasons.
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I have no idea why he taped his hands together, but, I do recall him asking me to help get the tape off, and I was laughing so hard because he was trying to eat the pizza without his hands.

I Dreamed of Him, Last Night

Last night was the first dream I’ve had of my husband, since he passed. I woke up wishing it to be real.

I dreamed that he never sprained his wrist, never caught that cold, and that he never had the gout flare-up. I dreamed that he still had the crampy legs, and the chest pain.

I dreamed that I MADE him go to the hospital. I dreamed that he was going to be just fine.

Why did he have to have  a sore throat before the cough started? Without the sore throat, it wouldn’t have seemed like he caught my cold, and the chest pain couldn’t have been attributed to the cough.

Why did he have to fall and sprain his wrist? Why did he have to have a gout flare-up?

I am angry! I am so mad that he had all of these things that would point the heart symptoms away from the heart. I am so sad, because I am SURE we, even him, would have taken it more seriously, if he didn’t have something to blame each symptom for. My heart aches, because I know, there’s nothing I can do about it now, but help spread the word, and pray no-one else suffers what we are all suffering.

I thought about Mitch all day, at work yesterday. I found myself “dazing off” multiple times. I was between surgeries, and lost it. I cried, out loud, body shaking with each sob. There were a few unfamiliar faces in the OR, who didn’t know my story, that I am SURE I scared the piss out of. I am sorry if I scared you. I am sorry if I ever scare anyone with my body wracking sobs. Sometimes, it just comes, and I don’t even try to control it.

I miss him terribly, and every morning, when I wake up, I wish I was waking up in that crappy house, with my big stinky dogs, and my big teddy bear husband, with his arms around me, or with him trying to press his morning boner into my thigh, because that’s more like something he would do.

So, today, I will wear his Gray Seattle Seahawks hoodie, that I stole from him, long before he passed, and think about him more.

 111wwmdbracelet

This is a bracelet stands for “What Would Mitch Do?” It means, if you feel like dancing, dance, because that’s what he would do. He wouldn’t care who was watching. He would also keep calm in any event. (Unless the Seattle Seahawks were involved. He was never calm about football.) My friend had them made, and is selling them for $5 each, so we can put money into savings for my 12  year old daughter. Friends are the best, but I wear my bracelet, every day, as does Meg. ❤ If you are interested in one, just message Lisa. She will take care of everything! If you’re not interested, that’s fine too.

You can still ask yourself, “WWMD?”