17 Years…

If Mitch hadn’t have died, we would be celebrating 17 years, OFFICIALLY, together, today. 17! 

Now, I’m widowed. 

Today. Fucking. Sucks!

I avoided most of my Facebook “on this day” posts, so I could make it through the day, without losing my shit. 

I held myself together until about 3:30pm. I’ve been crying off and on since. 

It hurts so bad. So fucking bad. My chest hurts. Like it’s cracking open, all over again. 

I’m going to share the Facebook posts I’ve made throughout the years, wishing Mitch a happy anniversary. 


8/22/2010

OMIGOSH!!! With all that has been going on, I almost forgot! HAPPY 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY Mitch Wood! ❤ YOU

8/22/2011

11 years ago, today, I asked this guy, “So, are we, like, a couple now?” And he responded, “Sure.” We have been together ever since. And. Happy bday Zaida!!!

8/22/2012

12 years ago, today, I stood outside of Mitch’s white mustang, as he sat in the driver’s seat, getting ready to head home. I leaned in the car, kissed him, and said, “So, are we, like, a couple, now?” And he said, “Sure.” We have been together since that day! Happy 12 years, Mitch McCullough Wood! I love you!!! 
And, HAPPY BIG 18 Zaida Wood!!!!! So, growed up, now!!! =( Love you Sis!! =D
8/22/2013

13 years ago, Mitch and I had a conversation, that went like this:
Me: So, are we, like, a couple, now?

Mitch: Sure.
And we’ve been together ever since. 😉 

8/22/2014

I got lazy:


Just kidding. I posted:

Mitch McCullough Wood. 14 years! Holy cow! We were 2 and 3 years younger than Zaida is now, when we made our relationship official. 

It feels like forever, in the way that I don’t remember a life without you. I can’t even imagine what life would be like without you, and your giant, confusing, crazy, fun family. And I don’t want to imagine that. 
I am the luckiest lady in the world to have you. 
The most significant word in our vocabulary: sure.
It’s amazing how one little word changed our lives, so incredibly.
I love you, and cannot wait to see what fun we can create in the future. 
 I know some people don’t even acknowledge their “dating anniversary”, but, most people don’t have their little sister’s birthday the same day, as a yearly reminder. 😘 
Speaking of that…
Happy birthday, Zaida. You have grown into such a beautiful woman, with an amazing heart, and I’m so very proud of you. I’m especially proud of you for figuring out a hairbrush. There for a while, I figured it was never going to happen. 😉 
❤💋💙💋💚💋💛💋💜💋
8/22/2015

No posts. 😔

8/22/2016

No posts… 😳
I bet you can’t guess which one threw me over the edge… 
I still don’t feel like this is really real. I feel like I’m in the Truman Show, and everyone is watching me cry for a man that’s not really gone. 

But, that must be a defense mechanism, because my HEART feels like he’s gone. It’s a feeling that I cannot describe to anyone, no matter how many words I use. 

I’m lucky to be a realistic woman, who understands the whole reality of this situation. 

Someone asked me, today, if going out on a date was weird. My immediate response shocked me! 

“No,” I responded, “It was almost natural.” 

I Baffled my own mind! 

It was. I’m a great people-person. I love talking to people. It’s always been one of my favorite things to do. You can ask my mom. 😜

So, The other night, on this date, he asks, “so what is it you’re looking for?” 

I think I finally know the answer! 

It’s not to fill a void, because I’m smarter than that. Trying to fill THAT particular void would have horrible, horrible consequences! Not me. Too smart for that. 

It’s for distraction! It seems like it was for a little distraction from my life. It was fun. I was definitely distracted, and I smiled. I laughed. I made jokes. And,  I had fun. 

Little distractions, here and there, are great. 

So, thanks, Mr. H, for giving me a distraction, I so badly needed. 👌

August is HARD. 

Football starts.

Mitch’s bday.

Our “official couple” anniversary. 

August is the feeliest of all feely months. 

I’m tired. 

I miss him. 

Fuck “tired”!

I am fucking exhausted! 

I am mad, but not in a dangerous way. 

This is not fair, at all, for any of us, especially Megan and myself. 

My chest hurts. It has hurt so much this month. Not in a medical way, but in the way that my breath catches, and I hold back tears to appease those around me. I don’t lie, but I don’t over-share anymore, either, because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Which, is fine, because I feel worse hurting feelings, than than I do holding it to myself, and 2-3 very close girlfriends. 

Life is still moving. It’s going up, and down, and infinite directions. 

It’s time to really grab hold, and see where it takes me. 

I love life, but I don’t love everything about it. 

Without the bad, you know not, how truly good the good is. 

Sleep well, friends and family. 

Memories


Memories can be good and they can be bad. 


I’ve, recently, been reliving that Wednesday, in my head for a few days now. 

Every time I lay down, and close my eyes for the night, memories bombard me. 

If you were a hot dog, would you eat yourself? I know I would! Smother myself in mustard and relish! I’d be DELICIOUS!”

Me calling, over and over, hoping for an answer, so I could yell at him for whatever he was doing, while not answering his phone. 

Me, driving like a bat-outta-hell to get to the fedex hub, HOPING to catch my beautiful, amazing, perfect husband cheating on me. 

Seeing the cop cars. 

Being pulled into an office.

The officer telling me that my husband was found dead. Then, proceeding to question me, about his medications, and any illnesses, etc. 


Making Brady drive to Mitch’s  biological father’s house, so I could tell them, in person. 

Making Brady drive just down the street, so I could tell Mitch’s younger brother. 

Driving back to Brady’s house, all while I’m trying to figure out how I am going to go on. How was I going to pay my bills? How was I going to be a single mother to a TEENAGER?! How?! Not even a why! I don’t think I’ve every truly wondered why, because I know, there will never be an answer that satisfies me. I am selfish. I want him with me, but in some spirit world, or heaven, or hell. HERE! I want him HERE! 


Sitting on my brother’s couch, discussing how we were going to tell Megan. That was my biggest fear. Far more terrifying than figuring out how to pay our bills, and keep a roof over our heads. 

My brain telling me “If you do this wrong, it will scar her, for the rest of her life!” 

Sitting on my brother’s couch, for the entire day, staring out the window, waiting for a “got ya!” 

The “GOT YA!” that never came. 

The “got ya” that haunts my dreams. 

I cried, silently, most of the time. The mornings after he passed, I cried aloud, in my brother’s kitchen. I would find myself crouched on the floor, hands wrapped around a coffee cup, trying to just BE. Not be normal, not be happy, but to just BE. 

I have read many responses to the question “Once you’re a widow, are you always a widow?”

Not every Widow agrees on this one. 

I say yes. No matter how you deal with widowhood, no matter how you get through each day, you become a stronger, wiser version of yourself. That’s something that stays with you forever. So, yes. No matter I I get married in 10 years, or become an old cat lady, I will forever be a widow. At least that’s how I feel about myself. I don’t take anything for granted, anymore. I cherish every minute I spend with family, friends, OCR family, and work family. It’s important to me, that they know they are appreciated. Everyone for their own things. 

Some push me to be physically stronger, and show me how to accomplish my goals. Some push me to be mentally stronger, more confident, and to continue to believe in myself. Some reassure me, that it’s okay to be myself! If someone doesn’t like me for being myself, they aren’t worth my efforts. 

Maybe I have been an emotional wreck, this August, because we are in Leo time, and it’s tearing this Libra to shreds? Maybe it’s because Mitch’s bday, followed by the anniversary of our “couple” status, are both this month. Maybe it’s just normal to have awful months, mentally, when this happens? I don’t know. I’ll just flow with it. 

#OneFootInFromtOfTheOther

Social Media VS The 34 Year Old Widow. 

So, out of sheer curiosity, I wanted to check out dating apps, to see what I have to “look forward to” when I am ready to date. I downloaded three, set up 2, and had them for 3 days. 

No!

Stop it! 


I laughed, so hard, for a couple of hours, last night. (Sorry Mehgan, and Katy, but we were laughing far too hard at that one idiot…) Many Guys are stupid.

Entertaining, but stupid. 

I have deleted these apps. 

I hold nothing against anyone who uses them for hookups, and such, but, this is not, and probably never will be for me. 

I guess I’m just old school, like that. I can’t look at a picture of someone and a 200 character description, and be like, “yeah. That person sounds interesting!” Meh. 


I guess, for me, I need to see the way they walk. Do they walk with confidence, or are their shoulders slumped? 

How do they talk? Accent? Intelligence? Or slang-whores? 

Body language. Where are their eyes when they speak? I love reading people. You can’t read people through pictures, or text messages. 

Anyway. It’s a good thing I’m not looking, because I would be totally out of it, and discouraged. 

When it comes time, and it may be quite a ways down the road, most likely, I’m going to meet people the old fashioned way. 

In person.

 I remember when I ACTUALLY met Mitch. Always in the cafeteria, with his camera, and his scraggly long-ish hair. He was always making silly jokes, and pretending to take pictures of me. I never saw him with his shoulders slumped. He was always smiling, and laughing with his friends. That adds so very much to one’s attractiveness. It gives you an idea of how someone really is. You sit back, and observe. 

Right now. My focus is Megan, my family and friends, our health, and work. Strengthening myself in each of these areas is time consuming. 

Plus, my heart, soul, and mind aren’t ready for dating. I won’t be ready for a while. And that’s okay. 

Even though I joke about sex, on a VERY regular basis, that’s exactly what it is. Joking. This behavior is one of the many reasons I was always “one of the guys”. 


Nothing has changed. People may just notice it more, because I am widowed. I post things on social media, just like I have always done. (Thank you for pointing that out, Tracey.) The difference is this: Mitch isn’t responding, so maybe my sexual posts are taken wrong. Maybe it looks distasteful? It’s okay. It’s the same shit I’ve always done, it’s just different without Mitch’s goofy ass responses, that I was always excited for. 

Everyone always told Mitch and I that they loved our social media banter, and our presence. 

Now, my social media presence is one sided. We played off of each other so often, calling each other names, and being silly. At the risk of sounding cocky, we entertained many people. (Or, so we were told, often.) 

Here’s to taking each step, one after another. 

Here’s to making my current relationships (with friends and family) stronger, and healthier. 

Here’s to furthering my career!

Here’s to making this life I was dealt, a  good, great, and happy one. Or as good, and happy as I can make it. 

Every single day brings new thoughts, new feelings. New hopes, or dashed dreams. Each day differs in how I will react to anything. I can watch videos of Mitch’s ash being spread and giggle one day, because the ash blew funny, or bawl my eyes out the next day, because it hurts so fucking bad. I am an emotional roller coaster. But I’m here. I’m trying to be positive. Mitch always showed me the silver lining. Some days, I really struggle to find that silver, but I always find it. 

Saint Patrick’s Day Without My Irishman. 

Today was one of the roughest days, so far. 

Saint Patrick’s day for us meant family, and socializing, and spending time with each other. 

It meant being goofy, and having fun. 

It was a time, without the pressures of gift giving or receiving (what do I buy so-n-so? You all know what I mean), where we could all just gather together and have fun. That’s all. No expectations other than fun! 

This year was different. I worked from 6:45am until 7:40pm. I am on call tonight, and I work at a Trauma Center. Hopefully, nothing crazy happens. 

Okay. Back to this being a rough day. I feel like, sometimes all of this is not real, like it’s not really happening, or like it’s happening to someone else. Sometimes I am 100% okay talking about Mitch, and it doesn’t hurt, and it even brings me joy when I get to tell stories about things he would do or say. 

Then, there are days like today, where just mentioning his name out loud brings me to my knees. It hurts so bad. I hyperventilate. I snot-cry on my friends’ shoulders, at work, or wherever I may be when the feeling strikes. 

Honestly, the way I bounce up and down in my feelings scares me. 

I was asked the other day “how are you doing?”

And I said “What do you mean? How am I doing financially, physically, mentally?” 

They responded with “Be honest. Don’t give me the same shot you’re giving everyone else!” Meaning, I am sure, “don’t tell me you’re fine ” 

I responded with, “I tell everyone the honest truth,  because I tell anyone who asks, exactly how I’m doing.” 

Someone asked me if I was okay, today, as I was crying in the corner of the break room.  I told her. Some days this is just so much more real than others. Some days it slams into me, and rips my heart to shreds. Again. 

It’s like it’s brand new. Like that Wednesday, when I was pulled into that office, at FedEx, and given the worst news I could have ever imagined. 

I love him. I always will. 

I’m sure I will be a basket-case for the rest of my life, so I’ll ask you now, if we are hanging out, and I just start crying, forgive me. It isn’t you. It’s me, the widow. 

This IS my new normal. 

Mitch bought that gorilla suit for $80, for the previous Halloween, and I told him he needed to wear that thing for every holiday! 😂 So he put it on, that year.