Life After

Today makes 3 weeks. It’s been 3 weeks since the day I was told, by an officer, that my beautiful, perfect, husband had been found, deceased.

A lot has happened from then to now. We had a life celebration, and honored him the only way we knew how: CELEBRATING HIM. The place we were able to secure for his celebration of life was beautiful. It was HUGE. I remember acting like a spoiled rotten child, when everyone asked “Are you sure? This place is REALLY expensive. Are you sure we can’t do it somewhere else?” I did everything short of stomping my feet, telling everyone “YES! THIS IS THE ONLY PLACE THAT WILL DO!’ It could hold over 500 people! I needed the room for everyone to fit.

This was no funeral! This was a big-ass party! Mitch didn’t make you cry, he made you laugh. He doesn’t want us all moping around, crying for him, although, I am sure his ego is boosted, wherever he is.

I hated that I had to have this kind of party, but I am happy that it turned out EXACTLY how he would have wanted it.

I stayed with my brother for 2 weeks, and some days. I slept on an air mattress and my kiddo slept on the couch. During this time, we planned everything out. We made lists. We checked off each thing we did, that needed to be done.

My life in word form:
Close the joint checking account. Open a new one.Breathe. New one is already open, deposit all money into new checking account. Can you afford that house? No. Breathe.  Should we find a new place? Yes. Breathe.  Want to look at apartments? Yes. These are close. They were tiny. Breathe.  Get Megan back into a routine. Look and lease an apartment. Breathe.  Pack. Get boxes. Breathe. Pack more. Sell things. Find home for dogs. Breathe. Pack more. Sell more. Still looking for home, for my dogs. File taxes. Breathe.   Start moving boxes into apartment. Megan’s social security number (which wasn’t really hers) was already being claimed by someone else.)  Sell more stuff. Finish packing. Buy furniture. Pick up furniture. Breathe.  Watch my brother and friend put furniture together. Bring more boxes to apartment. Moving Day. Breathe. Move everything in 2 trips, with 5-6 vehicles. Unpack. Organize. Unpack more. Breathe. Keep routine. Megan’s 6th grade mixer, at school. Dinner with family monday. Shop for Valentine gifts for Meg. Dinner with family Tuesday. Skating party Wednesday. Breathe. Cat to the Vet tomorrow morning…

I’m go go go, and there doesn’t seem to be a stopping point. S0 during each thing I must do, I stop,  take in my surroundings, and breathe deep. I remind myself that I am still alive. I am still here.  I have 2 songs that run through my head on a regular. One by Greenday  and the other by Sia.

 

Tonight, I got to sit and talk with a friend, who also lost her husband, young. We chatted about how every journey is different, and, not one of us really knows exactly what the other is feeling, or experiencing. I talk a lot. I talk about Mitch. I have to hold on to those memories, because that is what keeps me sane. She can’t talk about her husband, because it makes her so very sad, because he had cancer.  Her journey is different. My husband passed suddenly, and her’s was a much slower process. I didn’t see my husband after, and she was there for the entire process.

I can’t IMAGINE what she went through. Not even in the least. I won’t even pretend I can fathom it. All I do know, is that we lost our men. The fathers of our children. I know we both ache for our children. I also know that we are both fierce, strong, smart women, who know exactly how to do, what we need to do, to protect our children. And, protect our children, we must! Its us against the world, and if I placed bets, I’d put my money on the “us”.

and I leave you with this oldie but goodie.

daddymeganxmas
Daddy’s Girl