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. 

Not Like The Rest


I am not normal. 

I am not like you. 

I am not like my mother, father, or brother.

I am not like my best friend.

I am  not like your sister, cousin, aunt, or grandmother.

I am not like my many other widowed friends. 

I am me. 

I am one hundred percent, authentic, and wholly  me. 

And that is amazing!

I don’t try to be anything but better, each and every day. 

I don’t care what is “popular” or if everyone else is doing it. 

I don’t care if my decisions aren’t expected. 

I prefer the unexpected. 

I live for spontaneity! 

I never realized how planned everything was, in our lives, until all those plans came crashing down, scattering across this way and that. 

I was supposed to grow old, and make inappropriate comments at holiday dinners, with Mitch, in front of our grandchildren. It was PLANNED! 

Nothing like making so many plans for the future, only to have those plans snatched away. What way do you best avoid the dashed plans? Don’t make any. 

Don’t get me wrong. Set goals. Achieve goals. Make your plans. 

I’ll eventually make plans again, but right now? No. 

I am going to let fate, or destiny, or whatever guide me. I’m going to go with the flow. I’m going to be spontaneous, and live as happily as I can, for as long as I can.  

I am going to raise Megan to be a better human, each day of her life. I can’t promise it’ll work through the teen years, but I’m going to try. 

I love living. Sometimes I hate that I love life, because Mitch isn’t here, loving life with me. 

In January, I never would have guessed I would be admitting that I love living. 

I love watching Megan grow into the person she is. 

I love going to concerts.

I love going to Royals games. 

I love driving, hours away, to run in races, and have an amazing time with so many awesome people. 

I. Love. LIVING! 

Mitch’s early, unexpected, horrific death opened my eyes. I realized it was time to go to that concert! It was time to sign up for that lifetime pass! 

The. Time. Is. Now! Not tomorrow, next week, or next year. NOW!

There might not be a tomorrow, so I am going to love everyday that I have. I’m not planning for too far in the future. 

I read this quote, or heard it, many times before:

“When you live with one foot in the past, and one foot in the future, you piss on the present.”

Don’t piss on your present! No matter the trials you face, find the good! Be happy! You deserve it! 

I Won’t Stop Sharing.Β 

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! πŸ™„ 

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

7 Months After…

On January 25th, 2017, the best thing that ever walked into my life, fell asleep, and never woke up. That was 7 months and 2 days ago. 

Many people tell me:

 “You are so strong!” 

“You’re an inspiration!”

 “You’re doing so well!” 

“I don’t know how you go on. I mean, I don’t think I could do it!”

My strength is something I absorb through all of my friends, family, and support system. I have the best group of people, out there, to encourage me in the things I want and need. 

I hope to inspire many, who are grieving. It’s NEVER easy! There is NEVER a day that goes by, where I don’t think of Mitch. He and Meg were my EVERYTHING. This kind of loss isn’t something anyone “gets over” or “moves on” from. This kind of loss is something you LEARN AND GROW with. 

I do well, again, because of my amazing support system. And I love every single one of you! 😘

You really don’t know how you can go on, until you are here, and HAVE to keep moving. It’s not something I wish anyone to even TRY imagining. It’s terrifying, and guy-wrenching, to say the least! But, moving forward is a MUST! Nothing great ever happens, living in the past. We must all live, in the now. One step at a time, even baby steps count. Leaps and bounds may set you back a bit, but you will learn. And, learning, my dear, is good. 
Inside my daily mind:

Every day, I wake up, I think “damn, it’s raining, or damn it’s sunny!” Reach across my empty bed, to a place that should hold my husband. I don’t cry, when I do this, anymore. Well, I don’t cry EVERY time. Some days, the sense of loss is heavier than others. And that is just fine! 

I get up, make my coffee, and try to relax into my day, drinking my cup of dark roast. I think about how Mitch would always complain that I kept buying dark roast, because he was a blonde roast kind of guy. I bought the kind I liked, and when he shopped, he ALSO bought the kind I liked. I did start buying both, to be fair. 

I jump in the shower (most days) and get ready to start my day fresh. While I am enjoying a hot, cleansing shower, I think about how Mitch used to get giant cups, or even pitchers, sometimes, and fill them up with ice and cold water, and dump it on me, from over the shower curtain. I would get so mad, and laugh, every single time! It never failed. 

I dry off, and start my moisturizing routine, and think about how Mitch would ALWAYS walk into the bedroom, as I started putting lotion on. He would walk in and be like “oh! You’re not dressed yet? *wink*! He would then either be very obvious that he was watching me, or try to pretend he was doing other things, and “bump into me” as he passed me. 

I get dressed, and get my lunch packed and think how proud he would be that I USUALLY take my lunch to work. Saves me so much money! 

As I leave for work, I always feel like I am forgetting something. Every time. This sensation of forgetting something, is because I would kiss Mitch, every morning, while he laid sleeping in bed. We never left without saying goodbye. It was our thing. So now, I don’t have that sleeping husband to kiss goodbye. 

I’ll be at work, and something funny, or great, or terrible will happen, and I remember how I would always call, or text Mitch throughout the day, and he would be a smart ass, and make me laugh. 

When I get off of work, I think about how I would call Mitch, and ask him what he was cooking for dinner. Ever single day, I would call him and ask. Then I would say “oh good! I’m starving!” Or “Okay, what do you want me to pick up?” And I remember that Tuesday night, January 24th, when he told me he was craving the turkeylicious chili from Eat fit go. His last dinner. His choice. 

When I get home, and chat with Meg about her day, I think about how she has been here for however long she is there (depends on my call schedule) alone. I think about how this wouldn’t be a thing if Mitch were here. I think about how, before, she would tell me “Ugh! Daddy already ASKED me these questions!” πŸ’™

When Megan tucks me into bed at night, she kisses me goodnight, then goes to her bedroom. This was the routine before her daddy died. She would tuck me in, and kiss me goodnight, then she would go to bed, and daddy would tuck HER in, kiss her goodnight. After tucking her in, he would come into our room, kiss me goodnight, and attempt frisky business, every night. Then, we would either get frisky, or I’d go to sleep and he would go watch sports or the news or the history channel. He’d come to bed at 11 or so, and go to sleep, and our routine would start all over again, when we woke up. 

These are, obviously, not the only things that affect me, but these are the regular routine things that get me, more often. 

Friday, before we left for Tulsa, Meg was looking for clothes to pack. As she was digging through her closet, she found this:


Those are her tiny handprints. This was a Father’s Day gift from her, quite a few years ago. 

She started bawling. 

It’s little reminders like these, that jump out, when they’re least expected, and tear us apart. 

Honestly, though, I would RATHER have these little reminders that tear us to shreds, than no reminders at all. I think no reminders would be so much harder to handle. 

Megan:

Megan, as a new middle-schooler, is now a part of a “grief group”. There are 3 or 4 other kids who have suffered significant loss, as well, and the social worker is working in getting them together, on a regular basis, to connect on a deeper level. I am SO happy about this! I am so glad she has an outlet, now, since she didn’t even want to try therapy. (She got that from her dad, no joke! He didn’t believe in therapy or psychologists!)

Megan and I:

So, as we grieve, we take each step, one at a time. We remember. We talk about him. We still love him. We will NEVER “get over it!”, and we are okay with that. We will never “move on!”, and we are okay with that, too. 

We are so unlucky in the way of losing Mitch, and so very lucky, in the way of our support system. 

We appreciate all of you! ❀️

Another Dream of Mitch!Β 


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. 

Detached from All of the People and Things.


It’s been a weird week. Actually, it’s been a weird couple of weeks. There have been a lot of tears and my chest has felt so empty. I think the tears come from the emptiness I’m feeling. There have been parts of days where I feel hollow. 
Remember when the numbness ebbed? This is like that. I haven’t felt he emptiness of Mitch’s absence. I have felt his absence, absolutely. But the feeling inside is something different. If I felt it, at the beginning, I probably wouldn’t be where I am right now. Just like the heartache that came weeks after, slowly working it’s way into existence, at a pace my mind could handle, the true feeling of something missing, is here. It’s prominent this week. It hurts like hell. 

But I will survive this. I will learn something from this. I will continue to take one step at a time. 

Remember how I decided to put my phone into do not disturb mode? 

I have continued to leave my phone on do not disturb, so I’m not always on it, or checking every noise. 

I am not posting a million things a day,  on social media.  

I’m doing more. I’m back in the gym, again. I’m hanging out with friends. I am attempting to learn more about friends, family, and even my coworkers. 

I hadn’t realized how detached I had become. I haven’t been listening. I haven’t asked questions. I haven’t been involved. 

I used to be the BEST listener! I could listen to my friends talk, all damn day, every day. 

Now, and for a while, I’ve been “checking out”, and not even realizing it. I could take the easy way out, and blame social media. I could blame it on losing Mitch so suddenly. But, I don’t believe that’s true. I think losing Mitch has made it more frequent. I’ve also noticed that the less time I spend on social media, the better I am at being involved with the people who are right in front of me. 

I have days where I don’t want to talk to anyone, at all. I have days where I have so much to say, much of which is completely inappropriate, and not everyone needs to hear. I have days where hearing certain people talk, makes me cringe. 

I’m not sure where it stems from, or why I have these days. I love my friends and family. This is why you’ll never know that your voice is driving me insane. It’s most likely not your fault.  Unless you’re a frequent liar. That drives me crazy… 

Today, my daughter played a softball game for just over 2 hours. Her team won the championship! I was present, actually paying attention to the whole game. I didn’t check Facebook, or instagram, or anything else. I sat, I chatted with family and other softball parents  that came, and I watched. 

It’s pretty sad how much effort I feel like it takes to get out of the social media stronghold. 

Yes, sure, I have some REAL friends on social media, and they like all my status updates and photos I upload. Really, though, real friends are the ones that make time for you. They’re the ones who are present. They don’t try to avoid you, when you may be at your worst, because they KNOW who you are, when you’re at your best, and believe you’re worth it. 

It’s the ones who aren’t real friends, who see you at your worst and hightail it. And, honestly, that’s something to be thankful for. Just say goodbye, remove them from your life, and take another step. 

One step… Then, another. 

Every single encounter we make, is meant to be. Be it terrible or wonderful, it was supposed to happen. Period. 

Last night, I had a few drinks with my cousin, and one of my very good friends, that I see on occasion. We ended up at my cousins, going through her interesting witchy things. And no. No spell casting or anything The-Craft-like. Just Tarot cards and a book with a description of people based on their month and day of birth. 

Mine was pretty legit. Not going to lie. 

There were a couple of dates that jumped out at me. One of the “beneficial” dates was actually Mitch’s birthday. 8/18. 

One of the “fatal attractions” or “challenging” dates was 1/25. Pretty crazy, huh? 

When we did the Tarot cards, (no making fun! Or judging!), I could LITERALLY (not figuratively) feel a slight tug, in the palm of my hand, as I passed over certain cards. No big deal, I read what the cards meant, and interpreted accordingly. 




When I watched as my friend closed her eyes, and waved her hand slowly over the cards, I saw 2 cards rise off of the table, ever so slightly,  and they wound up being the cards that she chose. 

I couldn’t believe that happened! 

Her cards were so much her, it was interesting. 

I’ll leave you with the following pictures, of Mitch’s description, based on birthdate. What do YOU think? 



Below, you’ll see my birthdate under “benificial”.  10/10 Also, you’ll notice our anniversary and his mother’s birthday under “soul mates” 5/24. 

***I apologize now, because I am too tired to go through and edit anything. I hope it’s not too messed up. 😜***

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. πŸ˜‰ 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.

Being Open About Everything

Since the untimely death of my husband, I have become quite the over-sharer. I mean that in a good way. I talk a LOT. I explain everything.

I know, I know. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone for anything. I know. I don’t care.

However, when I see someone who I haven’t seen in a while, and they ask me where I have been, I tell them, and the shock on their faces and in their whole demeanor is crazy! I don’t mean to be so blunt, but there’s just no easy way to say it.

“Well, I was off of work for 3 and a half weeks, because my husband passed in January, and then I had to change my schedule, so I haven’t been able to work later than 3pm, on a regular basis.”

That’s why you never see me anymore.

I am the friend, that is trying to figure out how to stay healthy, care for my child, and for myself, as well as work full-time, and take care of everything.

Let me get real, real quick. This may be unbelievable, but, keep in mind, Mitch and I started dating when I was 17 years old. Hell, we moved in together when I was still 17. (any young ones reading, please, do not risk it! Not everyone is as lucky as Mitch and I were, and I wouldn’t change a thing about how we got and stayed together.)

I have NEVER, in all of my adult life, lived on my own. Never. I have never been responsible for paying bills, outside of my auto-deposited paychecks. I have never been in this situation before. Β This is one hell of a learning curve. And there is no class for this. (well, I am sure there is, but it probably costs money.)

I have allotted dates from each month to have people over for a ladies night. I find these dates by going over my calendar and making sure that I don’t have a run scheduled that weekend, that I am not on call that weekend, and that I don’t have anywhere to be, early in the mornings that weekend. There’s a lot of thought that goes into planning my ladies’ nights. I may even host a poker night, soon. It’s sounding pretty Mitch-like. And poker nights were always a good time. So, Chuck, don’t go spending those quarters! I will take them off of your hands soon. πŸ˜‰

Again, I just want to ask my friends and family to forgive me, and bear with me, while I figure all of this out. I may not come to your parties, or get-together, or I may plan my ladies night the same night that you have something planned, but that’s only because I only have that weekend free. It doesn’t mean I love you any less.

And for anyone who is reading, that doesn’t know me, but knows someone who is going through what I am going through, give them time to figure it all out. It’s a lot to process, and get through. Your friend doesn’t love you less. Your friend still wants you around. Your friend probably misses you. And your friend is probably exhausted all of the time. It’s okay. It takes time. And for some reason, there isn’t that extra couple of hours in each day, that should be automatic in the event of a spouse’s death.

Every widow should get an extra 2 hours, every night, just to sleep, or finish the dishes, or prep lunches for the next day. All of the things that may have been taken care of by the deceased partner, and the widow is now all on the widow. It’s overwhelming sometimes. It really and truly is.

I remember when we first moved into the apartment, I FORGOT to make dinner! Really?! I jumped up from the table and said, “Oh crap! I need to make dinner!” It was 7:30pm. Mitch cooked. I never made dinner. It was a running joke with Megan and Mitch, that “If Daddy ever left or died, I would starve, because Mommy doesn’t cook!” I cook. It’s another learning curve, but I will master it.

One day, I will have free time, again. It may not be soon, but it’ll come.

I have arranged extra time, for ME-TIME to start working out again. Baby steps in the right direction. That’s all we can hope for. Right?

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Mitch and my brother at my cousin’s wedding.