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

 

 

 

 

Widowhood and Sex after.

I’ve done a lot of reading since Mitch passed. I haven’t been reading books or newspapers. I’ve been reading blogs by many female widows. I was trying to figure out where I fall on the scale of grief and widowhood, and everything. I never agree with any widow, completely. I’ll find myself nodding along then all of a sudden, hard left! I then find myself screaming to these women, in my head, “no! You can’t say that! That’s no way to live!” But, it’s not my life. I just disagree with their thoughts.

I’ll start with the most recent one I read. Very interesting read, and I was 50/50 agree/disagree with her. She believes that we all only have one soulmate. I believe we have many many soulmates. I believe soulmates are souls you meet through life who compliment each other, or who are drawn to each other. We teach each other, and grow. Some soulmates are for a lifetime, and some are short lived. Mitch was one of my soulmates. We grew, exponentially, together. I liked to believe that I was an independent girl when we got together, but I was not. I was a hot mess. I drank all of the time, partied with some questionable people, and had dropped out of school. He loved me anyway! We grew into politics together. We had the same vast music tastes, but he was the one who found the new music, and would introduce it to me. He taught me how to be ME and not give a damn about what other people thought. This blog I read, said that the next man can have her love, her heart, and everything, but not her soul, because that was only for her deceased husband. That’s not fair. If a man that is that strong, that secure in himself, and that supportive is standing by you, he deserves into your soul as well. Who is to say he isn’t your second soulmate?

I have read blogs of widows who have zero interest in having sex at all. Young widows. Widows close to my age. I can’t imagine never having sex. That’s not something I’ve ever anticipated. I must just be a horny 34 year old. It is terrible!

I read one about how a woman went out, sought out a stranger to have a one night stand with. How do you sleep with a stranger? I can’t even imagine! I sought out a friend, a single, unattached friend. What happened happened, and it was good.  Really good. One time, to rid the body of the wanton desire, and step forward. Even though, afterward I wasn’t excited about not doing that again. There came a point where I couldn’t function because all I was thinking about was sex. Like, all fucking day, every day! So bad that the surgeons I work with were asking me if I was okay during surgery, because I was so spacey-brain, daydreaming about having sex! It was embarrassing! So, the second he invited me, I hopped in my car and hightailed it straight to his house.

Done.

Do I feel like a whore? No.

Do I feel like I did something wrong? Absolutely not.

Did I freak out, or cry afterward? Nope. We even talked about Mitch and the last month of his life. He was a curious one, and I commend his ability to ask the questions he so desired to ask.

Would this even be discussable if Mitch were still alive? Nope, because it wouldn’t have happened.

Am I going to tell anyone who I slept with? Nope. Never. He’s my little secret.

I wanted to tell family and friends, but I know what some feel about this topic. It makes some uncomfortable, and they feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. It’s okay. Seriously. This was a physical release that was very much needed. He’s not my boyfriend. There’s no real interest beyond physical, and it’s 99.9% never going to happen again. I am perfectly fine with that. It’s what I asked for from the start. But,  I couldnt look each person in the face and say the words. Each family member, and seeing their eyes judge me for something that isn’t really something to judge me for. There’s no cheating here. There’s nothing going against morals here. There is a scientific, hormonal release here. Easy as that.

I can’t promise I’d turn him down if he invited me to his place again, but, that’s not my focus. My focus has finally shifted! Sex is off the brain! I have had so much more focus at work, and that’s GREAT! I’ve cleaned my apartment, and all of the laundry! I’m back on top of the game! I’m flirty, but that’s nothing new. I’ve always been flirty. It’s my social strong point.

I think it’s important to say the things you want or need to say. I think it’s important to not have secrets, from the ones you love and care so deeply for, and even people you are just friends with. I believe it is very important to lay it out there, maybe without so much detail, but enough to get the gist. With that said, if I haven’t said I am interested in you, to your face, it’s because I am not interested in you. And really, that’s everyone. I am not interested in being anyone’s girlfriend, and  I’ve gotten the sex problem out of my system.

I chatted with one guy from high school, and asked him why the hell he was still single, because he seems to be quite the catch. He lives far away. I told him if he were closer, I probably would have asked him out already. He said he would’ve taken me up on that offer.  Most likely it wouldn’t have gone anywhere, but, I still said it! I also told him he needed to date a woman his own age. 😉

People may find my blunt honesty amusing, encouraging, inspiring, crazy (probably mostly this), or undesirable. I really don’t care. I’m already older than my husband was when he died. And I am only 34 years and 7 months old. I’m 2 months older than he was, when he died.  He didn’t say all the things he wanted to say. He held back, a lot! Now, I’m not going to say hateful things to people, to hurt feelings. I am not, nor have I ever been,  that kind of person.

I love people.

I love a strange,  variety of many different kinds of people.

I want to say, if a woman or a man tells you they think you’re hot, and you are uninterested, just say so. You aren’t going to hurt anyone that bad. Truly!

Also, if you want something, or are curious about something, JUST ASK! What’s the worst that can happen? Someone says “no”?   “No” only stings for a second, but going on without knowing could be worse than that.

Live without regrets, friends!

I have none.

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