Six Minutes

Image Source can be found here.

"But as much as I wanted to distance myself from all of the awful shit that happened on [August 11], I knew I was holding onto the memories of that day as tightly as I possibly could for fear of losing them forever.  If I forgot those memories - and the pain that came with them - I'd be doing a disservice to [Gavin], and worse, to [Kurt].  Our last few minutes together were in my head at almost all times, but especially at night.  No matter how hard I tried to banish the images from my mind, the last scene my brain conjured before I fell asleep each night was [Kurt] lying lifeless in that [bathtub], and it was the same image that assailed me when I woke up each morning.  I was reliving [his] death over and over again, and as a result, I hadn't had a decent night of sleep [in over two years].  As more time passed, many of the happiest memories of our [four]-plus years together had faded into the recesses of my mind, only to be recalled through immense effort during moments of near total isolation.  It was if that one awful day was clouding all the others..."
                ~Matthew Logelin, "Two Kisses for Maddy"

I usually don't quote entire paragraphs out of books.  But by changing the names, dates, and a few tiny details, Matt has written what I have not been able to find the words to explain.  The desire, the need to hold on to what was horrible.  The reluctance, the fear to bring forward what was good.  As the only person over the age of one in the room at the time, I feel it strongly.  Only I know what transpired in those six long minutes between finding Kurt's body and the police running up the stairs.  While some people know parts and pieces, I have told no one everything.  I am the sole keeper of those specific six minutes in time.  And while six minutes is nothing but a drop in the pan, it is those six minutes that have defined every minute since.  Our last touch.  Our last kiss.  Our last moments together.  The last time I ever saw him.  They are all contained in a mere six minutes in time.  In six minutes my view of the world was shattered.  My relationship with God tarnished.  My identity altered.  My sense of self destroyed.  In a lot of ways, those have been the most defining six minutes of my life thus far.

And I can't get them out of my mind.

When I think of Kurt's kiss, I think of the last one... not the first.  When I see his eyes, I see them open and lifeless in death, not laughing and child-like in life.  I feel his cool skin instead of the heat he radiated on winter nights.  I see the blue skin rather than pink cheeks.  The man who lives in my mind on a daily basis today is not the man who met me at the alter, shared a home, gave me a son.  My husband is dead.  In my mind, and in my reality.

I want to shake those images.  To see the man I loved, rather than the one I lost.  But at the same time, I don't want to forget.  For Gavin's sake.  But most of all, for Kurt's.  Good or bad, those were our last six minutes together.  There was no viewing.  No wake.  Once the police entered they would not let me leave the kitchen.  I never saw my husband again.  They were his last six minutes too.  In his house.  With his family.  Chaotic or not, that final kiss was the most intimate moment the two of us ever shared.  Even if only one of us actually experienced it.

I need to preserve the past, lest the past be forgotten.  And someone's last minutes are not a time to forget.

Finding a place in the future for the past.  Integrating the two.  Not letting one control the other.  Somewhere that happy medium exists.  So over the next little bit, in between blogs about today, I'm going to try to record some of that history.  Stories than only I now hold.  Maybe even those last six minutes.

Its not letting go.  Its releasing.  There is a difference.  And in releasing the past, maybe - just maybe - I'll be able to open up to the future...

Dandelion Dreams

Image can be found here...

Gavin has taken a fascination to dandelion fluff.  Blowing the whispery white parachutes and watching them float away on the wind.  Every one if those parachutes is a seed – a chance at new life.  A hope for another tomorrow.

In the end, that’s all that most of us want.  A legacy.  The knowledge, or at least reassurance, that what we have done in life will continue once we are gone.  That our mark is not as impermanent as our being.

But even legacies are deceiving.  Even the greatest of stone monuments are eroded by the hands of mother nature, the sands of time.  Nothing lasts forever.  Not even the greatest legacy.  Forever is but an illusion, relative to the length of one’s life.  How do you know something exists after you exist no longer?

Which is why all we really have is the here and now.  Today.  Our once chance to make our mark on the world.  Our one chance to get it right.  I learned that the hard way.  Tomorrow is not a given.  Nothing - not even our legacy - is a guarantee.

Gavin is our parachute.  Kurt's and mine.  Our seed.  With Kurt’s early departure, he has entrusted me with the most important of things – his legacy.  He wasn’t given a chance to see his legacy grow old.  He wasn’t even given a chance to see his legacy take his first steps, or say his first word.  Which is why I am putting everything I have into that little man – perhaps at the detriment of my own needs.  I owe it to Gavin – and to myself.  But most of all, I owe it to Kurt to give our son the best chance at whatever the future may hold. The best opportunity, if the fates are willing, to branch off and create his own legacy.

Dandelion seeds float off and create new dandelions.  Which produce their own seeds. And so on and so forth.

We hand our legacy off to the next generation.  Its how we live even after we are gone.  Even in death, it is the continuation of life....

Angry

Image source is here...

Yesterday my days as Kurt’s widow surpassed those as Kurt’s wife.  I have been widowed longer than I was married.  Two years and two days is all we had.  Two friggen years.  Seven hundred and thirty days.  In a lifetime, what does that equate to?  At least in a normal lifetime – not one snatched away at age 35.  And I’m not sad about it.  Melancholy yes.  Down.  But not really sad. 

What I really am is angry.

Mad that Kurtis was snatched from me so soon.  Mad that it took so long in life to find him.  Mad that Gavin had an even shorter time with him than I did.  Mad that he had to die.  Just mad...

Its the worst kind of anger – an anger that many who have lost someone close to them can perhaps relate to.  I’m not mad at anyone.  There’s no one to direct this at.  No one to take it out on.  I’m just mad that I’m in this reality.  Mad at the situation.  Mad at fate.  I’m just mad.

Inside my heart is breaking.  But as I type this I don’t want to cry – except for those two tears which always escape when I think of Kurt in any way.  What I do want to do is run out to a field somewhere and flip-out.  Punch the ground.  Throw things into the sky.  Have a good, old fashioned toddler-like temper tantrum.  Yell at the universe, the cosmos, and ask it why?  Let it know that my going through life silently, doing what has to be done, is not in agreement with this arrangement.  Not because I like it.  Not because I in any way accept it.  But because I have been given no say,  no choice.  Let the fates know that they are, in this moment, this circumstance, not my friend.

I want to kick and scream and carry on until there is no energy left in me to go on.  And then – and only then – I want to curl up on that very ground that I have beaten, and wash away any remaining anger, as well as the certain to follow sadness, with my tears.  Let it all out.  Release the emotions that are simmering inside me, begging for a release.  Just cry, like I haven’t cried in a long, long time.  Nearly two years....

Where will that leave me?  Will I feel better?  Probably not.  My circumstances will not have changed.  Kurt will still be dead, and from this day forward every day is one more day that my widowed years exceed my married ones.  I’ll probably always somewhere inside carry some anger, some resentment, and some sadness that such is the case.  But at least I will have emptied up some space inside to fill with the next wave of emotions that hits.

Whenever and whatever that will be.....

Two Years: A Message for My Husband

Image can be found here...

Two years.  The sun has circled the globe twice.  Summer has moved to fall.  Fall has given way to winter.  Winter to spring.  And then summer has come again.  Twice.  We’ve seen the birthdays pass.  His, mine, and Gavin’s.  Times two.  Two Christmases.  Two anniversaries.  Two of every day in between.  And it always comes back to this.  Today.  August 11.  The day Kurt died....

I want to say life has changed for the better.  That the moments apart get easier as the time between us and now gets longer.  And I suppose even though I don’t want to accept it,  in may ways it has.  But there’s always a day like today lurking around the corner, when the reality of the situation hits like a tonne of bricks.  When I can’t even pretend I’m okay with my life.  When I want to pretend that nothing has happened, that he will be home tonight.  When all I can do is cry.  

When all the things we have is overshadowed by the one we don’t.

Him.

I thought I’d be “better” by now.  I had expected many things.  That his name wouldn’t cause tears to well.  That I wouldn’t unconsciously reach over in bed to stroke his hair and find only a handful of pillow.  That I wouldn’t place my hand on the empty seat beside me when driving – where his lap should have been.  That I wouldn’t look at a city bus wondering if he ever drove it.  That I would have accepted the nightmare that has become my reality.  That the nightmare wouldn’t scare me quite as much...  Some things seem to have changed.  In public I cry less.  On the outside I smile more.  But I love him and miss him just the same.  And it still hurts a million hurts. 

It seems like there is nothing to say that hasn’t been said.  There is nothing to do that hasn’t been done.  An ordinary day for everyone else will always be an extraordinary one for me.  For all the wrong reasons.

So I’m going to use this space to do something I do every day.  Except today I’ll do it in public.  To talk directly to my husband:

Kurt....

The world around me collapsed the day you died.  My universe realigned.  My sun fell off its axis.  I’m still trying to find my way in this world.  Through this thing called life after you.  Without you.  My world will always be darker with you not in it.  Joys will always be bitter sweet.

Things will never feel the same...

I still see that day so clearly.  While the days immediately after have blended into a haze, those awful moments stand out crystal clear.  Like it or not, I close my eyes and see them.  The last sounds I hear before drifting into a restless sleep are still my screams.  The first images I see as I open my eyes are there, in that bathroom, on that fateful morning 731 mornings ago.  I haven’t been able to deodorize the carpets since.  The thought of peach puree still makes my stomach turn.  I hate sitting at the kitchen table with Gavin.  I still shower with earplugs.  I have yet to take a real bath.  The sound of water is still an omen of death.

I’ve learned so much about myself since then, Kurt.  How strong I can be.  How weak I can be.  How I can be both strong and weak at the same time.  How powerful the mind can be.  What profound sadness really feels like.  How precious life can be.  The importance of every word, every action... as they may be your last.   I’ve learned what matters – why I want to live.  And I've learned what else matters – why I want to die.

I've grown.  I've done things I never thought I would be able to do.  Things I never thought I would have to do.  Things I never wanted to do.  

I’ve learned a lot about you too.  Mostly what you did for me.  How happy you really made me feel.  How I needed you in ways I never imagined.  And how I really felt for you.

I love you more than I ever told you.  More than I ever realized.  And for every ounce of love I have for you, I miss you just as much.  Maybe more.

I’m sorry, Kurt.  For the ways I failed you when you were alive.  For the ways I failed you the day you died.  And the ways I’ve failed you since.  For taking you for granted.  For disappointing you in  my inability to be strong since.  And above all, for not being able to save your life...  I'm trying hard to make peace - with myself.  With the past.  With the future.  With our son.  With you.  But peace still seems a long way off...  I’ll carry your blood on my hands for as long as I live.  I would have moved mountains if I could have.  I would have done things so differently - not only that day, but in the days leading up to it.  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I had been stronger.  Strong enough.  Done more.  Done enough.  

I carry things that no one else knows tucked so deeply inside me.  Things you don't even know.  Things I will probably carry with me to the grave.  About that morning.  The days before and after.  They eat me up.  But they also keep me real...

Our son is okay.  I promised you that, and its the one promise I’ve been able to keep.  The one I’ve thrown all my energy in to.  Taking care of Gavin really has taken care of me.  I worry about him for the both of us.  Worry about how his mommy’s sadness is rubbing off on him.  Worry that I’m not doing enough.  Well enough.  Worry I'm making mistakes.  Worry that you wouldn't approve or agree...

Gavin knows you.  He loves you.  Some moments, when I look at him looking at your picture, I wonder if deep down in that little mind somewhere he remembers....  He’s so like you.  In so many ways.  I like that... I always have a piece of you when I have him.  But I hate that.  I don’t want to live with someone like you.  I want to be living with you...  Gavin needs you in his life.  He’ll always need you.  As much as I try to give him everything, there are some things a mommy just cannot be, cannot give.  That anyone but you can provide.  Like the love, knowledge, and influence of a daddy.

I often catch myself wondering how different our lives would be had this day two years ago never happened.  Where we would be.  What we would be doing.  Whether things would really have been as wonderful as I picture them to be....  There’s not a moment that somewhere deep down I am not thinking about you.

I miss you Kurtis in a way I didn’t know existed.  A way that has no words to describe.  I way I never thought was possible to feel.  And I would give my life to have just one more moment by your side.  So many things left unsaid.  So many things left undone.  The silent moments we have shared in my head just aren’t enough babe.  They’ll have to suffice... but they will never be enough.

I can’t wait until we are side by side again.  I live my life waiting for the day I will die.  For the day we can be together again.  I know there’s a lot of joy waiting ahead, as our son grows.  But the joy in this life is tempered.  Tainted.  I honestly believe I will never be truly happy until the day I am called back home, to you.  We belong together.

Two years since I felt your touch.  Heard your voice.  Saw your face.  Two years without you.  A blip in the sands of time.  An eternity in my longing heart.

I don't regret a day we spent together.  I only regret that there were not more of them.... 

Olive Oil, babe.  Elephant Shoes, my love.  I love you, my Kurtie.  Forever.

I’ll always be Always Yours... 

This is Love...

Love is eating the burnt pizza crust, and still telling me supper is yummy.

Love is a long kiss first thing in the morning, before the teeth are brushed.

Love is the “you look beautiful”, sweats, bed head and all.

Love is feeling comfortable in my own skin – willing to wear those sweats and bed head.

Love is coming home with a slurpee, just because you know it will make me smile.

Love is letting me have the last bite of your favourite desert.

Love is lounging on the couch, your head in my lap.

Love is the silence, when you don’t have to say a word.
Love is putting you to sleep by running my fingers through your hair.

Love is letting your dog lick my ears.

Love is listening to you sing to our baby without you knowing.

Love is having you sing to me.
Love is letting me sing to you.

Love is learning to play WOW, so we can spend more time together. And asking to do it.

Love is waiting at the window for you to come home.

Love is that giddy feeling I get when I know you are home.

Love is watching you sleep with our son.

Love is a bear hug, where I feel perfectly safe.
Love is making love.

Love is 11 roses.  On a special day. Or just because.

Love is making every day a special day because we are together.

Love is blowing in my face, to ease the pain.
Love is stepping over your socks in the living room.  Picking up your empty chocolate milk glasses from the window sill.  And doing so without complaint.

Love is accepting my weaknesses.  Tolerating my quirks.

Love is my head on your chest, listening to your heart beat.

Love is the meaningless phone call just to hear my voice.

Love is going to bed early, so I don’t fall asleep alone.

Love is letting you buy another toy, just to see you smile.
Love is silly nicknames.  Terms of endearment.

Love is the feeling of your hand in mine.  Your lips on mine.
Love is taking your name.

Love is all the things I took for granted.  All the things I miss.

Love is the tears I shed today.

Love is the resolve to carry on.

Love is the part of happily ever after the really does live forever.

Love is spending two years married to your best friend.

Love is knowing he’ll be waiting for you the rest of your life.

Love is You. 

Love is Me.
Love is You and Me.  Together in mind, body, and spirit.

Love is this....

Happy 4^th Anniversary Kurt.

I love you. 

Today, tomorrow, and forever.  Always Yours....