Here's to the New Year...

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“Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.” ~ Oprah Winfrey

And so here we are again. Another full revolution of the sun has happened. Another year come and gone. Another complete calendar year Kurt was not here to experience, to see.

As I look back on the year that was, I see a lot of blank spots, big holes where he should have been. But I also see a certain three-year old boy and that boy's mom who are, together, starting to work around those spots. Not fill them - for he cannot be filled, cannot be forgotten, cannot be replaced - but rather embrace them. Work around them.  Work with them.  Make those blank spots a part of the picture, rather than the focus of the image.

In other words, I see progress. Some days a lot. Other days, very little. In some aspects leaps and bounds. In other, barely a step. But its there. Its happening.  My grief journey and my life journey are, little by little, redefining themselves and blending into one.

As Homeland said in their song, "Time changes everything, life must go on..."  It is said the only constant in this world is change. And Gavin and I, our lives are a-changing. Pushed forward if by nothing else but inertia, today becomes tomorrow, and before you know it, tomorrow becomes next year.

I miss Kurt. Immensely. I know Gavin does too - albeit in a different and maybe not as raw a manner. And deep down, my longing for him, my longing to be with him, my longing in general is still as strong as ever. As is my love.

I want to say, as I reflect on the year that was, that I see Kurt in the spaces of our family, our lives. I don't. Not really.  I still wrestle with the desire for him to exist on some level, and the possibility that I may be completely wrong. And while I do believe I have felt him, I don't know if that was really him, or me simply feeling me wishing I could feel him. Wishing so hard that it feels like its true...

No. Kurt was not there. Kurt will never again be there. But as the days pass and I see more and more of him in Gavin and, yes, in me too, I realize that parts of him will, in fact, live on forever. When you mix salt and pepper together, you can never completely isolate and separate the substances.  So it was, it is, with him and I......

And in that way, part of me died that day. And part of him lives on right now.

And so another day, another month, another year will dawn. And he will not be here to see it. And yet, he will. And it is my job to carry forward, making sure that as much of him as possible is carried forward in our daily lives.  I am the torch. And he is the flame.

I don't make resolutions any more. I never really did, but now even less than ever. Because its rather futile, presumptuous even, to pledge what you will do over the course of the year when nothing more than this very instant is guaranteed, is promised, is in your control. But I can make some pledges on what I will do, to the best of my ability, with the time I am given.  However much that is...

I will try.  I will live. I will give to Gavin all I can give of myself, my time, remembering that I am human. I will beg for help.  I will make mistakes. I will fail. I will succeed.  I will laugh. I will cry. I will probably ask more than once for permission to give up. I will question why I am still here. I will beg for permission to join him. I will shake my fists at scream at the reality I have been given.  Then I will pick myself up and go about that reality the only way I know how.  I will miss Kurt. I will love Kurt. I will love Gavin. I will try to at least like myself.  I will be.

 And that will be enough.

I will not promise that 2013 will be the best year ever. But I will try, to the best of my ability, to make it a little better than the last one. And hopefully, if I am able, will be able to stand at the same place at this time next year, and say that I have succeeded, then proceed to do the whole thing again.....

"Here's to the New Year. May she be a damned sight better that the old one, and may we all be home before she's over." ~Col. Potter MASH - "A War For All Seasons".

Long Hard Road

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Six hundred kilometers stretch between where I am and where I am headed.  A week ago I drove those kilometers willingly, shedding a little of the every day stress, everyday sorrow, and every day realities as I went.  Tomorrow I will retrace my steps as I head back home.

And along the way, pick up everything I so willingly cast off.

Its the same every time.

Getting away is nice.  Being able, even for just a few days, to not be the only one.  To forget I am the only one.  To let someone else cook.  Just once.  To let someone else answer Gavin's call.  Just once.  To sit on the couch after he goes to bed and have a real conversation about real issues.  To hear another adult voice coming from a real person. 

To feel a little less isolated.  A little less alone.

But the problem about going away is you can't go away forever.  Eventually you have to return.  And when you do, those things that seemed hard become even more difficult.  Unbearable even.  Until I breathe, accept, and adjust.  And start all over again. 

On my own.

Its the same every time....

It never gets easier pulling up to a dark, empty house.  Walking in alone.  You get used to it.  You do it because you have to.  But anyone who says it must get easier has a family to come home to.  Someone waiting for them, or someone with them....

I tried to tell my parents today what it felt like.  To talk - because that's something else I never get the opportunity to do.  My mom's response was to "look on the bright side.  At least you have Gavin."  And I know she's not the only one thinking it.  Which further proves that she - and so many others out there - don't know what its like to be really alone.  Gavin cannot give me what my husband provided.  He cannot fill that space in the house.  It would be unfair to ask him to try.  And impossible to do.  I "look on the bright side" daily - even if it doesn't seem like it.  Its that bright side that wills me to get up every morning and face another day.  But when one light bulb permanently burns out, the room is forever dimmed, even in its brightest moments.  There are always shadows....

And so I will drive that road tomorrow, returning to my reality.  Gavin will be in the back seat, but I will be going it alone.  No co-pilot, just a passenger.  And with every turn of the odometer I will pick back up a little of that burden, for that is the price I pay to have a bright side at all.  And I do so willingly.  But not happily.

In reality, the next six hundred kilometers are easy to travel.  Its the road that awaits me at the other end - the one that stretches out beyond that I dread...

And So This Is Christmas....

Christmas has come, and Christmas is soon to be gone.  Looking back, at this time last year I blogged about how Christmas was just another day.  I was right.  And I was wrong.  Its not.  It can't be.

This year, it did seem a little easier.  I smiled more.  I laughed easier.  I attribute that in part to simple time.  This is my third Christmas without Kurtis.  There's not a lot of thoughts, memories. or emotions that will sneak up on me any longer.  I know what I will think.  What I will miss.  What will bring a tear to my eye or a smile to my mouth.  And I'm prepared to let them come.

Time has done something else, though, as well.  It has thickened my skin a lot - for the good and for the bad.  The little triggers that used to really get to me don't penetrate beyond my skin any longer.  They don't reach my heart.  Its an amour I have created out of necessity, to function in a world that has no time for excessive drawn out emotions.  And it seem to be working well.  And on the flip side, those emotions that do escape from my heart don't always pass to the outside.  I can be heart broken, sad, and aching inside.  But on the outside smiling and dry eyed.  Again, its a protection mechanism.  For me and those around me.

And it seems to be working.

I also attribute the differences to Gavin.  Its hard to be sad when you are caught up in the midst of three-year old wonder, understanding what is happening for really the first time.  Its been a long time since there has been a child in the house on Christmas morning.  I forgot what that was like....

But now, as the lights on the tree are extinguished, as people retreat to their own separate quarters, and as Gavin blissfully sleeps, I find my armour coming off, flaking away in pieces.  Revealing to me, and only me, what lays beneath.

This is the first time today I have et my true emotions show - all of them.

It still hurts.  I still miss him.  I still wish more than anything that he was here, to share this with me and our son.  I can't help but think back to that first family Christmas - our only family Christmas.  Our only Christmas in our house.  That was the perfect holiday.  The image of Christmas cards.  And it wasn't because of where we were.  Or what we did.  I can't even really remember many of the finer details.

It was because we were together.

And that will never happen again....

Family is still an integral part of the holidays.  And as my parents sleep across the hall, and my sister and her partner sleep down below, I look over at the cold lonely bed, and am faced with the fact that I, again, will sleep alone.

No decked halls, no twinkling lights, no wrapped gifts, no stuffed birds will change that.  That's the way it will always be.

Christmas will never be the same.  It will never be picture perfect.  It will never be as I want, as I hope. As I need.

It will be okay.  It will be enjoyable.  We will get through.  But it will not be right.

Because he will not be there.....

You take the good with the bad.  You make the best of what you have.  I'll take the magic as it comes.  I'll enjoy, and appreciate, the moments that allow me to smile.  But I'll also pause in silent reflection as it comes to a close.  Remembering what was.  What should have been.  What could have been.  And what isn't.

I hope wherever you are, and whomever you are with, that your holidays too had some magic.  Its back to reality tomorrow......

Merry Christmas to all.  And to all, a good night.

Merry Christmas

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end....
This is my grown up Christmas list

Merry Christmas.

The End Of the World As We Know It....

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Apparently according to the ancient Mayan calendar, some time in the next 24 hours the world is about to end.  And my first response is that I'm not too sorry to see that happen.  Not my current world, anyway.

As the end of our current civilization is drawing near, it seems a perfect time to look back and reflect.  And look forward, just in case they were wrong.  Do I really want the world to end?  If it does, what will my legacy have been?  What did I do right?  What did I do wrong?  What could I do better?

For the most part, I'm proud of the life I have lived on this world.  If it were to end today, I can't say I have many regrets.  Looking back, there were three things I always wanted.

I wanted to be a wife.  And I was.  Am.  I won the heart of a wonderful man.  I was loved unconditionally.  I had a marriage that I know many could only dream of.  I know I look around today and often consider myself one of the unluckiest persons alive because of the way it ended.  But I also know I am the luckiest.  Because we never grew out of love.  We fulfilled the promises we made on the day I took his name.  We loved until death did us part.  There are so many people who cannot say that is the case....

I wanted to be a mother.  And I am.  Its not always easy, but its the most rewarding thing I have ever done.  I don't know what I expected.  I didn't expect the range of emotions that sometimes come with the job.  But I can say I am so very, very proud of the little man I know I have had a huge hand in raising.  As am much as I dread much of the years to come, I want to see this journey to its end.

I also wanted to be a figure skater....  Okay, two out of three isn't bad.

But would I have lived my life differently had I known it would all come crashing to a halt today.  Or will I live my life differently should I survive to see tomorrow?  I can't really say.  I played the cards I had, in the moment I was given.  I don't think I would change that.  There are some things, however, that I want to do....

I want to love harder, in the moment.  Never let an opportunity go by  to tell the ones I love how much they mean to me.  I don't want to put off the good stuff until tomorrow.  I don't want Gavin to have to wait "until he is older" if we can do it today.  I want to puddle jump first, and do the dishes later.  Because each and very one of our world's could end at any moment.  And I'd rather be found with wet feet from a puddle than wet hands from the sink...

I want to smile at the sunrise.  Dance in the rain.  Laugh when I'm happy.  And even cry when I'm sad.

I want to live.

I've spent a large part of my life planning for the future.  Saving for a rainy day.  Waiting for tomorrow.  The Mayans knew that there would come a time when tomorrow would not come.  I now know it too.

Its a tough pill to swallow.  A hard lesson to learn.  But I want to be able to pack up the sorrow, and use it to push me forward rather than hold me back.

And I want to take skating lessons with Gavin.

No regrets......

Image can be found here...

Roses From Your Rose

Three holiday roses.  Roses from your rose.

One rose for the past, one rose for the present, one rose for the future. 

One rose for me, one rose for Gavin, one rose for Kurt. 

Three holiday roses representing a torrent of tears.  A mountain of memories.  A lifetime of love.

Its not much.  Its not enough.  But its all I can do.

Happy holidays my love.  

I need you.  

I love you.  

I miss you.  

Always.

And I am Always Yours.

You Think You Have Time....

When my husband died at age 35 I saw how close we are to our death.
How we are separated by a second.
How our hearts can beat one moment and stop the next.
Yet we live life as if we will never die.
We live as if we have eternity by our s
ide.
We forget to laugh.
We forget to love.
We forget to breathe.
We live for another day.
For someone else.
For the future.
Even though it might never come.
And we might never get to live.
We forget our mortality.
Today I ask you to remember this is your only day.
This is your only life.
And you deserve to feel alive.

~Christina Rasmussen

Your Dad....

Image can be found here. Copyright Cookie Jar Entertainment

Sitting on the couch early this morning, watching Caillou, Gavin looked over at me very matter of fact and stated “I don’t have a Daddy like Caillou, Mommy.” It hurt to hear those words. And know they are true. He doesn’t. Not the same type of daddy, anyway.

There was so much I wanted to tell my son right there, at that very moment. About the permanence and impermanence of life. About how things can both be and not be at the same time. Things that he would certainly not so fully understand. Things I don’t really understand. But I didn’t. Instead I reminded him that his daddy was dead, that mommy was still here, and that he was loved. The rest will come out when he's ready, in time.

But this is what my heart said. What I wanted to say. The conversation we will someday have:

You are right, Gavin. You don’t have a daddy like you see on TV. Your daddy cannot tickle you, or play with you, or tuck you in at night. He cannot teach you how to ride a bike, drive, shave, or tie a neck tie. He will never again read you a story, never toss you a football or a Frisbee. He will not shake your hand on the day you get married. Your daddy is very, very different from the daddies that your friends all have.

But sweetheart, please don't ever think that you don’t have a dad. Because you do. You always will.

I know your daddy loved you very, very much. He was so proud of his little boy, and couldn’t wait to see you become a little man. He cried the moment he first saw you. He was so happy.

He used to talk about racing remote control cars with you, building model planes and, yes, playing video games. He glowed when he showed you off, and always believed your baby babbles really did mean so much more. He would sing you Twinkle Twinkle Little Star when you could not sleep, and walk around the house holding you in his arms. He would play airplane to get you to eat your carrots, then hold you high in the sky and play airplane again. He would sing “Barbara Ann” and The Adams Family Theme song over again just to hear you say “Ba” and “Da”. He loved your laugh, loved your giggle, and loved your voice.  He called the little faint birthmark on your left leg your only imperfection. You were perfect in his eyes. You were his son.

Your daddy was a kid at heart, who needed a kid of his own to let that part of him come shining through. You were the light of his life. You always made him smile.

So Gavin, even though your daddy is not here, he is still your dad. He always will be. Because he gave you life. And love. Lots, and lots of love in such a very short time. And love lasts so much longer than mommies and daddies. Love like that lasts forever.

I know its tough to watch other children with their daddies, feeling like you don’t have one of your own. But daddy isn’t far away. 

When the monsters come out from under your bed, it is your daddy who frightens them away. When you are alone and feeling scared, your daddy silently wraps his arms around you and keeps you safe. When the wind blows your hair, your daddy is running his fingers through it too. When you have an itch that will not go away, you can be sure your daddy is tickling his little man. When the hairs on your neck stand up straight, when a chill runs down your spine, you will know your daddy has your back. When you feel you cannot go on, when something is too hard, he will help you try one more time. 

Your daddy is your special friend. You can talk to him, and he can hear you even when you don’t say the words out loud. And when you need his advice, and feel something deep inside, that’s your daddy talking back to you. He will guide you, he will teach you, he will protect you, and he will speak to you in ways that neither you nor mommy understand right now. Ways that neither you nor mommy can predict. But when they happen, you will know. Your dad will never leave your side. He will never be far away.

And while I’m sure it feels like something is missing, I want you to remember what you do have. You have an angel, always watching out for you from above. And you also have a mommy who will do anything for you right here on earth. A mommy whose only purpose is you. And only you. Your mommy cannot be your daddy. I will not try to be. But I want you to know that you can come to me whenever, with anything. I will dry your eyes, and kiss the booboos away. I will tie your ties, and cry at your wedding, and many days before... I will tickle you until it hurts to laugh, and at the end of the day tuck you in safe and sound. I will read to you until I can’t read any more. I will throw you the Frisbee, and take that remote control car off my bedroom shelf so we can race it together. 

 And I will talk about your daddy. Answer any questions you have the best way I can. And make sure you know how lucky you were.

And how lucky you are.