Growing Old

Image can be found here...

Today is my birthday.  I'm not really in the mood for celebrating.

Today I turn the age he was. Is. Always will be.
Its strange to think of us as the same age.  In my mind, he will always be the older of the two....

I couldn't help but start to think how he was the lucky one.  How he will never have to experience days like today.  How I wish him and I could change places.... How I would never wish such pain on someone else... How I wish we had died together.

On the day of my birth, I am sitting here thinking of the day I will die.  Just like every other day.  Death surrounds me.  It is my constant companion.

The calendar frustrates me.  Confuses me.  Angers me.  Time is supposed to stop when your spouse dies.  When your life ends.  You're not supposed to get older, because they never will.  And you're definitely not supposed to get older than them.

But here I am, still living.  Still marking the passage of time, the passing of years.  Going out to do my best to celebrate a milestone I never thought would come.  At least not so soon.  Because we didn't die.  I didn't die.  And so I grow as old as him.  And will grow older than him.

Without him....

It Could Always Have Been Worse...

Image courtesy of i.am.brad

It could have been worse.

He could have suffered.
He could have drowned.
He could have been aware what was happening to him.
He could have survived with irreversible brain injuries.
He could have collapsed an hour later at work and killed someone.
He could have collapsed an hour earlier with Gavin in his arms
He could have collapsed two days earlier and killed us all.

Gavin could have died with him.
Gavin could have been older and felt more pain from losing his daddy.
He could have died before Gavin was born.  Before his first Christmas.  His first Fathers Day.
He could have died before Gavin was at all.

We could have been fighting when he died.  Our last words could have been in anger.
We could have had a loveless marriage.

I could have been left penniless.
I could have been left homeless.
I could have been completely alone, without family support.

He could have died alone, in his friend's basement, having never known love.
He could have died alone, in his friends basement, with me never knowing his love.

Instead.....

He did not suffer.
He did not know.
No one else got hurt.

Gavin is here with me.
He got to experience the joys of fatherhood.
His legacy is carried on in our son.
I am not alone.

I have a home to raise our son.
I have a job to provide for our son.
I have family to assist me in the raising of our son.

He collapsed in familiar surroundings, in a house he was proud of.

He knew love.
I knew love.
We knew love.

It could always have been worse....

My thanks to a fellow blogger who gave me the idea for this post.   You're right.  It could always be worse.....

Hands of Time

Image can be found here...

Tick tock. Tick tock.

A baby's born.  A father dies.

Tick tock tick tock.

A widow morns.  A new mother cries....

What I would do to slow the clock from ticking.  Time from moving forward.  Some widows I have spoken to tell me they draw comfort in the progression of time.  That the moments that pass on the clock take them one moment closer to the time they will be together again.

I love that image.  But can't share comfort in it.  Time is still my enemy.

Its the cause of stress.  Of heartache.  Of sadness.

Its passing overwhelms me.  So much that should be done.  So much that is up to me.  So much that I can't seem to muster the motivation or energy to accomplish.

And so the clock ticks and tocks.  And what is undone remains undone.  And time continues to march forward.  Carrying my unwillingly away from a time when things seemed better.  Easier.  Away from him.  Us.  Even me.

Tick tock.  Tick tock.

What I would do to exist away from time, away from expectation.  To just be allowed to be.  To not have to worry about the hours on the clock or the dates on the calendar.  To accept it rather than fight it.

Alas, 'tis not the world we live in.  There are responsibilities.  Deadlines.  Expectations.  The hands of time are the hands of my captor.  And I am their slave.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.....

Nine Lives

I had to put our cat down this morning.  The cat which bore Kurt's nickname.  The cat Kurt nursed back to health as a kitten.  Kurt's cat.

If you love animals, you understand that he was not "just" a cat...

I don't know whether I feel sad, angry, confused, all of the above, some of the above, or none of the above.  I know I did the right thing.  But I just don't feel good.  I miss my friend.  I miss my husband's friend.  And by extension, I miss my husband more....

Wiggy would have been 5 years old in May.  That's 36 human years according to the chart I stared at in the vet's office.  The average lifespan of an indoor domestic cat is 15-18 years.... That's equivalent to almost 92 human years at the upper end.  He died far too young.

Kurt was the same age as Wiggy.  35.  The life span of a male born in North America is almost 79.  He also died far too young.

Is this a sad coincidence?  Maybe.  Probably.  But as I look at the calendar and my impending 35th birthday, I can't wait until the next 365 days are over.  35 doesn't seem to be a good year in this household right now...

But if its more - God really does hold life and death in his grasp - then what does this mean?  Why must the two who were so intimately related as to carry the same name be called so soon, long before their time?  And why must I be the one always left standing as the dust settles, to bury their ashes and keep trudging along?  I've written before about my journey to rediscover my faith.  If this is the plan God has for us, I think it may just be time to part ways, before I am hurt further.

Now if I could just convince my heart that it is the right thing to do...

I Miss You...

Every second of every minute of every day.  With every breath I take.  With every beat of my heart.  More than you will ever know......

20 months today....