Well here we are… another winter gone and another spring beginning. Hard to believe it’s been this long…

Time definitely does not stand still and life changes whether we want it to or not. Certain things that we never thought would end, do and we take what we’ve learned from them as we move forward.

This past week we “won” the fight with Colonie… the fight that I promised him I would win when I said goodbye.

Eventhough it was a huge victory, it was incredibly bittersweet.

The last thing I promised him was accomplished. As happy as I should have been, I was filled with sadness. It was over. He was completely gone. The fight that kept me connected to him…to my past life… was over.

At the end of the week, I’ll be going to the Fire Department retirement dinner where he’ll be honored. It feels that is also an ending…and that is going to sting.

It sucks. It sucks more than I could ever put into words…but it’s never going to not suck. By living in my past though, I’ll miss out on my life in the present and the future.

As I pull my foot out of the past, I know that Eddie will always be a part of me and will always exist in my heart… But I think I’ve done a pretty kick ass job of learning how to coexist with his memory alongside me, as I navigate my present and decide my future.

This Christmas wasn’t any better or worse than the first Christmas without Eddie… it was different.

Last year, I was in shock and everything stung. Everything was a change… a change I didn’t ask for.

This year, I knew not to buy four pairs of matching pajamas. I had already taken his stocking out of the decoration box. There were no surprises this Christmas.

I kept up with my Christmas Eve Santa routine that I had been doing for years, but this year I didn’t have to take breaks to cry. I knew my triggers. I turned off “It’s a Wonderful Life” before he left and then decided to go back to his family. No tears shed over that movie this year. It was something little, but it was progress.

As I went to bed that night, I thought about the fact that I had made Christmas somewhat normal this year…our normal.

It would never be the same as it was with Eddie…he would always be missing from it, but we have different routines and some new traditions. Our life had gone on without him, which don’t get me wrong, feels like a guilt ridden blessing… but that’s what we were handed and we have to make the best of it.

By no means was this Christmas easy, but it was less hard. My fresh wounds from last year had scarred over. They still ache at times, but they are a part of who I am now… what makes me, me… and that’s ok.

Well this is 40… I am certainly not where I thought I would be at 40 years old.

Part of me thought that if I never celebrated 40, Eddie didn’t really die. I know that sounds really crazy, but in my head it made sense. The more time passes, the more we are forced to acknowledge it. It does and will always suck. There’s no way to sugar coat that.

39 was a year of learning and trying new things. It was a year of finding my way in my new life.

Along the way, I grieved (and continue to grieve), dealt with awful tenants, fought with the town of Colonie to keep the business, talked to and paid more lawyers than I thought one person ever needed, made decisions I didn’t think I was capable of, got a new job, met amazing new people, rekindled friendships from the past, started dating an amazing guy, had lots of girl time with true friends, redid almost every room in my house, focused on me and what I need, had hours of therapy, done countless school projects, got a new appreciation for kids soccer, bought a new car, became more independent and confident…but most importantly- I learned to smile, laugh and enjoy life.

Of course none of this has been easy and I know it’s not smooth sailing from here on out. I’m just choosing today, in this moment, to focus on all that I do have.

This is 40… and so far, this is fabulous.

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A few weeks ago, I did family pictures for the first time since Eddie had died.

Every year, I always built up our family picture session and spent weeks trying to coordinate outfits, location, weather and everything else. It consumed me and I was stressed out…everyone was stressed. For some reason I thought everything, (including that perfectly coordinated Christmas picture) rested on my shoulders. It’s like I had something to prove. I put so much pressure on myself to make sure that that family picture of us was perfect.

Fast forward… I know now that there is no such thing as perfect and the stress it caused me was absolutely ridiculous.

Somehow, I thought that those pictures meant that I had it all together. I was living the “perfect” life that society had said I should. Clearly it was far from perfect and I had no idea.

Those perfect pictures didn’t stop him from killing himself. They didn’t impact my life in any way other than showing people that we could color coordinate, smile and look good on a Christmas card.

This year was a totally different Christmas picture experience. I didn’t stress it. I picked my outfit out a day before (yes, I know this is shocking for me). I didn’t freak out. Of course I still had my moments…as one would smile and one would make a silly face, try to climb a wall, or almost knock lights over…

I had accepted that my family picture may not look the same as all the ones I get in the mail and see on Facebook. I was finally okay with that.

I was glad that when the pictures came back, they included the bloopers. They made me laugh. They reminded me that things don’t have to be perfect. We don’t have to have it all together all of the time. This is real…this is life…this is us.

I honestly thought today would have been easier.

I woke up to memory alerts on my phone… 2018. Everyone was smiling and there were a lot of family pictures. That stung.

Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him and not a day will go by, that I won’t miss him. The last year has been all about figuring out how to live with that.

Some days it’s easier than others, but when holidays come around it’s just a reminder, that any tradition that he was involved in…is over.

New traditions have started, new memories are being made and while they are amazing, there’s a tugging sting that is always there. It’s a chronic pain… a strong guilt for being here and continuing to live a life without him.

The only choice we’re left with, is to be grateful for what we do have and keep going, which is easier said than done… but everyday we just try and we do the best we can.

Last week would have been my 10 year wedding anniversary. I scheduled a therapy session for that afternoon and I braced myself for an emotional meltdown.

To my total surprise, as I checked Facebook in the morning, I didn’t have one. I was okay.

I looked at the pictures and remembered the amazing memories of my wedding. I smiled. I wasn’t sad. They happened and they were wonderful. No one could take them from me. They were mine to react to… and choose how I reacted to them.

For the first time since Eddie died, I was looking at pictures of us and I wasn’t filled with sadness. I chose to live in the happiness of the memory. I didn’t let it pull me down. I acknowledged it, smiled and let it go…I was fortunate to have had it.

For me, this was huge.

When I met my bestie out that afternoon for drinks, she commented that I seemed lighter. She was right. Some how, like a switch turned on… I was one of those “half full”people.

I can’t say it’s all the time, but it’s a hell of a lot more often than it was before.

I’ve realized that in order to be happy, I have to give my next book the chance to succeed.

Some days still suck… some moments kick my ass, but I’m going to celebrate the baby steps as I move forward.

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• 

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Friday night, would have been the last time we saw him, before he headed to the shop without a goodbye.

Months ago, my therapist recommended writing him a letter. It became referred to as my F U letter. I had started it, but this week I finished it. I said everything I wanted to say to him (with a lot of f*** yous in it)

As I ended the letter though, I forgave him.

I forgave him for killing himself and leaving us. It doesn’t serve me to hold onto that anger.

Once I wrote those words and repeated them, a weight was lifted. I was no longer holding onto those draining and negative emotions. I could breath a little easier.

I knew I needed to do something to signify letting go of those things, so I decided to set off a paper lantern and burn the letter.

It was so much easier in my head…

First off, we majorly struggled opening the damn lantern. The directions were a hysterically funny, hot mess.

Once we finally got it set up, only half of the thing lit on fire. The rain didn’t help of course.

It finally went up and as we yelled at Eddie, the sky lit up with lightening. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I like to think it was him.

It was time to read and burn the letter… with a super soaker on standby.

As tears rolled down my face, there was thunder.

He was always going to be there for me… just differently.

It’s the lunch brought to work, the dinner drop offs, the wine left at the door, the texts, the phone calls…

It’s everyone holding me up when I’m about to fall.

Picking me up when I’m on the ground unable to keep going.

Fighting alongside me when I keep getting beaten down.

It’s all of you that have made me a strong as I have been this past year.

I have gone through more than I ever thought I could.

I have gone through all of the firsts in this past year…firsts that I never thought I’d have to experience.

I’ve gone through every single emotion that you could imagine.

I’ve also accomplished more than I ever thought possible and am living a life I never thought I could. I know I’m going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

As I keep going with my life…rebuilding it…I need you all with me still and I always will. I still need you to continue to hold me up, fight with me and support me, but I also need you to laugh with me and celebrate with me as I move forward with my life.

Only when we are brave enough to explore a darkness, will we find the infinite power of our light.

*I read this on one of my widow facebook groups and it couldn’t be more true…

You lose them over and over,

sometimes many times a day.

When the loss, momentarily forgotten,

creeps up,

and attacks you from behind.

Fresh waves of grief as the realisation hits home,

they are gone.

Again.

You don’t just lose someone once,

you lose them every time you open your eyes to a new dawn,

and as you awaken,

so does your memory,

so does the jolting bolt of lightning that rips into your heart,

they are gone.

Again.

Losing someone is a journey,

not a one-off.

There is no end to the loss,

there is only a learned skill on how to stay afloat,

when it washes over.

Be kind to those who are sailing this stormy sea,

they have a journey ahead of them,

and a daily shock to the system each time they realise,

they are gone,

Again.

You don’t just lose someone once,

you lose them every day,

for a lifetime.

© Donna Ashworth Words

This week was a tough one.

I found myself reliving his final days.

Realizing how much “normal” I took for granted before my life became the complete opposite.

Asking myself…

What was really going through his mind every day this week?

When did he decide to do it?

Repeating the conversations that seemed insignificant at the time, but were monumental and gave me more guidance in what he wanted for me than I could imagine.

Thursday during therapy I let it all go. I got it all out…. and I felt better after it. I didn’t feel numb or drained. I felt a tiny bit more like myself for the first time all week. I even smiled.

We need we need to come to terms with our struggles. Otherwise they just eat us up and make us feel like we aren’t good enough. Like there’s something wrong with us.

I worked on me this week. I allowed myself time to accept the struggles, unpack them and move forward from them…I was selfish and I took the time I needed for me. I gave myself exactly what I needed.