This picture is so appropriate with all of the snow outside right now. It was taken in 2013 and it was Max’s first experience with snow. We were at the apartment on New Scotland at the time and our neighbor took this picture of us. As everyone knows, family pictures aren’t easy to get, so it’s nice when we are all in one together.

Eddie had been out all night and the day before plowing. He had actually popped home for a nap before going back out. The last thing he wanted to do, was play in the snow and be outside more. However, in true Eddie fashion, he did it anyways because it would make us happy. He would do anything for us. I’m sure me saying, “it’s Max’s first time in the snow, you have to be there” didn’t hurt either.

He was like a big kid, making snow angels and crawling around in the snow to make Max laugh. It was amazing. I loved seeing such a soft side of him. His energetic and easygoing personality were infectious.

I know, to many this may just seem like another time playing outside, but with the amount Eddie worked and the limited time he was able to be home and be a part of things, this was special.

I always admired how much drive Eddie had… going from a 24 hour shift at the Fire Department to another 12 plus hours plowing.

Eddie worked so hard all of the time, but truly appreciated life. It was a gift to see him enjoy such little things like playing in the snow…and to have this picture to remind me of it.

There are a lot of things that I’m learning as I go, but here are some big ones that I wanted to share.

1. Get life insurance

In my early 30s, when one of Eddie’s friends talked to him about the life insurance he was doing part time, Eddie set up a meeting and signed us up. I rolled my eyes, wondering why we would need that. That was 7 years ago. So glad we had it. It’s just that…insurance. You hope you never need it, but you are beyond grateful when you need it and you have it.

2. Have a will

After the boys were both born, being the paranoid person I am, I what if’d something happening to me…or both of us. Losing Eddie was surprisingly never on my worry list because he had convinced me he was invincible and going nowhere. My therapist calls this “false comfort”…so true. As soon as he died, I was asked if we had a will and I am so glad we did. It was a generic one from Legal Zoom and very simply said that if he died, I got everything and the boys and if I died, he got everything and the boys. It has saved months of legal issues.

3. Have the talk about burial

Having to decide whether to bury or cremate Eddie, was of course something I didn’t think I’d have to do anytime soon. We had discussed it, but honestly I couldn’t remember in that moment. Of course it’s something you have to be decisive about, it’s a pretty finite decision, so make sure you know. I questioned whether or not I had recalled what he said correctly. Luckily, his brothers remembered their conversation with Eddie more clearly than I had, so I knew we made the right decision.

No matter how much any of us don’t want to think of bad things happening, they can. I certainly hope they don’t happen to you… trust me. I wouldn’t wish any of this nightmare on anyone. Being informed and prepared doesn’t mean it will happen… it just means that if it does, you may have a few less stresses to deal with.

Grief… what no one tells you is that there’s not steps to follow to get over your grief. It’s messy. It’s all over the place. It doesn’t make any damn sense.

There are days when I am completely fine and all of a sudden, I start crying and missing him over something so little as a sock. Then I’m okay again. Sometimes I’m even upset that I’m happy because how can I be happy when he’s gone? That leads me to guilt. After lots of self talk, I’m okay again. Then as I scroll through Facebook or see families out and about, I’m angry or resentful of what everyone else has that I’ve lost. Other moments, I’m focusing on the future and guilty again that I could imagine a life that doesn’t have him in it.

I have no idea what is going to trigger any of these feelings and it just solidifies the fact that I just have to go with all of it and take it all as it comes. I could see the same thing numerous times a day and one of the times, the site of it could bring me to tears for no rhyme or reason. There are days that the emotions are more stable and calm, but others…like that one…where I’m a mess.

Grief is a storm that I’m stuck in. Some moments the hail is crashing down on me and I just want to give up, others I’m moving, but slipping all over from the ice. Yet, there are some that the sky is perfectly sunny… before the next wave.

Today I didn’t want to get out of bed. As soon as I got up, it would mean it’s been 8 weeks since he died. 8 weeks that my life has been going, without him. None of the decor in our room is the same anymore and that helps me snap into reality when I open my eyes…every Saturday. I know it’s real and that he’s gone.

Each week it becomes more real, but those first few moments on Saturday mornings are the most painful. Saturdays may take a few extra minutes, but I know I need to just get up and keep going as he’d want me to…celebrating the little things and laughing when I can.

Today is my 39th birthday. The first of the rest, without him.
As I reflect on the past year, I was always striving for perfection in all that I did and planning for the future. I took so many of the little things for granted. Things that I wish I could have back, but I can’t.
Since Eddie died, I have had a different outlook on things and I’m living in each moment more. In the beginning, it was just a matter of survival…making it moment to moment. Now, it’s kind of stuck with me and given me a different outlook.

I realized that so little in life is actually in our control and we just have to go with it as best we can. We have to appreciate all that we have.

Going forward, my goal for 39 is to laugh more and be more present in each moment because we never know what the next will bring.

As Facebook reminded me, in 2009 Eddie threw me a birthday party at our old apartment. It was our first Christmas living together (side note- I had moved in during March of 2009, 7 months after we started dating. When you know it’s right, you just know). He decorated the apartment with birthday banners and balloons and sprayed that fake snow on the windows of the glass doors. The entire place was meticulously cleaned and he made sure everything was perfect.

My favorite part of all though, was that he made the cake. He could have just ordered one, but he choose to make it for me… because he loved me and wanted to show me that in all the ways he could. It was a strawberry cake with vanilla frosting. Cake was not his dessert of choice. Strawberry cake definitely wasn’t. I found out later that he actually had to go to a few different stores for strawberry cake mix because he knew that was my favorite. Even though he was such a tough guy, he had a soft side and did everything he could to make me happy…always.

Being in the kitchen…especially baking…was not his thing and honestly with the mess he always left behind, I was relieved it wasn’t. On his own, he made made the cake, frosted it and put the correct amount of candles on. He even cleaned up his mess.

I remember walking into the apartment after school that day… it smelled freshly cleaned and he had candles lit, making the place smell like the holidays. I remember his huge smile when he greeted me and the love I felt.

Eddie’s smile in this picture says it all. He was extremely proud of his cake. He was happy and loving life.

The pressure of grieving… There is so much pressure to grieve in the right way, the expected way. I feel like if I’m not crying all of the time… or sad… or talking about Eddie… people don’t think I loved him enough. I loved him with all of my heart and I always will.

Just because I’m smiling, laughing or talking about something other than him, doesn’t mean I am “over him”. It just means that I am moving forward with my life, without him, in the best that I can. I’ll never be “over him” and I don’t ever want to be. He was a huge part of my life for over 12 years and I’m where I am today because of him. He will always be a part of me.

I feel like when I am laughing, talking or writing about something fun and light, I’m judged for not missing him enough or not being sad enough. Trust me, I’m plenty sad, I miss him everyday and I don’t need to prove that to anyone.

There is no right way to grieve. My grief is different than anyone else’s. The way I feel on a daily basis, at any given moment is different than how anyone else feels. There is no normal. There are no rules and there shouldn’t be any expectations. My grief is my grief.

Obviously, I can’t control as much as I would like to believe that I can.

What I can control is me…

I can control my clothes and what I wear each day. I can control doing my hair and makeup everyday no matter how tired and sad I am. I can control keeping up with my lash lifts and hair appointments. All of these things help me feel a little better and…like me.

Feeling good on the outside helps you feel good on the inside. It gives you confidence, that you can take on the day and I need that more than ever right now.

Think about the way you feel when you put on and outfit you love…you feel good and have a more confident and optimistic outlook on the day. You put it on because it makes you feel good about yourself.

That’s why I put the effort in. It makes me feel confident in an “I can do this” way and it’s something I can control. Some days I look the part more than I feel it, but it does help.

My limited edition Tyrian Tieks came today with a crown box topper and a sweet note. As soon as I tried them on they made me feel regal. Maybe it’s the velvet. Maybe it’s the rich color. Whatever it is, they made me smile.

I choose to spoil myself and make myself feel fabulous. I’m still the same me that loves to feel pretty. Even with Eddie gone, that hasn’t changed.

I’m still grieving day in and day out and I can’t control that, but I can control how I treat myself, how I look on the outside and the confidence it gives me on the inside.

Saturday night was the first night I had been “out” since he died. Sure I’ve gone to dinner and stuff with my close friends, but this was a first. Another first, axe throwing. We were throwing axes with his friends, the “army family”. It was someplace that Eddie would have loved, with people he went through hell and back with.

I was around a bunch of people who may or may not known my story… Eddie’s story. A few knew everything, most knew a lot and some knew nothing.

I kept wondering if the ones that knew nothing wondered why I was there, how I was connected to this group. Did I still fit in this group without him? For how long would I be included in this group since he’s gone? I loved my life as it was. I loved this group who we were supposed to grow old with. I didn’t chose any of this change.

I was navigating through a world that only exists to me, because of him.

Being there without him was hard. It was lonely. Whenever a song came on that I would sarcastically sing to him, I missed him. I missed his laugh. I missed his smile. I missed everything about him. Everytime I kicked butt throwing the axe, I wanted to celebrate it with him. He was my biggest fan, always cheering me on and he wasn’t there. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

There will continue to be so many firsts that I have to do without him. I do believe he’s present in another way with me, but I would give anything to have him back physically with me.

I’m not positive right now. I’m angry, pessimistic and resentful. My head is doing everything it can, to get through day to day things. There are times when it throbs because it’s so overworked with thoughts and emotions.

I’m hanging on by a thread. Sometimes that thread is more of a rope and I have a good grip, but others…like tonight, it’s a fine string that is unraveling and could snap at any given moment. I’m strong, but there are times that I don’t know how much more crap I can take.

Before starting dinner I threw a load of laundry in. I knew I was in trouble when it started making a sound that washers don’t make. Sure enough, it won’t drain. Awesome. That’s exactly what I needed. I’m adding it to the “Are you friggin kidding me” list. How much can one person deal with and keep getting up to fight?

Tonight I almost reached my breaking point.
People remind me that “I’m going to feel this way for a while, you have a long ways to go” and while they may be right… it’s not something I need or want to hear. I am doing my best to get through each day, hoping the next one is a tiny bit better. I can’t bear to think long term and the possibility that there is no end in sight is exhausting and disheartening.

It’s like any bubble of hope I had is getting popped. I like my bubble. I need my hope. Hope that I’m going to come out of this. Hope that I’m going to somehow be better because of this. Hope that my washing machine will miraculously drain tomorrow and nothing else makes the list. Hope that tomorrow, my string is stronger.

Today went much better than expected. The anxiety and build up were much worse than anything else…as they always are.

When I walked into school today, I felt like nothing had changed. It was all just as it was, on October 16th. Yet, I was different. I had a terrible tragedy happen to me and somehow, I was still standing. If I got through the past six weeks, I could handle anything work threw at me. My coworkers and friends have my back and will hold me up, when I’m struggling to stand. This was so clear to me today with all of the calls, texts, visits and hallway chats. You all showed up. I know it wasn’t easy. Nothing about any of this is easy. It’s downright awful and hard to know what to say, but you did it anyway…just by saying something. Even though, it’s an awkward situation, you got over it and just talked to me. It didn’t even matter what you said. What mattered is that you said something. To me, that meant everything.

Being back today, in my element, helped me regain some of my identity. While grieving Eddie, I had lost some of myself. At school though, I was in my place. A place that was me, not us. Today reminded me that without him, I was still me. Maybe even a better version of me…pretty damn amazing and with my army, capable of much more, than I ever knew I was.