Sunday, February 14, 2016

Lessons Learned

Today is Valentine's Day.  It is the second one since Tom died.  Last year, a mere 18 days had passed and I was well ensconced in numbness.  Valentine's Day (or VD as we would call it), was not our holiday.  We didn't usually make a big deal of it, although we would always mark the occasion with cards and generally flowers or some other trinket.  It wasn't over the top for us.  We always said being married to each other was like Valentine's Day every day.  So for me, this isn't a heart wrenching day of remembrance.  What I am feeling is not the sadness of it being such a supposedly romantic holiday and Tom's not here.  What I am feeling is the absence of him (the physical Tom) in my life everyday, as well as on this day.  His spirit, however, is safely held in my heart, my soul and my life.

When I was young, in the years before Tom, during all those "dating" years or dead-end relationship years, this holiday held a lot of expectation, what grand romantic gesture would be made, what declarations of love and devotion would I receive.  blah blah blah . . .   And the very early years of our relationship did hold some of those expectations as we navigated the beginnings of a friendship that turned to romance that turned to love that turned to commitment that became a strong and loving marriage.  This holiday sometimes felt like an obligation to be romantic, when in reality there was romance in our lives on a daily basis.  In 2009 I made a photo book to serve as a Valentine's Day card.  It was titled "100 Reasons Why I Love You Tom". I included photos of our life to illustrate each quality.  I read it this morning and remembered how true each of those reasons are/were.

Last night I attended a comedy show with our friends.  I laughed my butt off--it was so much fun.  But when I returned home I remembered Valentine's Day 2006.  We had won a dinner from the grocery delivery service that we used and Tom was going to prepare dinner for us that evening.  I was stuck at working, focused on a deadline for a client.  Everything took longer than expected and I was at the office until after midnight.  Tom was so upset with me.  I didn't really understand why (yes I could be clueless) since me working late was not unusual and my client and work commitments often took priority.  Truth be told, they always took priority until the last year of Tom's life.  I felt nauseous when I remembered that night, how I had let him down.  Because the reality is that the client didn't care about the extra effort and my firm sure as hell didn't care that I gave up an evening with my husband to make money for them.  I was more focused on trying to get approval and do a good job than I was on what my love wanted.  This was a gut wrenching realization and I am quite ashamed of it.  Should I ever have the privilege of having another love in my life, I will not make this mistake again.  Hindsight is 20/20 and I have learned that nothing, NOTHING, is more important than love.  If you don't have your priorities straight, get them straight.  Money is just a tool.  Love is life.

So today I am having dinner with the members of my spousal loss bereavement group.  We meet on a monthly basis.  I am bringing cupcakes and have handmade toppers--hearts with the names of our spouses.
 Spending the evening with  these people who I have had the honor to share this journey with is going to be wonderful.  We each know the heartache, we have bared our souls to each other and born witness to each other's process.  We get it.  I am certain that we will not be alone, but joined by the spirit of those we each hold most dear.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Letting Go, Inch by Inch

This week I removed my wedding and engagement ring.  Well, full disclosure, I moved my wedding band to my right hand.  We will see how long this lasts, but I think it may stick, except for an occasional "relapse".  I tried to do it once before, at about six months or so, but I just couldn't do it. Having a naked ring finger just seems too, well, naked.  I plan on wearing the ring that Tom bought me for our 20th wedding anniversary on my left hand.  He had ordered it one month to the day before he died, and I didn't receive it until after his death.

When we became engaged we were so broke that we had little money for rings and decided to  use stones that we already had for my wedding set.  My engagement ring holds the diamond that was in my mom's engagement ring (she had lost the diamond out of the setting while digging in the garden and found it about a week later) and the side stones are my birthstone (garnets) given to me in a ring by my childhood babysitter when I was very young.  The diamonds in my wedding band are also from my mom's wedding set and one is from a ring that my grandmother wore and later gave to me.  There is a lot of history in the rings and therefore I will continue to wear them on my right hand since there is so much of my life and story in them.

Since removing my ring, I have fiddled with my left ring finger almost as much as I did when I first began to wear my engagement ring.  I remember being so enamored with it that I constantly was looking at it.  When I would get in the elevator at work, the lights made it sparkle like the sun and I would be mesmerized by it.  It wasn't the first engagement ring I ever had, but it was the perfect one.

Since moving past the one year anniversary of Tom's death, I feel like a weight has started to lift.  I am ready to let go of some of the heaviness of the grief.  I am not done mourning, not by any means, but I am willing to move forward.  I know this next year will be equally hard, albeit in another way, as I come to terms with the reality that my heart is learning what my head already knows.  I do not know what to expect.  I feel his presence in my life and in my heart.  It is true that love never dies.  I thought that was just a saying, but it isn't.  I still have many death duties to complete, and I will do them this year, as I am ready.  There are some things that still seem way too overwhelming to consider, like changing my FB status from married to Tom Radovanovich to widowed.  Or removing some of the many pictures of us together from the walls.  Nope.  Not ready. 

I seem to have fallen off a cliff at about nine months after Tom's death.  There were three months of the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the first New Year's Eve, the first anniversary.  And then my milestone birthday.  It all took so much energy and was so incredibly hard.  There were some beautiful moments during those three months, but it was probably some of my hardest months.  I let myself feel and experience all of it.  Other things fell by the wayside during that time.  But now it is time to focus forward while remembering back and enjoying today.  For the next three months I am going to focus on the things that I couldn't focus on before--work and self care.  Head down, focus.  I know there will be moments and perhaps days that I will be swept away by a grief burst.  It will be OK.  To borrow a phrase from the Best Marigold Hotel "Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end."

Another inch of letting go.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Milestones--Part Two

The second major milestone last week was my birthday.  It was a big birthday.  The kind of birthday that when my parents turned that age I thought they were really old.  I don't feel really old.  I feel really beaten up by the last year and a half.  Several months ago I started to wonder what I would do to mark this milestone, coming three days after the first anniversary of Tom's death.  There was no one to throw a party for me, so if I thought I wanted one, then it was going to be up to me.  But that sort of thing isn't done, is it?  And really, I'm not one to put myself out there for that kind of attention, just not my style.  But I did know that I wanted to honor Tom's first angelversary.  And I really wanted to show my gratitude to those people who have been there for me over the last year.  So with those three reasons for a party, I asked for Tom's guidance.  And all I kept "hearing" from him was, "Do it.  You deserve it."  So I planned an elegant celebration.

Of course, I asked Tom's band to play.  How could I have a party without my RuMoRs family?  I learned a few weeks beforehand that the regular drummer would not be available and the band had asked Tom's friend, mentor and drum teacher to sit in.  I was thrilled.  And then the thought popped into my head, perhaps he would consider playing Tom's favorite drum kit that night.  I hadn't heard it in over a year and it would be the last time I would be able to hear it before it moved to its new home. Tracy agreed to play them, and I had one last chance to be the roadie and hump equipment to a gig.  It was so wonderful to have them there, to hear them.  It meant a lot to the band. It was a wonderful way to honor Tom.

I invited a range of people to the event.  Those invited were those who were particularly supportive over the last year.  My family.  My friends.  Many had known Tom.  But there were also people who have only come to know Tom through my memories of him.  I wanted to be able to thank them all for their support, let them know how grateful I am and to remind them all that the job was not yet done.  The second year can be harder than the first.  Or so I've been told.  And so I believe.

And finally, if I have to get older, why not have a party? A party at the end of January is always a welcome distraction.  The big night arrived, and there was no rain in sight.  The guests arrived, the food was eaten, the toasts were made, the band played and those with rhythm (or suspected rhythm) danced.  And danced.  And you know what?  I had a fabulous time.  It was the best birthday EVER! I even wore a tiara (my bestie wanted me to wear one and I refused, but then another friend brought one as a gift and insisted--it was quite lovely.)

The theme for the evening was Remember, Appreciate, Celebrate.  Words that we should all live by every day.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Milestones--Part One

A week ago tomorrow was the one year anniversary of Tom's passing.  It was a date I both dreaded and anticipated.  It is one of those milestones.  "Can I make it through the first year?"  And on the other hand, "Has it already been a year?"  I feel like I was holding my breath throughout the last year.  Enduring, waiting for it to get better, living through the worst year of my life, most of it numb from deep feelings.  I have said before that it felt like the first year was all about mourning losing Tom.  And this next year about beginning to rebuild my life.  Not sure exactly what that will be. It feels strange to say that I feel a sense of relief, of having a weight lifted off of my shoulders.  On the other hand, I feel incredibly sad.  A year has gone by without him physically by my side.  His spirit is always close, but I miss him.  I've come so far, but I have so far to go.  I really don't like this new life, at all. But I must move forward.  That is what he would want.

To honor the day, I did two things.  In the afternoon, at the exact moment of his transition, I was at the beach, the last one that we visited together.  I spread his ashes in the sand, along with some flowers, and waited for the surf to carry him to sea.  I wrote his name in the sand and saw the waves smooth it out.  Zora, her second visit to the beach ever (the first about three months before Tom died), had a great time running in the sand.  Something about the ocean energy, so soothing and healing!

I have survived the year and all of the "firsts", this major milestone.  I am not done mourning.  I am not done with dispersing his worldly goods.  There are more, and probably difficult times ahead.  That is what I've been told by others who have walked this path.  I look forward to the time when my life is not totally defined by the loss of my husband, but I am not yet ready to make that declaration.  Perhaps at some point.  I can not yet let totally go. 

The adventure continues.