4 years later

4 years

I can’t believe it’s been 4 whole years. Some things hurt just as much as they did 1,460 days ago. Some things have found a place of peaceful healing since then. 

I can say that not a single day has passed that I didn’t think about Brandon. 

Sometimes it’s a quick passing moment that I’m reminded of him when a silver Jeep passes by,  I see a bag of Haribo gummy bears, or the clock reads 8:22.  I smile for a moment, warmed by the memory, and then I’m on to the next thing that has my attention. 

Sometimes I sink into the depths of the reality of loss. I find myself crying it out when Pink’s song “Who Knew” plays on the radio. My ordinary moment temporarily transformed to a mourning moment, and just as quickly brought back to ordinary by the next upbeat song.

Sometimes I even intentionally blast my “grief” playlist, allowing the words and music to draw out my tears and release the feelings bottled up inside. 

Then there are the moments that happen unexpectedly taking my breath away.  Snuggling the other night when putting Aria to bed, her head on my chest, she noticed my heart beat, and asked me to listen to hers. I laid my ear to her chest and suddenly I was transported back to 4 years ago, my ear to Brandon’s chest.  The moment of pure blind hope thinking his heartbeat came back, only to realize it was just my own echoing in my ear against his now eerily quiet body. 

Sometimes these moments warm my heart knowing that consciously and unconsciously his memory is still alive. Sometimes they are like a punch right in the heart making everything spin wildly around me.  But in either circumstance and all the ones in between I continue to be somewhat surprised that this is how it is for me 4 years later. 

Being a facilitator and participant in the Young & Widowed group I created has taught me so much about grief and loss. One of the most impactful truths I’ve found is that there is so much in common with those who walk this shitty path, yet every response we have is incredibly complex and unique to each of us. 

The struggle to truly incorporate loss into life is difficult. I don’t want to be a part of the living dead, burying all of myself with him. I still have a life to live, and I only get one, and it can be taken from me at any moment. 

And I also don’t want to leave behind 10 incredibly impactful years of my life shared with someone. Someone who became a part of me, who influenced and shaped me, and is a part of my history, which will never change.

So I have to find that place between the two that makes sense. A place where two loves can be in harmony, a unique struggle for widows. There is no “replacement”, and love does not “cure” loss.  All the while trying to wholeheartedly embrace the excitement of happiness and love for another. It truly is complex and challenging. 

So 4 years later, what can I conclude about this widowed experience? Well, year 1, 2, 3 and 4 all suck in different ways. There are new challenges in each part of this experience. It doesn’t ever go away, and I guess I shouldn’t expect it to, grief is love. Brandon and I had no reason to stop loving each other, so it’s my tribute to the commitment we made. 

But I can say I’ve come so far. I have a lot of joy and happiness and hope in my life. And that’s truly an accomplishment.

12 year anniversary

I can’t believe it’s been since September that I wrote anything. I feel I have so much to share about this journey that’s good, bad, ugly, embarrassing, honest and just plain real. I just can’t find the time or correct mindset these days to put the words down. 

But today would have been Brandon and my 12 year wedding anniversary. Outside of death I had no doubt we would share this day together. That was our commitment, and that was our love. 

But death happened. Three and a half years ago. And we are not spending this day together.

I had a number of people send me well wishes hoping I was doing ok. (Thank you all!)

We all have certain dates that are just the worst in grief. In spousal loss wedding/dating anniversaries can often be the worst. It’s the epitome of what differentiates an intimate relationship from all the other relationships in our lives. (As a birthday is often the hardest to those who lost a child.)

As I sat - ok, laid on the sofa in a DayQuil induced haze- I thought about this. I reflected on what today used to mean to me; A celebration of another year together growing closer together, overcoming the obstacles of life together. Success.

Then I thought about what it meant to me after death; a marking of time lost unique to only me. Our loss. Love is hard to find, and it reminded me of the depth of my loss. 

But today was different.  This is my 4th anniversary without Brandon. I believe time has helped that shift. I also believe love has helped that shift. 

I am glad that (for the most part) I look at this date as the start of a beautiful part of my life. One of the biggest influences on the person I became, becoming a wife. A partner. One with another. 

That part of my life was unfortunately short. But it is what it is. I don’t like it, I never will. A good man was taken from the lives of so many at only 33 years old. 

I am going to be transparent here and say that my “tolerance” to this day is not just from time, and counseling, and support groups and perspective. Yes, that is a huge part of it. 

But is because of love too. I struggled to open my heart to love someone else. Not only to love a man other than Brandon, but to love another man and still hold love for Brandon. 

That is hard enough. But it gets harder. Then I had to allow myself to love another more actively than Brandon. To put another before Brandon. Because that is what it takes to commit your life to someone. 

This is very hard for a widow(er).  It is very unique to widowhood. It is judged from the outside. We are told milestones that we “should and should not” be doing things in. We put a lot of pressure on ourselves to know what to do and what not to do and when to do it. 

It took me 16 months before I actually found myself able to completely do that. Thankfully Karl is a very patient man! But it has not been easy.

I can say at the moment I have come to a place of peaceful remembrance on this day. Yes, I shed tears. That’s ok. Love and loss can exist in harmony together. And I’m so grateful that God allowed me to find such an amazing man that has helped me get to this place in my messy life. Who Aria loves as a father.  Aside from doing it himself, I can’t imagine Brandon wanting anything more.

So I look back, 12 years ago, 22 and newlywed. I’m grateful for those years that Brandon taught me how to love unconditionally. And I only hope that the love he poured into me will truly shine through me as his legacy. And I can carry that with me forever.