6 Months later...

6 months....

Only 6 months, yet already 6 months.  I keep telling myself that with each day passed I'm not one day further from Brandon, but one day closer to him.  Some days that is comforting and some days it isn't.

Why is 6 months so much more "significant" then 5 months or 7 months?  Because it's an easier way for our brain to categorize a length of time?  Half a year?

I have found that, especially being Type-A, I want to figure out my grief.  I want to check the boxes.  Denial - check!  Anger - not checked?  Bargaining - check! Depression - double check! Acceptance - check.  Ok - so, let's work on anger... I have some plans to go Gallagher on some watermelons soon. (For you youngins' click here to understand.)

But these are just 'normal' stages in grief.  They are far from the only stages, and just because we can check the box next to it doesn't mean we have completed that step once and for all.  Hardly.  I feel like I have to accept this loss all over every day, often in different ways.

At my GriefShare group this week I stared at the carpet and for the first time it actually sank in that I have to raise a child on my own.  ON MY OWN.  That is a huge undertaking!  And I am not prepared, at all.  I have no experience with kids.  I was counting on having the help of my husband.  But I don't.  It's just me raising Aria.  Alone.

6 whole months, and I still woke up disoriented the other day.  "Uhhh, why do I always have to get up to get the baby?"  Oh, right - because I'm the only parent.  This nightmare is still real...

So halfway through the first year, what should I expect in my grief?  How can I categorize where I am?  Well, for some the fog is just starting to lift and the pain is setting in.  For others, the demands of responsibilities or dependents allow that fog to hang around longer.  And yet many involved with "expectant death" or "terminal illness" started grieving long ago, and it may be 6 months - but it's also much longer then 6 months.  "Everyone grieves differently."  Gosh, if I have to hear that again my brain may explode.

But it's true.  That's why it is repeated so often.

So I have no "how to" to reference.  And I want one.  I feel so numb.  I robotically go about my days.  I feel guilty that I am not crying over every "trigger".  Shouldn't I?!?  This bag of skittles should have leveled me.  Why can't I cry about it?  Ok, let's sit in the moment and journal about it.  "They" say to lean into your grief.  Don't run from it.  Feeling it brings healing.  But, don't chase after it either, because it will find you when the time is right.  So what the hell do I do?  Journaling brought me nothing.  Am I still in shock?  Is this acceptance?  Am I avoiding the pain? Where do I go from here?

When we are somewhere we don't want to be, what do we do?  Look for a way out.  But the problem is, there isn't really a way "out" of this.  You have to go through it.  And you don't know how to do it other then trial and error.

In reflecting on all of this the other day I feel like God gave me a little gift of a memory from those horrific three months.  Right now my brain has sort of blocked out that time unless I intentionally go digging through it.  But I got flashes of the numerous times Brandon made a point to say, "I'm so proud of how you are handling this, hunnie.  You are an amazing and strong woman."

During that time I was just trying to be his strength.  Trying to handle myself with dignity.  Find the joy among the pain.  Cling to God, not run from Him in anger.  I just wasn't going to let reality take me down and keep me from being the wife I needed to be.

And that's what I seem to be doing now, except substitute "wife" with "mother".  I think this is exactly how Brandon would want me to be grieving.  Seeking support, going about my days and bringing Aria joy and laughter.  I think he would be proud of me.  I don't need to be doing these things I think I "should" be doing to grieve.

Maybe that day will come where I am overcome with pain to the point of delirium.  But maybe it won't.  Or maybe it will just look different for me.

I'm working on finding peace in the way I'm grieving.  Give myself the grace to just go where it takes me.  Good days and bad days.  Numbness or not.  If I feel I am robotically getting through, maybe that's exactly what I need to do to survive as a single mother right now.  Maybe that is simply the grace of God in my life?  Maybe I am incredibly blessed that God is truly carrying the weight of this for me right now?

So where am I in my grief 6 months later?  I guess just where I need to be....

*Note: As I quickly edit what I wrote late last night I am finding peace and truth in it.  Today is our 9 year wedding anniversary - and by the grace of God I am getting through so far...

March Update

My little nugget is crawling!  Somewhere between 7 and 8 months, she has become super mobile.  It started with an army crawl, then quickly progressed to a wobbly crawl and now is full speed ahead where ever her little heart desires to go.  She giggles at her new found freedom, alerting me that she's on the move.

This age is so fun.  Interaction is more intentional and she is finding her voice and stating her opinions (uh-oh!).  She is expressive like me and content like Brandon.

Nothing melts my heart like when she lays her head in my lap and smiles up at me.

As for me, things have improved a little since my last post about the messy truth.  

God put it on my mom's heart to pay me a visit for a long weekend, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect.  She helped me get my head above the water.  We took care of my taxes (ouch!), looked at the big picture of my budget and played out numerous hypothetical scenarios for the short term future so I know better where I stand.  Finally having a clearer picture of my financial situation has relieved a tremendous amount of weight from my shoulders.  

Without sharing too much, but also acknowledging that my survival right now has been contingent on other's generosity, I would like to share a few details of how the gifts we have been given have blessed me.

Brandon and I always had to give with our time because we could not give above and beyond with our wallet.  I know how valuable time is.  Now more then ever.  Many have given to us this way in taking care of yard work, snow removal, child care, counseling, praying, cooking, corresponding and such, all making a huge impact on my grief and day to day life.

We have also received many donations of baby gear, which has been an amazing financial relief. I just love when I see a last name written on the tag of a bib or jacket, reminding me of the kind families who have given so much.  

Then there has been the monetary help.  I shake my head and sigh, because there is no way to put into words how grateful I am for the tremendous generosity of friends, family and complete strangers.  

Since so many gave in this way, it has allowed me many things in this time.  I can keep our house with all our memories.  I am not forced into having to make decisions regarding Brandon's things.  I can leave them right where he left them until I am ready to do otherwise.  This is an absolutely priceless gift.

I have cut nearly everywhere I can, but for now can still have some luxuries like cable for distraction and a semi regular hair appointment.  I have even been able to treat myself from time to time with dinner to-go, a massage, a manicure or a little retail therapy from one of the many gift cards I received. 

In the beginning of the year I was contacted by a bunch of the guys that Brandon had walked through the past 5+ years with, many of them the husbands to my close girl friends.  They wanted to come by and give me a gift.   A pledge and financial sacrifice from 12 guys (and their families) to help me with the cost of childcare for the entire year!

I think back to the things Brandon repeated the most in that last month. "Thank you so much for taking such good care of me" to all of his caretakers, and "Take care of my girls, please just take care of my girls."  I think he is rejoicing in Heaven watching how God has used so many people to grant that request.

After stepping back looking at my budget I can see how God works in such incredible ways.  With more then half our household income gone, minimal social security benefits and the added expense of a child and child care, guess what?  I have exactly what I need to get by.  No more, no less.  That's how God works.

My mom getting taken
advantage of by baby and cat

He gives us what we need.  And before this "accounting miracle", I had sadly accepted the idea that I may have no choice but sell the house.  Maybe God was going to take me somewhere else?  Or I may have to get rid of cable and internet.  Maybe I need to be less concerned with the worldly?  Or I may have to use all of the donated money in the next few years to stay afloat and not be able to save any of it. Maybe God is asking to be my only safety net?

No, none of that is what I would want, but it may be what I need for what ever reason I may never understand.

But for now, I am grateful that I get to stay, I get to watch Master Chef, and I get to have a little security for the unknown ahead.  Any day they too can be gone.  I've learned there is a lot that I thought I needed that has since been lost to me, but I've found the only thing I really need is my faith in God.

Thank you for continuing to walk this with me.  Please pray as the upcoming weeks are going to be some of the most difficult to date, with the 6 month Angelversary and our 9 year Anniversary just days apart (March 23rd & 25th).  Turns out my Widow & Widowers group is the evening of our Anniversary, and it may be exactly where I need to be that night...

The Messy Truth

This is the messy truth. This post will be unedited. I won't save it, pray over it and reread it 50 times before posting. I'm not going to try to find the optimistic view or white knuckle the thread of hope I have been clinging to. The only thing I'm going to do, is what God has put on my heart to do today, and that is to be transparent.

I'm actually following suit after reading a similar, what's the word....confession... from someone who has found herself at the end of herself, trying to remain who she was in circumstances out of her control.  

Those close to me have seen some of this mess, but even that is usually sandwiched between the 'coping by distraction' me and the 'pick yourself up by the bootstraps' me.  These alter egos are real and authentic. They have been the only way I've made it this far. But as I'm finding, they only go so far because grief is constantly evolving. 

I felt God tell me that I have to let myself accept the other me. The 'falling apart and it's ok' me. And that I may need to expose it.

I have been clinging to something that God put in my heart a few months ago.  That He made me for this. This. Young, grieving, single mother, widowhood with chronic illness. And not only did He make me to survive this, but to thrive in it.

My independent, go-getter, problem solving, systematic, community seeking, love of leadership and authentic nature all will be used for God's glory through this tribulation. But really, how well can it be used if I don't also share the depth of the darkness and the extent of the mess I sit in?

Want to see?

This is my life. A complete and utter mess.  Half the bed piled with clothes, Christmas ornaments, a fan and God knows what else. My luggage from Christmas hasn't moved since I finally unpacked two weeks ago. Yup - took me until the beginning of February to unpack.  Part of my closet collapsed a couple months ago.  Oh well. I am living like a bachelor pulling wrinkled but clean clothes out of the laundry basket on the floor.  My attempt to set up my work at home office has hit a standstill and I tiptoe around the organized chaos of piles to file, to shred, to recycle, to put away, etc. then close the door on it. Those who know me know that my environment drastically effects my well being, and I have never in the last 9 years lived like this.  (Don't worry, the baby and the spaces she inhabits are safe. She is my priority.)

My body is falling apart. Constant headaches, lupus flare, a month long steroid treatment, nightmares, night sweats, painful bruises all over, nausea. The recent stress has drastically effected my milk supply and I think I'm coming to the end of my abilities to nurse.

I'm at the far extents of survival mode. If something is not bringing 100% positivity to my life, it's out for now because I can not carry one more ounce on my shoulders. I haven't watched the news in over 6 months, it's just too negative. In the rare times I can watch a little TV, it's either Ugly Betty or cooking shows, because even HGTV brings too much stress with couples buying their first home, or renovating before the new baby arrives.

These are the parts of my life I have been keeping the doors closed on when people are around. 

When you look at what I will allow you to see it looks how I so desperately want it to look like myself. A bit disorganized and not like it used to be, but overall ok-ish:

But I'm not ok. I can't keep my head above the water lately. Wave after wave of crap keeps hitting me. The life I had is completely gone. Gone. Everything in my world is different. Everything in my day to day life is different. I had no choice in any of this. I feel like I'm navigating this alone because there is no one who can take the place of your soul mate. 

I just want a break. I wish I could just get away from it all. A chance to collect myself and regain strength. Just press pause. Better yet, how about fast forward? To the other side of this. 

I have so many people who want to help. New friends and old. But I don't even know what to ask for at this point. It doesn't feel like anything can help this. 

Who can help me coparent? Who can grab the baby in the middle of the night to give me a break? Who can 'keep an eye on her' while I wait for the headache to go away, or grab me some ibuprophen when I can barely move in the morning? Who can take away this feeling like half of me is gone? 

I have found tangible ways to receive help, and seriously I have the best community of people who have gone above and beyond. Meals, cleaning, companionship, last minute child care, funding for child care, cards, care packages, messages, anticipating difficult days...I seriously could go on and on. Without you all, I really can not even imagine how utterly disastrous my life would be right now. And as you read this you probably feel helpless. You are doing everything you can, but there really is nothing anyone can do to mend a broken heart. That's God's job. 

I am going to therapy and multiple grief groups weekly. I am praying and seeking God's word. I beg for His peace that surpasses understanding that has gotten me through the past 7 months. And at times I feel it.  But not today. Not for the past couple of weeks.  But still, I trust that God is allowing this. There is something I need to see or experience or learn or grow from through this part. It all has passed through His all knowing and loving hands.  But it doesn't mean I have to like it.  

I know I'll get through this. I don't give up. I want to, that's for sure. But I can't. I have a beautiful daughter that needs me. Most days she is the only thing that makes me plow forward. That she needs me to put my big girl pants on, buck up and be strong for her.  So I do the best I can...

The light in the darkness

Well, I have my first reason to like winter finally.  Ok, I lie - I love wearing boots (NOT snow boots), so that has been the only benefit I have found in it.  Until now.

Now, in the winter, while the leaves are absent from the trees, I can see the cross at Mount Lindo from my dining room window.  The cross that Brandon and I loved being able to see from our neighborhood.  The cross, which signifies the death of Jesus and the forgiveness of my sin.  And this particular cross, that my husband is buried next to.  It's bright light shines through the darkness, and into our home.  Just past the neighbor's satellite dish...

We had lived here since 2011, and never once did we notice that we could see it through the window.  But I noticed today.

It warms my heart indescribably to have discovered this.  It's as if Brandon is looking in on us.  I have taken such comfort in the cross shining over our neighborhood, but into our home in the grey of winter is even better.

I have already thought of asking the neighbors if I can cut down their trees so that I can see it in the summer, but quickly let go of that ridiculous idea.

Today I had the chance to pull into the park behind our house at dusk, as Aria was sleeping in her carseat and I did not want to wake her.  I have been wanting to try to catch the cross lighting up and took this as an opportunity to give it a try.

I sat there for about 5 minutes, just thinking and praying before I squinted trying to see if they indeed did just turn on.  The sky was still light, making it hard to see.  But as it gradually grew darker it became easier to confirm because the darkness illuminated the light.

Cross difficult to see in the light

I took a few pictures, but photos rarely do landscapes justice.  Seeing it first hand is the only way to truly experience it.

Today was also the Angelversary of a beautiful woman Brandon and I had the privilege to know, who one year ago, won her battle with cancer.  I remember we followed her and her family's journey through cancer and hospice in awe.  Their faith carried them through, praising God and trusting in His plan even in the darkest of days.  With children, the youngest a preschool aged daughter, I wondered how they could bare to find any peace in this terrible situation. I thought to myself that I could never have that kind of faith.  To continue to believe when everything is falling apart and life just isn't fair.

But like the cross lit in the daylight, sometimes our faith is also found in the darkness.

I'll be honest and say that prior to the recurrence of cancer, I was the farthest I had been from God since being saved almost 10 years ago.  I was allowing myself to be distracted with preparing for the baby, preparing for our dreams to come true.  I had mentioned this to a few friends, who lovingly reassured me that of course I was distracted, there was so much to do to get ready, it was totally normal.  I countered back a couple times with, "Yes, but what is more important then preparing my heart and my walk with God for a child?"  Yet, I did nothing but busy myself with painting, cleaning and nesting.  Our dreams were coming true...it was light out.

But like the cross on the hill, the love of God was easier to find in the darkness then any daylight of my life before.  I now could understand how that precious family clung to their faith and God's promises to them to get through.  For me there was no other way to find my way through the dark, but to seek the light.

Beautiful view of the cross at sunset 

Many people have told me that I have been an inspiration to them for the way I have walked through this with such grace and continue to trust God and love God in the valley of the shadow of death.  I don't know how to respond to this.  It is not my strength that has gotten me through, it is the strength of God.  All I can claim is allowing the Spirit of God to work in me.  That is it.

But until we experience suffering like this first hand, we often doubt the strength of our own faith.  I surely did.  And now, others are telling me that I have impacted them the same as that family impacted me.  It's quite a surreal experience.

I guess it's like being able to see the cross lit myself, yet a photo does not allow others to see that gentle illumination.   It takes our own eyes to see the strength of our own faith when tested in our own ultimate darkness.

Aria & I at the park
earlier in the day

But I found that in that darkness, God's light is easiest to see.

Right now, my faith is stronger then it has ever been before.  Maybe because I am in the greatest trial I have ever experienced before?  Like the saying, "Sometimes God lets you hit rock bottom, so you can discover that He is the rock at the bottom."

But I also know that I am human.  Just as the Jews doubted after Jesus parted the sea before their eyes, I know the strength of my faith will also ebb and flow.  But God knows that.  And I am forever thankful for His amazing grace, and always being that light in the darkness.

How to "be" around me - 4 months out

I have received such a positive response to my original post about what to do and what not to do around me in this stage of grief, that I thought enough has changed that another version would probably be helpful.  Grief changes, and those grieving change, as do their needs.

So here it goes:

What NOT to say or do around me:

-As for the harsh terms like: dead, dying, grave and such, I still don't use them much myself.  I don't feel like I got punched in the gut automatically when I hear them now as I did before, and can usually shake it off without much thought.  But it will probably be quite some time before I use such words as flippantly as I have before.

-Hugging me while I'm crying.  This will probably never change.  I know it is strange, Brandon thought so too.  However, I think this statement needed a little further explanation.  I still love to hug hello and goodbye.  A grasp of my hand is appreciated by me at tender moments, but locking me up in a hug is just not a comforting thing for me. But if you need to do something, simply grab me a tissue.  :)

What TO do or say around me:

-Don't be afraid to talk about Brandon.  Sharing memories, how you miss him or mentioning something he would have said or done keeps his memory alive for me.  Yes, I may get a little salty, but it's ok.  Don't feel bad.  Truthfully, the best gift one can give me is a story of him I haven't heard before, or a picture of him I haven't seen before.  It's like a new memory for me, and sadly those will be few and far between now.

-If something in your day reminds you of him, don't be afraid to share it with me.  Text, Facebook, email - whatever.  Knowing he is being thought of and remembered touches my heart more then you know.  One afternoon I received a text from a friend that on his way home from a ski trip he stopped by and visited Brandon at Mount Lindo, and it made my day.

-Tell me what is going on in your life.  Good, bad and ugly.  I still ask for others to be mindful of the severity of what is going on in mine, and use good judgement and perspective - but really, isn't that what we all would hope for from others?  But leave the drama at the door.  I just have no room for it right now.

-Know that I will usually put on a brave face for you.  If you want to know how I am really feeling, go ahead and ask me how I am really feeling.  Most know that I am an open book, but I have a hard time sharing my burdens without invitation, especially ones this heavy.  But I know that not every relationship is cut out to carry that weight, and I understand that, so don't feel like you have to.

-Continue to have patience with me.   This is a loooong process, and in actuality, will never be complete.  But it will be a while before I am capable of much other then surviving.  I can no longer multitask at all, my thoughts are gone before they were even fully formed and I walk around in a fog.

-If it's on your heart to do something, get ahold of me or someone close to me to help coordinate it.  Tell me what, and ask me when.  If left up to me to ask for help, even if previously offered (vaguely or specifically) - I likely will not be able to do it.  I have accepted so much help that I feel burdensome asking for more.  I have learned to say "yes" to help, but it is still very difficult to ask for.  (Written communication, text/email, is best)

-Help me capture some memories by taking a few photos or short videos of Aria and I, and whatever we all are doing together.  Now that it's just me, I rarely have any photos of us together, other then the dreaded selfie.  Just snap a few if the moment is right and send them to me.  It will be so appreciated.

-Share inspiring things with me.  A sermon, quote, image, scripture, song - whatever.  I literally have a list of mantras in my phone because reciting phrases like "One day at a time", and "The only way to do it is go through it" have been pivotal in getting through this.  I also have a list of scripture verses and songs.  (I should make a list of all my lists! lol)  A fellow widow sent me a CD of praise & worship songs that helped get her through this, and it has spoken to my heart in glorious ways.

I think that is about it.  I hope this is helpful?  Thank you, as always, for taking the time to walk this road with me.