4th Celebration of Life

 

Post from my Social Media on Brandon’s Birthday.

I add this now because I intend to use this blog to help Aria understand when she is older. 

Today is Brandon’s birthday. He would have been 38 this year.  

This picture was taken on his last earthly birthday hours after getting released from the hospital, only to go right back just after this picture. 

With all the happy memories on this day from the years prior, and the friends and family gathering each year since, this memory still is strongest to this day. 

Just last year I finally threw away the bag of birthday decorations that had welcomed him home only to be removed with sadness and shoved in a bag that sat in my basement collecting dust and tears each time I saw it.  I don’t want this day to bring sadness, but it does. 

In years passed I’ve tried to embrace the “celebration” of his life without allowing the balance of the sadness of the loss of his life, which only lead me to a lot of unrest with my feelings. But I now know I need to be able to hold space for both, or actually all of the feelings on these trigger days. Sadness, anger, resentment, guilt, pity, nostalgia, gratitude, love...and so many more contradictory emotions. 

Today is a day to remember Brandon, and all that came with his presence in this world. All the memories that bring a smile from his bantering, that bring gratitude from his words of wisdom and insight, that bring a chuckle and an eye roll remembering his love of sports, guns and video games. 

But also the memories of the struggle, the sacrifice, and the pain that he and we all have endured in this loss, that should awaken us to live fully and treasure our loved ones deeply because we have experienced what it is to loose. 

In honor of Brandon today, tell someone how important they are to you. Really tell them. Those words will live on forever. And celebrate the impact that he made in your life with a bittersweet mix of emotions. 

Later that evening:

This. Just this. This is what life is about. Community. We don’t see each other often these days, with kids, careers, activities, proximity. But we did life together deeply and authentically, making it easy to pick up where we left off.  A part of Brandon is woven through each of us, and I am so incredibly grateful for this evening and these people. (And all of you who couldn’t make it too, I know you’d be here if you could have.) Thank you all for continuing to honor Brandon’s memory.  I am so uplifted by you all. 💜

5 years since recurrence

5 years ago today we found out the devastating news that just days before our daughter was due to be born the cancer was back.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of walking into our bedroom to find Brandon on his knees at the side of the bed talking to the doctor. It’s one of those moments that is forever burned into one’s memory, along with these stupid trigger dates. There’s no way to fight the tears and feels that bring you back to that exact moment when your life was forever changed, and 5 years later I wonder if that will ever lighten. 

We had yet to know how aggressive it was; 5 years ago. We held onto blind hope. Hope for 5 more years before it would take his life. But it was only 12 short and awful weeks. 

5 years marks a new kind of milestone in the grieving community. It’s challenging. We feel we should be “over it” but that just will never be the case. I don’t want to feel the pain of loss, but I also don’t ever want it not to hurt because what would that mean? 

I feel like 5 years ago was a whole lifetime ago, and not even my own life. I often have to take a moment to reflect on what I have endured, and what I persevered through, gracefully or not. 

I continue to have flashbacks of traumatic moments from this exact moment 5 years ago; and all the utterly deveatating moments that incurred over the following 12 weeks. They still take my breath away and hurt so deep.

It’s bittersweet. I can’t think of any other way to describe it. Bitter in the loss, pain and trauma that had to be endured. But sweet because it wouldnt continue to hurt so much if I hadn't shared a love so deep and true. Love is a commitment more than anything else. It is a selfless action and choice, and for that reason on days like today I take a moment to remember and honor the love I shared and commitment I made, til death do us part...and forever after that apparently. 

Ultimately I’m grateful for where I am now, 5 years later. Aria’s needs have always been my priority, amongst balancing the need for self care so I can be the best mom I could possibly be.  I haven’t done it perfectly, but I think Brandon would know my heart has always been in the right place.  

The next 12 weeks, as a seasoned griever I now know, will bring many moments of pain. It hurts differently now though. It’s not as “active” and “overwhelming”. It’s more “reflective”. I can continue on with life in the midst of these moments, and not be debilitated in the aftermath.

Grief never goes away it just transforms. It adapts to you and you adapt to it. And I think that’s the best we can do with it. We all want to get rid of it, but we can’t. So we adapt to it and move forward with it. 

13 Year Anniversary

Today would have been Brandon and my 13 year Anniversary. 

Each anniversary seems a bit different.  This year I had to do the math to know how many years we would have been celebrating today.  I didn't "just know" anymore.

There's sadness in that.  And legitimately so.  I would have known that before he died, and each year since he died I did "just know".  This year was the first time I didn't. 

I allow myself to let the tears fall.  Fall for the loss of a love, a life, a dream. 

And I let them fall for the reality of what moving forward is.

It's letting go of enough to take on the new life I am living, but holding on to enough to preserve the memories.

It's a hard balance. 

But it's also ok.  It means I am healing.  I am moving forward. 

I've worked hard to be able to hold both truths at once. 

I can be sad about the loss of what would have been, and also be grateful for what was and for where I am now.  They can exist in the same space.

I don't get lost in grief everyday anymore, and the special dates don't cause me anxiety anymore.  I've learned to make space for these feelings and let them be felt when they need to, then keep on keeping on.

So I take some time today to sit in the memories, look through the pictures, and remember March 25th, 2006, knowing we fulfilled the vows made on this day, 13 years ago. 

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.