I Still Miss You

...and always will.

Heaven Can't Wait

Today is one of those days that heaven can't wait for me. I have a job I enjoy, marvelous children, a family who loves and cares for me, and yet the feelings of lonliness sometimes threaten to overwhelm me. When will these feelings end? When will I stop feeling alone? It seems like the more time that passes from when Mark died, the more the darkness grows in the pit of my stomache. Not every day, not often, but every once in a while, the grief is so great that I want to hide from everyone, including my children. Those are the times that I truly realized Mark was more than a husband - he was my very best friend. And while there are people that would listen to me express those feelings, I don't feel that they would understand my emotions after 2+ years not seeming to have improved. How could they, when I don't understand myself. I. Do. Not. Like. Being. A. Widow.

Life

It is almost 4 in the morning, and I've been up since before 2 a.m. Why? I don't really know. Maybe the train outside, maybe the thoughts running through my head. So here is a bit of random.

I still miss Mark greatly. Every day, I realize more and more how much of a friend he was to me. He was more than just my husband. He was my best friend. The person who knew every single thing about me and loved me anyway. He knew all of my secrets.

Going through life without a dad is becoming more difficult for my Princess. Especially these teen years. Every time she sees a friend with a father, she withdraws a bit more from activities. More and more time is spent with me - which I love, but I wish it wasn't because she was hurting. And it doesn't seem like many understand why it is still so difficult for her. After all, it has been over a year and a half. But what people don't realize, is that the first year is like a vacuum - you focus on just getting through the day. Then you start to realize what happened. Reality sets in.

There are times when I feel like I'm not enough for my children. That in some way, my only-parent parenting won't be enough. There is no back-up, and it is so hard to feel like I'm doing right by them. As such, I'm spending quite a bit of time in prayer.

Obviously, it isn't the easiest of days. I should go get at least another hour of sleep. But that probably won't happen.

Gee, those trains are loud tonight/this morning.

Award Shows

Tonight I am watching the Emmys. I should be at a parent devo at church, but thanks to a lovely cold that has developed a joyous fever, I am at home by myself. This should be an enjoyable evening, watching the awards in piece and quiet, as the kiddos are at the devo. So why am I in tears?

Because Mark isn't here to make sarcastic comments and give me a hard time for watching the show.

My Reason Why

Today, I did something rather out of character for me - I got a tattoo. It is a charm bracelet around my left ankle, with a puzzle piece charm. The charm has Mark's initial and the Marine Corps symbol on it, all of which signify Mark - he loved doing puzzles and he was an active-duty Marine for 25 years. As some of my family and friends don't understand why I did this, I thought I would explain my reasoning.

The bottom line is that Mark was a wonderful man who deserves to be remembered and thought of every day. Right now I think of him every waking hour, but I don't know what my thinking patterns will be ten years, fifteen years, from now. It bothered me to contemplate there being a day when he wasn't remembered with love. He saved me from myself and deserves more than not being part of memories each day. I wanted a physical reminder of what he means to me for the rest of my life, which led to me the idea of a tattoo.

For many years, I wanted a tattoo - I'm not sure why, they just fascinated me. However (and ironically), Mark didn't like tattoos and always told me he would not stay married if I ever got one. (I was never mad enough at him to test that viewpoint, but doubt he would have followed through with his threat!) For a short while, I discarded the idea of a tattoo because of his preference, but then decided that I had to live this life without him, and I do believe he would understand why I've made this choice.

While some of my family have expressed their displeasure at my decision, I was reassured by a talk with my Grandpa. Grandpa Bridges is a 95-yr. old Iowan who grew up on a farm and is as conservative as they come. When I told him what I was planning and why, he told me that he thought it was a good choice for me.

This tattoo is for noone else but me. It isn't for show, it isn't for the sake of art, and it isn't an effort for me to recapture my youth. When I look at this, I will think of the man I will always love. I will be able to tell stories about Mark for years to come because if this tattoo is noticed, people will ask why I have a tatto. He deserves to always, ALWAYS, be remembered.

My Girl and Her Daddy

My princess is turning 13 years old in a couple of weeks. My baby is going to be a teenager?! It seems like just a few years ago we were bringing her home. So tiny, the size of a newborn at six months old, she has been the source of great joy and great angst. Joy, because when she loves, she LOVES. Angst, because when she hurts, I hurt to my very core.

Tonight, I held my girl in my arms as she sobbed about her upcoming birthday. Becoming a teenager is a milestone in every child's life, one she had been looking forward to since she turned twelve. Recently, however, her birthday has become a source of sadness for her. She is facing this birthday without her daddy.

You have to understand, this girl of mine is a true-to-the-bone daddy's girl. This child would run to the window when I picked her up from daycare looking for her daddy. Now by the time I got to the car, she was loving me, but for a few minutes, all she wanted, EVERY DAY, was her daddy. When she was upset, I would find her curled up at her daddy's side. If she was in trouble with me, she would go straight to her daddy for comfort. (To his credit, Mark always supported my decisions in front of her.) There was never any doubt in her mind that her daddy thought she was the star of his world.

Now, she faces the teenage years without the man who was everything to her. Yes, she has her memories, but she'd rather have her daddy. And this is something her mom can't fix.

Awkward Moment

Today, a contractor was going door-to-door in my neighborhood selling his services in roofing, deck repair, etc. He handed me his information and asked that I discuss this with my husband. Moments like this cause pain I can't even begin to describe. How do I tell a complete stranger that these matters can't be discussed anymore because my husband isn't on earth anymore?

I say nothing and close the door. And another piece of my heart cracks. Hard to find a blessing in that.

He Should Be Here

Lately, many wonderful opportunities in the track arena have opened up for the Prince. He won the 200m at the State Special Olympic Games, came in first in the 100m, 200m, and 400m at a Paralympics Invitational, has qualified for the National Junior Disability Championships, and was recognized by the School District for his first place finishes. The Prince has some wonderful opportunities to become more active in Paralympic sports, to include goalball, and has been told he is a natural at the sport.

His daddy should be here to see it.

In the last couple of years, the Prince and his dad had conflicts due to normal teenage issues, but their bond was growing stronger as the years passed. Mark wanted his son to work harder at school, to fulfill his potential, and while the two of them argued quite a bit, the love was there. The night before Mark had his stroke, he told me that all he wanted was for his children to be happy. If that meant the Prince stayed focused on video games, so be it. He just wanted to be able to watch his children enjoy life.

Mark would be proud of his son. The Prince has pushed hard to become better at running, and is determined to train more. He worked hard to pass algebra, coming out with a higher grade than expected. While the Prince is still fighting his blindness, he is starting to learn to utilize more of the tools available to him, and he is determined to do better.

I shed tears tonight. Some out of pride for all my son has overcome and all he has accomplished. But more were because his dad, my husband, isn't here to see it.

Not sure where the blessing is in this situation tonight.

Emotions After 3 Months & 2 Days

Yesterday, I had a not-so-mature fit while talking to my mother. My mom, the same lady who worked her fingers to the bone taking care of out-of-town guests and family for two weeks. The lady who has come up more in the past three months than she did all of last year. The lady who is working hard on a special gift for my baby, the Princess. The lady who regularly gives up chunks of her time to help me by taking care of the children. I became upset because she hadn't called me on Monday, which was the three-month anniversay of Mark's passing.

While intellectually I know that there are many people who miss Mark and think of him often, sometimes it feels like I am the only person who remembers him, besides the children. Noone really talks about him to me, and I feel like he was such an important person, people should be remembering him. That is not to say people set out to deliberately avoid the topic of his life, but the conversation usually is about how myself and the children are doing. And their caring about us is SO appreciated.

Today, my mom told me how she was constantly thinking of him. That she misses Mark every time she walks into the room he would stay in when he was in downstate Illinois for work. That she has a picture of him on her desk playing mah jongg, and she smiles thinking of how passionately he played the game. That she misses him so much she still sometimes cry. And that people sometimes don't want to upset me by talking about him, and how they miss him.

Is it sick of me that hearing all of this made me feel better? It made me remember that he DID matter to others, that there were many more people who loved him than just the children and me. It felt like a weight had been lifted - I wasn't alone in my grief. Someone I love misses and loves the man who meant (and means) the world to me.

I would encourage anyone who knows a person who has lost a loved one to talk about the one who has passed. It helps more than you could know to hear how memories others have.

Yet once again, my mom has been the source of a blessing to me.

Good People

Recently, I was able to spend a few days with my grandparent's at my folk's house. Grandma is 90 years old, and Grandpa is going to be 95 this year. In July of this year, they will celebrate 75 years of marriage. Each are devoted to the other.

When I married, I wanted a marriage like my parents. My parents wanted a marriage with devotion like their parents had. We all were lucky, no - blessed is the better word, to have found devotion. What kind of devotion did we want?

The kind that makes my grandpa, though frail and a bit unsteady on his feet, give his wife her daily shots. The kind of devotion that has him helping her with her stockings at night. The devotion that has my grandma wanting my grandpa served first. The devotion that still enters my grandma's voice when she talks about what my grandpa does for her. The devotion based on a belief in God and the sanctity of marriage.

I heard the steely determination in my grandpa's voice when he spoke of helping my grandma for as long as he could. I had asked him if there was help for him when he needed to give her her shots, or take her blood pressure. He told me, "I will do this myself for her as long as I can." He was firm and unflinching, and I was humbled by his love for her.

My grandparents don't use flowery language with each other. There are no grand displays of affection, no sweet nicknames for them - just "Mother" and "Dad." But their actions speak volumes. My family has been blessed with their example.



And while I wasn't blessed with 75 years of marriage, I was blessed for 17 1/2 years with a man who was like my grandfather in his devotion to his family. I hope I was like my grandma in my devotion to him.

He Should Be Here

This is not really a good day. Mark should be here. He should have seen his girl play her violin last night. He should have made bacon to go along with the hash browns and eggs this morning. He should have congratulated his boy on winning the 200m race at his track meet. He should be here.

Every time I make coffee, I am reminded that he is not here. You see, I have one of those pots that keeps the water hot so it doesn't take as long to brew a pot of coffee. Since I am not making a pot of coffee everyday (I reheat what is left on the in between days), some of the water evaporates inside the heater, and the results are a less-than-full pot. He should be here.

I am tired of feeling apathetic about life. I am not okay. I may say I am, but I am not. I am tired of dealing with stressful situations on my own, without his counterbalance. I am tired of feeling like he could walk in any second. I am just plain tired. He should be here.

So many sentences with "I," no sentences with "we." He should be here.

If I could hole up in my house and never see anyone, I would. But the children would suffer, and they were his world. I can't let them, or Mark, down. His library needs to be cleaned and straightened, but I can't bring myself to go in the room. Right after he passed, I was gung-ho about moving forward, going through items. Now, I avoid certain areas like the plague. He should be here.

Please don't feel sorry for me - I am feeling enough of that for myself. Don't worry about me - soon enough, I will pick myself up, and get on with the rest of my day. My days aren't spent in this mood, this is just the way I am feeling in this moment. I will be okay, it might just take a while. I just need to remember the title of this blog, and not focus on the big picture right now.

I am just feeling....

He should be here.

A typical cliche....New Beginnings

So having been a widow now for two months, I am beginning to think about what I am going to do for the rest of my life. When Mark and I spoke about our future, we never figured in him dying of a stroke and making me a widow at 42 years of age. We spoke of him working until the day he passed, sure, but we thought we had at least another 30 years before that happened. We joked about it, saying he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he didn't work, that he was like my dad, always wanting to be working, failing at vacation and relaxation. We joked that I did enough relaxing for the two of us.

Well, the joke turned out to be not much of a joke. Mark worked right up until he went in to the hospital. When I arrived at the emergency room, the first thing he asked was if I had called his office. The second thing he asked was if I could gather up his work credentials and put them in my purse, giving me instructions on what I should do with them when I arrived home. Then he called his office himself. Always working.

The next day, after picking up his car from the doctor's office (he was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, much to his embarrasment), I walked down the hall to his room, and saw the sight that I will remember always, for which I will be eternally grateful: Mark, leaving his room with his IV stand in one hand, noticing me as I walked down the hall, and a big smile coming on his face. That smile did wonders for me - it reassured me he was okay, he didn't mind that I wasn't able to stay the night before (the children needed me, and he always put them first), he was so happy to see me, and that he loved me. I wish I had a picture of this, but I hope it always remains in my mind's eye.

I spoke to Mark the morning of his stroke on the phone, telling him that I was coming up as soon as the children got on the bus. It was the Prince's 16th birthday, and he was able to speak to our boy to wish him a happy birthday. Mark reminded me to bring his tennis shoes and clean socks, as we were hoping to bring him home that day. I remember stopping at the gas station to get gas and some breakfast to eat on the ride up. Little did I know this was a good thing, as I wouldn't have much of an appetite for the next two weeks. Upon arrival at the hospital, he wasn't in the room, and the nurse told me he had been taken down for a TEE and a heart shock, to see if they could get his heart out of atrial fibrilation.

When the doctor came rushing in to the room, I was on my phone. I don't know who I was talking to, but I got off quickly, thinking the doctor was going to tell me the procedure was successful, and Mark would be back up in a couple of hours at the most. He rushed me out of the room, telling me Mark had a stroke. At first, I was confused, not fully understanding what was going on, thinking that okay, he is in a hospital, they can fix this. In the ICU, they kept asking me if I needed to sit down, but I didn't want to sit down. I wanted to be next to my husband. They told me they were giving him tPA to halt the stroke.

But the tPA didn't work. After four days and an emergency surgery, I had to make a decision. For the rest of my life, even though I know I did for him what I needed to do, I will feel guilty for telling them to remove life support. But Mark wasn't Mark anymore. He wouldn't be able to read, do puzzles, watch his movies, talk politics. He wouldn't be able to talk, take care of himself, feed himself, even think. He might not be able to breathe on his own, wouldn't be able to walk, much less jog - and Mark ran more than a dozen Marine Corps Marathons. He might on some level recognize me as a familiar face, but he wouldn't KNOW me.

And nine days after he went to the doctor for what we thought might be pneumonia, I had to say goodbye to my best friend, my confidante, and the one person in this world who knew everything there is to know about me, and loved me anyway.

Everyone should have had the opportunity to love, and be loved by, a Mark. He wasn't a little blessing. He was, and always will be to me, a huge, ginormous blessing.