He was the summer of our lives

There is no easy way to say this.

My husband died in his sleep on May 19th. He was 49.

I thought about just never coming back here. Leave happy times of the past… there. In the past.

But I process things through writing… and so. Here I am. I won’t turn it int a bedamned widow’s blog, rest assured. But what it will be I have no idea. Maybe it will be nothing. Maybe it will be something. But it will have to be different, just like my goddamn life is going to have to be. From here on out, different, when I never would have changed a thing, given a choice. I’d say it’s unfair… but it isn’t the word for it as fairness in such things doesn’t exist.

Here is his obituary.

I didn’t talk a lot about him here, fully believing the saying that the healthier a relationship is, the less presence it has online. But he was and is my favorite person. And I had him, right next to me, since I was a teenager. Everything I did, everything I was… literally I was a part of a pair this whole time. There was such strength in that.

And I have amazing support. Friends. Family. But I remember all those years ago, when I realized what we had together, and that I’d never be alone again. It was like being home. He was home. And now I drift through the wreckage of my happy life like I am the ghost, not him. And I wonder, sometimes, what I shall do with the upcoming years. What I shall make of me? Many of the same thoughts I had as a 19year old, before I met him. Who am I? What shall I be, I wonder. I dust such thoughts off, find them too painful to think on, and then put them away again.

And I am making it and being there for the girls. And doing what I need to. And watching my health and theirs. And that I can be present for. But things like brushing my teeth and using turn signals and buying deodorant feels surreal. And I am being strong and doing well and people tell me that. And what can I say but “thank you.”

We have been at my aunt’s house for two weeks. Surrounded by family. But it is past time to be back, or stop hiding, or something. We’re back in our house today, though the girls have said they don’t want to sleep in their rooms alone. It is the summer, so I told them we could just move mattresses into the living room and sleep all together as long as they want. So that’s what we’ll do.

The night after he died we were staying in the top floor bedroom of my aunt’s house. I was so scared to go to sleep, not for fear of nightmares (what could be worse than reality, no?) but because I always used to wake up happy… and the fall, each morning from that height to the reality of what happened was too much to consider. But, eventually, that night my body just shut it down and I slept. And then I woke up. Woke up, sat up- wide awake- at 4:37am.

I went out to the deck off the upstairs bedroom (a square deck off their roof- called a widow’s walk in New England. Yes I googled it.) and sat down under the moon and stars. It was cool and dark. And I just sent out to him, where ever he was, that I loved him. And I didn’t want to ever be mad at him, as I knew he didn’t want to leave us, so that I forgave him for leaving me here and for everything, ever, pittance that it was. And I got back that if I could forgive him for not being here, well then that must mean that he could forgive me any snarky word or for not saving him, from whatever the fuck did this. That stilled the what if scenarios that had tortured me all day. And then I got that if he could forgive me, then I could forgive me, and if I could forgive me than he could forgive himself. And at least there could be peace between us.

I sat with that for a while. And it rained softly, briefly, and then stopped.

And then a cardinal landed on the railing in front of me. In the dark. And started singing. And I stared at it, and I knew it was a sign, but still. I teared up and kinda laughed and said out loud: “Okay but you know how I feel about the cardinals…”

Because cardinals are the 16th most common bird in Texas, and they can’t ALL be messages from our lost loved ones, you know?

And the cardinal flew off. And a mockingbird landed a foot away from where it had just been. And I laughed again and cried some more and said “Okay, but those are really common too…”

But I knew/know that they were him. And that it meant he still loved me and wanted to send me a sign. That all he was and all we had had not, in fact, blinked out of existence.

And it was beautiful and such a him thing to do, and it has been buoying me these last few weeks. And I’ve shared it with my daughters, and I’ve shared it with damn near everyone. And it made my therapist cry, so… there is that. My youngest asks every few days for me to “tell her about the birds.” And I do.

And for the entire first week I would wake up at 4:37am. Bolt upright. And I told him to keep doing that, forever. But this week… I’ve been waking up before. Or later now. I feel alone when I go outside in those morning hours, more often then not. The magic or magical thinking seems like it’s fading. And the light is going out.

I have to consider going back to work though god help me I never want to work again.

My oldest graduated 4 days after he died.

I have to ensure we are not missing college deadlines.

So many things.

And I can’t look forward 40 years to all the rest of my days without him. But I can make it through the day. I can bear to make it through a single day without him, not easily, but I can. So I just keep doing that.

This is the 14th one of those so far.