The First Year – Page 6 – Running Forward…My Way

Blizzard of 2017

Published on March 15, 2017March 15, 2017 by kerrymckimLeave a comment

After I put my daughter down to bed, I thought to myself that I need to remove some of this snow. Normally my amazing neighbor plows me out but he was in Florida. I was going to have to do this alone. I went to the garage and looked at the snowblower. I have never used the snowblower. Bryon bought a high end model and a good friend of his showed me how to use it last fall. And of course I couldn’t get the thing to start. It is most likely the fault of the operator. There probably wasn’t any gas in it. I googled some YouTube videos (because everything is on YouTube) but I still had no luck. Luckily, I own an old fashioned snow shovel and as I was shoveling my driveway during the Blizzard of 2017, or Storm Stella, many thoughts came through my mind.

First I want to address a pet peeve of mine. Why are they naming winter storms? They are not hurricanes. Naming winter storms is like “Fetch” and they need to stop trying to make it happen.

So during the beginning of shoveling, I was all “I am woman, hear me roar!” Us younger widows are tough.

Then I wanted to forget the “I am woman, hear me roar” crap. I need to start taking applications for Husband #2. Bring on the quasi-traditional gender roles. (I am kidding, of course. About the husband. I am a modern woman but having some semblance of traditional gender roles doesn’t bother me.) At this point, I don’t need any romance or intelligence. I would settle on usefulness.

I started to ask why did my Bryon have to die? If he were alive, he would be using the snowblower and listening to some online radio station from the Virgin Islands. At least in our old life. I always tend to forget that even if he were still alive, things would be very different. Had he survived, he wouldn’t have been the physically strong man he was. He would have had some long lasting health problems. He would be too weak to snowblow or shovel or he would still be in rehab and I would probably be in the same position. I also began to wonder if he had survived, how would he feel about the new dynamics. He was always a take charge person. The last thing he would have wanted was to be dependent on me. It would have frustrated him but at the same time, he would have been grateful.

I started to think that the Blizzard of 2017 really sucks. Then I remembered what I said to myself at the beginning of the year. There is no way that 2017 can be as bad as 2016. Almost half of 2016 was spent in an ICU room and a third of 2016 was spent in the earliest, most raw stages of grief. Shoveling snow might suck but I would rather be shoveling snow than be sitting in an ICU room.

My muscles were beginning to ache and I started to whine to myself. Then I remembered the pain Bryon was in during the final months of his life. It seemed silly to be upset about pain that some Ibuprofen and a heating pad could take away. I also began to feel grateful that I was alive and that my fat and asthmatic body was able to shovel snow. It might take me three days to shovel my driveway but I could do it.

At one point I stopped and asked myself a question I ask myself a lot: what would Bryon McKim do? The answer was simple, Bryon McKim would grab a beer (or several). I don’t usually keep beer in the house. I am not a big drinker, usually just wine with the girls. But when I was grocery shopping, I saw Saranac S’mores porter and I thought it looked interesting so I bought it. Maybe I subconsciously knew I was going to need a beer. I rested the beer in a snowbank though it didn’t taste good after awhile. It was still snowing and snow was getting into the beer. And the porter started to ice up. Oh well.

My daughter was inside sleeping and I started to think about what life would be like when she was older. If she were older, she would have had to help me. Was she going to help willingly or be a little stinker like I was? I know growing up I gave my father a hard time when he told me to help with snow shoveling. Though I gave him a slightly less of a hard time when it came to shoveling out my grandmother. I thought about how it was just my daughter and me and we were going to have to depend on each other much more than we would have if Bryon was still alive. And she doesn’t have siblings to share the burden. I began to worry that she might grow up earlier than most kids because of our situation.

I started to think about my retirement dream where I buy an old farmhouse on the coast of Maine. My retirement home will likely have a long driveway so I decided that I was going to have to purchase a truck and a plow when I retire.

By 10:30, the snow was still coming down and the wind was picking up. I was really starting to get cold so I figured that the snow will still be there in the morning and surely daycare would be closed. So I went inside, took a hot shower and then watched the Season Finale of This is Us. Then I went to bed.

The next morning, I was surprised that wasn’t closed or even delayed. Half of my driveway wasn’t shoveled. So I bundled my daughter in the Gap snowsuit that I bought in a large size two cyber Mondays ago that barely fits now. Ironically it was her first time wearing it because it the snowsuit was too large last winter and we barely had snow this winter. I was kind of glad it got one wear before being passed on to a friends daughter. I told my daughter to go be like Elsa while I shoveled.

I shoveled until my daughter told me she was cold. Then we went back inside. One of my girls has a son that attends the same daycare as my daughter and she came by to bring her to daycare but there was a huge snowbank in the way. Luckily, just then my neighbor’s brother-in-law showed up to plow me out and I was able to take my daughter to daycare. Crisis was over and everything was okay.

My muscles might still be achy but we survived our first major storm. Bring on Spring. I didn’t get to enjoy Spring last year so I am ready to enjoy it twice as much this year.

Maine roots and a New York legacy

Published on March 9, 2017March 9, 2017 by kerrymckim4 Comments

I love Maine.

I love the ocean, the coastline, Maine politics, fried clams, pine trees, L.L. Bean, Moose, red hot dogs, Reny’s, Marden’s, late night trips to Dysarts, Moody’s, Lobster, Pat’s Pizza, Acadia National Park, Kettle Cove, UMaine hockey, potato fields, Lamoine Beach, going to the shooting range with my father, Jordan’s Snack Bar, Big G’s. Dairy Queen Blizzards in the middle of winter, summer nights in Bar Harbor, the Sea Dog, clam chowder, reading angry letters to the editor in the Ellsworth American, Amato’s, Bob the black bear that lives in the woods behind my parents house, The Mex (even if Bryon threatened to break up with me if I made him eat there again), Coffee Express, seeing Stephen King in public even if he is rude if approached, Schoodic Point, Ben and Bills peanut butter cup ice cream, flannel shirts never going out of style, lighthouses, the fact that everyone roots for the Red Sox and Patriots, Raye’s Mustard, bean and casserole suppers, China Hill, Shipyard beer, and probably a whole bunch of other things I will think of after I hit “publish”.

I even don’t mind the never ending winter, frost heaves, mud and black fly season. The only thing I don’t like about Maine is Moxie because it is disgusting. I also think Whoopie Pies are a bit overrated.

I left Maine in 2009 for a guy. The gamble paid off because I married that guy three years later. He never had any interest in moving to Maine and while I missed Maine, I never really looked back. I never entertained the thought of returning until he was dying. The thought of raising my daughter by myself was scary and in Maine she would have two grandparents who love her.

As Bryon was actively dying I started to panic. I was thinking that I could not do this by myself. I was going to need help raising my daughter and I started to think that the only logical solution was to move back to Maine as my parents are there. I convinced myself that this was what I was going to do on the car ride back to Albany.

So…why am I still in New York? Why haven’t I moved back to Maine?

Once I got back to Albany, I began to realize that I was not ready to leave the life Bryon and I had built.

Bryon and I had bought our house two and a half years before he died and we already had so many memories. I wasn’t ready to leave this house. This was the house where we welcomed our daughter into our family. We celebrated two Thanksgivings, two Christmases and two Easters in this house. We hosted two derby parties in our house. We spent many spring and summer afternoons sitting on our front deck. This house was going to be our starter house and we weren’t planning on staying in this house for more than 5-7 years. We even made comments about how small the house felt and how much smaller it was going to feel when we had another baby. While we weren’t going to live our dreams together after all, I wasn’t ready to leave the ghosts of those dreams.

Home is more than a house. Home also includes those you love. I depended on so many of our friends during the course of Bryon’s sickness. Not just for physical help but I depended on them emotionally. I can’t leave them. They were with me through the hardest months of my life. I wouldn’t have gotten through this crisis if it wasn’t for them. Our bonds have only gotten stronger. My friends here have become my family and my daughter has so many aunts and uncles here who love her and look out for her.

The last and most important reason I am still in New York is my daughter. She was 18 months when Bryon went into the hospital for the last time and she was 23 months old when he passed away. She won’t have any first hand memories of him. She will only know him through the stories she will hear as she is growing up. She needs to grow up in the place where her father had lived. She needs to go to the Saratoga Racetrack and Siena basketball games and Albany Law rugby tournaments. She needs to be around the people who loved Bryon and that were important in his life. To move her to Maine would remove her from all of this and I can’t do that to her.

Until my daughter goes to college, we will stay in New York. Then I might return to Maine in 2032 and buy an old farmhouse in a coastal town. Ocean view would be a bonus. Or I might decide that I have had enough of winter and move to the US Virgin Islands or something. I’ll figure it out sometime in the next 15 years.

Not quite married, not quite single

Published on March 5, 2017March 5, 2017 by kerrymckim2 Comments

I always envisioned being a widow to being someone that was my grandmother’s age. My Grandma Sullivan was widowed in 1990 at the age of 76 after 44 years of marriage. (My Grandma Sullivan passed away in 2004 at the age of 90) My Nana Crowley was widowed in 2007 at the age of 84 after 63 years of marriage. (My Nana Crowley is still alive and will turn 95 later this month) Both of my grandmothers lived or are living the life that you would imagine of a widow. They play/played Bingo. They both socialized. Both of my grandmothers have/had large social networks and lots of friends. Both of my grandmothers doted on their grandchildren (and in Nana’s Crowley’s case, great-grandchildren.)

My experience has been different. I became widowed in 2016 at the age of 37 a month shy of our 4th wedding anniversary. The last time I played Bingo was on a cruiseship with Bryon. And instead of doting on grandchildren or great-grandchildren, I am taking care of a 2-year-old daughter.

The thing about being widowed, especially at a young age, is that you are not quite married and you are not quite single. I am no longer married but I don’t feel single. I still can’t bring myself to take off my rings. I didn’t ask to be here and I don’t want to be here. It’s like I am in limbo between the two. I liked being a wife. I was pretty good at it. Turns out I am really good at the “in sickness and in health” part. I used to listen to my single friends talk about their adventures and mis-adventures in dating and I remember feeling relieved because I was happily married and I wasn’t going to ever have to worry about dating ever again.

The one question I get asked the most since becoming a widow is if I ever plan on remarrying. I don’t blame people for being curious. I would be curious if I weren’t me. Neither of my grandmother’s remarried but they were much older than me. They don’t make a good point of reference to me. To be honest, if you asked me that question every day, the answer would probably be different depending on the day. What can I say? I am full of contradictions these days.

Some days I am optimistic that I may love again. It is referred to as “Chapter 2” in the widow world. I am a romantic at heart and don’t want to believe that my love story is finished. I do think my heart will be capable of loving again and some days I hope I do love gain. I still feel like I have love to give. I also to hope that I will experience being loved again. I don’t think to date again or marry again is a betrayal to him. I truly think Bryon wants me to be happy. Bryon will always have a piece of my heart but I do think the heart is capable of growing and loving again.

However, on other days I am depressed and I feel that no man would ever love me like Bryon did and I will never have what Bryon and I had. Of course, I forget that trauma and loss change you, permanently and forever. I am not the same carefree, naive person I used to be and I never will be. That version of myself went away when Bryon got sick and she died when Bryon died. So even if I found Bryon’s clone with the same personality, it probably wouldn’t work. I have changed. But I think about the way Bryon used to look at me. Will I ever find someone who will look at me the same way?

At times I don’t think I will ever remarry because I am not good at dating. Good at being a wife, yes. Good at dating, no. I don’t even know where single people who are closing in their late 30’s go in Albany and even if I did know, where would I find the time? I am busy enough with my daughter and work. Also, Bryon was very well known and popular in our town and will I always be looked at as his widow and not as my own person? And I am not sure anyone would want to date me knowing that Bryon will always have a piece of my heart and I will always love him.

I don’t know what the future will bring. None of us do. I don’t know when I will be ready to date again, if ever. Right now I am still in pain from Bryon’s death and I miss him too much. Plus, I am still learning how to be a working single mom. But the one thing I will say with certainty is that if I start dating again, I won’t be sharing it here. I am very open about my grief but I feel some things are meant to be private.

If I could have just one more day with you…

Published on March 3, 2017March 3, 2017 by kerrymckimLeave a comment

I have often thought about what we would do if we could just have one more day together. We weren’t expecting you to get sick. There was no way to know when you went into the hospital that you would spend five months there and never leave. What would we have done if we could just have one more day?

Of course, our day will take place in a time that you aren’t sick. I don’t want to spend our day in the ICU. If we could have one more day it would be a Saturday and during a time of the year where you aren’t busy with work. I thought about reliving our wedding day or a day from one of our vacations or Christmas but I decided that while those days were filled with great memories, I miss the non-glamorous memories more. I am also going to be selfish and pretend it’s a Saturday where there are no sporting events. I want my family all to myself.

We would start the day with an activity that you enjoy doing in the morning. To be clear, I like this activity too. Just not in the morning because I am definitely not a morning person. But this would be your special day back so we will do this activity at your preferred time. Amazingly our daughter will sleep in so we can complete this activity without rushing.

Afterwards we will wake up our daughter. She will be so happy to see you. She will jump up and down in her crib and yell “Daddy!” She will know who you are, I promise. She recognizes you in photos. We will let her watch an episode or two of whatever show is on Disney Jr. As long as it isn’t Miles from Tomorrowland because we both don’t understand why Miles has a pet robot ostrich and it pisses us off. But chances are, she will want to watch Elena of Avalor, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Doc McStuffins.

You will make coffee your favorite way which is in the French press. I will attempt to make your favorite breakfast which is waffles but you will decide you would rather make them yourself. You will probably use the Mickey Mouse waffle iron that Maddy bought you for her first Christmas. We eat our waffles with real maple syrup because we don’t keep the fake stuff in our house. You put fake butter on your waffles and I put real butter on mine.

As we eat breakfast, we will watch soccer. Your team Chelsea is playing. You put on your Chelsea jersey. You make some rude comments about the other team. You will yell a lot. It could either be joyful or angry depending on how Chelsea is playing.

Many Saturdays, we went to estate sales but it seems silly to spend the day shopping especially since you can’t take any of it with you. Or we could go to Home Depot and you would most likely quote Frank the Tank because that always makes me laugh (“Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we’re going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don’t know, I don’t know if we’ll have enough time.”)

Or we can stay home and watch another soccer game. It’s your choice.

Lunchtime rolls around and you get to pick. You can have a Garbage Plate at McGeary’s or a Buffalo Burger at Swifty’s. We can go have miniature hot dogs. Or we can stay home and make tomato soup with grilled cheese. Whatever you want.

It’s a beautiful day so we take our daughter to the pocket park near our house. You push her in the swing and she loves it. After that we will hang out on our front porch and watch the cars speed down the street. You will put our cat on his harness and leash and call him a dick when he doesn’t want to go outside. The ice cream truck comes and you can’t resist getting our daughter an ice cream. And you get an ice cream for me too.

For dinner, I will make chicken enchiladas because they were your favorite. You liked to add sriracha to them. You were always happy when I made chicken enchiladas. Personally I don’t think the recipe is very authentic but you don’t care.

I know I said I wanted you to myself but I have to share you for a little while because you have a lot of friends who miss you and will want to see you. So we will have a sitter come and we will meet up with friends for Karaoke. And of course you sing some Righteous Brothers “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” and all of your favorites. You always told me that you wanted to sing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” as a duet but I always said no because you always made fun of the fact that I can’t sing. So today I will sing that duet with you and you can make fun of me all you want.

This ends up being a fun night. It is great to spend time with our friends. But the night must come to end even thought we don’t want it too. We go home and go to bed and hold each other. I will probably cry because I don’t want our day to end and I don’t want to say good-bye again. But I must. So I give you one last hug and kiss and tell you that I love you one last time. I will be okay because I know that while it’s fun to think about this day, it will never happen. At least I have our memories.

Condescension and clichés

Published on February 28, 2017February 28, 2017 by kerrymckim4 Comments

I am going to preface this post by saying that what I am going to write about will be upsetting to some. When you read it, please remember where I am coming from and that this post is just about how I feel. This is my starting point for my healing process. I am open to conversation on this topic but please respect that this is where I am at right now.

* * *

I was born into an Irish Catholic family. I was baptized at St. Mary’s Church in Billerica, MA in the fall of 1978 and had my first communion there when I was in second grade. I got confirmed in 1994 at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Ellsworth, Maine. Bryon and I got married at Blessed Sacrament Church in Albany and our daughter was baptized there a two years later. Two years after that, Bryon had his funeral there. Aside for a period of time during my teenage years, I loved being a Catholic. It was just as much a part of my heritage as was being Irish and I love tradition. I have always felt at home within the Catholic Church and never felt the need to explore other denominations of Christianity or other religions.

Religion has played an important role in my life and in our married life. We attended Mass on most Sundays and Holy Days. For awhile, we attended Young Adult Ministry until the program was discontinued. Bryon was a lector and sat on the Parish Council. He also helped out with many parish projects. My involvement wasn’t as noble as Bryon’s but I like to think that I took care of our daughter which freed him up for his ministries.

Naturally, when Bryon was sick, I relied on my faith to get me through it. I prayed, my family prayed, friends prayed, people I didn’t even know prayed. Friends and family put Bryon on their prayers lists and chains. People I didn’t even know put Bryon on their church prayer lists and chains. People would reassure me that Jesus healed. I guess we just didn’t reach the quota of prayers for healing. We were short.

I used to love saying the Rosary. I always thought it was beautiful. I took great comfort in it. I usually made sure to say it once a day during Lent. I am ashamed that I wasn’t always good about setting aside the time to say it as much as I should but how am I supposed to say the Rosary now? The same prayers that provided comfort now immediately transport me back to the ICU room and the words fill me with anxiety.

I was having a discussion with a good friend who lost her brother when she was in college. We were talking about how the cliches were the worst. Most cliches aren’t that bad but they aren’t always helpful and then when you multiply them by hundreds it compounds the frustration. Sometimes I think people feel the need to say something to try to make me feel better but can’t think of anything so they default to a cliche. And those cliches usually make the grieving person feel worse. Sometimes it really is better to say nothing at all. We discussed that even if it true that God loves us or that it is part of “His plan”, now is not the time.

I keep hearing about a “plan”. All of my suffering is part of a plan. But this doesn’t make me feel any better. God wasn’t the only one with a plan. Bryon had a plan. I had a plan. A lot of people close to Bryon had plans that involved him. All we are left with is pain. How am I supposed to trust this “plan”? How am I supposed to take comfort that there is some plan when this plan involves the world losing a good man, me losing my husband and my daughter losing her father? I hope God is up there enjoying his plan being executed while there are those us that are suffering. I hope God is happy about it because I am not. I couldn’t care less about his plan right now. I have some choice words about his plan that I will refrain from using here. I have a hard time believing that God’s Plan has anything in it that can make up for this.

Bryon’s death isn’t just some bump in the road or a disappointment of some sort. I lost my other half. He is gone. And the whole foundation of my life hasn’t just been rattled. It has completely come down. All of our dreams are gone. Yes, I have some pieces that I have salvaged but I don’t think people really understand how big of a void Bryon’s death leaves in my life. And yes, I am aware that things can be worse. I still have my daughter who I love more than anything in this world and she is a piece of Bryon but she doesn’t replace him.

I keep hearing that God loves me. Really? I am expected to believe that? When you love people, you don’t hurt them senselessly. Bryon’s death was senseless. He shouldn’t have died. He deserved to live a long life. God chose him to die. His death leaves an emptiness in my life. I will not grow old with my life partner. My daughter will never know firsthand what an amazing man her father was. His death leaves a void among so many of our friends and his work colleagues. So many people depended on him. This is not love.

People tell me that they pray for me and my daughter. I truly appreciate that you are thinking about us and wishing us well. I just say thank you because I don’t have the heart to tell you that I think praying is pointless.

I also have realized how much I used to pray. I used to pray for many things, specifically for people and for guidance. I realized that I have not prayed since Bryon has died. To me, there just doesn’t seem like there is a point. I lived my life trying to be a good Catholic girl. I tried to follow all the rules though I failed miserably at some. I prayed so hard and God clearly doesn’t listen to me. I have been told that God answers prayers, but not always in the way you want them. If that was the case, then what was the point in praying for Bryon to get well? If God just did what he wanted to do then what was the point of praying? And if he was going to take him in the end, then why did he make him suffer for five months? It was downright cruel to Bryon and it was downright cruel to those of us that cared about him and had to watch him suffer.

I can feel the judgement and the pity. They are usually met with condescension and patronization. Especially from people who are happily married and don’t know the pain of losing your spouse at a young age. I know it is easy to look at me and feel pity. I know, it must be so sad to see my faith crumble. I get it. You would never lose your faith if this happened to you because your faith is much stronger. Trust me, you can’t even imagine this pain until you live it and I sincerely hope you never have to.

I don’t mind when people offer book suggestions. I don’t mind honest, sincere suggestions. I welcome deeper conversation. But I don’t need to go to Mass at a different parish. I am aware that the Catholic Church offers the same Mass in different parishes. I have attended Mass in 4 countries and in two languages. I understand how the Church works. I know where to find Mass should I want to attend and I am going to be just as mad at God at your parish as I am at mine.

I also don’t need a different religion. I can assure you that I am just as angry at the Protestant version of God or the Bible Church version of God as I am at the Catholic version of God.

Despite all of this, I still plan to raise my daughter in the Catholic faith. The church, although it has its faults, is beautiful and it is her heritage. I still have every intention of sending her to Catholic School. I hope I am healed enough by then so I am not faking my faith. For years, I looked down with disdain at “cultural Catholics” but maybe in the end, that is where I will be? Maybe all these “cultural Catholics” have had horrible things happen to them, things that have shaken their faith to the point that they are going through the motions of the faith? Maybe I have been judgmental toward them this whole time.

Many widows have found that their faith is stronger in widowhood. Some widows have told me it took years before they felt that their faith was stronger. Maybe someday I will be in that group. Maybe in a few years I will be writing about how my faith is stronger than ever and that I have an amazing relationship with God. Maybe I will be writing about how I healed and my faith was restored in a way that helps other young widows. But until then, I am going to stay where I am and just hope that when people want to talk about religion and God with me that they do so without the condescension and cliches.

Top Gun Wake

Published on February 27, 2017February 27, 2017 by kerrymckimLeave a comment

Friday 12:30pm

August 26, 2016

“Revvin’ up your engine

Listen to her howlin’ roar

Metal under tension

Beggin’ you to touch and go

Highway to the danger zone

Ride into the danger zone”

~Kenny Loggins

I walked into the viewing room at the Funeral Home to see Bryon for the last time. Funeral Nick shut the doors behind me. We walked up to the casket. It had been a lengthy and rather difficult process to get Bryon’s body moved from New York City to Albany and Funeral Nick had told me the day before that he did not feel that Bryon was fit for a public viewing. I had decided that was just as well because I wanted everyone to remember the version of Bryon that was full of life, not the sick and lifeless version of Bryon.

He was in his kilt. Next to him were the three items I wanted him buried with: a rosary, a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a Top Gun DVD. And Top Gun was playing on the two TV’s mounted on the wall on both sides of the casket. Just like Bryon wanted. My friends had done a phenomenal job at collecting photos of Bryon for the picture boards and they were displayed all over the room.

Funeral Nick had stayed up late working on his makeup which I thought was very kind of him considering that I would be the only person who would see him. Funeral Nick was quick to cover Bryon’s hands, he didn’t want me to see them. I didn’t question why. I just assumed they were either discolored as they were turning blue during his final hours or that they were puffy because Bryon had a lot of extra fluid in his body or both. Seeing Bryon all caked with makeup reassured me that I was making the right choice by having a closed casket. Caked on funeral makeup was acceptable for my grandparents who lived into their 80’s and 90’s but not on a 30 year old man.

Funeral Nick closed the casket and left me alone to be with Bryon. I went to walk around the room and look at the photos and flowers and I hear Maverick start singing, “You never close your eyes, anymore, when I kiss your lips.” I could feel Bryon’s presence strongly. I think he was trying to make me laugh. He was right with me. I laughed and cried at the same time.

When I had arrived I left my parents, daughter, extended family and close friends were out in the lobby. After I had a good look at each of the picture boards, I told a member of the funeral home staff that it was okay to let them in. They kept me company. The funeral staff was bringing in the flowers that we still being delivered. I remember that my best friend from Maine made sure that there would be no wardrobe malfunctions with my dress while the Top Gun volleyball scene came on. Everyone looked at the picture boards until it was time for our pre-wake ceremony and for the priest to come by.

3pm was the official start of the viewing. I remember that there was a long line of people. I stood next to the casket and my daughter’s Godmother stood next to me. People from so many areas of Bryon’s life came by; coworkers, friends from college and college, friends from politics, friends from some of the various organizations he belonged to, friends of his parents, some of his relatives. I remember that many of my relatives made it in from Boston, Florida and Maine. My best friend and another friend arrived from Chicago. During the procession, there was a break in visiting and my best friend from Maine brought me Wendy’s (perfectly timed) which I quickly ate in a conference room. The visiting hours ran from 3 pm to 8pm and it the line of people slowed down at times but never completely stopped.

I had gone to Target the day before and I bought a doll, a doll stroller and a Doc McStuffins doctors kit for my daughter to play with. She is a trooper when it comes to having her around people but I wanted her to have some toys to play with. And I wanted these toys to be a novelty so they had to be new. My friends and my family all took turns playing with her. I was greeting people and everyone made sure that I did not need to worry. I remember a few times I would look around and not see her but someone always reassured me that she was being watched by someone.

So many people came to pay their respects for Bryon to our family and many friends stayed the whole evening. I know the visiting hours were long but to be truthful, the whole night was a blur, a whirlwind. After the visiting hours ended, a staff member of the funeral home sat down with my daughter’s Godmother and me and we discussed logistics for the next day and what to do with flowers.

It was late but a large group of friends went out after for dinner. The group was comprised of close friends from different areas of our life; college, politics, local and out of town. I needed the company and to hear the stories about Bryon. It was late and it was a big day tomorrow.

The mopey love song phase

Published on February 24, 2017 by kerrymckimLeave a comment

My early days of widowhood were filled with numbness as I worked through processing Bryon’s death as well as the death of all our dreams. I am one of those people who likes to have some idea of what will happen in the future like a tentative 5 year, 10 year and 20 year plan. I am not good at flying by the seat of my pants. I know that things can change but I was certain that Bryon, our daughter and the child we planned on having later were going to be there. When Bryon was sick, I knew that it was possible that if he survived (which I believed he was going to) that he was probably going to have long term health problems that would have altered our plans. But he was going to be there. We would figure the rest out.

Then one day he was gone and so were our dreams. The family of three (with plans to be four) had become a family of two. And I have gotten used to the fact that that will be our future. My daughter, me and our cat. Maybe I will get her a dog to make up for the fact that she won’t ever have a brother or sister. I am trying to reconstruct new dreams.

I have been shifting from feeling of numbness due to his absence in our daily life to reflecting on our life together.

I never really been one to date. I didn’t have a serious boyfriend until my senior year in college. He was the complete opposite of Bryon. We dated for almost three years even though he didn’t really put much effort into our relationship. At the time, I thought that it was love and left the relationship unimpressed with the whole concept of love. It definitely was not like the love I had seen in the movies. I don’t think he was a bad guy, he just did not seem to have much passion with me or for anything else.

All my life I had kept people at a distance. I never let anyone get too close and can be quite stand-offish at times. This probably factored into the reason why I never dated much. I never liked letting my guard down. It is much easier to not let people get close instead of opening yourself up and potentially getting hurt. I spent my 20’s immersed in Maine Republican politics and the politics of the Young Republican National Federation. While part of me enjoyed some superficial male attention, I really wasn’t that interested in letting anyone into my own world and exposing myself to potential hurt. As a result, I probably denied myself a lot of happiness during that decade.

All that changed in the winter of 2008. I was still living in Maine and I had traveled to Albany, NY for a leadership conference put on by the New York State Young Republicans. I was feeling more social than usual that weekend and I chatted with several charming gentlemen. I must have made quite an impression on a certain younger gentlemen who stood next to me all evening at the bar and kept buying me drinks. This younger gentleman brought me back to my hotel. I started to get nervous because I felt that this younger gentleman was interested in me and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. I started to stress our age difference because he would surely lose interest if he knew how old I was. He said he didn’t believe I was that old so I took out my driver’s license and said “That’s a ‘7’ not an ‘8’.” He looked at it with complete disbelief and said that that can’t be right. I said. “Oh, yes it is. I was born during the Carter Administration.”

The fact that I was born in the 1970’s (albeit late 1970’s) and that I am old enough to remember Ronald Reagan actually being president did not deter this young gentlemen. For the next several months he showered me with attention on google chat and Facebook. While I enjoyed the attention, I tried to discourage his advances. He was too young. Why on Earth would he want to date an old lady like me?

I didn’t make it easy for him but Bryon eventually wore me down. Our attraction was just too strong and it was just meant to be. And to this day, I have no idea what he saw in me. What made me special? No man had ever made an effort to romance me or make me feel special but Bryon did. What was it about me that made him think I was worth the trouble?

He was the first person I truly let get close to me. This scared me and I am ashamed to say that I would test him even though I don’t think I did it intentionally. I just thought he was too good to be true and that he would surely lose interest in me. Friends used to always say that I was a saint for putting up with his mischievous antics but he was just as much as a saint for putting up with me. I wasn’t always a picnic to deal with. I have no idea why I couldn’t just accept that a great guy like Bryon would love me.

I just think about how he used to look at me during those romantic dinners, like I was the only girl in the room. Or how he listened to every silly story I told on our first date. I think about how sappy he got right before he proposed to me at Mahars and how happy he looked when I walked down the aisle on our wedding day. I think about how excited he would get when I would say a one-liner that made him laugh. He would reiterate to me that he was the funny one but once in awhile I can be really funny too. I think about all the times he told me I was beautiful and all the times I got mad at him because I didn’t believe I was deserving of that compliment.

I think I am beginning to enter what I am thinking of as the Mopey Love Song Phase. In the earlier days of widowhood, my sadness felt raw and intense but it still felt like an external feeling that I could fight off. My sadness doesn’t feel as raw or intense now but it feels deeper and more internalized. It is like the sadness has actually become a physical part of me and I accept that it is now a part of me. The emptiness sits like a big pit in my stomach and radiates through my bones.

Now that I am getting over the shock of Bryon being gone, I am bombarded with memories and trying to process the emotions that go along with all of those memories. Our love story is played over and over again in my head. I tear up to think that as we were living our lives and making memories, we never knew that we weren’t going to get many years. And there never would have been no way to know.

Six Months

Published on February 21, 2017February 21, 2017 by kerrymckim5 Comments

It has been six months since you left us.

It has been six months since I last held your hand or looked into your brown eyes.

It has been six months since your body just couldn’t fight anymore.

It’s has been six months since I had to give up the dream that you were going to recover and that we were going to be able to put this nightmare behind us.

It’s been six months since I walked out of the hospital for the last time.

Within the past six months, I have probably felt every emotion possible.

I have felt anger. Not at you, but at the situation. That this had to happen. That our daughter will grow up without you. And at God for taking you from me. Who does he think he is?

I have felt relieved that you are not in pain anymore. Wherever you are now has to be better than the ICU. I am also relieved because as you were dying, I was afraid that I was going to remember you as you were in that hospital bed. But I remember you as the person you were when you were full of life.

I have felt numb and unable to deal with certain tasks. Dealing with those tasks would be admitting that you really are gone.

I have felt helpless because you did so much. How can I do all of this without you?

I have felt fearful. I am the only parent left to take care of our daughter. What if something happens to me? How am I going to be a Mom and a Dad to our daughter?

I have felt guilt. Did I do everything I could? Did I miss something? Was there something that could have kept you alive that I somehow missed?

I have felt frustrated. Taking care of our daughter by myself is tough. I miss having you as my co-parent.

I feel empty every night as I sit at home by myself without you to talk to. I feel empty every night when I go to sleep alone. I miss you every day.

I have felt lonely because your death and absence leaves a huge void in my life. I miss you so much that it hurts. I miss our conversations. I miss watching TV with you. I miss emailing back and forth with you trying to figure out what to do for dinner. You truly were my other half and my best friend.

I have felt happy because you left some great memories. I love it when friends share funny stories about you. You might be gone, but you still find a way to make us laugh.

I have felt comfort because I know that at some level you are still with me and you will continue to look out for me and our daughter from above.

I have felt grateful that you chose me to be by your side even if it was for a short time. I am grateful for the love that you gave me. I am grateful for everything that you have taught me and I am grateful for our life together.

I have lost my faith. I used to think God loved me but not anymore. And I think he is kind of a jerk. I used to believe in happy endings but my “Happily Ever After” has been taken away. I no longer believe in happy ends or miracles.

I have felt despair because I will not get to grow old with you and that our daughter will not remember you. Why did this have to happen? I have a hard time with the fact that you will not get to watch our daughter grow up. She has already grown up so much since you got sick. Who is going to take her to the Father-Daughter dance? Who is going to walk her down the aisle when she gets married? I know you left behind many great friends who are willing to be positive male role models for her and will be there for her and I am grateful for that. But sometimes I still think it is unfair because it is supposed to be you that was supposed to do all of those things.

I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I have ever given myself credit for. I am a survivor.

I have had moments where I am about to call or text you but then I remember that you are not here. I can’t ask you that question or tell you that story. There is so much that I want to tell you. Your phone will go straight to voicemail. Because I can’t bring myself to call the phone company and disconnect your number. It’s just easier to pay the bill as I have been. And speaking of phones, my phone is acting possessed and I don’t have you to fix it.

Some of your clothes are still hanging up in the closet. Others are in bags but I can’t bring myself to bring them to goodwill.

You meant so much to so many people and you accomplished so much in your short life. And you were only just beginning. I can’t help but wonder what you would have accomplished if you were given the 80+ years on this planet that you should have had. There were so many dreams and plans that you had for yourself and for our family. Dreams that will be unfulfilled.

I am still trying to make sense of what happened and trying to accept that I will probably never make sense of it. Why this had to happen? We think we control our lives but at the end of the day, we can only control so much. We just have to do the best with what we have at any given time. I am trying to accept that all of this had to happen for some reason but I don’t know what that reason is. Whatever that reason is, it is just hard to accept that you had to die for it.

I am sad because you are gone. But also because I am starting to get used to you being gone. Every time I throw something away, even if it is something like your holey socks, that is another piece of you that is gone. But I know I can’t keep your holey socks around. My emotions feel less raw but they are still there. At times I feel like I can more forward, without you here. This makes me feel guilty. You are supposed to be here with me. I didn’t plan on having to go it alone at this stage of my life. We were supposed to be forever and always. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you and that is not going to happen but I get a little comfort knowing that you spent “the rest of your life” with me.

Vegas Vacation

Published on February 17, 2017February 17, 2017 by kerrymckim7 Comments

Every winter, Bryon and I liked to go on a cruise. We had one booked that was supposed to leave today. We were supposed to sail on the Royal Caribbean Navigator of the Seas and we were supposed to sail out of Miami and go to four brand new ports (Labadee, Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao). I cancelled that cruise even though my daughter’s godmother said she would go. I appreciated her offer but declined because I would be too sad. Cruising was our thing and if I were to go without Bryon, I would probably cry the whole time. And it would not be fun to be on a cruise if you are crying all the time. Maybe someday I will be ready to cruise again with friends.

My best friend was going to Vegas with her husband and her two year old daughter because her husband was in a tournament and she invited my daughter and I to come along. I figured it would be nice to get away and see my best friend. I don’t get to see her often because she lives in Chicago. I remembered the promise I made to Bryon that I would take our daughter to see the world. We would do Vegas Mom and Toddler style.

This was my first time flying by myself with our daughter. I used to fly by myself all the time as a singleton but I only flown by myself once since I was with Bryon. That was to my best friends wedding in the Cancun area (same best friend I was traveling with on this trip). Bryon wasn’t able to attend the wedding because it was during his busy time at work. I remember being overwhelmed on that flight because I got so used to travelling with him. And he even booked that flight for me and even researched what to expect when going through Mexican customs. He was so organized. He had a folder with all pertinent travel documents and he did all the heavy lifting. But he is no longer here and he would want my daughter and I to continue living so I figured we would be brave it by ourselves.

In some ways, traveling with my 2 year old on a cross country flight wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. I was prepared for everything to take longer. Luckily we had TSA Pre-check so security was easier. The car seat couldn’t fit through the bag screener and I was instructed to bring the stroller to the metal detector and I had to wait until they were individually checked. Coming back they were able to put them both through the bag scanner.

Luckily my daughter likes to people watch so she is generally entertained in places with lots of people. But I had brought books and dolls. Also, toddlers like to eat and there is usually lots of food in airports so I think she ate three bananas, an orange and a bag of M&M’s. I also had gotten her a frozen yogurt with strawberries on it. She ate the strawberries but pretty much played with the rest. Maybe not the best dinner but I was more concerned about keeping her happy. I guess there could be worse things for her to eat too much off. All I know is when I went to grab some M&M’s, they were gone.

When we used to fly with Bryon, he usually did most of the heavy lifting while I took care of our daughter. He always made comments that he was the pack mule. Well this time I got to be the pack mule and take care of our daughter. So I texted one of my good friends, the one that I can talk to completely uncensored (nothing I say can shock her) and I said that I needed to get a boyfriend just so he could come with me on vacation to help with the heavy lifting. Experience at installing car seats would be a plus. I would even pay for the fictional boyfriend’s vacation and he wouldn’t even have to hang out with us. During our conversation, I remembered that I am not ready for a boyfriend (even if he is fictional) and I would then have to break up with this fictional boyfriend after vacation and give him the “yeah…this isn’t going to work…it’s not you, it’s me…” speech. Also, I like to travel a lot so I would need an off-again, on-again type of relationship. I was starting to become stressed out over this fictional relationship. My conversation with my friend concluded that next time I will just check the car seat and learn more about minimalist packing and wait for a real relationship to come in it’s own time.

I was surprised that so many people were willing to help. Turns out I don’t need a pack mule boyfriend. I did have offers from many people to help carry my bags onto the plane and to carry the carseat. I was surprised at the kindness people showed us. Or maybe it was pity. Most likely, they were just victims of my daughter’s adorable looks and charming personality.

Our flight was supposed to arrive around 8:30pm (close to the time that my friends flight was due to arrive from Chicago) but we didn’t get in until after 10pm (local time so it was after 1am Eastern time). My best friend and her husband and daughter came back to the airport to get us. It was so good to see my best friend. It was late and we went to bed when we got back to the hotel.

My cell phone never adjusted to the time change and the clock stayed in Eastern time so it didn’t surprise me that I slept in until 10am Eastern (7 am local). We had a view of the strip and the girls were fascinated with the tiny cars down below. They kept exclaiming “Cars! Cars!” My best friend and I got our two daughters ready which was quite an ordeal in itself. As I was getting ready, a few of Bryon’s contacts (he used the daily disposables) fell out of my toiletry bag. He probably put them in there while on our last cruise in February 2016, a month before he got sick. I threw them away as it didn’t make any sense to keep them. I felt a twinge of sadness because over time, those little reminders of Bryon are going to slowly disappear.

After we were finally ready, we went down to the lobby and had crepes at one of the cafe’s in the hotel. (We were staying at Paris). We then went next door to Planet Hollywood to do some shopping at the Miracle Mile Mall. I was on a mission for the Las Vegas Pandora beads. And I wanted to buy my daughter a Vegas T-shirt as well as a Vegas Christmas ornament because I like to collect Christmas ornaments from places I travel too.

For lunch, we went to Hash House A Go-Go at The Linq. The portions were HUGE. Then we walked around the Venetian, got Gelato, dealt with several bodily fluids (ah, motherhood) and then got lost in Ceasar’s Palace. My daughter lost a shoe which we never found. We went to use the elevator because of our strollers and there was a homeless man sleeping in the elevator. So we had no choice but to (carefully) use escalator with a stroller. Then we went back to the hotel to curl our hair before going out to a steakhouse where I got Maine lobster pasta because I am weird like that.

20170211_214641 — Who orders Maine Lobster pasta at a Steakhouse?

Oh and it was raining. In the desert. I am still kind of confused about that.

The following day we took the girls to M&M World which consisted of 4 floors of pure excitement. I felt the need to buy my daughter a M&M stuffed animal (yellow), a M&M mug (yellow), a Christmas ornament (yellow- notice a theme? I think it is my daughter’s favorite color) and some overpriced M&M’s (but oh, all the color choices! But not yellow because you can get those in regular packages) and I spent so much that I could get the M&M character blanket for $5 so of course I did. And I bought the $2 reusable tote bag because I am a sucker like that. I got pecan pie M&M’s which were delicious and my best friend got butterscotch M&M’s which she let me try and they were amazing too.

20170212_124847 — She couldn’t contain her excitement.

After M&M world, we walked over to New York, New York and had lunch. The kids had hot dogs and the adults had pizza. We then walked through the castle (i.e. The Excalibur) and took the tram to Mandalay Bay. We planned on taking the girls to the Shark Reef Aquarium.

I had stayed at Mandalay Bay in 2005 when I attended the Young Republican National Convention. It was the first of many Young Republican National Federation events that I would attend. As I walked through the hotel and convention center, I started reflecting to my best friend (i.e. verbal diarrhea) about how eerie it felt to be in the place that changed my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but my decision to attend that convention in 2005 completely altered the course of my life. I had a great time at that convention and I made connections and decided to get further involved in the organization. I met my daughter’s godmother at the following board meeting in Little Rock, AR in the fall of 2005. I met my best friend the following spring in Washington, D.C. at the Young Republican Leadership Conference. She was sitting in front of me on the bus that took us to and from the reception at the Romanian Embassy. And I met Bryon at the Fall 2006 Board Meeting in Louisville, KY. If I had not attended that convention, I would not have (eventually) met my husband or my close friends, I would not have my daughter and I would not be living in New York. Also, almost all my friends in New York became my friends originally through Bryon. This completely blew me away.

199081_17695697840_2315_n — An event that would change the course of my life.

We took the girls through the shark reef aquarium. I was very impressed.

After the aquarium, we drove down the strip and to the other side of the Stratosphere. We passed Silver and Gold, the pawn shop from Pawn Stars. We also drove through some local neighborhoods.

We decided to have dinner at Burgr, one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants. When the food came, my daughter had an epic tantrum. I admit, I am spoiled because she is generally a very easy going and well behaved kid. I know they say you can’t reason with a toddler but I can usually reason with her. But she wasn’t having any of it. She was tired and she was overstimulated. I had to take her out of the restaurant and I strapped her into her stroller. I found a quiet corner where I sit down on the floor and I start crying. My best friend came out and I proceeded to completely melt down about how it all wasn’t fair. Why did Bryon have to die? How come everyone else in the world gets to be happy except me? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to grow old together. Not one of my proudest moments and I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol because I was sober.

20170212_220109 — My Sandwich that I didn’t get to eat.

After I finished my meltdown, my best friend and I went to Holsteins in the Cosmopolitan for adult milkshakes. That made things better.

20170212_232714_001 — Adult Milkshakes at Holsteins

This trip was great because I got to see my best friend and my daughter got to play with her daughter. But I couldn’t help but feel like Bryon was missing. It felt like he should have been on this trip with us. He would have loved Vegas. He would have loved the fact that the people came from all walks of life (including the homeless man sleeping in the elevator). He would have loved the gambling and all the food. He would have loved the casinos. He would have loved the ride through the neighborhoods near the strip. He had been my travelling buddy for 8 years so I definitely felt his absence. While I know he will always be with me and that does comfort me to some level, I hope in the future I won’t feel so empty from his absence when I travel.

A widowed Valentine’s Day

Published on February 14, 2017February 14, 2017 by kerrymckim2 Comments

Valentine’s Day 2009 was our first Valentine’s Day together. I had a long weekend so I planned to drive from Maine to Albany. I decided I was going to get him a Brooks Brother’s gift card so he could buy a bow tie. I got out of work at 4:30 in Bar Harbor, ME and I was worried that the closest store in Freeport, ME (which was about three hours into my drive) was going to be closed by the time I was driving through. Luckily I made it there with ten minutes to spare. Bryon cooked me chicken parm for dinner and even had candles in his small apartment. I gave him the Brooks Brothers gift card and a box of chocolates made by my friend who has a confectionary business. (Affectionate Confections) He gave me a box of commercial chocolates and an EZ pass because he couldn’t stand that I actually stopped at the toll plazas and paid cash to the attendant. I won’t go into the details of the rest of the evening. I will leave that to your imagination.

(I did find that Brooks Brother’s gift card still in the box about a month after Bryon died. No idea if he used it or if the card is even good. It is so old it doesn’t have a number on the back to call for a balance.)

Valentine’s Day 2016 was our last Valentine’s Day. We started it on the cruise ship, Freedom of the Seas. We were back in Port Canaveral after a seven night cruise to the Bahamas, U.S.V.I, and Saint Maarten. It was debarkation day and we were concerned about the logistics of getting off the ship and getting to the airport and ultimately getting home. We had long ago blown off the idea of Valentine’s Day. Bryon would rather send me flowers or take me out to a fancy dinner on any other night of the year. That morning Bryon didn’t say anything about it being Valentine’s Day to me. Maddy woke up and he said “Maddy, will you be my Valentine?” My heart melted.

To those who are in love, whether you are in the early stages of your relationship or have been married for decades, please don’t take each other for granted. Listen to each other. Really look at each other. Spent time together, just the two of you. Show interest in each other’s interests and lives. Don’t leave anything unsaid. Take time to make sure you hug and feel the embrace.

Don’t live each day like it’s your last as that is just too exhausting. But remember that things can change instantly, without warning. Bryon’s illness happened suddenly and unexpectedly. I don’t remember a lot of our “lasts” because I didn’t realize that those lasts were going to be our lasts. While I am thankful I had those last five months with him, there were so many things we never got a chance to say. So many things we didn’t get to do.

To those who are single, please don’t be discouraged. I had given up on love when Bryon entered my life. Please make sure you keep your heart open and never lose the faith. Don’t settle but don’t be so stuck on what your ideal partner is that you miss out on something wonderful. Sometimes love surprises us. And if you are single and are happy, that is great and keep doing things that make you happy.

If Bryon were still living, we would not have had anything spectacular planned today but I still feel the emptiness. But I am thankful I got my eight years with him. I am thankful that he loved me. He touched a lot of people lives and he chose me to be by his side. I am a better person now because of him. Because of him, I will live my life differently and love those around more.

I will continue on my journey on trying to love myself and being the best mother I can be to my daughter. I will cherish the non-romantic love in my life from my family and friends. I will cherish all the meals I share with friends. All of the conversations. These people were there for me in the darkest hours and still continue to stay by my side. I will be ready to be there for them during their darkest hours, though I hope their darkest hours are bright compared to mine. I will continue to try to keep my heart open to new friendships and work at not keeping myself closed off from others.

I do not know what future Valentine’s Days will bring. I hope someday that I will get a chance to love and be loved again. Maybe, when I am ready for it, I will have another special man in my life who won’t be scared off by all my baggage. But until that day arrives, should it arrive, I will be spending this Valentine’s Day at a rocking party with the other love of my life and the twelve other two-year-olds in her daycare class. And there is nowhere else I would rather be.

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