Category: The Second Year

Emotional hangovers, the passage of time, and destiny

Published on by kerrymckim5 Comments

In the past week or two, I have gone from being incredibly sad to being depressed to being angry.

It has been a roller coaster.

(And of course, I can’t mention roller coasters without thinking about Step by Step.)

The roller coaster started on the day I realized Bryon had been dead for 18 months and it ended (I hope) yesterday when I realized it was the second year anniversary of Bryon’s original surgery.

I am emotionally hungover.

It was something I had to go through. I had to get those emotions out. I think I am coming out of it and I feel very different about myself and my life.

I have had to take a step back. I didn’t deactivate my Facebook but I am currently what I call “Facebook-lite” right now. It felt like the more I engaged Facebook and all the happiness of others, the more isolated I felt. I had to turn inward.

I am lucky for my friends who knew the exact amount of space to give me. They have been giving me enough space to work through my mood but they know I don’t really want to be alone. My friends also did not take my mood personally. And for that, I am grateful.

Lately I have been thinking about the passage of time.

Widows are very keen on noticing the passage of time. It’s like a widow super power.

We notice it beyond the Facebook memories.

Facebook reminded me that Bryon and my love story began ten years ago last weekend.

I realized that in a period of ten years, Bryon and I spent a total of 8 living years together, almost 4 of those years we were married. And the last 2 of those 10 years were spent in trauma and then grief.

Since Bryon fully entered my life, 20% of that time has been engulfed in sadness.

That blew my mind.

It also blows my mind to think that when my daughter turned three, she has essentially spent an equal amount of time without her father than she had with her father since he went into the ICU when she was 18 months old.

This July she will officially pass the period of being alive longer without him than she had with him. Two months before her fourth birthday.

It also blew my mind the other day when I walked into my daughters daycare. I saw my best friends younger son and he walked over to me. I picked him up. Then I thought about how he was born after Bryon died. He never knew him. And he’s getting bigger every time I see him.

When Bryon first died, it felt like we were still married. His clothes were still hanging in the closet. I still had Bryon’s shows recording on the DVR. I still wore my wedding rings.

Eventually the clothes came down as I needed a place to put the clothes I bought during the retail therapy sessions.

I started deleted his shows on the DVR to make room for recorded Disney princess movies and episodes of Doc McStuffins.

And eventually I stopped wearing my wedding rings because I needed to stop being reminded of what I lost.

Now our marriage feels like it is in the past.

Sometimes I forget what it was like to answer to someone else.

It feels like another lifetime that I had someone to email in the middle of the day to figure out what they wanted to do for dinner. I used to love to cook but now dinner usually consists of some heated up chicken nuggets or if I am feeling fancy, I actually cook spaghetti.

When I see my daughters classmates and all their new baby brothers and sisters, I think about the fact that if Bryon had never gotten sick, we’d probably have a new baby brother and sister for my daughter.

Maybe in some parallel universe that is still happening. Maybe in some parallel universe we are a family of four. Maybe in some parallel universe we buy a bigger house with a real fireplace. Maybe in some parallel universe Bryon’s career is really taking off. Maybe in some parallel universe we have gone on more Caribbean Cruises.

But in this universe, I tell my daughter that a baby sister isn’t happening. Obviously for reasons she doesn’t understand.

The bigger house also isn’t happening either. Nor the Caribbean Cruises. And I no longer have the husband with a successful legal career.

As time marches forward, I have to let go of the life Bryon and I had. At times I do okay but at other times it is a slow and excruciating process that can only be done one day at a time. It can only be done on a timeline that only I can decipher.

I am in a weird place where I am starting to feel distanced from my married life and dead husband yet I cherish the memories and am trying to remember everything I can so I can pass them onto our daughter.

I am emerging to widowhood trying to find my place. I look at my surroundings and see the shell of my old life.

When I see all the perfect little intact families at my daughters daycare, I see my old life.

Now I am a single mom who feels compelled to tell the other parents that I am widow because I don’t want to be judged for being a single mother. I find myself wanting to say “My daughters father isn’t a deadbeat. He’s just dead. That’s why he isn’t at this party. Though he probably is here and we just can’t see him or hear his wise-ass comments.”

But now I am searching.

I don’t know where I belong. I don’t know what is next.

This is new territory for me. Because the old, non-traumatized, pre-widowed Kerry did not know how to live in the present. She only knew how to dwell on the past and worry about the future.

There is no point in dwelling on the past because it is past and there is nothing we can do to change it.

And there is no point in worrying about the future because there is so much of it we can’t control. We can’t control the economy or national politics. We can’t control the housing market. We can’t control other people or their actions. So we might as well not worry about it.

We only need to worry about the present. Now.

That is hard to do when you are working through grief. How are you supposed to focus on the present when you are dealing with sadness, anger and guilt?

That is what I have been struggling with. Since Bryon died, I knew I wanted to live again. I want to love again.

But wanting to live again and actually living again are two different things.

And I don’t even want to think about actually loving again. Not because I don’t want that. I do.

But I haven’t been on a first date in ten years. Yeah…

(And to my next future husband who googled my name and finds this- I am really not crazy. Well maybe a little but really, I am just grieving. Actually I am kinda smart and kinda funny. People tell me that I am a good cook and I will stay by your side should you wind up in the hospital. Sickness and in health…I nailed it.)

This brings me to destiny.

I believe we all have a destiny.

Bryon lived a short life where he made a different and touched so many lives. His time on earth ending with a wake (viewing? I grew up saying wake and I am going with that.) where the traffic was backed up so bad that the police had to come and direct traffic.

My daughter has a destiny that is unfolding. She wants to be a doctor. I told her that’s awesome as long as she makes sure patients get better care than her father did.

As you saw yesterday, she is also an author.

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Whether she becomes a doctor, an author or changes her mind completely, I just hope she becomes a productive member of society and that she does her best at whatever she does.

And while I spend a lot of energy fussing about my daughter, trying to be a good mother and fill the void left by Bryon, I know I will never completely fill that void. But I have to believe that the circumstances of her childhood are going to impact her in a profound way that she becomes a resilient and compassionate adult. And she will do great things with that.

And all this late night rambling has me wondering what my destiny is. If Bryon wasn’t meant to be here very long and yet he was still in my life, maybe there is a reason for all this craziness? Maybe it was supposed to happen this way and after I am done wading through this mess of grief, I am supposed to take my newfound resiliency and compassion and do something with it?

That is the real question that I am trying to figure out.

Anger

Published on by kerrymckim1 Comment

It only took 18 and a half months but I am finally ANGRY.

I have felt bits of anger here and there but this is the first time that I have truly felt ANGRY.

I wrote about my sad grief mix a few weeks ago but now I realize I need an ANGER mix.

Please comment with any suggestions.

I have never listened to ANGRY girl music but I have a feeling I am about to start.  I only know Alanis.

And I have always wondered- What did Dave Coulier do?

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For the record, I want to start that I don’t care what the so-called grief experts (who probably have fancy degrees and learned everything in a textbook and probably haven’t actually experienced grief) say- grief doesn’t come all packaged up in neat little stages.

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Yes, at first I was in shock and denial.

But then I jumped over to dialogue and bargaining because I started this blog 5 months after Bryon died.

And now I am somewhere between “anger” and “depression and detachment”.

Except I am not helpless.  F*ck that.

The following chart gives a more accurate representation of expectation(left) versus reality (right).

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I am ANGRY that my husband and the life I was supposed to be living were stolen from me.

I am ANGRY that my dreams died with my husband.

I am ANGRY that I will probably not have another child.

I am ANGRY that I lost those 5 months with my daughter when my husband was in the ICU.  I am grateful for my parents for taking care of her and I know I needed to be with Bryon, advocating for him and overseeing his care but I won’t get those five months back.

I am ANGRY that I had to sit in an ICU room watching my husband cling to his life.

I am ANGRY that I had to watch him suffer.

I am ANGRY that he was hooked up on machines and we couldn’t talk.  We didn’t get any closure.

I am ANGRY because in my daughters daycare class there is a chart that lists the kids and their parents name and my daughter is the only one that only has one parent listed.

I am ANGRY because at age 3, she already has a better understanding of death than many adults.

I am ANGRY whenever I hear other parents complain that their spouses are gone for a couple of days.  Yes, it’s hard.  I remember when Bryon had to go away for work.  But it’s a whole lot harder when they are gone forever.

I am ANGRY that the doctors didn’t save Bryon nor did they seem to care.  Maybe it would have been different if it had been their loved one.

I am ANGRY at the healthcare system for being so shitty.  It’s all about money, not people.

I am ANGRY at God.  I was taught that he was a loving God and that was all a lie.

I am ANGRY at all the people who tell me that “God doesn’t hate you”.   Um…okay…

I get ANGRY when I see everyone living their perfect lives on Facebook.  By perfect, I mean living lives where they don’t have a dead spouse.  Because to me, that is perfect.  I get no marriage is perfect.  Bryon and I did not have a perfect marriage.  But even on our worst day, it is still better than the hell I am living.

I am ANGRY that I am turning 40 this year and that I am in this position.  So much for playing it safe and making good life choices.

I am ANGRY that I am alone and broken.

I am ANGRY that I am viewed as damaged.

I am ANGRY that I don’t fit into my own life anymore.  I am a square peg in a world full of round holes.

I am ANGRY that despite having lots of loving friends, I am still lonely.

I am ANGRY because I have lost my innocence.  If I ever fall in love again (which I probably won’t because I am broken and damaged) I will always have that fear that they could die young too.  This could all happen again.

I want my old life back.

Why me?

What did I do to deserve this?

Existing

Published on by kerrymckim2 Comments

It’s been a pretty average Monday.

I wake up.  I take my daughter to school.  I go to the gym. I stop at Dunkin’s and get a medium iced with caramel swirl, cream and a turbo shot.  I go home.  I shower.  I work. I pick my daughter up from school.  We have dinner.  We watch Doc McStuffins. She goes to bed.  I will work some more.

I guess this is the new normal that everyone kept talking about.

F*ck my new normal.

I want my old normal back.

I want my old life back.

Yes, I am strong.  But please understand that I am only strong because there is no alternative.  I have to do it for my daughter.

I am just a shell of the person I used to be.

At times, my life feels pointless.

Like I am just existing.

I hold back on my emotions sometimes.

Because it’s easier to hold it in then to explain.

People don’t understand that I can just have a bad day.  So it’s easier to just hold it all in.

I also hold it back because people don’t understand that sometimes I just need to vent.  I don’t want unsolicited advice, especially from someone who has no clue what I am going through.

And be glad you have no clue.

At the end of the day, the life I was supposed to be living was stolen from me.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this.

I followed all the rules.  I tried so hard to be a good Catholic girl and then a good Catholic wife and mother.  I was raised to believe that God was good and it was all a lie.

While I was not always the easiest person to live with, I was a faithful and loyal wife.

I rarely complained when Bryon’s work got in the way.  I knew the importance of his livelihood.

I married a bit late at the age of 34.  But that was okay.  Bryon was worth waiting for and we had our whole lives together.

And that was ripped away less than four years later.

Life is cruel.

Widowhood is lonely.  Everyone around me is coupled off and happy.  They have their spouses to talk to and lean on.  They have their futures.

Bryon should be here with me.  We should be happy.  I should have him to talk to and lean on.  We should have our future.

My future is a black hole.

I am lonely and want my life back.

I exist and on some days, that takes up every bit of energy I have.

I am so angry.

The healthcare system failed Bryon.  God failed Bryon.

Bryon’s death was completely unnecessary.

I tried my hardest to save Bryon.

But the healthcare system and God won out.

But I am the one who get to replay everything that happened in my head, over and over again.

Because watching my husband cling to his life for 5 months and then die once wasn’t enough.

And tomorrow I get to do it all over again.

Why Bryon was good for me

Published on by kerrymckim2 Comments

Last Friday I went to go see Les Miserables at Proctors Theater in Schenectady with some friends.  Les Miserables was the first Broadway show I had ever seen.

It was 1996 and I was a senior in high school.  My cross country team traveled from Ellsworth, ME to NYC to run in the Foot Locker Regional race.  Our coach, Mr Beardsley, was also the sophomore English teacher and taught a unit on theater. We learned about Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera and Miss Saigon.

Because of Mr. Beardsley, there is probably a whole generation of Ellsworth graduates who love the theater, or at the very least, appreciate it.

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Les Miserables, 2018

So I saw Les Miserables at the Imperial Theater on Broadway with my cross country team.  I was very moved by the play.  I laughed.  I cried.  I got laughed at because I cried.  The experience left an impression on me.

Three years later in 1999, I was studying in England and I saw Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty’s Theater in London.

I started dating Bryon in 2008 and I learned that he came from a family that was involved in community theater.  I shared with Bryon how much I loved Les Miserables and Bryon told me hated it.  In fact his whole family hated it.  I got mocked for it through the years.  I think it was too pedestrian for them or something.  Whatever.

Eventually Bryon did give me his reason which was simply that it was too f*ucking depressing.  Fair enough.

We only saw two Broadway plays in our years together.  One was Pippen (Music Box Theater) and the other was Cats (technically West End, which is the London version and it was on a cruise ship.)

We meant to see more but it was one of those things that we figured we’d always have more time.

Bryon loved Cats.  It was the first and last musical he ever saw.

Personally, I thought it was only okay.

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Cats, Oasis of the Seas, 2015

Before the show started last Friday, my friends and I had grabbed some dinner, dessert and drinks and we were chatting.  I recalled how much I loved Les Miserables and how much Bryon hated it.

And then I told my friends about my list.

Before I started dating Bryon, I had written a list of ten attributes I wanted in a future mate.  I guess it was to keep me focused.  I kept getting into “pseudo relationships” with men who didn’t appreciate me so at this point, I was focused on myself and what I wanted.

The top three things on the list were Republican, Catholic and had to be a Red Sox fan.  I was told by many that that combination was not going to happen.  It surprised them that I found it in a New Yorker.

Number 4 was that I wanted my mate to be Irish. Bryon was only 1/8 Irish so that was stretching it.

And I can’t really remember what the other items on this important list were.  I mean, probably something about being drug-free, employed and with no criminal record.

But I do remember one thing.  I wanted a man who had varied interests.  Someone who could go to wine tasting and to the symphony one night and eat hot dogs and drink beers at Fenway the next.

We never did make it to the symphony but Bryon was completely comfortable in a tux.  And a kilt too.  He loved formal nights on the cruise and didn’t understand why others would not dress up.

We did catch a few evening concerts at Tanglewood.  We picnicked on the lawn with our infant daughter.

We went wine tasting and we were those people who would taste our wine and say things like “It’s light and crisp and I can taste the touch of citrus.  Very refreshing.”

We did attend many baseball games.  Most were local games.  We tried to catch the Tri-City Valley Cats when the Lowell Spinners were in town.  We usually went on the 4th of July because never had plans on the actual holiday and we figured nothing was more American than baseball.

Though our daughter’s first baseball game was at Pawtucket watching the Paw Sox.

Bryon thought the clam chowder was wicked good.  Okay, that might be my wording.  Bryon was not shy at making fun of my New England vernacular.

Our most memorable game was a month after we started dating.  Our relationship still a secret from our friends as we were unsure where it was heading and we didn’t want to create gossip within our political circle. We met up for a secret weekend in Boston.  It was also the weekend of my 30th birthday and Bryon took me a Red Sox game.

It was his first and last Fenway game.

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But I loved that Bryon was content doing a variety of different activities.

He was a Renaissance man.  I told him that once and he proudly agreed.

He liked all sports.  Well, except Nascar.

He was a lawyer but he was also really good at math and economics.

He knew theater and music.

He knew how to cook.

He liked animals.

He liked history and was always up for seeing landmarks.

He loved fine dining but he also appreciated the McRib.

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Generally he wasn’t into Museums but he always wanted to go to the Jello Museum.  That dream was left unfulfilled.

Whenever we went on a cruise, we always went a few days early to explore the departure port.  (We also did that to create a buffer in case the winter weather didn’t cooperate.)

Our first cruise was out of Miami and we took a side trip to Key West.

We visited the Southernmost Point, drank margaritas and watched the sunset on Mallory Square, visited the cats at the Hemingway House, found the Southernmost Red Sox bar and Bryon indulged my need to see the start of Route 1.

 

I have two random anecdotes from that Key West trip.

The first was that there was a chicken crossing the road and Bryon decides he wants to catch it.  But he aborted the mission halfway through and said he wasn’t drunk enough for that to be a good idea.

The second was at night when we left the Red Sox bar.  We were walking back to our motel and we pass a ghost tour that was walking towards us.  Bryon tells everyone on the tour that he is alive and he is not a ghost.  They all laugh.  Then there were some random people walking behind the tour and Bryon goes up to them and says “Oooooh, I’m a ghost.  Ooooooh.”  Those people laugh too.

And I laugh at the irony because while Bryon isn’t a ghost, he’s dead and could be a ghost if he really wanted to be.  He’d find a way to make it happen.

That trip also took us to Miami where we ate Cuban food, tried Cuban coffee, drove by Elian Gonzalez’s uncles house and had dinner at a tapas bar that was in a gas station (and we were surprisingly under dressed for the establishment.)

Bryon had all these interests and this intense zest for life.  Whenever we traveled anywhere, Bryon tried to fit in as much as he could.  We ate local food, drank local beer, saw as many landmarks as possible and he would try to squeeze in a local sporting event.

How else would I explain that I saw the Ottawa soccer club (Capital City) play Toronto?  I think Bryon might have bought the team scarf.   If he did, I will find it someday.

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Ottawa, 2011

Bryon was so good for me because I have always been a restless soul but I never knew how to go out, explore and enjoy my life.

I did not have the confidence to follow my dreams.

Bryon taught me how to really live.

And in some ways, he is still teaching me how to live.  Even though he is dead.

I enjoyed all our adventures but I never realized how much they taught me until Bryon was gone.  When he was alive, I never had to make choices or plan anything.  He did all the vacation planning.  He asked for my input, combined it with his wants and came up with an itinerary.  He would even plot it all on a google map.  Planning always made him happy and I was content to just show up and enjoy the vacation.

But now he is gone.  I can’t rely on him pave the way to living anymore.

If I want to continue to live, it’s up to me.

When I booked my airline tickets for my trip to Vegas last year, it was the first time I booked airline tickets since 2009.  Because Bryon always did it.

And even though my Chicago best friend was in my Vegas with me, it felt weird to be having adventures without Bryon.

A month after that trip, I drove out to Michigan to visit my Maine best friend and I drove across New York State and Southern Ontario.  I couldn’t help but think about Bryon when I drove by the Labatt Brewery.  And the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame.  I know Bryon would have been lobbying to stop- “But Kerry, we have to stop. It’s the CANADIAN Baseball Hall of Fame.”

Even though I explore the world with my daughter and friends, I do feel an emptiness because I am not sharing it with Bryon.  And a sadness when it hits me that I wouldn’t be recounting the adventure to Bryon because he’s not waiting for me at home.

It’s a fear of mine that I will lose my desire to truly live before I can pass on the desire to learn and see the world to my daughter.

But I must carry on.

Because I am still living.

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The dream

Published on by kerrymckim2 Comments

Yesterday I put my daughter down for a nap and then I faced a major dilemma-

Do I do something productive or do I take a nap?

The nap won out.

I begin to dream.

Somehow I am at Bryon’s work and people tell me that he is there.

I go into a conference room and Bryon is sitting at a table with his laptop out. He is wearing jeans and a dark shirt, like a long-sleeved golf shirt.

And he was skinny. (This is significant because Bryon died from complications of weight loss surgery.)

I was so excited to see Bryon. “You got better! I thought you were dead this whole time.”

I barely converse with Bryon in my dreams. Usually we just look at each other and smile.

I am so excited to be together with Bryon again. I was talking his ear off. He didn’t say much. He mostly listened to me.

I do express two concerns to him-

First that he needs some new clothes because the clothes he is wearing are baggy. Bryon just looked amused and said he wouldn’t know where to shop.

The second was that he was at work and it might be problematic because I already claimed his death benefit. Bryon told me not to worry about that.

Bryon doesn’t seem concerned about either of these.

I have heard that when you dream about a dead loved one, they are actually visiting you. Therefore it would make sense that Bryon wasn’t concerned with either of these issues.

Because he knew he was dead.

It was my subconscious that did not. And he was humoring my subconscious.

And then the alarm I had set on my phone went off.

I woke up thinking Bryon was alive again and that my life can go on as it was supposed to.

It only took a few seconds to realize that Bryon was still dead.

Late night ramblings of a widow #4

Published on by kerrymckim2 Comments

Yes, another late night rambling. People seems to like these posts. Probably because I wrote them when I am some sort of state of feeling emotionally f*cked up.

People seem to like it.

Or they are curious.

A small portion are my friends who will likely text me tomorrow to see how I am doing. I love my friends.

When I decided to share my story. I am sharing all of it.

Even if those moments are awkward and involve a little bit of wine.

Widowhood is not glamorous. (Thank you Fergie for helping me get the spelling right.)

So it’s Saturday night and I am sitting at home, drinking wine, eating cookie dough and watching Discovery ID.

But the Chateauneuf-du-pape didn’t taste right, Homicide Hunter is not on tonight (love me some Joe Kenda) and the cookie dough didn’t taste good. Definitely not worth the salmonella risk.

F*ck it.

I actually say that a lot these days.

F*ck it.

I was always a rule follower. A good Catholic girl and then all this happens.

Seriously? This is how God thanks the faithful?

So just f*ck it.

And then I go in Bumble and Tinder.

I don’t know why.

I don’t really have any desire to date.

I was happy being Bryon’s wife. I was good at it.

But I am just as good at being single.

It’s the sh*t in between that I am not good at.

And I have no desire for hookups. Partially because there is still the moral remnants of the good Catholic girl I used to be.

But more importantly, I am not going to parade strange men around my daughter during her formative years.

It’s bad enough her father’s dead. I am not going to confuse her any further.

But when I am doing all that swiping right and swiping left, it feels empty compared that what I used to have.

Should I fall in love again, I want it to be a little more romantic than swiping right and left.

Also, Tinder and Bumble do this thing where they show mutual Facebook friends.

I got freaked out by how many people were in Bryon’s circles. I could tell by the mutual friends if people would know Bryon from politics, college or the Masons.

I wrote about people always viewing me as Bryon’s widow.

It also turns out I have just as much of a hangup.

Bryon and I lived a respectable and traditional life with certain values and rules.

But I no longer ascribe to a lot of those rules and I think that would freak people out.

I have come into my own since I became a widow. I have never been so secure in who I am than I am right now.

I don’t even like who I was before.

But somedays, I would give it all up if it meant I could have Bryon and my old life back.

And this hangup doesn’t stop at people who know Bryon. Bryon and I were together 8 years. We have so many memories in this town.

There are so many places I avoid because the memories are too painful.

How long can I do that?

I’m just going to delete that Tinder and Bumble sh*t in the morning.

Because…f*ck Bumble and Tinder.

I don’t even give people a chance to be freaked out that I am Bryon’s widow because I have already decided that everyone is freaked out.

But can anyone blame me?

A widow spends so much time making others feel better about her loss.

It’s kind of f*cked up.

She’s the one who lost her spouse, her identity, her life. It’s her reality that she lives every single day and it becomes her job to make sure people aren’t uncomfortable for the short span of time that her reality makes them uncomfortable.

I dread dating because I hear from other widows that our widow status freaks men out.

F*ck that.

I have been to Hell and back I am not hiding my battle scars. One doesn’t survive what I have without being a badass.

If I ever love again, that man has to love me: battle scars and all.

Top 10 songs from my grief mix

Published on by kerrymckim3 Comments

 

Yesterday was the 18 month mark since Bryon passed.

Honestly, the day kind of snuck up on me.

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On an unrelated note: I have been juggling Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat.  I am sure it will all implode soon.

I read my post from the six month mark.

I know I have come a long way in my healing journey.

I was still sad.

But the sadness didn’t debilitate me like it did a year ago.

I was still able to function and go about my daily business.

I went to the gym.

I abstracted cancer cases.

I took my daughter to a bounce house place because dance class was canceled.  She burned some energy.

But I still felt sad.

I was being hit with a grief wave.

But I am far enough into my grief journey to know the best way for me to cope.

My view on grief waves can be shown on this very hi-tech, wicked awesome graph I made.  Sadly, I spent more time on it than I care to admit.

 

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Everything is moving forward, as shown in the green.

The black line represents time which moves forward at an even, steady pace.

The blue shows the grief waves which are more turbulent in the beginning but decrease in intensity as time moves forward.  (Though beware, you can get a rogue grief wave at any time.  I just did not demonstrate that because, frankly, there wasn’t enough room.)

The red line represents healing.  It is all over the place.

For me, I have learned that it is better to just go with the grief wave than fight it.

Ride it out.

Don’t try to resist it.

Do what you need to do and it will pass.

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So I went with it.

I still cried.

I still thought about what should have been.

I thought about the things I missed about him.

And while I wasn’t sad enough to watch Sleepless in Seattle or eat ice cream, I may have belted out to the songs of my grief mix.

Lots of widows have their own grief mix.  And if they don’t- they should.

So I am going share my top ten favorites from my grief mix.  Not all songs are about death.  Some are about breakups but my only major requirement for a song to be in my grief mix is that it is sad and there are at least a few lines or verses that resonate with me.

I wasn’t going to put them in any particular order but I could hear Bryon tell me that I can’t have a half-assed song countdown and that I need to count down like Casey Kasem.

Without much further ado, here are my top ten songs from my grief mix.

10.  Didn’t We Almost Have It All by Whitney Houston

9.  All Out of Love by Air Supply

8.  Could’ve Been by Tiffany

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LzGss9QGAk

7.  Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks

6. Don’t Cry Out Loud by Melissa Manchester

5.  All By Myself by Eric Carmen

4. Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton

3.  Yester-me, Yester-you, Yesterday by Stevie Wonder

2. It’s So Hard To Say Good-Bye to Yesterday by Boyz II Men

1.  Take My Breath Away by Berlin

What songs do you listen to when you are feeling sad?

One of the things I miss the most…

Published on by kerrymckimLeave a comment

There are so many things I miss about Bryon.

I miss his hugs.

I miss his humor.

I miss his smile.

I miss watching him play with our daughter.

I miss that I didn’t have to worry about the car, the bills or anything really.

But one of the the things I miss the most was his intellect.

I am sure anyone who has a Facebook knows that our country is very divided on an issue.

And anyone who knows Bryon knows that he was extremely intelligent.

He was probably the smartest person they knew.

And possibly the smartest person they will ever know.

Bryon was so smart that he stayed off of Facebook whenever the U.S. Supreme Court made a major decision.

He would always rant to me, “I went to law school.  I know more than most.  And I am NOT a Constitutional Scholar.  But you go on Facebook and everything thinks that they are a f*cking constitutional scholar.  Where did they get there law degree from?  Legal Zoom?”

brace yourselves everyone on facebook is about to become a constitutional scholar - Lord of the Rings

The same was true for major trials.  There was a very public trial (I am not saying which one) which was televised and Bryon watched a lot of it.  I mean, we all watched a lot of it but Bryon was watching it with objective intellectual curiosity.  The verdict was rendered and people shared their opinions on Facebook.

Many of his outspoken friends felt that the verdict was wrong.  There was this one “friend” and I am going to use that term loosely because no one really likes her and I don’t feel bad about it because she is arrogant.  Come on, we all have that “friend”.  You know, they always have an opinion about everything and they think that they are the smartest person in the room.  Well this “friend” was writing on Facebook about how the verdict was wrong.

It was one of the few times I ever seen Bryon get defensive about his profession.  I remember him saying “If she actually watched the trial, she would have known that the prosecution did a sh*tty job.  I am so tired of people thinking that they know more about the law than lawyers.  I don’t go into *her place of work* and tell *the worker in her position* how to do their job so maybe she shouldn’t tell people in my profession how to do their job.”

It was very similar about debates on Facebook.

Bryon would get annoyed anytime there were major debates on Facebook.

He would normally say things like  “Correlation does not mean causation” and he would remind me that statistics are very easily manipulated.

He would say that it was very unlikely that anyone was going to change their minds by reading Facebook debates.  He usually refrained from debating on Facebook.  He regularly would have to talk me out of  Facebook debates.

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But as much as Facebook debates would annoy Bryon, he would always have real conversations with me.

I always wanted to know his opinion.  Because his opinion was always solid and I could always trust it.

Bryon would look at an issue as a lawyer, a economist, as a Republican, as a Catholic, as a father, as a New Yorker, as a Millennial, as a Bills fan, etc.

I knew his opinion was not based on emotion.  He was able to see issues from all sides, even those he did not agree with.   He would often say “He/She/They are not wrong, but…”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to argue the side he doesn’t agree with.  I admit, that would drive me nuts at times.  I know there were many times I got frustrated and would say “Stop! I know you don’t believe that.”

He was one of the smartest people I have ever known, if not the smartest.  But Bryon was unique because while he was aware of his intelligence, he would take the time to explain things without making people feel stupid.  He was secure enough with his intelligence and did not feel the need to tear people down to prove it.

One of the biggest gifts Bryon ever gave me was that he taught me to be a more critical thinker and that most issues are not black and white.

I used to make self-deprecating comments to him about how dumb I was and he would tell me that wasn’t true because he couldn’t be married to me if I wasn’t smart.  He was very matter of fact about it.

I mean, sometimes he would start to lose his patience and he would smile and say “You’re the dumbest smart person I know.”  I know I am not the only recipient of that comment and I am sure there are many people who are going to smile at the memory of him saying that to them.

I have many intelligent friends to have discussions with about today’s issues, but I am really missing my conversations with Bryon.

Those conversations would be full of knowledge, insights and humor and there was a sort shared interest in those conversations.

Bryon would start out the discussion by objectively discussing an issue from several angles.  I would say my opinions and ask him questions.  Then we would discuss what it meant to us and our values.  We didn’t agree 100% of the time, but overall, we shared the same values.

And if I didn’t know how I felt on an issue, I would talk to Bryon.  I could count on him help me figure it out.

And right now, that is one of the things I miss the most about him.

 

Shadow of a dead man

Published on by kerrymckim1 Comment

Sometimes I feel invisible.

Despite pouring my heart out over 165 posts and approx 165,000 words, I feel like no one sees the real me.

They just see Bryon’s widow.

It might be hard to imagine, but I am a complete person. Bryon saw me a complete, real person.

I told a really good friend of mine (and Bryon’s when he was alive) that I had a nagging feeling that some people only read my blog because they wanted about happened with Bryon.

As if because I have chosen to share the parts of the story that I feel comfortable about sharing that that someone entitles everyone to the complete story.

I have not told the complete story. I will tell it when I am ready to tell it.
Yes, I am aware that I have chosen to share my story on a very public forum. I did that so other widows, grievers and anyone else struggling with the cruelties of life can be helped by reading about my healing process.

I put my story out there so people can feel a little less alone.

If one widow feels a little less alone, then it was worth it.

Just because I share my story does not mean that I give up the right to keep private what I wish to keep private.
I share what I feel like sharing, when I feel like sharing it.

No one is entitled to more.

When I shared these feeling with my close friend, she wisely said that she thinks that people forget that I am not just Bryon’s widow, but that I am my own complete person.

I am not just a widow.

I am a complete person.

I understand that life circumstances have made me a widow and since I have to be a widow, I am glad that I get to be Bryon’s widow. He was a great man and I got to be his wife. And I loved being his wife.

Life made me a widow and I am glad I get to be Bryon’s widow.

I have accepted that.

But I am more than just a widow.

I am a complete person.

Bryon died and I had no say in that. Even though I tried to prevent it. I will always think about those 5 months. I will always think about the “what ifs” and I will always be haunted by the dreams of what could have been.

That is a lot of live with.

I have been punished enough.

You are going to have to trust me on that.

Now I am in my 30s and I am expected to resign myself to wear a black veil and mourn for the rest of my life.

It doesn’t matter that I am a complete person and I still have decades more living to do.

I am tired of being viewed as just Bryon’s widow.

It’s bad enough actually being a widow.

I find myself in a place where I can’t move forward because everyone views me as just a widow.

Very few people understand.

Acknowledging that I am a complete person and I deserve to move forward from my husband’s death makes people uncomfortable.

My reality makes people uncomfortable.

The reality that I live with every single day makes people uncomfortable.

So I need to keep being “just a widow” to keep people happy.

Too bad it doesn’t work that way.

When Bryon was alive, he was very popular and well-liked. He was an amazing man. He was the center of my world.

And I lived in his shadow. But that was okay because I knew I was the center of his world. And that was all that matters.

But now he is dead.

And I live in the shadow of a dead man.

My big mouth

Published on by kerrymckimLeave a comment

I have been told that I have a big mouth. And that this mouth is going to get me in trouble.

I have been told that I inherited it from my grandmother’s. She was a civic activist in her town and her mouth got her into trouble. Though I think her mouth did the city a lot of good. The people who didn’t like probably were up to no good and didn’t like being called out.

Note: This is not the grandmother that just passed away. This was my other Grandmother.

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I almost got into an internet pissing match today.

Because I opened my mouth.

So today was Valentine’s Day. I did okay. Thanks partly to a shit-ton of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

But I am also active in the online young widow community.

Yes, there is enough young widows and widowers that we have online communities.

A member of one of these communities was upset about a MEME.

The MEME would appear benign to any NORM.

(A NORM is the term used in the widow world to denote a person who is otherwise normal and has not suffered the trauma of watching their person die. Most people in their 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s are NORMS. I believe the first time I heard that term was in my friend Michelle’s blog.)

So this MEME showed an old couple and said something to the effect that real love was that of Grandma and Grandpa.

This one might have been it-

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Now, stuff like that makes me roll my eyes and say “Must be nice”. Yes, I get that this sweet. And I have nothing against elderly couples. However, some of the widows in the widow community were very upset by this. It’s understandable. We were all married and we all thought we were going to grow old with that person and then they die.

So of course I have to comment saying that posts like that make young widows feel worse than they already do.

Then I forget that I made the comment.

The page (I have the screenshot but for some strange reason, I feel the need to protect the guilty) responds later and while they apologized for my loss (thank you very much) they suggested that I not be on Facebook today.

Riiiiiight.

I should be banished from social media and communication from my family, friends and the outside world because it is too much of a burden on people to take a moment and think about someone other than themselves who may be hurting.

Oh and they accused me of only thinking of myself.

We know that what they say when you point fingers…(that when you point a finger, you have three pointing back at you).

Like, the whole widowed community should be banned from Facebook because the pain of the reality that they live every single day makes people inconvenienced or uncomfortable.

I’m sorry.

Actually no, I am not sorry.

#sorrynotsorry

I was going to let my anger dictate what I wrote next but then I decided that I shouldn’t be mad at the person running the page or the sheeple who liked her comment.

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First off, I remember all those times I got mad about people and Bryon would tell me that a fight wasn’t worth it.

Either that or he would say that you can’t argue with stupid.

I decided both Bryon-isms applied to this scenario.

I reminded myself that most people don’t understand the magnitude of this kind of loss. Personally I am surrounded by an army of allies who witnessed what I went through and are sensitive to what a widow goes through. To say my allies don’t understand my loss would be disingenuous.

While some of my friends and acquaintances may have said somethings that were well-intentioned but thoughtless (which I thought this MEME was) no one, and I mean no one, has completely dismissed my feelings. Well one person did but the person made the comment behind my back to one of my best friends and I ended that friendship.

I can’t expect a person to be sympathetic to young widows and widowers if they have no experienced that loss or if they have not witnessed a close friend or family member experience that loss.

They are ignorant.

They do not know.

So instead of engaging in a rude conversation, I said that I hope they never experience this kind of loss but if they do, I sincerely hope people are kinder to them.

Apparently that was the wrong answer. This person then writes back asking how it was rude and then tries to make comparisons that that don’t compare to the scenario.

I was tempted to write back and illustrate the holes in the logic. This person was clearly feeling defensive.

Then I decided that it’s truly wasn’t worth my time and that I couldn’t argue with stupidity and ignorance.

It’s amazing how prideful people can be. A simple “I am sorry. I didn’t realize how this could be offensive to __________” would have worked and it would have saved that person from a lot of typing.

But some people really can’t admit that they may have been wrong.

And I do not feel bad for one second that I stood up for the widowed cause.

At the end of the experience, I had three takeaways.

  1. I am a very different person because in the past, I would have been sucked into an argument with these random internet people. The fact that I did not get sucked in proves that a change has happened with my personality. And I like this change.
  2. Those of us who advocate for “grief awareness” have ALOT of work to do.
  3. The behavior by the guilty party is not limited to ignorance about widowhood. This works in many different areas. You don’t know what a person is going through unless you have walked in their shoes. We all could benefit from being a little understanding and empathetic.

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