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.
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.
Fun at Newark
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.
Welcome to Las Vegas!
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.
Crepes! Oh lala!
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.
Who orders Maine Lobster pasta at a Steakhouse?
Oh and it was raining. In the desert. I am still kind of confused about that.
Nightlife. Like 9pm.
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.
She couldn’t contain her excitement.All the colors!
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.
An event that would change the course of my life.
We took the girls through the shark reef aquarium. I was very impressed.
Mandalay Bay 2017Mandalay Bay 2017
Mandalay Bay 2017Mandalay Bay 2017
Mandalay Bay 2017Mandalay Bay 2017Mandalay Bay 2017Mandalay Bay 2017Mandalay Bay 2017
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.
Gordon Ramsay’s BurgrMy 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.
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.
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.
During Bryon’s final hours, one of our closest friends and I sat in his room and we would take turns going over to him to talk to him. He wasn’t conscious at this point but no one really knows how much he heard or if he could even hear us at this point. But we continued to talk to him. I am not going to tell you about everything we talked about but I am going to tell you about one promise I made to him.
I was probably rambling at this point. But I started talking about our travel maps. I struggled on a good first anniversary paper gift but decided that we should buy a large map of the U.S. and a huge map of the world and put them on large bulletin boards and pin all the places we travel. True to my nature, I even found a way to make it more complicated by adding color coded pins to denote places that only I had traveled (blue) and places that only he had traveled (green). We used red pins for the places we traveled together and yellow pins to denote places that we both had been but not together.
In a perfect world, I would have made these maps for him and given them to him as a gift. But I knew that there was no way I could hide them. So I presented my idea to Bryon and he liked the it and true to his “take charge” nature, he located the items online, purchased them and put the maps with the adhesive onto the bulletin boards. He did let me help with the assembly. He even indulged my system of color coded pins. Though one day as a prank, he put one of my pins in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia even though I have never been to Africa and didn’t tell me. He waited until I figured it out. He thought it was the funniest thing ever so I left the pin in place.
Anyway, as I was talking (or rambling) to Bryon during his last night on Earth, I started talking about these maps. I remember saying that I couldn’t believe that there wouldn’t be any more adventures together. We loved to travel. We had so many plans and so many places we wanted to visit. We would never go to San Diego and visit all the Top Gun places. We would never go to Branson, Missouri (it was always his dream to go to the Nashville of the Ozarks. A dream I never understood). We would never go to Scotland, or Seattle, or London or Texas. Travelling with Bryon was amazing because he was a planner and he would make the best of wherever he was. We could be in some random place but give him 5-10 minutes on his phone and he would figure out the top tourist attractions, the most random tourist attraction, what famous (or not-so-famous) person lived there, if there was a Waffle House or a Chick-Fil-A nearby and what the best local places to eat and grab a drink and he would come up with a plan to see it all. Literally, all I had to do was show up and enjoy the amazing vacation.
Our adventures were going to be over. We wouldn’t put any more red pins into our map. But I told him that I promised that I would still take our daughter on adventures even though it would be hard to do it without him. Bryon would want her to see the world. We brought her everywhere with us. By the time she was 16 months, she had already been on two Caribbean cruises. Bryon wouldn’t want us to stop travelling. I even bought special pink pins to denote our girl trips.
So today my daughter and I embark on our first adventure without Bryon. It is going to be hard without him. It will be the first time I will fly alone with my daughter. We will be going to a place that Bryon had never been but always wanted to go. We will be spending time with my best friend and her two year old daughter.
So get ready Las Vegas. The McKim girls are coming.
Since I joined the Widows Club last August and even since I started this blog last month, many people have approached me about friends of theirs who have become young widows. (Nothing against the guys but there seems to be a lot more of us younger widows. I hear that the statistics back that up but I am too lazy to research it.) It breaks my heart that so many people have been joining the club that no one wants to be a part of. I am about five and a half months into my widowhood and I wanted to give some unsolicited advice, widow to widow(er).
First of all, I am sad that you are part of this club. You have just lost the love of your life, your best friend, other half, soulmate and partner in crime. I don’t know the circumstances whether it was a long illness or a sudden accident but either way, it isn’t fair. None of this makes sense. You were supposed to grow old together. Grief is rough regardless of who you lose but you will probably find that this is the worst grief you have ever had. Whether your spouse may have died suddenly or been sick but there is nothing to prepare you for this. My husband was sick for five months and came close to dying several times and I still wasn’t prepared for it. I thought I was but I wasn’t. Nothing can prepare you for the void you are going to be feeling.
You may not want to get out of bed. You may not want to shower. You may not be able to sleep. You may need to be told where to sit and when to eat. You may forget things. This is called “Widow Fog” and it is real. My parents and I spent an hour looking for my phone only to find that I had put it in the fridge. I am sure I must have had a good reason for that.
You might hear a lot of about stages of grief. It is total B.S. First off, the emotions of denial, anger, bargaining, desperation and acceptance are only a fraction of the emotions you will feel and those feelings will not come packaged to you in perfect little stages. You will probably have periods where you feel numb as well as periods where you feel every emotion at the same time. You may feel emotions you never knew existed. There is no textbook process of grief. This will be unique to you.
Don’t listen to people who tell you how to grieve. You will grieve in your own way, on your timeline. You can wear your rings for as long as you want and there is no rush to clean your spouse’s clothes out of the closet.
People are going to say things that don’t make sense and may upset you. Just remember that people mean well. They want to help the situation but they don’t know the right words. So if their words upset you, just try to remember that. I know right now you don’t care if “this is part of God’s plan” or that “you will find love again” or that “you should be thankful for what you have” and you know very well that sometimes God does give you more than you can handle. There might be truth to those words (except that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. I vehemently disagree with that one), people don’t understand that that isn’t what you need to hear right now.
Widowhood is lonely. In addition to losing your spouse, your friends that have been checking up on you will thin out as time passes. They might see you and think you are doing okay. They may think you need your space. They might not know what to say or do. They may be afraid to bring up your spouse in conversation because they will be afraid it will make you sad.
For the friends that do stay around, take comfort and spend time with them. Try to engage as much as possible. Try not to isolate yourself. Remember that those friends are grieving your spouse too.
Grief shopping is a real thing. I know I got too familiar with Target and Amazon Prime. Santa may have taken his grief out on Amazon this year but my daughter didn’t seem to mind. It was to numb my emotions and it is important to not let it get out of hand. This goes the same for other destructive behaviors. Do what you need to do to take the edge off but just make sure you are still taking care of yourself and those around you.
You will feel like you are going through the motions. I still feel this way. But many experienced widows have told me that you need to fake it until you make it. Continue living your life and someday you will be happy again. Again, I haven’t gotten there yet but I am trying because I figure it is better than letting life pass by.
Seek out others who have gone through this. There are tons of groups on Facebook. There are also a lot of books written by widows and you can get many of them used for a penny on Amazon (with $3.99 shipping.) I read as many as I could get my hands on because I wanted an idea of what to expect.
It is okay to cry and scream. It is okay to smile and laugh. It’s okay to pamper yourself. It’s okay to spend time doing things you enjoy. It is okay to not be okay. It is okay to let people know you are not okay. I know that one is easier said than done. I am one of those people who feels that I have reassure everyone that I am okay even when I am not.
If it is all too much to handle, it is okay to see a grief counselor or therapist.
You are going to feel lost. You were part of a couple, a unit. Now you need to figure out who you are as an individual. I imagine this is a long process as I am still figuring it out. Don’t be afraid to try new hobbies or pursue new interests.
And lastly, you will never look at the world the same way again. You will learn not to take certain things for granted. While the world will be a sadder place, you will see more beauty in it.
It was late August and Bryon had been sick since March and I clearly had ignored my appearance. I hadn’t worn makeup during that time. My nails were bitten off due to the stress and I don’t want to think about how many gray hairs I had. There were several instances over the course of Bryon’s five month stay in the ICU where he came very close to dying and I was too afraid to leave his side and went days without showering and I would wear the same clothes for days. Before this health crisis, I never would have dreamed of going more than 24 hours without showering or wearing dirty clothes but I learned that showering and clean clothes were actually optional.
Amidst planning Bryon’s funeral/farewell party, I realized that I needed to do something about my appearance. I was talking to my good friend (and daughter’s godmother) and we both agreed that I shouldn’t look like a tired widow and that Bryon would actually be hurt if I didn’t get all prettied up for him and his farewell party.
My hair needed the most help but I was dreading going to the salon I had been going to. Normally I don’t mind small talk but the last thing I wanted was to have to talk to the hairstylists. I hadn’t been to salon in awhile and I know I would be asked about what was going on in my life. I did not want to talk about how my husband died. I shared these concerns with my friend and she told me not to worry. She said she would call her salon and get me an appointment with the instructions to just do my hair. The owner of the salon did my hair and she did talk to me but did not bring up Bryon’s death. We chatted about how we knew mutual friends and we talked about our kids.
I decided to get acrylics put on my nails even though I hate them because Bryon liked my nails long. He didn’t care if my nails are real or fake, he just liked them long. But I honestly can’t tell you which nail salon I went to. I have no recollection of getting my nails done but I know I had them done. Perhaps “widow fog” (it’s a real thing, similar to “pregnancy brain”) was beginning to set in. Keep in mind, I can remember the conversation I had with the nail tech that did my nails for my cousins wedding in Florida in 2004. I can tell you about the conversation I had with the nail tech who did my mani-pedi in New Orleans in 2014. But I can’t tell you which salon I went to the week Bryon died. I just know that I got my nails done and that they didn’t do a good job because they started popping off a day or two later.
I needed something to wear for the wake and the funeral. I had a few tired black dresses in my closet that I have worn to countless weddings and they would have worked but I felt that these events deserved their own specific event dresses. It was weird to buy a dress for Bryon’s funeral without Bryon there. Bryon was a “guy’s guy” but he was a stylish dresser and many times he would find clothes for me try on. I preferred shopping with him over anyone else. He knew my style better than I did and he was honest about how items fit. I always valued his input. But I was going to have to do this one alone.
I began my search at a store that is local to us in Upstate NY called Boscov’s. For some reason I usually have good luck in that store. I don’t know if Bryon was guiding me but I made my way straight to a rack that had black dresses with white polka dots. Bryon always liked me in polka dots though they were my thing long before he came into my life. I decided that I could wear this dress for the wake but I needed something more somber for the funeral. Something that was solid black. I did not see anything else at Boscov’s so I made my purchase and then head over to my other “tried-and-true” shopping options- Macy’s.
At Macy’s I selected a few dresses to try on but as I passed the clearance rack on the way to the fitting room, a black dress caught my eye. It was my size to I grabbed that one as well. I went into the fitting room and tried on my choices but they didn’t work. I tried on the clearance dress and it fit perfectly. This was the dress.
As I looked in the mirror, I had another “punched in the stomach” moment. I realized that this would be last dress I would buy to wear for Bryon. This was it. He was dead. There would be no more dresses. No more celebrations. No more anniversaries. No more weddings. No more fancy dinners. No more formal nights on cruises. This would be the last time I would get pretty for Bryon. I cried in the fitting room.
Before I purchased my dress, I went to the toddler section because my daughter needed dresses. My mother had bought a white dress with black polka dots that she had seen in passing knowing how much I liked polka dots. But we needed at least two dresses, preferably three because I wanted an extra dress in case one got dirty. It was a little hard to find a mourning dress in the little girls section but I found two black and white dresses that would work.
The last thing I needed to look pretty for Bryon’s funeral was makeup. I hadn’t worn makeup in over five months and I couldn’t remember the last time I bought makeup before that. So I went to the Mac counter within Macy’s. I must have had a blank stare on my face because the makeup artist came over and asked me if he could help me with anything. I just blurted out “my husband’s funeral is on Saturday and I don’t want to look like a tired old widow.” He was sympathetic, sat me down and got to work picking out some simple makeup. He said that we should skip the mascara and I agreed. I bought the makeup and I was ready to go. Bring on the wake and the funeral.
Bring a widowed, single mother has been fun but I am ready for my old life back.
Lately my two-year-daughter has been struggling with transitions. Each morning we go about our morning routine but getting her out the door has been a struggle. She wants to stay home and play with her toys and watch Disney Jr. Then when I pick her up from school, she doesn’t want to leave. She wants to stay and play with the toys and stay with her friends. This might just be normal behavior but it’s frustrating for me. I am tired. I no longer have Bryon to tag-team with. It’s just me. I don’t have Bryon to take a turn if I am feeling frustrated. I also wish Bryon were still here so I can have a break when I need it without feeling like I am an inconvenience to people.
Bryon always seemed to make sure everything got done. He made sure the bills were paid. He made sure all the maintenance on our house and cars was up to date. He made sure all paperwork was done because he loved to do paperwork. When I had to fill out my FMLA paperwork when he got sick, I remember saying to friends that I hadn’t had to fill out paperwork in 7 years. I wasn’t joking.
Sometimes I think all I did was change diapers, did laundry (which I never kept up with it) and make sure there was milk in the fridge. Now I am trying to figure all these things out. Luckily he bequeathed me many friends with strengths in many areas and I do have a lot of people looking out for me and my daughter but it can still be overwhelming. Before Bryon got sick, I remember being worried and stressed all the time. Bryon used to tell me that I looked for things to worry about because I liked to worry. I wish I could go back to the older version of myself and tell her that she had it easy and to quit worrying. I guess when you survive a crisis, it puts things into perspective.
Some days I am busy and I am distracted enough that I don’t need to think about being a widowed mother. Unfortunately most days it is still all too clear the emptiness I feel. Before Bryon got sick, he would regularly be in touch with me throughout the day whether it was to figure out what we were going to do for dinner, making plans if there were evening events or sometimes just to tell me a joke. Now my days at work are long without him checking in. We used to spend our evenings talking about our days and now I don’t have him to talk about my day. We used to watch TV and now I watch our shows and I miss talking to him about them.
Sometimes I wonder if this is some sort of punishment for not being a good wife and mother. This is some sort of lesson because I took Bryon for granted. Every night I lie in an empty bed and I remember all those times I got mad at him for hogging my side of the bed. He would tell me that I hogged his side of the bed and I told him that was impossible because I was on the edge of the bed. He claimed that he was on the edge of the bed. I think about all those times where he wanted to cuddle and I would get annoyed because I just wanted to sleep. I think about our nightly arguments because he liked to sleep with the TV on and I wanted silence. Now I lie in an empty bed at night thinking about how much I miss cuddling and I would gladly sleep on the edge of the bed with the TV on just to feel his warm body next to me.
I wish I had my old life back so I can stop pretending I am okay.
I wish I had my old life back because it would mean that I wouldn’t have to feel the sadness and pain I feel every day.
I wish I had my old life back because I am tired of feeling like I am going through the motions.
I wish my old life back because I want to feel alive again.
I just want my old life back. But I am never going to get my old life back.
Bryon and I were both fans of the show How I Met Your Mother. Bryon liked to think he was like Barney because they both were full of snarky comments. I saw him more him in Marshall, the lawyer. Whenever Marshall would win an argument by logic, he would proudly proclaim, “Lawyered!” I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times Bryon “lawyered” me in an argument, however, I can tell that I have lawyered him twice. One time may or may not have been an argument about one of our families so I will refrain from discussing that here. The second time I lawyered him was an argument about cemeteries.
Bryon and I didn’t talk extensively about death. We spoke about our parents plans for what they wanted to do with their remains. I asked Bryon what he wanted. He said to be buried and I was happy because that was what I wanted. Bryon then said he wanted a huge obelisk monument and a bench and a courtyard for all his mourners. He also thought it would be cool to buy a huge section of a cemetery so all of his descendants could be buried there. He was not one to think small. I told him he better start saving money because cemetery plots are not cheap.
A few years later, we got into a discussion about which cemetery we should be buried in when we die. You know, decades later after we have lived long and full lives. Bryon talked about his desire to be buried in Albany Rural Cemetery. Albany Rural Cemetery is full of history and has many famous politicians buried there, the most notable being President Chester A. Arthur. I said we need to be buried in a Catholic Cemetery because we are Catholic. Bryon brought up that his grandparents were buried there and I pointed out that that section of the cemetery seemed to be crowded. Bryon states that there we available plots in the back of that section, near the woods. I ended the discussion by stating “Well, I guess whoever dies first loses this argument!” Bryon just looked at me and I said “You have been lawyered.” Granted I didn’t necessarily win the argument by logic but I logically ended the argument or at least pushed it to a later time. I know Bryon would go into a court hoping to get the hearing delayed so therefore I think I can correctly considering this “lawyering.”
My two friends picked me up again the that morning. We first had a meeting with our Parish Priest in the rectory to discuss the funeral Mass. I was given a book full of readings to choose from and suggestions of songs, though I already knew what I wanted for music.
After the meeting at church, we made our way over to Albany Rural Cemetery. We arrived at the cemetery early so we decided to explore a little bit. I showed my friends where Bryon’s grandparents were buried. We drove by President Chester A. Arthur’s grave. Then we got lost looking for the main office. We continued to drive around the cemetery until we finally found a sign that directed us to the main office.
We arrived at the main office and met the staff member who would helping us select a plot. We decided that it would be easiest if he drove around with us. We drove to the first plot. I stood on the plot and just tried to see what I felt. The day before I experienced the most surreal moment of my life while choosing Bryon’s casket but this moment is definitely a close second. The cemetery worker asked me if I wanted to buy this plot. I was not satisfied. I thought this was supposed to be like House Hunters. I wanted to know what all our options are before making a choice. This would be where Bryon would be located forever. I wanted to make the right choice. I would be purchasing two adjacent plots even though I don’t know what my life is going to bring but I want to make sure I have a place for me next to Bryon should I need it.
I stood at the second plot. Like the first plot, I stood on the actual plot but it did was not restful. I could hear lots of cars on a nearby freeway. This was not our plot.
The third plot was off the beaten path in a beautiful, quiet wooded area. We didn’t even get out of the car. While Bryon would have appreciated that people had to drive out of the way to see him but he was the social and would want to be where the party was. It would have been perfect for me but it was not the place for Bryon.
We finally arrived at the fourth plot. It was in a part of the cemetery with a more “populated” location. I realized that it was the same section that Bryon’s grandparents. Like Bryon has said in our cemetery argument, there was a row in back right before the woods began that was empty. I stood on a couple of different plots to get a feeling and then I made my choice. This was it.
We drove back to the cemetery office to finalize the purchase. I was given a folder with cemetery information and a list of rules for picking out a headstone. I asked a few questions. I handed over my Capital One credit card. With the swipe of a credit card, I bought my second piece of property and it was not the lakeside cabin I always envisioned.
One thing about growing up Boston-Irish is that you are not a stranger to funeral homes. When I smell an abundant amount of flowers, I think of funeral homes. My Uncle Peter (my father’s brother) used to refer to the obituaries as the “Irish Sports Pages.” My father always said that his father, my Grandpa Sullivan, had impressed upon him that when someone dies, you must pay your respects. Unfortunately through the years my family has lost three grandparents, two uncles (including Uncle Peter) and many great-aunts, uncles and friends. And each time someone died, you paid your respects by attending the wake and the funeral.
Given our ages, Bryon and I did not discuss funerals in great detail except for a two day period where we attended the funeral of a close friend’s father on one day and the funeral of his best friend’s grandfather on the next day. Bryon was always a party planner. When we were planning our wedding Bryon was not the stereotypically passive groom. He was not only involved in the whole process, but he pretty much organized the whole day. He asked for my input and what I liked and factored that in. So it didn’t phase me when he started making notes for his funeral. I told him to write it all down but he never did. I had to rely on my memory because who plans on dying when they are 30?
My two friends that were with me the previous day (My daughter’s Godmother and her significant other) picked me up midmorning and the three of us drove to the funeral home. We were all completely exhausted and still didn’t know what had hit us. We just knew that we had to plan the best farewell party for Bryon. A farewell party that would be legendary.
I went into the funeral planning process with four major points: Top Gun had to be playing on loop during the wake, St Francis had to be the featured saint when it came to prayer cards and hymns, his best friend had to say a eulogy and it had to be better than his Best Man speech at our wedding and we had to have an open bar reception after the funeral Mass.
At the funeral home we were greeted by the smell of flowers and the undertaker named Nick. Over the course of the next couple of days, we would start referring to him as Funeral Nick in our conversations because we kept confusing him with our friend Nick. Funeral Nick had a last name but I was too exhausted to remember it. (Funeral Nick, if for some reason you are reading this, I hope you aren’t offended. You did a phenomenal job.) Funeral Nick brought us into a conference room, gave us some bottled water and presented us with a binder that was full of funeral planning options.
Over the next several hours, we discussed many of the funeral details. We had to decide if we wanted a Thursday wake with a Friday funeral or a Friday wake with a Saturday funeral. We had many people travelling from out of town, some as far away as Florida and Chicago so we opted for a Friday wake with a Saturday funeral. We discussed the logistics of transporting his body from New York City back to Albany. We discussed the transportation to the church, cemetery, and the bar that the reception would be held. We chose the flowers. We decided how many pallbearers to have. We decided that obituary would be published in the local paper, The Times Union and his hometown paper, The Saratogian. We couldn’t have Top Gun playing and a photo slideshow. We decided that Top Gun was more important so we decided to have photo boards lining the room. We picked out the sign in guest book and prayer cards. I poured over the binder, making my choices. I would stop and ask my friends for their input. The three of us had a good idea on what Bryon would have liked.
Then it was time to pick out the casket. Funeral Nick showed all my options on a projector. I felt like I had just been kicked in the stomach. I was picking out the box that was going to hold Bryon’s bodily remains forever. Bryon’s body was going to go into this box and this box was going to be buried underground forever. This was and continues to be the most surreal moment of my life.
Bryon’s law partner (and close friend and Godfather to our daughter) showed up at the funeral home and it took the four of us, plus Funeral Nick to write his obituary. I have spent many times looking at obituaries for my job and as part of my genealogy research. I knew that these words were to sum up his life. How we portrayed Bryon in the obituary would be set in stone for the rest of history. This would be the document that our daughter and her children and grandchildren will read to try to learn about the person Bryon was. We had the responsibility to choose these words carefully. We spent at least an hour making sure everything was worded properly and that we include all aspects of his life. We finally had a piece that we were satisfied with and it was immediately published on the funeral home’s website and sent it to the newspapers.
We left the funeral home in the middle of the afternoon. We knew we had another important task the next day. We would be picking out the cemetery plot.
My husband had just been declared dead. I quietly sat in a chair on his right while the doctors were finishing up. Our friend (and Godmother to our daughter and like a sister to me) was sitting on another chair in the corner of the room. We were told to go to the waiting room so they could clean him up. We could come back and see him before they take him to the morgue. My friend and I went out to the waiting room where her significant other was waiting. We knew we had to let people know about my husband’s death. My husband worked in politics so my friends made sure that the proper people knew of his death. I decided to make calls to my family and friends. I wanted to make sure everyone close to us knew before the news of his death started to appear on Facebook.
My first call was to my father. It was his birthday. I had made sure to wish him a happy birthday on his Facebook wall at midnight because I knew my first call of the day to him was going to be telling him that Bryon was dead and I wanted to say happy birthday before he got that news. I had asked my father to call our relatives so they knew.
I called our close friends. Every call started the same, almost as if I was a robot. “Hi, it’s me. I was calling to let you know that Bryon passed away this morning.” Almost everyone, if not everyone, started to cry or seemed shocked. Bryon came close to dying many times in those five months but always seemed to bounced back. I think everyone wanted to believe that he was going to bounce back. I know I did. I continued to make each phone call in a robotic manner.
I was surprised at how easy it was to make phone calls but I know now that I was in some form of shock. Before my husband died, I always thought that being in shock was a mental state where one couldn’t function at all and that there was some level of not believing the current situation. At the time, I did not think I was actually in shock. I was functioning. I fully understood that his body just couldn’t take it anymore. It had been a long five months and I had been staring at all his numbers on the monitor. I knew from the numbers he had over the previous three days that he wasn’t going to bounce back. For five months, I knew that this was a possible outcome and I thought I was prepared for it, but you are never truly prepared for it.
After the nurse cleaned him up, I was allowed to go back to his room. As I walked into his room, I was taken aback at how still and quiet it was. The beeping machines that had been working and monitoring his vitals had been shut off. They were no longer needed. After 5 months, Bryon finally looked like he was at peace. I sat to the left of him and just looked at him.
My friend and I decided to say a Hail Mary. We cried through it. Then the priest came by. A member of the pastoral care staff had tried to contact him while he was saying morning Mass and the priest scolded me for the interruption. I remember saying “I am sorry my husband didn’t die at a more convenient time. I did not know you were saying Mass and I really could do without the attitude right about now.” I have never snapped at a priest like that before. Let’s hope my grandmother never finds out that I talked to a priest like that.
Earlier that morning when the nurse sent me out of the room to clean him up, I thought I wouldn’t need to come back. I had just spent the last 3 days sitting in his room as I watched him actively die. The death felt so final. I didn’t think I needed any extra time but when I went into the room, I found that I needed to just look at him. I remember thinking about how I was never going to kiss him again or feel his embrace. I was never going to hear him tell a funny story. He had been a person that was so full of life and now he was gone. I didn’t want to leave him. The next time I would be seeing him, he would be in a casket.
His nurse was waiting for hospital transportation to come and take him to the morgue. I began to feel anxious. What if the transporters don’t arrive? What if his body gets lost? I felt like I needed to stay there to make sure he got moved to the morgue. I had spent the past five months monitoring his care and needs. Was his test done? What were the results? Has the specialist seen him? Did he get his medicine? Does he want to change the channel on the TV? For the past five months, I had to have my cell phone fully charged and by my side. One time I dropped my daughter off at daycare and I had left my phone in car and had a panic attack when I got back to the car and I had realized that I had left my phone there. What if something happened to Bryon and they were trying to get ahold of me? I came to the realization that it was just his body. The life was gone from his body and he no longer needed me to monitor every move. It was time for me to go back to Albany. It was time to go home and see my daughter. It was time for me to go home and plan his funeral.
As I walked out of the ICU, I stopped by the team of his doctors who were rounding on another patient. They all stopped when I approached and just looked at me sympathetically. I thanked them for taking care of my husband and told them that I knew they did everything they could.
It was late morning when I walked out of the hospital like I had every day for the past 5 months. The only difference was this time I was walking out of the hospital for the last time. And it was without him.
Running Forward...My Way 