beginnings – Page 2 – Running Forward…My Way

Six Months

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

It has been six months since you left us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A widowed Valentine’s Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Beginning

Published on January 17, 2017May 8, 2017 by kerrymckim35 Comments

You could say that my story began on August 30, 1978 at 7:55 am at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston because that is when I entered this world. It was the beginning of my childhood in the Boston area with my Irish-Catholic family. My childhood was pretty ordinary, filled with bike rides, Barbies and games of tag and hide and go seek. I had a strong sense of where I came from. I was fortunate enough to know all four of my grandparents. I also grew up around many aunts, uncles and cousins. It was in my childhood that I developed my love for dogs, history, the Boston Red Sox, the New England Patriots, hoodsies and fried clams. I also developed a Boston accent that still manages to slip out when I am emotional or have been drinking.

You could say that my story really began early morning on July 3, 1993 when my family drove away from my grandmother’s house in Massachusetts. We were setting off for our new life in Maine. This was the summer before my freshman year in high school and I was excited to be starting high school in a new place. My high school memories were filled with cross country and track practices, cashiering at the local Shop ‘n Save, social studies and French class, walks by the ocean and driving my hand-me-down ‘87 Ford Escort around town because there was nothing else to do. During my high school years, I found small town life to be suffocating and I longed to see the world. I would later become a “boomerang kid” and return in my twenties where I learned that it’s actually not so bad to be from a small town.

You could say that my story really began on August 30, 1997 which was my nineteenth birthday. My father and I left our home in Surry, Maine and I was about to embark on my four year journey at the University of Southern Maine. I was tired that morning because I had spent the night before with my high school best friend Darcy at the Blue Hill Fair. I was excited to be leaving home for the first time. I also was embarrassed because my father told everyone, from the waitress at the Augusta Friendly’s to the USM volunteers directing traffic that they were making me start college on my birthday. My college years were filled with history classes, cross country and track practices, midnight trips to L.L.Bean (when we were under 21) and trips to the bars in the Old Port in Portland (once we were legal). It was also during my college years that I did a semester in Winchester, U.K.

You could say my story began on July 5, 2005 at around 5:00 am when I was boarding a plane from Bangor International Airport to Las Vegas for the 2005 Young Republican National Convention. This organization would play a big role in my life for the next 5 years and I would even hold an officer title. I got to see many places in the U.S. that I had never been such as Nashville, Denver, New Orleans, Indianapolis, Cleveland, Little Rock and Miami. I got to meet many important political figures. Politics helped me grow as a person because had been a relatively quiet and shy person and politics helped me develop my social skills. My years in this organization gave me one of the biggest gifts of all- friendships and love.

You could say that my story began during the late afternoon of August 1, 2008 at the National Baseball Hall of Fame. That is when the greatest love story of my life began. I knew I really liked this guy and he seemed to really like me. It was our first date only we didn’t really know it when it started. What started as an outing between friends evolved into a date as the night went on. It was on this day that we held hands for the first time and that we had our first kiss. I was doubtful that it would ever work out but I decided to do something that I never do, which was to let my guard down. Despite living seven hours apart and an age difference I don’t care to mention, our love only seemed to blossom. There were lots of weekend trips and lots of tanks of gas charged to my VISA card. I drank a lot of 5 hour energy shots and I could recognize all the people who worked at the rest stops on Mass Pike. 364 days later I moved to Albany.

You could say that our story began on September 29, 2012 at 1:30pm at Blessed Sacrament Church in Albany, NY. Our fairytale was going to officially begin. I was so excited that I had to tell myself to breathe and my knees were shaking. I was in my princess dress and he wore a kilt. Of course, we learned that marriage wasn’t always easy but we were best friends and soul mates. We weathered the low of a miscarriage and the high of the birth of our daughter. We bought a house and a family car. We went on five cruises and explored many Caribbean islands. We both had some success in our careers (he more than me.) We had many friends and an active social life. We had so many plans. Our life was good.

But this story doesn’t begin on any of those days. This story begins on a Sunday morning, August 21, 2016 in the Medical ICU at New York Presbyterian/Columbia University Medical Center at 8:35 am. I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept in 30 hours and I hadn’t showered for 3 or 4 days because I was too afraid to leave the unit. One of our best friends had stayed up with me all night. After a 5 month battle with surgical complications from a surgery performed at another hospital the doctors had just declared my husband clinically dead.

I was heartbroken and numb. Our fairy tale was over. I had tried to do everything I could to save him. He fought until the bitter end. My only relief was that he wasn’t in pain anymore. It just wasn’t meant to be. Our fairy tale ended too soon. I didn’t know how I was going to do this without him. How was I supposed to carry on and live my life without my best friend? A part of me died with him that morning. This is the story of the part of me that is still living.