Tag: feelings

The last Christmas

Published on by kerrymckim4 Comments

Christmas 2015 was my favorite Christmas with you.

You were the Clark Griswold of our street.

I even got you a Clark Griswold-esque mug that you loved.  You drank the Starbucks 2015 Holiday blend in it.  You are missing the 2017 blend.  It’s pretty good.

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In early December, you found a light up nativity on Craigslist and you had to buy it.  It didn’t matter that it was in Scranton, PA.  You had to have it.

So we drove to Scranton.

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We packed them in.  Complete with two bonus nutcrackers.

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Of course on the ride home Joseph fell over and he wound up face to face with our daughter.  She did not like it at all.  I would have been freaked out too.

But it was all worth it in the end.  #takethatgriswold

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You had researched which streets in the Capital District had the best lights and we drove there.

We attended as many Holiday parties as we could.

Our daughter wanted nothing to do with Santa.

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Christmas Eve was a bizarre 74 degree day in Upstate, NY.  You insisted we drive with the sunroof open.

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We spent the afternoon with our Christmas Eve crew at a local establishment.  As usual, I brought buffalo chicken dip.  

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We went to four pm Mass with one of our bestest couple friends.

Mass was uneventful until after communion.  The four of us sat down in our pew.  

A loud cracking sound filled the church as our butts hit the floor.  

We looked at the pew which was split lengthwise.

Everyone else in the church looked at us.

You lean over to our friends and me and say “Sh*t.  We need Jesus the carpenter, not Jesus the Baby.”

We stand there as we wait for Mass to end to for the church to empty.  People continue to look at us as they are leaving. After the church was empty, you put that broken portion of the pew up over your shoulder and march up to the altar and you explained to Father Bradley what had happened.  Father Bradley listens and doesn’t seem phased at all.  I guess after 40 years in the priesthood, he has seen it all.  I wished I wasn’t so mortified and that I thought to take a picture but the mental picture will always be in my mind.

After Mass, we went home and you made Chicken Parm.  After our daughter went to sleep, we opened our presents that we got each other.

That Christmas you and I went crazy.  The previous year you surprised me by putting the confirmation from a cruise you booked in a box for me to open.  You assured me that there was no cruise surprise.  I didn’t mind especially you already booked our 2017 cruise.  Though neither of us would go on that cruise.

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You were very concerned that you couldn’t live up to the previous year so you finally bought me the sewing machine I wanted for years.

For years we couldn’t afford to buy each other presents after we shopped for everyone else. I was having fun making up for those years.  

You told me that the $600 shoes you wanted were on sale for $445.  Hint, hint.  I took the hint.

(For those who might be side-eyeing the price, these would be shoes would have been resoled.  He was planning to use them for the rest of his life, and ironically he did.  But when they we were bought, we were envisioning decades of use.)

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You admitted to me after the fact that you were worried I was going to buy you more gifts and your competitive nature couldn’t handle that so you did more shopping.

After the fact, we admitted that we were ridiculous and that this would be the last Christmas were we would do this.  Even if it was fun.

I am beginning to have this theory that our souls know more than we do in our human form.  I think our souls knew that this was our last Christmas and that we needed to have fun and do what we felt we needed to do to show love to each other.

Of course you insisted we leave out something for Santa.

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Christmas morning was spent with our daughter opening up Christmas presents.  

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You also bought her a Barbie Power Wheels Jeep because you saw a good deal on Amazon.  I told you that she was too young.  You called me a “Miss No Fun.”   We decided to save it for the following Christmas.  You never got to see her ride it.  My father and I did assemble it for her second birthday a month after you died as one last present to her from you.  And I was right because even then, her feet didn’t reach the pedal.

We spent Christmas Day with our daughter’s Godmother, her now husband and their family.

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We bought each other a bottle of wine from the same winery although they were more generous than us.  We brought a peppermint pig and some coasters.  We were so excited about those coasters because they were custom made.  When our daughter was born, there was this mildly disturbing Georgia O’Keefe-esque artwork on the wall.   Our daughter’s Godmother and you were confused and disturbed by the artwork.  After she left, I suggested you take a picture and make it into artwork for her.  You loved the idea so much that you took credit for it but I didn’t mind.  Not a lot of people know that some of your material came from me.  You always said you were the funny one but sometimes I could be funny too.

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Ultimately you decided on coasters instead of wall art. The best part was that our friend forgot about the maternity room artwork and decided to be polite and say that they were lovely.  Of course, she had a good laugh when we told her where the artwork came from.

And this ended up being our last Christmas.  

There was no way we would know that this would be our last Christmas.  

There was no way that we could have foresaw that we would take one last cruise in February and then you would would unexpectedly become critically ill and spend five months in the ICU. 

We had no clue that we were so close to the end.

I have come to realize that unless someone is on their deathbed at Christmas that there is no way to know who will be there the next Christmas.  A lot can happen in 365 days.  My life changed 89 days after that Christmas and you were gone 240 days after that.  

Even if I could have known it would be your last Christmas, I wouldn’t have done it any different.  I was with you, our daughter and some of our closest friends.  And we had fun and ate some really good food. 

I am glad I didn’t know that it was going to be your last Christmas.  If I had known it was going to be your last Christmas, I would have been devastated and unable to enjoy it.

Now I am embarking on our second Christmas without you.  Some of the traditions have changed a little bit but I will be with the same friends.  Christmas 2017 will pretty much run nonstop from Fri until Wednesday with my parents coming for New Years.  So I won’t be alone without you.  

It’s hard to be sad around our daughter.  She is getting so much bigger and she is so excited for Christmas.  She’s warming up to Santa.  She won’t sit on his lap but she’ll at least stand next to him.  It just breaks my heart because you were looking forward to her being this age.  You were so excited about the kinds of conversations you were going to have.  Every happy memory that we create is also tainted with sadness because you are not here.

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Now I am reminiscing with the internet instead of with you.  Even though the internet and blogosphere is filled with great people, I would rather be recounting these memories with you.

But at the end of the day, I have to say I am grateful.  I am grateful that I have these happy memories.  Even though your death broke my heart, I am lucky that I have these memories that are filled with so much love and happiness.  These memories make me smile and laugh.  

It’s my job to push through my sadness and continue creating happy memories for our daughter and our friends so when I am gone, they can look back on those memories with love and happiness.

Wherever you are my love, I hope have a Merry Christmas.

Nine months

Published on by kerrymckim10 Comments

Today I had the honor to write a guest post on Mohamad’s Around the World series. It was a lot of fun to write about New York’s Capital District.  You can check it out here.  

And if you are visiting here from Mohamad’s blog, I just want to say welcome and I hope you stay awhile!

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Bryon has been gone for nine months. The world is moving on without him and each day the world moves on, I feel a little bit more alone in my grief.  Widowhood is emotionally lonely even if you aren’t physically lonely.

I barely noticed Spring and Summer last year because I was sitting in the ICU with him. This year I am determined to enjoy Spring and Summer but when I sit on the front deck with our daughter, his absence is pronounced.

I miss him when I see other couples.  I am no longer whole. He was my other half and he has been ripped away along with my dreams and my future.  I don’t know why everyone else gets to be happy except me.

I work so hard at trying to stay positive and strong.  I know it’s what he would have wanted.  But sometimes I have to pretend I am positive and strong.  It’s what people have come to expect and I feel like they don’t want to know the truth.  And it can be exhausting.

No matter how much people try to understand, there is always some level of disconnect. People don’t understand how something as simple as a song can trigger sadness.

Sometimes I get tired of having to explain why certain things make me sad.

Sometimes I wish people would let me just be sad without making suggestions on how to fix my sad mood.  My husband is dead.  Why can’t I just be sad?  I’ve accepted that my sadness is now a part of who I am and why can’t people just accept that it is a part of me now?

I get tired of having to listen to platitudes and insensitive remarks.  I know people mean well but sometimes I get tired of the fact that it gets put on me that I have to accept that this is just how people are.  Why can’t it be other peoples responsibility to think before they speak and be a little bit more sensitive?  Is it really that hard?  Or am I really just expecting too much?

People seem to only like to hear about my grief when it’s empowering and inspiring.  The negative emotions of my grief make people uncomfortable and I get tired of feeling like I have to apologize for my emotions.  I envy those people because I wish I lived in a world where talk about grief makes me uncomfortable and I can avoid it.  I can’t avoid grief.  It’s my life.

I hate the fact that some days, I am almost used to Bryon being gone.  Each day that passes, he slips a little further away.   

Bryon is still dead

Published on by kerrymckim5 Comments

The leaves are starting to appear on the trees.  The tulips have been blooming.  The ice cream truck is starting to make its rounds.  Kay’s pizza is open but Bryon won’t be eating any sausage, pepperoni and onion pizza.  Because Bryon is dead.

Summer will come.  Bryon won’t be going to any baseball games.  Bryon won’t be watching any  fireworks.  Because Bryon is dead.

Our birthdays will come and go.  But Bryon won’t be here to celebrate.  He won’t be buying a ridiculous toy for our daughter and he will not be here to scheme on how to bring a three-year-old’s birthday party to the next level.  Because Bryon is dead.

Our anniversary will pass and Bryon and I won’t celebrate.  Because Bryon is dead.

Fall will come.  My favorite season.  Leaves will change color.  But Bryon won’t eat any apple cider donuts or take our daughter trick or treating.  Bryon won’t be here to cheer for his Buffalo Bills.  Because Bryon is dead.

The air will get colder and snow will fall.  Christmas cards will be sent.  But Bryon won’t be attending any Christmas parties or watching our daughter open any Christmas presents.  Because Bryon is dead.

Our daughter is talking up a storm.  She has graduated from the “No” stage into the “Why?” stage.  “I do myself” has been appearing in her vocabulary and it should be no surprise that it takes five times as long to leave the house.  And Bryon isn’t here to talk to her because he is dead.

Three weddings are coming up.  And Bryon won’t be here to celebrate them.  He won’t be making friends with bartender and he won’t be grumbling as I drag him out for a slow dance. He won’t be ranting to me if 1 Corinthians is read.  Because Bryon is dead.

All of our TV shows are in the next season and are sitting on our DVR unwatched because Bryon is dead.

Friends continue to get together.  But Bryon isn’t there to tell funny stories and make us laugh.  Because Bryon is dead.

My clothes have taken over the closet.  Bryon’s clothes are no longer hanging up.  They sit in garbage bags in the garage waiting to be brought to Goodwill.  Because Bryon is dead.

The world will continue to go on without Bryon.  People will get married.  Babies will be born.  People will fall in love.  People will fall out of love.  Houses will be bought and sold.  People will get promoted and switch jobs.  People will travel to far off places.  Sports teams will win and lose.  Elections will happen.  And Bryon will still be dead.

Our daughter will start school.  She will become who she is going to be and hopefully be ready for adulthood.  She will find out what interests her.  She will fall in love.  She will travel to far off places.  She will hopefully attain a higher level of education.   Hopefully she will become a productive member of society.  And Bryon will still be dead.

The world goes on and Bryon is still dead.

My dirty little secret

Published on by kerrymckim5 Comments

Being a widow is hard.  We have to navigate a world that is not designed for us.  One of my online widow friends, Michelle, wrote a blog post about being Wonder Widow and Widow Super Powers.  (Check out her blog, she doesn’t bite).  Michelle writes about her experience when she was newly widowed and she was at a party and once people learned that she was a widow, they ignored her.  She says that a widow may feel invisible when around the NORMS. The NORMS being “Normal people living normal, non-traumatized lives.”  She and I had an exchange on Facebook where I may have ranted a little bit about the course of events in my life.  I apologized and she said not to apologize because ranting is good for the soul and I should just let it out.

So I am going to let it all out.

I will let you in on a dirty little secret of mine.  I am jealous of the NORMS.

I am jealous of people who have their spouses and are living a normal life.  I am jealous when I see anniversary posts on social media, especially for any anniversary after the 3 year mark because Bryon and I never got to celebrate our fourth anniversary.  I am jealous that happily married couples who get have the support of their best friends because my best friend is gone.  I am jealous of their intimacy.  I am not talking about sex though I am jealous of that too.  I am referring to the day to day comfortable intimacy that happily married couples have.

I am jealous of the families at my daughter’s daycare who are able to (or are planning on) giving their kids a little sibling. My daughter will never become an older sister.  We will never be the perfect family with a mom and a dad and 2.5 kids and a dog.  I am jealous that there are so many other families where the kids will grow up with their fathers because my daughter won’t have that.

I am jealous of new couples who get to embark on their life together, full of hope.  Jealous because I am not sure I will ever be healed enough to love again. I am jealous of the innocence other couples can have.  Maybe someday I will find a man that can look past my wounded heart and deal with all the complications that come with loving someone who has been through this kind of trauma.  But even if I let another man into my heart, I am always going live with the fear of him dying too.  The constant fear of “what if it happens again”?

I am jealous of older widows.  I am jealous that they got to spend decades with their spouses.  And I am jealous that all the widow resources in the community are geared towards them and not to young widows.  Older widows had decades to prepare for this, young widows have not.  And young widows oftentimes have small children to take care of on top of dealing with their grief but so much emphasis seems to be on older widows.

I even find myself jealous of other widows at times.  Sometimes I look at widows who lost their spouses suddenly and I am jealous because they didn’t have to watch their spouse suffer for five months like I did.  Sometimes I look at widows who lost their spouse after a long illness and I am jealous because they were able to talk to their spouses about dying.  Bryon was on a ventilator for the five months he was in the ICU and we weren’t able to discuss any of this.  We had so many things that went unsaid.  But I know deep down there is no good way to watch your spouse die.  It’s horrible no matter how it happens.

I am jealous of the NORMS who leave those comments on social media statuses.  The comments that are benign on the surface but stab a widow in the heart.  I am jealous that they get to live in a life where they don’t feel the need exercise that extra level of empathy.  I am jealous that they live in a world where they can be clueless to those suffering grief and heartbreak. Though part of me is glad that they can be clueless because it means they don’t know this pain.  And if someone is a repeat offender, I actually begin to feel sorry for them they can live their lives being oblivious to the feelings of other people.

I am jealous of people who have their faith.  I am jealous because my Catholic faith was a big part of my life and I lost that too when Bryon died.  I am jealous of those who have never had to have their faith tested.  And I am jealous of the people who have experienced trauma like I have and still have their faith.  Because right now I relate to C.S. Lewis in A Grief Observed where he asks where God is and why did God slam the door on him?  I am jealous of all the people that God did not slam the door on.  I am also jealous of the naivete of people who think I can just turn my faith back on, like it’s a simple light switch.

Why am I sharing this dirty little secret?  It’s human nature to want to put your best foot forward but my desire to be honest is stronger than my desire to put my best foot forward.  I need to be honest for everyone who thinks I am strong even if that means sharing feelings that portray myself in a less positive light.  I need to share my story as authentically as possible because other widows may be reading this and I want them to know that it is okay to feel this way.

But despite all these pangs of jealousy I feel, the happiness I feel is ten times as strong.  The joys greatly outweighs my jealous feelings.  Yes I have these jealous feelings but they  subside very quickly.  And my feelings of jealousy are not because I don’t want others to be happy.  I want everyone to be happy.  I don’t wish my situation or the feelings that come with being in my situation on even my worst enemy.  My feelings of jealousy are about the reality of what I have lost, mostly my lost dreams.  For the most part, my anger seems to have subsided so I will think occasional bouts of jealousy are an improvement to being full of anger as long as the bouts of jealousy don’t get out of hand.

My life didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to but I do have reasons to be grateful.  I have an amazing daughter.  I have friends and family who aren’t freaked out by my widow status and include me in their lives.  I have friends who aren’t going to be put off that I might be jealous of them because they are patient and understanding of my grief and stick by me as I weather all the ups and downs. At least the ones who really love me do.

I can’t complain because even nine months later, my core group of friends are still supportive of me.  They spent 5 months helping me survive when Bryon was in the ICU and they have spent the past 9 months holding me up.  I hope I am healed enough and can give back before the next big crisis in our group happens.

But until then, whether you are a NORM or not, please just remember to be kind and understanding.  It’s okay to talk to us.  Widows don’t bite.  We just might be sad.  We are dealing with some major emotions.  But we’d probably be the first one to be there to help you if something bad happens.

Warm and fuzzy

Published on by kerrymckim6 Comments

Three of us girls and my daughter went out for breakfast the morning after the Kentucky Derby.  One of us had said that in the past, she felt like she was viewed as “Bryon’s friend” but after this weekend, she felt like she became part of our friends group in her own right. We all felt warm and fuzzy when we realized that.   

My friends observation hit me close to home because for years I felt the same way.  I moved to Albany in 2009 after Bryon and I had been dating for a year and he already has his social network.  Everyone was Bryon’s friend and I felt like I was his shadow.  Over the years, my friendships did start to evolve but I didn’t realize how strong those friendships were until my friends were there for me when I needed them the most.  They continue to be there for me, helping me heal.

Yesterday I wrote about all the love and friendship shared on Derby Day.  Today I feel like celebrating that love and friendship.  

In the past, I have written a lot about my girls.  But most of these girls are attached to guys. Really great guys.  These guys would drop whatever they were doing to help me with anything and I don’t give them enough credit in this blog.  Most of these guys were Bryon’s friends and many of us girls became friends through our significant others.  Now I think it’s safe to say that it is us girls who are the driving force behind the groups social calendar.   

I have realized that I have been looking at these friendships only through my own eyes and not the eyes of my friends.  My grieving process has made me self-absorbed at times.  I know my friends have been there for me and my daughter but I haven’t been able to fully appreciate that my friends have been there for each other too.  I am not the only one who has needed support during this time.  Each one of my friends has been grieving too and they have been there for each other as well as be there for my daughter and me.

So many other friendships have formed before my very eyes.  Older friendships have been strengthened. We have all been friends to varying degrees but Bryon’s death has brought many of us closer.  But we aren’t just friends, we are a family.  And we have been all along.  We just never realized it until after Bryon died. Bryon may not be able to be here for us but he gave us each other.  

We are one big, crazy extended family complete with adults, kids and pets as well as the biological families of our family and friends of friends.  I have noticed that since Bryon has passed, we make more time for each other.  Birthdays get celebrated as well as personal milestones.  We check in with each other more, even if it is just because it’s been a couple of days and we wanted to make sure everything was okay.  The ladies have a monthly brunch.  Everyone seems fully committed to be positive role models and trusted adults for the younger generation to look up to.

I love my family and I am so thankful I have them in my life.

The ugly side of grief

Published on by kerrymckimLeave a comment

Grief if not pretty.  Grief is actually quite ugly.  Some view me as strong.  Some view me as delicate.   But the truth is I am neither strong or delicate yet I am both strong and delicate at the same time.  I always joke that I am a girl of many contradictions as I am part city girl, part country girl.  The analogy fits here as well.

Grief is hard.  It’s hard to go to bed alone.  It’s hard to deal with the moments of shock where you wonder why all of this had to happen.  It’s been 8 months since Bryon died and over a year (13 months) since Bryon got sick and I am still hit with those moments.  But one of the hardest parts of grief is all the emotions.  Grief makes you feel every emotion there is; sadness, anger, frustration, helplessness, desperation.  It is like each emotion is it’s own bright, vibrant color and I am that cup of disgusting water that you dip your paintbrush into.  All those bright colors have turned my cup of clear water into a disgusting murky shade of greenish brown.

I have always been someone who has struggled with expressing my negative emotions.  I usually say nothing and I let frustration build until it turns into a completely different emotion and then the volcano erupts and it is usually over something minor and stupid. And once that volcano erupts, there is so stopping and tt is not fair to the people that stand in line of that volcano.  It’s not fair to take your negative emotions out on people.  People shouldn’t have to deal with Mt. McKim.

Grief is exhausting.  I joke with my friends that grief has turned me into an emotionally stunted preteen girl.  While I like to think I have more wisdom than the average preteen girl, there is still some level of truth to that statement.  Emotionally, I can only deal with what is in front of me and that in turn has made me self-absorbed.  I talk about myself too much.  I wonder when enough time has gone by that I don’t feel the need to talk about myself and my grief so much.  When do I begin to act normal again?

Grief is overwhelming.  Not only are we dealing with the absence of our loved one, we have to deal with the secondary losses.  Loss of security, loss of income, loss of future plans.  We have to rebuild and that is overwhelming.  Many widows don’t know how to rebuild.  I know I am relearning skills that I haven’t had to think about in over 6 years.  I know where I want to be but I don’t know how to get there.  I am like the underpants gnomes except I am not collecting underpants.

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I had been working on removing toxicity from my life and I still find that I have too much to deal with emotionally.  It dawns on me that it isn’t enough to remove toxic people, you need to remove toxic thoughts too.  I need to learn how to redirect that energy to something more positive.

I also want to make a point that just because one is widowed does not mean that they are obligated to accept friendship from a person who tears you down.  Just because you are at a low point in your life does not mean that you deserve to be bullied or talked to in a way that is demeaning.  Surround yourself with supportive people.

Grief also can make you anxious and paranoid.  So much bad stuff happened to me this past year and I am constantly worried about what tragedy is coming next.  It’s like I can’t just accept that this storm has passed and I need to enjoy the sunshine until the next storm happens.  (Because widowhood doesn’t give you any immunity from bad things happening.  But let’s hope I don’t have to sit in another ICU room for 5 months watching someone else I care about suffer and die)  In addition to watching my husband die, many people that should have been supportive of my daughter and me were not.  Those people were selfish and self serving.  I was hurt by those people but I need to stop anticipating that I am going to be hurt by the people who have been there for me over and over again.  My friends have proven that they have been there for me and I need to trust that they will continue to be there for me.

Grief is ugly.  I am not looking for pity.  People who are grieving generally don’t want pity.  Or advice unless we specifically ask for it.  We want empathy, love and support.  People who are grieving don’t want to be spoken at or preached at.  We just want to be listened to.  And whatever you do, don’t tell the grieving how to grieve or try to educate them on their own experience.  Trust me, you don’t know.  Even if you think you do, you don’t.

Why am I sharing this?  Most people try to portray themselves in the best light possible, not share their ugly side.  There are many reasons.  The most important is that I believe in being honest and I want to give an honest account of grief, not just the noble parts.  I am not always that strong and stoic widow that many people believe I am.  The second reason is accountability.  I don’t want to act like this but I need to own it when I do.  I have been hurt by too many people who don’t take accountability for their actions.  I think we all know those people, the people that never apologize for anything.  They just blame everyone else .  And as always, I am writing this because I know I can’t be the only grieving person that feels like a hot mess sometimes.  Maybe someone that relates will read this and will get some relief for not being alone.

I have had a rough week.  I tend to write about what’s on my mind and there have been four posts this week.  I think that is a record. That’s a lot of stuff on my mind.  I want to put this week behind me. I have a nearly dead palm tree and a nearly dead oak tree in my kitchen.  They have not looked good for months.  I was convinced I had neglected those poor trees to the point of no return.  Well today I see signs of recovery.  If those trees can recover, there is no reason I can not.  We all can regardless of what pain we are moving forward from. It’s time to put the negativity behind me and enjoy the two birthday parties I am attending this weekend.