Yesterday my blog reached a milestone. A milestone that I never would have dreamed of ever happening, let alone only after two and a half months. Yesterday my blog reached 10,000 page views. I never would have thought that my words about Bryon would go so far in such a short time.
So why do I do this? Anyone who knows me in “real life” would tell you that I tend to be a pretty private person who takes a long time to open up to people. I usually prefer to keep in interactions with people at the superficial level. Want to talk about the weather? Sure! Talk about emotions and feelings? No way! Before Bryon got sick, I kept all but a few people at an arm’s length.
So what has compelled me to share some of my most private feelings on the internet? If someone would have told me that I would be sharing some of my most personal thoughts for the whole world to see, I would have probably looked at them like they were nuts. But here I am. Sharing my personal thoughts in a place where anyone can see. I am not lying when I tell you that it is one of the scariest things I have ever done. I am most likely ruining my chances of ever getting a boyfriend (in the very distant future) because any potential suitors would likely find this blog during a google search and go running far away after reading this. And I can’t blame them. Run, Forrest, Run!
There are many reasons I pour my heart out on the internet.
I have barely begun to share most of Bryon’s story because it is still too painful for me to share. But I feel compelled to tell Bryon’s story in an effort to help other patients. I want to help people know how to advocate for themselves and I want to empower people to find the right knowledge so they can make educated medical decisions. I want to help people know what kind of questions to ask their doctors and what to do if something just doesn’t seem right with themselves or with the health care that they might be receiving. I want people to know why it is important to know their own health history and, if possible, that of their family members.
I feel compelled to share my story as a caregiver and an advocate because I want to help the family members and friends of the critically and terminally ill. I was thrown into a situation where one day my husband was recovering from a minimally invasive surgical procedure to fighting for his life in the ICU a few days later. I don’t think there is a word in the English language that could accurately describe how overwhelmed I felt during those weeks that my life came crashing down. I have a background in oncology data and oncology was one of the few medical specialties that did not play a role in Bryon’s care. While I had more medical knowledge than the average person, I am not a doctor or nurse and I had to quickly adapt to all the new medical terminology and procedures. Bryon also could not speak for himself while he was in the ICU and he depended on me to advocate for him. And unfortunately advocating for patients is not easy. As a caregiver, you need to be prepared to fight for your family member or friend.
I feel compelled to share my story because I want to help other widows and widowers. Widowhood is a very lonely place. It helps to read that we are not alone and that other people can relate. I appreciate reading blogs and memoirs of widows and widowers, especially those who are further in the healing process because I want some sort of idea of what to expect down the road. Since I benefited from the stories of others, I want to share my stories with the hope that it might help another widow and widower.
I want to share my story to help those who have gone through a trauma and/or have experienced the loss of someone important in their life. Grief is grief regardless of whether it was a spouse, a family member or a friend and we can all relate and support each other.
I write because it helps me process my own emotions. I was in the “widow fog” for several months after Bryon died and the fog didn’t start to subside until I started writing about my feelings and my experience. Before I started writing, I could bottle up my emotions and ignore them for a later time. This isn’t healthy. Writing forces me to acknowledge what I am feeling at any given time and it forces me to deal with my grief instead of ignoring it.
I write because I must preserve as much of our story for my daughter. She won’t have any first hand memories of Bryon and she will have to rely on the stories that are told to her. I can already start to feel that my memories are not as sharp. I feel a huge void that Bryon left but it’s getting harder to remember the little things. I am fearful that if I don’t write things down then those memories will die with Bryon.
I hope to become a patient advocate someday. I want to raise awareness for the issues that plagued Bryon and ultimately took his life. I want to empower the caregivers of critically and terminally ill patients. I share our story to meet others who have been in similar situations and have similar goals. I write with the hope that I can expand my network so that someday I am able to accomplish my goals of helping people.
One Saturday night a few weeks ago, my friend came over. She is newly single and she recently signed up for Bumble. After a glass of wine, my curiosity started to peak. I asked her if it was okay to create a profile just to look. I have no intention of dating. I still wear my wedding rings. But I was curious to see what the market looked like and if anyone would find me attractive.
Spoiler alert: No one finds me attractive.
For those you are lucky enough to not be versed in online dating sites, Bumble is like Tinder where you swipe left to pass and swipe right if you like the person and if they like you, you are a match. Bumble is different than Tinder because only women can initiate contact with men. Personally I am not a fan of the whole concept of online dating. I would prefer to meet a man the old fashioned way. The whole concept of creating a profile to date feels to forward to me and is too much pressure.
At first the whole swiping process was fun. We swiped left when we saw things we didn’t like and right on things that we liked or at least seemed okay. Granted the whole thing was kind of shallow but entertaining. My friend and I laughed quite a bit.
As I was looking at profiles, there were men who didn’t say anything about themselves. Others were extremely well rounded. They wanted a woman to join them on hikes, wine tastings, dinners, travelling, runs, walks in the woods, trips to the beach, cooking a nice dinner, watching Netflix and to have meaningful conversations with. I started to get stressed out just reading these profiles. Some days I barely find the time to shower. There is no way I could keep up with all these Renaissance men. Maybe they are single because they are high maintenance and needy. Really, I just need a guy who likes frozen pizza, Disney Jr. and is willing to carry my luggage.
There seem to be a lot of men out there that play the guitar and I swiped left on them. I admire people who can play a musical instrument because it is a talent I definitely don’t have. But I don’t have the attention span to sit and listen to them play. Sure the first couple of times I will sit and appear impressed to be nice but over time I become bored because I would rather be conversing, or eating, or moving around or pretty much anything else. Those guitar playing men deserve to be with women who appreciate their talents.
I learned that I am not interested in dating guys who want to start a family. I have an amazing daughter. I am not interested in being pregnant again. It’s probably the PTSD talking but too much can go wrong in childbirth and I need to be here for my daughter. Also, I am in my late thirties and I don’t think I want to do any more sleepless nights or pumping sessions. So if a guy wants more than my amazing daughter, then he would have to bring his own children to the relationship.
I learned several things. I do value intelligence and an education. But as much as I am attracted to intelligence, I also am not into men who are pretentious about their education level and intelligence. Bryon was confident about his intelligence and never had a need to be pretentious. I am also leery of men who call themselves entrepreneurs and I am much more likely to swipe right on a man wearing a Red Sox hat as opposed to a Yankees hat.
I also found myself drawn to men who liked the things that my husband liked which was ridiculous. It doesn’t matter if a guy likes rugby or the Buffalo Bills, or Gordon Ramsay. He will never be Bryon. It is as if I am subconsciously looking to try to get back what Bryon and I had but that is not possible. Bryon was a one-in-a-kind. He was amazing and the world will never see someone like him.
I am no longer part of a Bryon-Kerry team. The goals and rules of the Bryon-Kerry team no longer apply. It is all me now. And on top of it, I am not the same. I am broken. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I always prided myself on being true to myself but the more I try to find myself, the more I wonder if I am going through some sort of identity crisis.
I just hate that I am even in this position. I feel cheated of my happily ever after. Almost all of my friends are married or are in committed relationships and my husband is gone. I wasn’t supposed to be in this position. I was perfectly content to be a wife and mother. I wasn’t supposed to be single in my late 30’s. The new rules of dating seem so complicated, full of craziness like dick pics and ghosting and pretending that you are too cool to be interested in each other. I don’t want to date. I want to be a wife but you aren’t supposed to want that or you are desperate. But I know I am not desperate. And as much as I would rather be a wife than have to date, I am not going to settle. I had true love and I know what it is and frankly I don’t want to be someone’s wife if we are not crazy in love with each other. I am not going to jump into any relationship with just anyone.
As the night went on, I started to become sad and the sadness began to intensify. I miss Bryon too much. No one will ever replace Bryon. He is a person worth missing. He is worth every tear and every pang to the heart. He is worth every lonely night. He leaves a void that I doubt any can ever fill. I just hope that living with the void becomes tolerable enough over time where I can move forward.
So after 6 hours, I realized that dating, at least online dating, was not for me and I deleted the app. I am not saying that love will not find me and I hope that if it does find me, I am open to it. But I don’t need to be looking for it online. If I change my mind, I guess the internet will be there.
My weekend was a lot like other weekends. There were social engagements. There were errands that were done as well as errands that didn’t get done. I got some cleaning done and there was even more cleaning that didn’t get done. I wanted to take a nap but that didn’t happen. On Saturday evening, I was rushing around getting my daughter ready for her sitter and getting myself ready for a birthday dinner. Embracing a night where I wouldn’t need to be carrying a diaper bag, I grabbed a small clutch purse that I hadn’t used in a long time. I opened it and inside there was a shiny green toy baby. I looked at it for a second and then I remember that it was from our trip to New Orleans in 2014. I was nine weeks pregnant and we were going on a cruise (this was before Zika was a thing) and we spent a few days in New Orleans before the cruise. We had had dinner at Emeril’s restaurant NOLA. I don’t remember what Bryon ate but I remember that I had the fried chicken because my stomach couldn’t handle much else. For dessert I had iced cream and Bryon had King cake and this little toy baby was in the King Cake. Being the sentimental packrat I am, I saved it and forgot about it. There even is some frosting still dried onto it.
Now it is three years later. Our nine week old fetus is now an active two and a half year old girl and Bryon is dead. I don’t think this toy baby is a sign from heaven but it was a nice memory I had forgotten about. I thanked Bryon for that memory. As I clean out my house, it is likely that I am going to find more memories but I know over time these surprise memory triggers are going to become less frequent.
Our circle of friends always call ourselves “the family that we created.” Some members of our social circle know each other from college, or from politics or other organizations in Bryon’s life. Many of us are not from the Albany area and we live far from our own families so we do depend on each other like a family. Bryon’s sickness has also brought us closer together. We were there to comfort each other. They got me through the funeral and those early weeks of raw grief. We continue to help each other and support each other. Bryon’s death continues to bring us closer each day. Our souls are on some sort of journey and Bryon was in each of our lives for a reason and there is a reason that we are together now. We may not know, or ever know, the exact reason but there is a reason. We are all exactly where we are supposed to be.
During my conversations with close friends this weekend, we came to the realization that while Bryon might be physically dead, he is not really dead. He still has us laughing hard when we tell stories of his antics and those stories bring us comfort. While we share situations when we need Bryon’s guidance, we share the guidance he gave us when he was here. He truly lives on in our memories. While we may all be special and one of a kind, Bryon was different. He completely shattered the mold.
Our friendships have changed since Bryon died. Most of us in our circle have grown closer. We take the time to check in with each other more. We celebrate the events in our lives more and if there is no event to celebrate, we make up a reason. Being alive is a good reason. Every brunch together, every birthday dinner, every game night, we are meant to be together. We are in each other’s life for a reason. I may never make sense of why Bryon’s life had to be so short but I know that we were meant to be together for the short time we had and that it is because of Bryon that I have these amazing friendships and a whole bunch of happy memories. I have no idea where my life is going to end up, but wherever I go, it will be a result of the time I spent with Bryon as well as the time spent with my friends now. I don’t know how but these two factors are going to play a pivotal role in the rest of my journey on Earth.
Some friends have grown apart from our core group since his death and that’s okay. It’s natural. We are all moving forward. Forward doesn’t necessarily mean together. Just like some of us are in each others lives for a reason, there is a reason that people grow apart too. We are each on our own path and must follow it. Coming to this realization makes it easier to let go of any relationships that may be toxic because there is no reason for that to be in my life or my daughter’s life. Toxicity brings no value.
One thing none of us doubt is that Bryon is still playing a role in everything down here and we could very well just be pawns. There may be relationships I don’t have yet because Bryon still has it in the works. He was never one to play his best card right away. He is too smart for that. He has plans for all those close to him and he’s going to orchestrate it carefully. We just need to be patient.
I thought of this over the weekend when I brought my daughter to the birthday party of one of Bryon’s law school rugby teammates. I don’t know his teammate and his wife very well but they are great people and have always been kind of my daughter and me. They expressed an interest in our daughters being friends as they are close in age. Only time will tell if they become good friends of ours or if our daughters become close friends. But it is a good reminder to myself to not to get too comfortable with “the family that we created” and that I need to be open to the other friendships too. Because Bryon’s work may not be done. There could be people that are meant to be in my life that aren’t yet and it may take awhile for our paths to cross. Or maybe the friendships I have now will change and I need to be open to whatever those changes might be.
I certainly don’t know the meaning to everything or anything for that matter. I will never understand why Bryon had to die young. But I do think he was given more personality because he was here for a short time. I also think that maybe his soul was in some way more developed and therefore, he didn’t need to spend 80 years on this earth. But I know that he is still here and he is still working his magic and it gives me hope that maybe there are good things yet to come for me, my daughter and for everyone in our family that we created.
I love the ocean, the coastline, Maine politics, fried clams, pine trees, L.L. Bean, Moose, red hot dogs, Reny’s, Marden’s, late night trips to Dysarts, Moody’s, Lobster, Pat’s Pizza, Acadia National Park, Kettle Cove, UMaine hockey, potato fields, Lamoine Beach, going to the shooting range with my father, Jordan’s Snack Bar, Big G’s. Dairy Queen Blizzards in the middle of winter, summer nights in Bar Harbor, the Sea Dog, clam chowder, reading angry letters to the editor in the Ellsworth American, Amato’s, Bob the black bear that lives in the woods behind my parents house, The Mex (even if Bryon threatened to break up with me if I made him eat there again), Coffee Express, seeing Stephen King in public even if he is rude if approached, Schoodic Point, Ben and Bills peanut butter cup ice cream, flannel shirts never going out of style, lighthouses, the fact that everyone roots for the Red Sox and Patriots, Raye’s Mustard, bean and casserole suppers, China Hill, Shipyard beer, and probably a whole bunch of other things I will think of after I hit “publish”.
I even don’t mind the never ending winter, frost heaves, mud and black fly season. The only thing I don’t like about Maine is Moxie because it is disgusting. I also think Whoopie Pies are a bit overrated.
I left Maine in 2009 for a guy. The gamble paid off because I married that guy three years later. He never had any interest in moving to Maine and while I missed Maine, I never really looked back. I never entertained the thought of returning until he was dying. The thought of raising my daughter by myself was scary and in Maine she would have two grandparents who love her.
As Bryon was actively dying I started to panic. I was thinking that I could not do this by myself. I was going to need help raising my daughter and I started to think that the only logical solution was to move back to Maine as my parents are there. I convinced myself that this was what I was going to do on the car ride back to Albany.
So…why am I still in New York? Why haven’t I moved back to Maine?
Once I got back to Albany, I began to realize that I was not ready to leave the life Bryon and I had built.
Bryon and I had bought our house two and a half years before he died and we already had so many memories. I wasn’t ready to leave this house. This was the house where we welcomed our daughter into our family. We celebrated two Thanksgivings, two Christmases and two Easters in this house. We hosted two derby parties in our house. We spent many spring and summer afternoons sitting on our front deck. This house was going to be our starter house and we weren’t planning on staying in this house for more than 5-7 years. We even made comments about how small the house felt and how much smaller it was going to feel when we had another baby. While we weren’t going to live our dreams together after all, I wasn’t ready to leave the ghosts of those dreams.
Home is more than a house. Home also includes those you love. I depended on so many of our friends during the course of Bryon’s sickness. Not just for physical help but I depended on them emotionally. I can’t leave them. They were with me through the hardest months of my life. I wouldn’t have gotten through this crisis if it wasn’t for them. Our bonds have only gotten stronger. My friends here have become my family and my daughter has so many aunts and uncles here who love her and look out for her.
The last and most important reason I am still in New York is my daughter. She was 18 months when Bryon went into the hospital for the last time and she was 23 months old when he passed away. She won’t have any first hand memories of him. She will only know him through the stories she will hear as she is growing up. She needs to grow up in the place where her father had lived. She needs to go to the Saratoga Racetrack and Siena basketball games and Albany Law rugby tournaments. She needs to be around the people who loved Bryon and that were important in his life. To move her to Maine would remove her from all of this and I can’t do that to her.
Until my daughter goes to college, we will stay in New York. Then I might return to Maine in 2032 and buy an old farmhouse in a coastal town. Ocean view would be a bonus. Or I might decide that I have had enough of winter and move to the US Virgin Islands or something. I’ll figure it out sometime in the next 15 years.
I always envisioned being a widow to being someone that was my grandmother’s age. My Grandma Sullivan was widowed in 1990 at the age of 76 after 44 years of marriage. (My Grandma Sullivan passed away in 2004 at the age of 90) My Nana Crowley was widowed in 2007 at the age of 84 after 63 years of marriage. (My Nana Crowley is still alive and will turn 95 later this month) Both of my grandmothers lived or are living the life that you would imagine of a widow. They play/played Bingo. They both socialized. Both of my grandmothers have/had large social networks and lots of friends. Both of my grandmothers doted on their grandchildren (and in Nana’s Crowley’s case, great-grandchildren.)
My experience has been different. I became widowed in 2016 at the age of 37 a month shy of our 4th wedding anniversary. The last time I played Bingo was on a cruiseship with Bryon. And instead of doting on grandchildren or great-grandchildren, I am taking care of a 2-year-old daughter.
The thing about being widowed, especially at a young age, is that you are not quite married and you are not quite single. I am no longer married but I don’t feel single. I still can’t bring myself to take off my rings. I didn’t ask to be here and I don’t want to be here. It’s like I am in limbo between the two. I liked being a wife. I was pretty good at it. Turns out I am really good at the “in sickness and in health” part. I used to listen to my single friends talk about their adventures and mis-adventures in dating and I remember feeling relieved because I was happily married and I wasn’t going to ever have to worry about dating ever again.
The one question I get asked the most since becoming a widow is if I ever plan on remarrying. I don’t blame people for being curious. I would be curious if I weren’t me. Neither of my grandmother’s remarried but they were much older than me. They don’t make a good point of reference to me. To be honest, if you asked me that question every day, the answer would probably be different depending on the day. What can I say? I am full of contradictions these days.
Some days I am optimistic that I may love again. It is referred to as “Chapter 2” in the widow world. I am a romantic at heart and don’t want to believe that my love story is finished. I do think my heart will be capable of loving again and some days I hope I do love gain. I still feel like I have love to give. I also to hope that I will experience being loved again. I don’t think to date again or marry again is a betrayal to him. I truly think Bryon wants me to be happy. Bryon will always have a piece of my heart but I do think the heart is capable of growing and loving again.
However, on other days I am depressed and I feel that no man would ever love me like Bryon did and I will never have what Bryon and I had. Of course, I forget that trauma and loss change you, permanently and forever. I am not the same carefree, naive person I used to be and I never will be. That version of myself went away when Bryon got sick and she died when Bryon died. So even if I found Bryon’s clone with the same personality, it probably wouldn’t work. I have changed. But I think about the way Bryon used to look at me. Will I ever find someone who will look at me the same way?
At times I don’t think I will ever remarry because I am not good at dating. Good at being a wife, yes. Good at dating, no. I don’t even know where single people who are closing in their late 30’s go in Albany and even if I did know, where would I find the time? I am busy enough with my daughter and work. Also, Bryon was very well known and popular in our town and will I always be looked at as his widow and not as my own person? And I am not sure anyone would want to date me knowing that Bryon will always have a piece of my heart and I will always love him.
I don’t know what the future will bring. None of us do. I don’t know when I will be ready to date again, if ever. Right now I am still in pain from Bryon’s death and I miss him too much. Plus, I am still learning how to be a working single mom. But the one thing I will say with certainty is that if I start dating again, I won’t be sharing it here. I am very open about my grief but I feel some things are meant to be private.
I have often thought about what we would do if we could just have one more day together. We weren’t expecting you to get sick. There was no way to know when you went into the hospital that you would spend five months there and never leave. What would we have done if we could just have one more day?
Of course, our day will take place in a time that you aren’t sick. I don’t want to spend our day in the ICU. If we could have one more day it would be a Saturday and during a time of the year where you aren’t busy with work. I thought about reliving our wedding day or a day from one of our vacations or Christmas but I decided that while those days were filled with great memories, I miss the non-glamorous memories more. I am also going to be selfish and pretend it’s a Saturday where there are no sporting events. I want my family all to myself.
We would start the day with an activity that you enjoy doing in the morning. To be clear, I like this activity too. Just not in the morning because I am definitely not a morning person. But this would be your special day back so we will do this activity at your preferred time. Amazingly our daughter will sleep in so we can complete this activity without rushing.
Afterwards we will wake up our daughter. She will be so happy to see you. She will jump up and down in her crib and yell “Daddy!” She will know who you are, I promise. She recognizes you in photos. We will let her watch an episode or two of whatever show is on Disney Jr. As long as it isn’t Miles from Tomorrowland because we both don’t understand why Miles has a pet robot ostrich and it pisses us off. But chances are, she will want to watch Elena of Avalor, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Doc McStuffins.
You will make coffee your favorite way which is in the French press. I will attempt to make your favorite breakfast which is waffles but you will decide you would rather make them yourself. You will probably use the Mickey Mouse waffle iron that Maddy bought you for her first Christmas. We eat our waffles with real maple syrup because we don’t keep the fake stuff in our house. You put fake butter on your waffles and I put real butter on mine.
As we eat breakfast, we will watch soccer. Your team Chelsea is playing. You put on your Chelsea jersey. You make some rude comments about the other team. You will yell a lot. It could either be joyful or angry depending on how Chelsea is playing.
Many Saturdays, we went to estate sales but it seems silly to spend the day shopping especially since you can’t take any of it with you. Or we could go to Home Depot and you would most likely quote Frank the Tank because that always makes me laugh (“Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we’re going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don’t know, I don’t know if we’ll have enough time.”)
Or we can stay home and watch another soccer game. It’s your choice.
Lunchtime rolls around and you get to pick. You can have a Garbage Plate at McGeary’s or a Buffalo Burger at Swifty’s. We can go have miniature hot dogs. Or we can stay home and make tomato soup with grilled cheese. Whatever you want.
It’s a beautiful day so we take our daughter to the pocket park near our house. You push her in the swing and she loves it. After that we will hang out on our front porch and watch the cars speed down the street. You will put our cat on his harness and leash and call him a dick when he doesn’t want to go outside. The ice cream truck comes and you can’t resist getting our daughter an ice cream. And you get an ice cream for me too.
For dinner, I will make chicken enchiladas because they were your favorite. You liked to add sriracha to them. You were always happy when I made chicken enchiladas. Personally I don’t think the recipe is very authentic but you don’t care.
I know I said I wanted you to myself but I have to share you for a little while because you have a lot of friends who miss you and will want to see you. So we will have a sitter come and we will meet up with friends for Karaoke. And of course you sing some Righteous Brothers “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” and all of your favorites. You always told me that you wanted to sing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” as a duet but I always said no because you always made fun of the fact that I can’t sing. So today I will sing that duet with you and you can make fun of me all you want.
This ends up being a fun night. It is great to spend time with our friends. But the night must come to end even thought we don’t want it too. We go home and go to bed and hold each other. I will probably cry because I don’t want our day to end and I don’t want to say good-bye again. But I must. So I give you one last hug and kiss and tell you that I love you one last time. I will be okay because I know that while it’s fun to think about this day, it will never happen. At least I have our memories.
My early days of widowhood were filled with numbness as I worked through processing Bryon’s death as well as the death of all our dreams. I am one of those people who likes to have some idea of what will happen in the future like a tentative 5 year, 10 year and 20 year plan. I am not good at flying by the seat of my pants. I know that things can change but I was certain that Bryon, our daughter and the child we planned on having later were going to be there. When Bryon was sick, I knew that it was possible that if he survived (which I believed he was going to) that he was probably going to have long term health problems that would have altered our plans. But he was going to be there. We would figure the rest out.
Then one day he was gone and so were our dreams. The family of three (with plans to be four) had become a family of two. And I have gotten used to the fact that that will be our future. My daughter, me and our cat. Maybe I will get her a dog to make up for the fact that she won’t ever have a brother or sister. I am trying to reconstruct new dreams.
I have been shifting from feeling of numbness due to his absence in our daily life to reflecting on our life together.
I never really been one to date. I didn’t have a serious boyfriend until my senior year in college. He was the complete opposite of Bryon. We dated for almost three years even though he didn’t really put much effort into our relationship. At the time, I thought that it was love and left the relationship unimpressed with the whole concept of love. It definitely was not like the love I had seen in the movies. I don’t think he was a bad guy, he just did not seem to have much passion with me or for anything else.
All my life I had kept people at a distance. I never let anyone get too close and can be quite stand-offish at times. This probably factored into the reason why I never dated much. I never liked letting my guard down. It is much easier to not let people get close instead of opening yourself up and potentially getting hurt. I spent my 20’s immersed in Maine Republican politics and the politics of the Young Republican National Federation. While part of me enjoyed some superficial male attention, I really wasn’t that interested in letting anyone into my own world and exposing myself to potential hurt. As a result, I probably denied myself a lot of happiness during that decade.
All that changed in the winter of 2008. I was still living in Maine and I had traveled to Albany, NY for a leadership conference put on by the New York State Young Republicans. I was feeling more social than usual that weekend and I chatted with several charming gentlemen. I must have made quite an impression on a certain younger gentlemen who stood next to me all evening at the bar and kept buying me drinks. This younger gentleman brought me back to my hotel. I started to get nervous because I felt that this younger gentleman was interested in me and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. I started to stress our age difference because he would surely lose interest if he knew how old I was. He said he didn’t believe I was that old so I took out my driver’s license and said “That’s a ‘7’ not an ‘8’.” He looked at it with complete disbelief and said that that can’t be right. I said. “Oh, yes it is. I was born during the Carter Administration.”
The fact that I was born in the 1970’s (albeit late 1970’s) and that I am old enough to remember Ronald Reagan actually being president did not deter this young gentlemen. For the next several months he showered me with attention on google chat and Facebook. While I enjoyed the attention, I tried to discourage his advances. He was too young. Why on Earth would he want to date an old lady like me?
I didn’t make it easy for him but Bryon eventually wore me down. Our attraction was just too strong and it was just meant to be. And to this day, I have no idea what he saw in me. What made me special? No man had ever made an effort to romance me or make me feel special but Bryon did. What was it about me that made him think I was worth the trouble?
He was the first person I truly let get close to me. This scared me and I am ashamed to say that I would test him even though I don’t think I did it intentionally. I just thought he was too good to be true and that he would surely lose interest in me. Friends used to always say that I was a saint for putting up with his mischievous antics but he was just as much as a saint for putting up with me. I wasn’t always a picnic to deal with. I have no idea why I couldn’t just accept that a great guy like Bryon would love me.
I just think about how he used to look at me during those romantic dinners, like I was the only girl in the room. Or how he listened to every silly story I told on our first date. I think about how sappy he got right before he proposed to me at Mahars and how happy he looked when I walked down the aisle on our wedding day. I think about how excited he would get when I would say a one-liner that made him laugh. He would reiterate to me that he was the funny one but once in awhile I can be really funny too. I think about all the times he told me I was beautiful and all the times I got mad at him because I didn’t believe I was deserving of that compliment.
I think I am beginning to enter what I am thinking of as the Mopey Love Song Phase. In the earlier days of widowhood, my sadness felt raw and intense but it still felt like an external feeling that I could fight off. My sadness doesn’t feel as raw or intense now but it feels deeper and more internalized. It is like the sadness has actually become a physical part of me and I accept that it is now a part of me. The emptiness sits like a big pit in my stomach and radiates through my bones.
Now that I am getting over the shock of Bryon being gone, I am bombarded with memories and trying to process the emotions that go along with all of those memories. Our love story is played over and over again in my head. I tear up to think that as we were living our lives and making memories, we never knew that we weren’t going to get many years. And there never would have been no way to know.
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.
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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.
Running Forward...My Way 