young widow – Page 16 – Running Forward…My Way

Exhaustion

Published on July 29, 2017 by kerrymckim7 Comments

I have come to a realization over the past couple of days…I am exhausted.

I am physically tired. I can feel it in my bones.

I am mentally tired.

I am emotionally tired.

I am spiritually tired.

I always feel like I am behind the eight ball.

I have so much to do and no energy to do it. At times my life feels like an overwhelming mess. Too much to do. My house is a mess. For the past year and a half, I felt that the mess in my house is just representative of my life. But is the mess, both the literal and the figurative, ever going to get cleaned up?

I don’t know how to feel rested. I can’t remember the last time I felt rested. Was it before Bryon got sick or was it before my daughter was born? I cant remember.

I went from running on fear and adrenaline to being numb and in a fog. Now that the fog is lifting and life is starting to feel “normal”, I feel empty, hollow and drained.

This empty, hollow and drained feeling is discouraging because I feel like I have worked so hard to be positive. I feel like I have worked hard to put myself first and it feels like I wated useless energy.

I could just stay home but then I am left alone with my thoughts which get depressing if left to their own devices. I need the company of my friends right now. But I am an introvert which means that I naturally need alone time which puts me in a contradictory situation.

When am I going to feel like I have sh*t together again?

Kind of grateful

Published on July 28, 2017July 28, 2017 by kerrymckim6 Comments

I was happily married and thought I was with the man I would grow old with.

But life had other plans.

Life doesn’t care.

Life can be cruel.

Life doesn’t care who you are, where you have been or where you are going.

Life can rip your heart out.

Life can chew you up and spit you out.

Life can destroy the very foundation of everything you had and leave you to pick up the debris.

One of my worst nightmares came true.

Life made me a young widow.

What I would give to get my old life back.

My old life was innocent and selfish. Innocent because I had the luxury of worrying about things that didn’t matter. I didn’t know what true trauma was. Selfish because I didn’t know how good I had it, nor did I take the time to appreciate what I had.

Bryon’s illness and death has changed me. The whole experience has been hell, but I would do it all over again, even if it meant the same result.

I am grateful for the time I did have with Bryon. I got to experience true love.

To have someone look at you like you are the only one in the room.

Where you can communicate with each other through your eyes from across a room.

To be so in sync with someone that you can finish their sentences.

Someone who would always hug you or hold your hand.

Someone who always rushes home after whatever work thing he/she had just to see you.

The list goes on. Bryon wasn’t just my husband. He was the love of my life and my best friend. My partner in crime and my other half. I always called him my “one and only” and my soul mate. It makes my heart hurt to think that he probably won’t be my “one and only.”

But I know I am lucky. Some people go through their whole lives without ever experiencing love. But I did, because of Bryon.

I am grateful for all that Bryon gave me. The love, the memories, the vacations, the laughter, the conversations. For the fact that he worked so hard to provide for me and our daughter. For the beautiful wedding and an amazing daughter. For his faith in me.

He opened up a whole world for me. I learned so much from him.

I am thankful that because of him, I feel whole as a person even by myself. And because of him, I know that when the time comes for me to write the second chapter of my life’s great love story, I will not settle.

I was lucky to be your leading lady, Bryon McKim.

Late night ramblings of a widow #2

Published on July 27, 2017 by kerrymckim10 Comments

Late night ramblings…I can’t promise this post will be coherent.

It is late and I hate going to bed.

I hate being reminded that I am the only one that sleeps in my bed.

Well, unless my cat decides I am worthy of his presence.

My daughter got a toddler bed at Easter and it took her several months before she figured out she could physically get out of bed on her own. So now there is a 50 percent chance she will make her way to my room in the early hours and climb into my bed. And I will be too tired to care. Unlike my cat, she is a cuddler.

I have been pondering life.

I have spent so much time living with blinders on and I never realized all the life that goes on.

I was on a run recently with Kimmy Gibbler and we were near train tracks and an Amtrak train went by. I pointed out that the train was full of people heading to Western New York and that each person had their own agenda.

There were also other runners, joggers and walkers. There were the maintenance men. There was the homeless person sitting on a bench. There were bunny rabbits in the grass.

So much life around. Does it even matter? Does it even affect me?

When I was back in Maine last weekend, I had breakfast with an old friend. I will call her Charlotte because I don’t usually use real names and that was her name in French class. I sat next to her and my name was Emilie. Charlotte and Emilie. Except the “E” had one of those accents on it and I can’t be bothered to try to figure out how to type with one. Just being honest.

Charlotte said several things to me that made me think. Some of it was about religion. She definitely gave me some things to think about. But if you are one of my religious friends reading this- don’t get too excited. I am just thinking.

One of the other things that she brought up was the whole concept of the butterfly effect. I honestly have never given much thought into it. But it made sense to me. Greed in the healthcare system has a trickle down effect that can affect patient care. Laziness of doctors in overprescribing antibiotics plays into antibiotic resistance as well as the corporate greed that fuels the usage of putting antibiotics into our meat.

I was so fascinated by this concept that I spent some time on the internet reading it. I also read Andy Andrews book about it. It is a very quick yet powerful read. And I am not just saying that because he talks about Joshua Chamberlain which automatically wins over this history buff from Maine.

Fun fact about me: I was a history major at the University of Southern Maine. Your senior thesis was written while enrolled in your History 400 class and each offering had a different theme. My final semester I was so excited that Maine History was offered in one of the sections. But I did not write my thesis on Joshua Chamberlain. I wrote it about French Canadian immigration to Maine’s mill towns. I don’t have a copy. It probably sucked and I am sure I could write a much better paper now. Maybe I will write history books someday.

Everything we do matters. It might not seem that way to us on a daily basis but our actions matter. Positive actions create more positivity and negative actions create more negativity. If you spend your time making those around you feel good, you are putting more positivity into the world which will have a butterfly effect. You could be causing good for people you don’t even know and you may never know the magnitude of your good actions.

The same is true on the negative side. Don’t be negative people!

Kimmy Gibbler always says that the world needs more hi-fives and less negativity.

It also makes me think about intricate our lives paths are.

When I was in Vegas last February, my friend and I had visited Mandalay Bay. As I was walking around Mandalay Bay, I was thinking about how I attended the 2005 Young Republican National Convention. If I hadn’t attended that event, I never would have gotten involved with the Young Republican National Federation. I never would have met some of my closest friends from that organization. I never would have met Bryon. I never would have moved to New York. My daughter would have never been born. I wouldn’t even know my Albany family.

I have no idea what my life would be like if I had not attended that one event.

My life unfolded this way for a reason (and is still unfolding.) Everyone is in my life for a reason. Every opportunity in my life currently is there for a reason. I may not be sure what it is yet, but I am right where I belong.

Chicago 2017: Navy Pier

Published on July 26, 2017July 26, 2017 by kerrymckimLeave a comment

During my weekend in Chicago I really wanted to go take my daughter on the Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier.

I first rode on the Ferris Wheel in 2004. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving. I had attended a wedding in Wisconsin and it was ten days after my Grandma Sullivan died. I had found out while I was working. It was a Friday and my father and I had been planning to leave that day to try to get to Massachusetts before she passed but we were too late.

I can still remember what I did in those ten days:

Friday- Grandma died.
Saturday- Went to Massachusetts (5 hours away from my home in Maine).
Sunday- Grandma’s wake.
Monday- Grandma’s funeral.
Tuesday- Went back to Maine.
Wednesday- Helped my mother prepare for Thanksgiving
Thursday- Thanksgiving
Friday- Flew from Bangor, ME to Madison, WI (via Cincinnati) to attend the wedding of a friend that I had attended university with while I was in England. My cousin (from the other side of the family) was crazy enough to fly up from Florida to attend as my guest.
Saturday- Wedding just outside of Madison, WI
Sunday- Went to Milwaukee with my cousin. We went to the Milwaukee Public Museum, had lunch at Usingers, and toured the Colonel Pabst Mansion.

I couldn’t resist posting this Wayne’s World clip.

On Monday my cousin was crazy enough to take a bus to Chicago with me. She was crazy enough walk around Chicago with me for 12 hours in the cold, November rain. We had pizza at Gino’s, walked by Wrigley field, went to the top of Sears tower and rode the Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier.

I have no pictures of myself on the Ferris Wheel but here is one of me on the El.

189627_17695717840_1577_n — Chicago 2004

And because I talking about the cold November rain got this song stuck in my head…here you go-

I returned to Maine that Tuesday.

There were lots of things that I did not know at that time. I had just gotten involved in politics but I had not even heard of the Young Republicans. 18 months after that trip to Chicago, I would attend the Young Republican Leadership Conference in Washington, D.C. On that trip, I would attend a party at the Romanian Embassy and on the shuttle bus ride there, I would sit behind a girl from Chicago who would become on of my best friends. (You met her here)

In the fall of 2007, I was living in Southern Indiana with another friend from the Young Republicans. I was on a three months contract for work. My roommate and I drove up to Chicago to see my best friend and another good friend in Chicago. We had dinner at an Italian restaurant and then went to Navy Pier. And we rode the Ferris Wheel.

196476_19062587840_3148_n — Chicago 2007

188498_19062527840_1474_n — Chicago 2007

In 2007 we were single girls travelling around the country, attending political meetings and partying with future leaders and elected officials (some of them surprised us).

In 2012, we both got married. I got married in September in Albany and she got married in December in Mexico. Her location was a bit more exotic than mine but it didn’t matter. We were both there for each other on our big days.

163351_10152007789837841_2022148149_n — Albany, 2012

74198_10151974547607841_391795972_n — Mexico, 2012

We both had our daughters in 2014. Her daughter came in April and mine came in September. They are exactly 5 months apart.

And she was there for me when Bryon died. She made the trip to Albany (along with the other lovely lady in her wedding photo). They actually already had the plans to be in NYC the weekend that ended up being the weekend of Bryon’s funeral. His birthday was the day after his funeral and she made arrangements to meet my father halfway between NYC and Albany to bring our daughter to see him for his birthday. I told Bryon that he would see our daughter, as long as the doctors said it was okay. He was excited.

But he died a week before his birthday.

And now I am here. A widow. Travelling as much as a I can this year to make up for the fact that I spent most of 2016 in an ICU room watching Bryon slowly die. And because I promised him as he was dying that I would still take our daughter on adventures.

So that brings me to Chicago in 2017. With my best friend and our young daughters. And I wanted to go to Navy Pier to ride the Ferris Wheel…again.

20031690_10155814274532841_570146806796521482_n — Chicago 2017

20156130_10155814274707841_7469280915709934603_n — Chicago 2017

20106516_10155814275132841_3645585616520718671_n — Chicago 2017

19961177_10155814275247841_4499783531740664790_n — Chicago 2017

19989611_10155814275652841_9156754146822396110_n — Chicago 2017

Both of the little ones enjoyed the ride. I can’t remember if it was my friends daughters first time or not. I think it’s safe to say that when my daughter and I return, that we will go on the Ferris Wheel again. Maybe next time, she will be tall enough for some of the other rides.

10 Things I Miss About You

Published on July 23, 2017July 24, 2017 by kerrymckim4 Comments

This poem is inspired by a poem in one of Bryon’s favorite movies.

I miss that you didn’t take life too seriously,
that you just didn’t care.

I miss arguing with you about stupid stuff,
like the length of your hair,

I miss being annoyed by all the sports on TV,

I miss our conversations,
even the ones about poop and pee,

I miss that you planned our vacations,
though you always gave me a say,

I miss that you kept me safe,
and always assured me that everything would be okay,

I miss that you would always make me laugh,
whenever I was mad,

I miss that our daughter will never know her Dad,

I miss that you would always steal my pillow,

I miss that you are not here and I am all alone.
I wish you were here,
so I didn’t have to be a fucking widow.

Boston, 2015: Swan Boats and a rowing machine

Published on July 19, 2017July 20, 2017 by kerrymckim9 Comments

July 18, 2015

It was a Saturday morning. The baby woke up and usually I would be the one to get our daughter. But this morning, Bryon told me he would get her. I laid in bed thinking it was nice. A lazy morning in bed is a rarity.

It didn’t last long.

5 minutes later Bryon came into our bedroom and asked that question-

“Hey, do we have anything planned today?”

I knew exactly where he was going with this. He had spent the last 24 hours looking for a used rowing machine on craigslist because he wanted a fancy one without paying the price for one new.

I respond with an un-phased “where did you find a rowing machine?”

“I found one in Arlington.”

This peaks my interest. Being a native of the Boston area, I knew he meant Arlington, Massachusetts. And I am always up for an adventure and I love Boston.

“So if we go to Arlington, is there any chance we can go to Boston? I want to take our daughter on the Swan Boats.”

The Swan Boats are a Boston institution after all.

Bryon assured me that since he couldn’t pick up the rowing machine from the seller until 5 pm that there would be plenty of time to go on the Swan Boats.

So off to Boston we went. We stopped for breakfast at Chick-Fil-A in Chicopee, Massachusetts.

We arrived in Boston and we parked at Alewife and took the Red Line to Downtown Crossing.

I love my daughters impression of her first subway ride.

A perfect summer day in Boston. Bryon and I decided that we wanted our daughter to know both Boston and New York City when she got a little older. I wanted to do a trip to Boston in the summer and I wanted to take her to a Red Sox game in Fenway Park. Bryon said he wanted to bring our daughter to New York City at Christmastime.

This ended up being our only trip to Boston together.

That face.

Bryon always loved wearing a Pawtucket hat instead of a Boston hat. He loved that only true baseball fans and true Red Sox fans knew that the “P” stood for Pawtucket.

(For all you non-baseball fans, Pawtucket is the minor league baseball team affiliated with the Boston Red Sox. They are located in Pawtucket, Rhode Island.)

We went to get the rowing machine at around 5. The machine was a bigger model than advertised and we struggled to fit it into our Suburu Forrester. Luckily we were able to take it apart and get all the pieces in. Bryon was thrilled because he would have been willing to pay more for this model.

Just in case anyone is wondering, it isn’t the model that Frank Underwood uses on House of Cards. Bryon told me once that it is model lower than that.

Bryon and I joked that the guy we bought the rowing machine from was the Boston version of his brother because the houses look the same as the ones in his brothers neighborhood. Also, the guy we were purchasing the rowing machine from had two sons the same ages as Bryon’s nephews and one even had the same name.

The only difference was that Bryon’s brother does not have much hair and the guy we bought the rowing machine from had a ponytail. Bryon was really good at reading people and he said that the guy still had the ponytail to show the world that he was still a non-conformist even if he sold out to corporate America. Bryon always made me laugh.

The rest of these photos (courtesy of Facebooks “On This Day” feature) were taken back at home. Most days I am content with my daughter being my only child. Even if I were to fall in love again, I will be 39 this summer. I am not sure I want to go through the sleepless nights again. And the pumping.

But then I look at these photos of my daughter and then I feel a twinge of sadness that she will be my only child.

I so wanted him to be a motivational speaker

Published on July 13, 2017July 13, 2017 by kerrymckimLeave a comment

Written on my Facebook wall one year ago.

Names have been edited out.

Last night when I went to sleep on the little couch in Bryon’s room, I wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the night. He did but he was in rough shape. Then I wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the day. But Bryon is a fighter. I don’t know what the outcome is going to be but we all know that Bryon isn’t going down without a fight and he is going to give his all. This morning I told him that if he still had fight in him to please keep fighting. I want our daughter to grow up knowing firsthand how amazing her father is. But I told Bryon that I would love him no matter what even if he couldn’t win this fight. And thank God he is still fighting.

Bryon’s current health status is very critical at this point and we are pretty much back where we started. It was a miracle that kept him alive back in March and I don’t know if double miracles happen. However his labs and blood pressure have improved since this morning. But my friend says if the double miracle does happen it will be awesome because Bryon can become a motivational speaker and he would be funny.

* * *

The minutes crept at an unnaturally slow pace.

I will never forget how I felt as he clung onto his life.

Desperation. Exhaustion. Frustration. Helplessness. Hopefulness. Anger. Betrayal. Gratitude.

And love.

The day I lost my faith in God

Published on July 12, 2017July 12, 2018 by kerrymckim23 Comments

Alternate title: The post that is most likely to get me defriended on Facebook. #sorrynotsorry

In some ways, July 12, 2016 was the hardest day for me during Bryon’s crisis.

March 29, 2016 was the day that the sh*t hit the proverbial fan. The day he went into septic shock and his organs started failing. My life had been turned upside in an instant. I was stunned. I was consumed with fear and was struggling just to process what had happened.

August 20, 2016 was the day I learned that Bryon was not going to survive. The resident had told me that his heart was going to stop beating that day. He ended up holding out until the next morning. At this point, I knew that this was the reality. I had seen a lot in the past five months and I knew that this was the end so I was able to process it. It was the ending I was desperately trying to prevent but at least the days of hell sitting in the ICU were going to be over.

Little did I know that the hell would continue for the months that followed. #widowhood #grief

July 12, 2016.

One year ago today.

The day that Bryon had gone into septic shock for a second time. Until that point, I didn’t think there was a chance he could die. He survived septic shock in March. He was stable and recovering very slowly. But here I was again, staring at his vitals, desperately trying to will his blood pressure to stay up. I couldn’t believe we were back where we were in March. Except in March, Bryon had been strong going into this. Now he was back to square one but with a body that had been weakened after three and a half months in the ICU.

July 12, 2016.

The day I lost my faith in God.

No, I am not an atheist. I believe He exists. I just know that He doesn’t give a damn about me.

It was the day that I realized that God didn’t care how many Rosaries I said or how many Novenas I said. He didn’t care that I put the Novenas on Facebook either.

It was the day that I realized that God didn’t care how many church prayers lists Bryon was on.

It was the day that I realized that God didn’t care how many candles were lit for Bryon.

It was the day that I realized that God didn’t care how many convents I had submitted online prayer requests too.

(In case you are wondering, submissions were made to every convent that accepted online requests in the English speaking world. About ten pages of Google results.)

It was the day that I realized that God didn’t care that the Rabbi’s in Bangor, Maine were praying for him.

It was the day that I realized that God didn’t care that Bryon’s name was whispered into the Dalai Lama’s ear.

It was the day that I realized God was going to do whatever God was going to do. While He’s off performing miracles for other people, He wanted Bryon to suffer for months in the hospital. He wanted me to have to watch it. Doesn’t sound like the loving God I heard about throughout my childhood in C.C.D.

People are so quick to defend God to me. I get it. People like Him. But it makes me feel more alone in my grief when people do that. Like my grief isn’t taken seriously. Like I am a teenager rebelling against her parents because she didn’t want to go to her confirmation class. (That may have happened.)

C.S. Lewis in A Grief Observed described it best:

… Meanwhile, where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be — or so it feels — welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become. There are no lights in the windows. It might be an empty house. Was it ever inhabited? It seemed so once. And that seeming was as strong as this. What can this mean? Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?

There has been a lot of buzz in the “widow world” about the engagement of Patton Oswalt. People are so quick to judge him even though they haven’t walked in his shoes. People are so quick to project their ideals and standards onto other people. I belong to many online widow groups, most of which consist of young widows and widowers and so many of them share stories about how they found love again…but those in their life (parents, in-laws, friends, children, etc) aren’t comfortable with it. They get told that it is “too soon” and will be told that they are still healing.

It is no one’s place to dictate when someone is healed or healed enough. Never.

(For additional reading on this topic, please see Kerry Phillips, John Polo and Erica Roman. They say everything so much more eloquently than I can.)

I am closing in on 11 months of widowhood and I am not ready to date again. So I have no experience with being judged about that. Who knows what kind of reaction I will get when that time comes. Though I know if anyone tries to stand in the way of any future happiness, my best friend Kimmy Gibbler will shut them down.

I have been judged about my relationship with God. And it’s frustrating as hell to be told what my relationship with God should be by people who have never been in my situation. It demeans my grief and what I have been through. I am hurting in a way that most have never felt. It is insulting to be told that I have to love a God that took my husband from me and my daughter’s father away from her from people who never had to feel this kind of pain.

My grief is mine. My relationship, no matter how strained, with God is mine. Not yours. No one has the right to project onto me how I should feel. And as far as I am concerned, He slammed the door on me and the ball is in his court.

So much weekend: New Kids on the Block!

Published on July 11, 2017July 12, 2017 by kerrymckim5 Comments

I am going to get a little Sophia Petrillo on you.

Picture it: Billerica, Massachusetts. 1989. Or 1990 depending on which half of the school year it was.

A young girl sits in her fifth grade class at Eugene C. Vining Elementary School. Her female classmates have a whole bunch of boy band paraphernalia on their desk, including those large pins that you could stand up. Like a picture frame. Her male classmates would snicker and lodge pencils at these large picture pins, trying to knock them down.

This girl thought the boy band was stupid. That girl was me and that band was New Kids on the Block.

I wanted nothing to do with them. I wanted nothing to do with those large stand up pins, or the t-shirts, or the plastic water bottles or the bed sheets.

My mother, who was a Beatles fan back in the day, encouraged me to like them but I wouldn’t give in. In fact, that might have fed into my resolve not to like them. (Sorry Mom!)

So I have no stories about going to their concerts when I was a middle schooler. Because I just didn’t care. I have always had a streak in me that didn’t want to do what was popular. To this day, I have never read a Harry Potter book or seen a Harry Potter movie. So leave it me to be 25 years late for the New Kids Party. But better late than never, right?

My friend had won tickets and four of us went. We were so excited. We had dinner and margaritas at El Miriachi before the show.

Oh no! I admit, I was more excited about seeing Boyz II Men than I was about New Kids but I wasn’t going to let it ruin a great night.

My friend and I joked that Bryon was behind it. Bryon liked Boyz II Men though I wasn’t allowed to talk about it when he was alive. He was embarrassed. Though when we were planning my daughters Baptism, he made me watch the scenes from the Fresh Prince of Bel-air with Nicky’s Christening.

Our daughters Christening was the Sunday of Epiphany and Bryon said it would be cool to get Boyz II Men to come. I didn’t put any more thought into it until a few days later when Bryon says that Boyz II Men won’t be playing at our daughters Christening because they were not in our budget. Leave it to him to actually look into it.

So my friend was saying that because Bryon couldn’t see them, then none of us could.

We will have to catch them next time.

My daughter’s Godmother and I were talking about how my daughter will like some band that doesn’t exist yet and she won’t want to go with us. Because we will embarrass her. Her Godmother’s stepdaughter will probably take her.

And one life lesson: don’t spend too much time on social media during the concert. You might miss the dancer that rips off his shirt. True story.

In the past, I didn’t enjoy my life fully. I never lived in the moment. I was always worried about other things all the time. So I made sure to really just embrace being at the concert with my friends. There may have been some adult beverages.

But being a widow always has some level of sadness. It shows up even at the happiest times. Even though Bryon wouldn’t have gone to this concert if he were alive, I did miss him. I missed the fact that he would have been making fun of me. I missed the fact that I didn’t have him to come home to. I came home all excited and he wasn’t here to listen to my stories.

There is also some level of guilt. Guilt that I am having fun without him. Guilt that I am here to enjoy events like this and he is not.

I carry close to my heart the fact that Bryon embraced life. He didn’t hold back. And when he was in the ICU for five months, he fought. He fought even though he would likely have permanent damage to his body. He wanted to live. So I must continue to live my life fully. I owe it to him.

Late night ramblings of a widow

Published on July 1, 2017July 1, 2017 by kerrymckim6 Comments

In my younger days I was a night owl. I was happiest when the world was quiet and the sky was dark. I used to believe I was most creative at night. I worked on some of my best arts and craft projects at night.

But now I hate the nighttime. My years with Bryon had ended my night owl habits because Bryon was not a night owl and he didn’t like it when I stayed up. I did get reacquainted with the wee hours when my daughter was born and thrilled to find that I could find episodes of Blossom and Step by Step playing. Love me some 1990’s Patrick Duffy.

I find now that even if I am exhausted, I will find whatever reason I can put off going to bed. I will work late. I will watch TV. I will read a book. I will attempt to clean. I will write pointless blog posts like this one that people won’t read because the title will be depressing and not controversial. But I put off going to sleep every night because I miss Bryon. I think back to all our arguments where we accused the other that they were hogging the bed. I know it wasn’t me, but it doesn’t seem fair to point that out since he is not here to defend himself. I think about our arguments where I got mad because he liked to sleep with the TV on and I wanted silence. I also think about how I got annoyed because he was a cuddler and I am not. (I just wanted to sleep).

And now I lie in bed alone every night and I miss him. So I stay awake until I am so tired that I know I will fall asleep almost immediately.

I miss Bryon. I miss my husband. I miss my best friend. I miss my co-parent.

I miss sharing stories from my day with him.

I miss having him to turn to if I need advice.

I miss his big bear hugs.

I miss our conversations which could be on any topic from World Peace to our last poop.

Instead it is just me.

Alone.

It’s not fair. I was happy with my life. I don’t know we did to deserve this. Why does everyone else get to have seemingly normal, happy lives where I have one that is filled with sadness and pain?

I don’t know why this had to happen? The whole thing is senseless.

I will always replay what happened in my head. Though there was nothing I could do. I can still feel how helpless I felt as Bryon was clinging to his life. I was at the mercy of the doctors and God and both failed us.

I am so tired of people defending God to me. Everyone seems to love that guy, except me. I don’t understand how people can expect me to be able to love the being that took Bryon from me. Nope.

It dawned on me today that I don’t ever have to get married again. Some people live their lives without ever being happily married and I was. The only problem was that I expected it last many decades like my parents and grandparents. This was not how I envisioned it ending.

We full-filled our marriage vows. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I have done all the married living I am going to do. Maybe I am in a post-married phase that most people don’t ever get to experience. Maybe I am meant to live the life of an eccentric yet adventurous old lady. Maybe I should raise my daughter and then get an apartment in Paris. I always wanted to live in Paris. Or maybe I will buy a farmhouse on the Maine coast. The possibilities are endless.

What Bryon and I had was real. I knew true love. I am pretty certain it will never happen again because lightning doesn’t strike twice.

I am somewhere between being a constant emotional mess and a shell of the person I used to be.

And the last thing I want to do is date even if I want male attention. But I know I want attention for the wrong reasons.

I followed rules. I played it safe my whole life. And I still wind up in a painful existence. Maybe I should have thrown more caution to the wind in my younger days. I should have been carefree but I spent all my time worrying about things that didn’t matter.

Somedays I will think I am in a good place. Then all it takes is one memory or one song to undo my good day. And don’t get me started on Facebooks “On This Day.”

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