Dan, in real time.

Namaste

2012-01-24T16:25:00.000-08:00

I am writing today, not because I have an active readership in mind, more for those that might find my blog in the future. The time has come to make a shift in my focus.

First things first. I am not a new person, and I have not completely worked through my grief. And, my life is not suddenly a bed of roses.

Yes, I have been blessed with many new things in the past 2+ years. I live in a new city, and occupy a new home. I have a new relationship, and each of my children have continued to grow. I am about to become a grandfather, and look forward to the joy that only new life can bring. I have many tried, tested and true old friends and family. And most importantly, I have many new friends whose journeys bear a marked similarity to where I have been, where I am, and where I am going.

For those unfamiliar with my story, my journey here on this blog came out of a desperate need to share my thoughts and feelings as I attempted to deal with the death of my husband. I felt so alone, even with a household of children and a local circle of friends. It was those late night hours when I found myself alone that I needed to reach out and express myself. I was seeking understanding from those that had been there, and from those standing in the same place. What I found was a lifesaving community of people, also reaching out, who gathered formally and informally in order to help hold each other endure.

It is now time for me to move in a different direction. When I began writing in this forum I did so without a timeline in mind. I didn't anticipate that there would be a end, yet I find myself needed just that. I feel the need to end the documentation of this part of my journey, and to perhaps start anew in a different place. I know that I will always be writing about my experiences, yet for now, I need to be writing about other aspects of my life.

I have decided to maintain this blog for those that may come looking for someone like me in the future. When I started on this journey I was looking for other gay widowed, yet was not finding my reflection online. Since the beginning, I have found that the community I sought materialized in many surprising ways. I have in fact found other LGBT widowed people, and many of them have reached out to me. What I didn't expect is the larger community of widowed people to also embrace me. It has been an overwhelming experience of love and support, and has changed the way I view the world around me.

It my hope that those that arrive here in the future, also looking for a similar experience, will know that they too are not alone. I will make attempts to update possible links to other services and communities as they develop. I may even respond to future comments, so please feel free to leave them, as I will continue to be notified of future comments left on the blog.

Please know that I continue to grow as an individual. I continue to work through the loss that I have experienced, the ongoing challenges that I face, and the prospects of increased joy in the future.

Much love to all of you, and thank you for being part of my journey.

Namaste

Dan, in real time.

A Talk of Death

2012-01-08T09:54:00.000-08:00

I just returned from visiting with my parents and aunt. I take the two hour drive every other weekend, as I know that my folks, and their generation of family members, won't be around forever. Of course none of us will be around forever, will we? It's just that my parents are in their late 70's, and with many health problems. My aunt is in the final stage of her cancer, and I'm all too aware of how precious time becomes when you know someone is leaving sooner rather than later.

Each time I take this trip, my car is loaded with my kids, my daughter's boyfriend, and on a few occasions, Abel, my new boyfriend. Today's trip felt quite intense. We visited with my folks first, then had them join us for a visit with my aunt. While at the visit my cousins were sharing with me that my aunt has chosen to end her chemotherapy. She has decided that her last days will be healthier and happier days without the misery that chemo can bring. It was kind of a sobering occasion.

On the long drive home Abel and I had a long conversation about health, death and aging. We talked about the various diseases that have affected our family's of origin, and how illness and death have touched each of our lives. At one point there was a pause, and Abel turned to me to ask, have you had a physical lately?

Funny timing. I do have a physical scheduled for this Monday. My health is definitely not something I take for granted. Although my kids are now teenagers, and young adults, I know that they still need me. I know that I still have much more parenting to do, and want to be sure that I am around for a long time. Remember, I will become a grandfather in less than two months. Last time that I met with my doctor, he told me that he was concerned about my blood pressure. It has always been borderline high, but now it is looking problematic. He reviewed my medical chart, and asked how long I have been on my anti-depressant.

Too long.

Like Janine, I have struggled with depression for many years. My depression has not been helped by the mental health problems that my two sons suffer from, nor has it been aided by the death of my husband. In the past two years I have tried twice to go off my medication, each time without much success. I usually do well for a couple months, then find myself sinking deeper and deeper.

I told my doctor that while I was not sure about going completely off the medication, I preferred to try going off the anti-depressant rather than adding another medication for high blood pressure. I'm worried, because I'm not sure I am making the right decision, but once again I feel that it is worth a try. I suppose that if there was an optimum time to try it would be when I am happily in a new relationship and looking forward to the arrival of new life. Is that enough? Is anything enough?

All I know is that I do feel a deep sense of responsibility to not die. Well, just not right now at least. One pill? Two pills? I will make that decision on Monday. Suddenly I have someone holding my hand, reminding me that he is quite invested in my being around for quite some time.

Hopeful New Year

2012-01-02T18:35:00.000-08:00

originally posted on Widow's Voice

No tears tonight. (It's New Year's Eve as I write.)

Tonight I celebrate what lies ahead of me. Tonight I take notice of what prior New Year's brought my way. I know that tonight a friend is celebrating a wedding anniversary without her husband. I know that tonight another friend is remembering this as the day she met the husband who is also no longer beside her. Yet knowing each of these women, I'm sure that even if tears are falling, there are beautiful smiles on their faces.

Looking ahead to the new year is our way of projecting hope into our future. For those of us who are widowed hope is not something we can always easily access. Yet for me, at this point in my life, I do have hope, and more of it than expected.

I know that years ago after learning that my husband was terminally ill, I thought I lost hope. Yet, in the days that followed his emergency surgery I found myself accessing hope that I couldn't recognize at first. It was that hope that spurred me on to seek out the right path for us as a couple, and it was that hope that allowed me to not get stuck so deep in my unexpected sorrow. It was also that hope that provided me with two more loving years with the man I gave my heart to.

After losing Michael I felt that once again I had lost all ties to hope. I was not able to see beyond the pain and sorrow, even as the days and months went by. I began to question if my future carried any real meaning. After surviving on scary night I decided to trust that hope was there, even if I didn't recognize it. I made a decision to set off in a new direction, and I trusted that there was something, not necessarily someone, out there for me.

Tonight I sit here in my home, with all the chaos that is included with a house full of kids and pets. I had hoped for a very quiet peaceful night, one like last year, yet it is clearly not what I am to have. The television is blaring, the dogs are running around, I have struggling with a miserable cold, and my new love is at work rather than sitting beside me.

Inside my head I keep hearing Mick Jagger singing these lyrics..."YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT." For those of us who find ourselves seeking out this blog, this is a bit of an understatement.

My point is this, no, I don't believe I got what I wanted. I got more. I got a lifetime of Michael's love. It wasn't my lifetime of love, but it was his. I know that he never stopped loving me, nor I him. I know that loving him gave me so much hope in my future. I know that loving him taught me that sometimes hope takes a different turn. Before meeting Michael I thought love had passed me by. I had somewhat lost hope. He renewed it. In learning that I was soon to lose Michael I thought I had lost hope. Once again, it was renewed. In losing Michael I was sure that I had lost hope. Yet, here I sit, being hopeful once again.

Let's all look forward to a hopeful year. Let's say our thanks for what we had, and let's be open to what the future holds.

Happy New Year.

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes, well you might find
You get what you need

Hands

2011-12-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

A simple photo opportunity.

A day in the sun. A day with the one I love.

Our hands.

Proof that he is here for me. Proof that he exists here in my life. Proof that he offers his hand to me.

I sit here looking at this innocent photo that I took today.

My hand on his. His hand at ease. His hand already used to mine finding it's way over to his.

I am very fortunate. I never forget this. I never take the offer of his hand for granted.

It reminds me of another photo I took four years ago.

Another day in the sun. Another day with the one I loved.

Our hands.

Proof that he was there for me. Proof that he existed here in my life. Proof that he offered his hand to me.

My hand on his. His hand at ease. His hand already used to mind finding it's way over to his.

I am very fortunate. I never forget this. I never took the offer of his hand for granted.

Thankful

2011-11-20T12:33:00.001-08:00

Two Thanksgiving celebrations down, and one to go.

It's been an interesting couple of days. Friday night I hosted an office Thanksgiving potluck at my home. Almost every person from the office came, along with their families. There was so much food, wine and desert, and everyone was in a very good mood. Most had hoped to meet Abel, and since he had to work, I was explaining all night as to why he wasn't present.

Since most of the folks I work with have never been to my home I took the time to give each of them the official tour. What I realized is that this crowd of people never knew Michael, or of my life with him. Of course many have likely heard that I am widowed, but it is something that is more historical information to them. As each entered my bedroom they were greeted by the large wedding photo of Michael and I, which is balanced across the room with his urn. To create a festive mood throughout the house I had votive candles everywhere. Two specific candles are often burning on each side of the urn. I think these images were a bit jarring for each guest, as it put some reality into what I have experienced over the years.

On Saturday I had another early Thanksgiving celebration, this time at my parents' home. All of my brothers and their families were present, and with each person that greeted me there was the same question, "where is Abel?" That part was very similar to the questions and responses on Friday night, only this crowd had a very personal perspective of not only my loss, but of theirs.

I was enjoying a glass of wine with my sister-in-law, and having a real heart to heart when she commented about how quickly life can change. She was remembering her weekend visit to my home at the end of the summer, and how I was expressing that I was now ready to begin dating. She pointed out that the expression on my face now is very different than times in the recent past. She said that I look happy for a change. As we spoke more about Abel she shared with me that even though she is happy for me, and Abel seems like a nice guy, it is very difficult to see me with somebody new. She told me that even though it's been two years, she still thinks about how much she and everyone loved Michael, and how she misses him. My sister-in-law said that Michael was such a special person, the type that doesn't come along very often.

I appreciated what my sister-in-law shared with me. It was a good reminder that others around me continue to be affected by Michael being taken so soon. I know that my family is pleased that I have found happiness with someone new, but they will need time to adjust, as they don't see me, or us, often.

Before we began to eat our Thanksgiving meal all of us formed a circle in the room. We joined hands for the Thanksgiving prayer. My father voiced a collective thanksgiving for all that we have, and for what God will continue to provide us. These words sort of took me to another place. Yes, I am thankful, yet part of me is still feeling the sting of personalizing that God took Michael from me. I know that this internal debate, did he take him, or was it just his time, is not something worth wrestling with. I know that if God did take him, it is not for me to know why. So for now I will focus on being thankful for what I have.

I am thankful for my children, and the love we share between us. I am thankful for all of my extended family, and for the many years my parents, and each of my brothers, have been given in their marriages. I am thankful for all of my widowed friends, and all those that come here to read, connect, and heal. And yes, I am thankful that for now, and for how ever long I am blessed with this new person in my life, I have companionship.

One more Thanksgiving to go, which will be just my kids, Abel and me. No explanations needed.

Are You Sad?

2011-11-15T07:55:00.000-08:00

Last night was a nice evening. My son and I arrived home from our day at work and school a bit early, which made the evening feel less rushed than usual. Abel was there, and had done some cleaning, which made me smile. After checking in with the my daughter, her boyfriend, and a visiting friend, I went to my bedroom to have a bit of quiet time with Abel.

Those of you who are parents know there isn't too much quiet time when arriving home from work. There is homework to be supervised, dinner to be made, mail to be read, and whatever chores you had planned. While my son was at the table doing some reading, my daughter, Abel and I were busy getting dinner started. In between checking on the food I was running outdoors installing more landscape lighting which needs to be done in the dark to know what I want to highlight.

At some point I came back into the house, finished preparing dinner, then sat with my family to eat. When we were done there was the usual kitchen clean up, then back to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes. It was at that point that Abel asked, "are you feeling sad?"

My children know my moods very well. They are also very protective of me since Michael died. They have seen me at my worst, especially those early days when I would be down on the ground crying with no end. Those severe days of grieving are far behind me, but what continues are the various layers that continue to be experienced. Sometimes those days of sadness are clear to me, and I can pin point the reason. Other times my sadness goes unrecognized by me or others. Yet, my sadness is always clear to my children.

No dear, why are you asking if I am sad?

"Arianne said you looked sad tonight."

I responded that I just had many things on my mind, and was likely preoccupied with many concerns. I told Abel not to worry, yet he still put his arms around me to show that he cared, and that I had someone there to support me.

What came to mind wasn't whether or not I was truly sad, but how much all this loss has affected each of us. Driving home yesterday my son Remy was talking about how the kids as school joke about things. He said they often play a game where they call out that someone has died. Remy said that while he gets that they are just playing, and that they obviously have not been touched so closely by death. He said that if they knew what it was like to have their father die they would be less likely to find this type of humor funny.

Death has greatly impacted my family. Death has brought each of us a deeper sorrow than we had ever experienced before, even through the death of many extended family members. When death comes to your door, and takes someone from their bed at home, you are never quite the same.

I don't think I was sad. I think my daughter recognized a pattern of behavioral responses by me, and attributed them to sadness. I believe it will take some time before my kids see me with a host of expressions and moods, and not connect them to grief. Loss has been with our family since my children's birth mother was taken away by circumstance, and then by death. Loss has been with us since Michael was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and then by death.

Loss is being experienced by us with a new person in my life, who is now sharing a space in my heart with Michael. Yes, even with the joy that Abel brings me I am always aware that his presence is because Michael was taken. Even though the kids see how happy Abel makes me, they experience loss by seeing a new man occupy the space in our lives that Michael used to occupy.

No, today I am not sad.

Love. Life. & Grief.

2011-11-08T09:54:00.000-08:00

Interesting, I was just reading through this week's post entries on Widow's Voice. There seems to be a running discussion about dating, a bit of man bashing (I mean that mildly, and with humor) and the usual check In's with the various writers that fill the week. What I recognize is something that has been on my mind lately, and something that one person left a comment about today.

What happens when that which brought us widowed together starts to change?

The comment I'm referring to was about having to always deal with seeing, or reading about, couples everyday. Then suddenly it is all that rave on Widow's Voice as well. I kind of agree with the person who left the comment. I am one of those people that really didn't want to see, or hear, about coupled people more than I really needed to. It hurt so much more to see happy couples move about the world. For so long I tended to separate those who were coupled, with those who were widowed. Those who were just plain single were neutral, and didn't garner too much notice by my grief-o-meter.

Whenever I go on Facebook, or receive a new friend request, the first thing I look at is the relationship status. If they are widowed I feel immediately connected to them, even if I don't know them. If they are coupled, I then take a deep breath before taking a look at their page, and prepare myself to see photos of their seemingly happy life. For some time I even hesitated about changing my own status on Facebook, and hesitated to post any photos of me and Abel. It wasn't just because I didn't want to give up my widowed status out of concern for my relationship with Michael, it was also out of concern with my relationship with all my widowed friends.

I recognize that for the time being, I travel in both worlds, the land of the widowed, and the land of the coupled. I suppose I will always travel in both worlds, as I am learning, having a new relationship in no way buffers the ongoing pain and loss that I feel about Michael. What's odd is that the closer, and stronger, I feel toward Abel, the more intense my grief tends to feel. Now at just over two years out I am not grieving with the same intensity of the initial two years, yet it is always there. So for those that read about my movement through a new relationship, or see a status change in my profile, know that what brought us together continues to bind us. Yet at the same time, I recognize it is something that also puts me into the other category.

I have been wondering if my role on Widow's Voice should be given to someone at an earlier place in their grieving, as I fear that those to seek support there are finding mostly veterans at this point. So many of us have been working through this for quite some time now, and what we write about, or what I write about, is less likely to be as raw, or immediate, than many of our readers might be looking for.

So, for the person who left the comment there expressing his/her discomfort in having to "see" couples, even on Widow's Voice, I completely understand and feel for you. It's what I continue to feel, even as I am involved in a new relationship. For those that come here to read, please know that I am always aware that what I share, or discuss, might begin to separate us into different categories. I get that. When I first began writing I wondered who would come here to read about a gay widower. I found that many chose to come here to read about...me. Are most of my readers widowed? Probably. Are most of my readers gay? Not really. Are most of my readers men? Not so much either. So what I have are people that come here for a common understanding of a similar path we travel on. Some may have arrived at an early place in my journey, some may arrive later.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I only know that for now, I will continue to experience it, and write about it when it feels right. As my blog title says, "Dan in real time - a gay man's journey through love, life and grief." It's all here.

Love.

Life.

Grief.

A Son's Perspective

2011-11-07T07:56:00.000-08:00

I was sitting in the living room, warmed by the fire, with my boyfriend Abel to my left, and my son Remy to my right. I was trying to think of what to write about, then saw a perfect opportunity to find out what my son thought about his dad, a widower, newly dating again.

My husband, for those who do not know, died a little over two years ago. He and I had only been a couple for 18 months when he was diagnosed with brain cancer. My kids learned to love and accept him, then soon learned that they would also have to say goodbye to him. It was nothing I ever expected to go through with a new relationship, and nothing I ever expected my kids to experience while they were still young. But here we are, two years later, many bereavement groups later. Many changes, and many nights of grieving through tears, laughter, and stories.

A couple of months ago I met someone. We began to date, well, we began to have a relationship from the beginning. It didn't feel so much like dating, as we were relating to each other daily, talking, sharing, and growing close, quickly. I introduced him to my kids, well, teenagers, and we went from there.

Here is a brief discussion that occured while I sat here. It began with a simple question to my 13 year old son.

What's it been like having your dad dating someone new?

Remy: Well, at first I felt like Abel was taking away my dad's love for Mike. And I thought, well, like you guys have already done stuff together, and I feel very different now. At first it felt like it was going too fast, it was coming on too strong, because I thought you didn't give up Mike yet, and I thought that he was taking away that love of Mike. But then later on I realized that he was a person you really love, but I thought you still loved Mike, and Abel was really new, and I didn't know Abel like a father. It felt like with Abel you were ready to move on, and I wasn't ready for it. Now I understand that you are ready, and that you want love again.

Abel: I would never try to replace what Mike had with you guys.

Remy: I told my dad that this is confusing for me, and now I feel like maybe you aren't the same father as Mike, but I know that you care about my dad, and you care about all of us. I hope that my dad does care about you.

Abel: I do love your dad, and you and Arianne. You all have a special place in my heart Remy.

Remy: (turns to me to say) I feel like you guys are going to be together for a long time. I feel like if you are dating Abel, and if it's been going on for a long time, it's already like he's a dad to me. I know Abel would do anything for us as a family. I know Mike would be happy for you dad. I know that he would be happy for Abel to have a great guy like you. I think Mike would be very happy, and he'd be happy mostly that you moved on, and found love again.

I then asked Remy if there is anything else that he worries about.

Remy: I might worry that me calling Abel dad, that Mike might not like that, but that's just how I think. I'm still worried about what if Abel is not going to stay, then I think about negative stuff, like what stuff could happen.

Remy said he worries about possibly losing Abel, then was unable to continue to talk. I spoke to Remy about how all parents who begin dating again worry about their kids getting attached to someone when dating, then having to let go if the relationship doesn't work out. I told Remy that with a widowed parent that becomes an even deeper concern. I reminded him of how he and the other kids learned to love Mike, and how they came to accept him as their second dad, only then to lose him.

Remy just told me it was okay to say that at this point he cried.

Do I worry about this? Yes. Does Abel worry about this? Yes. I suppose these are the conversations we should be having. These are the things that go through the mind of our children. Do they want us to be happy again? Yes, but it is so much more complicated, isn't it? There are so many feelings that our new relationships bring up for them. There are so many insecurities that get tapped into. I have always known this, but I think I need to remind myself of this more often.

Happiness is not an easy matter. But it is something worth striving for.

TMI

2011-11-03T19:19:00.000-07:00

So, as the title warns you, this post may leave a few of you saying, too much information Dan!

Oh well, you are here, so read on...

There is something that used to happen to me when Michael and I were being intimate. Not something throughout being intimate, but at the conclusion of being intimate. Well, let me back up a bit.

Prior to Michael getting sick, or having that huge tumor removed from his head, we enjoyed a very active and satisfying sex life. We were a fairly new couple, and had yet to hit that point where it all felt old hat. So when we began to recover from the shock of his emergency surgery, and had returned back home, we knew that life would never be the same. Michael felt like his situation would now deprive me of something I greatly enjoy, something most of us adults greatly enjoy.

Sex.

For a long time we had no sex life. He was recovering, I was grieving the loss of our future, and was spending night and day taking care of him. It felt like that part of our relationship was over, and that the type of closeness one feels with sexual intimacy had been robbed from us. Well, I can't exactly say what Michael was feeling, but for myself, I felt that it was over.

Anyway, time moved forward, and then one day we both looked at each other and knew that it was time to try again. We started out slow, and there was a purposeful approach in our attempt to reignite the flame of passion. By the time we reach the end of our love-making I was in tears. I was completely overwhelmed by the satisfaction I was receiving, both physically and emotionally.

For quite some time there after, I would consistently end our sexual encounters in tears. We both came to expect it, and were both very comfortable with it.

Being in a new relationship has been both wonderful, and emotionally draining. It is bringing up so many mixed emotions, as most of you would expect. It seems that the closer I get to Abel, and the further I fall into love, the more emotional I become, to the point of feeling distracted from what is really happening around me. Abel has noticed this, and has been checking in with me, wanting me to know that he is there for me, and that I can talk about anything.

Last night was one of those nights. We only get to see each other about once or twice a week, and I was looking forward to him spending the night with me. We spent most of the evening discussing my emotions, and what we needed from our relationship. He could tell that I was filled with worry, and that I was feeling a bit sad. Without a doubt, I have entered a new phase in my grieving process, one that is likely spurred on by finding new love.

In spite of my mood, Abel was gently bringing me closer to him, and wanting me to experience pleasure in our time together. He was patient, and he was being very attentive to my needs. In the end, for the first time in a long time, I ended up in tears. At first I tried to hold them back, which was quite obvious to Abel. He held me in his arms and told me that there was no need to hold anything back with him. I took a deep breath, and told him I would be okay. He looked me in the eyes, pulled me even closer, and told me it was okay to keep loving Michael, and that it was okay to say and feel anything around him.

Well, with that the flood of tear began overflowing. I laid there in the arms of someone who loves me, while I continued to grieve the loss of Michael, while feeling the joy of being brought to ecstasy once again through passionate love. It was both draining and amazing. I explained to Abel the tears of my past love making. I explained to him how difficult it was to lose the man I loved, and not have him there to hold me through the night. To not have anyone there to hold me through the night.

Things have changed for me. Last night I had some one's arms around me. This morning I awoke with some one's arms around me. I let Abel know that Michael must love the hell out of him. Michael would be so pleased to know that someone has come into my life. He would be pleased to know that this someone is quite selfless, and is more than happy, perhaps even proud, to share my heart with Michael.

Too much information? Well, not for Abel. He wants to know it all.

Knocked Back Down, Momentarily.

2011-10-25T19:37:00.000-07:00

Knocked back down to my knees.

Momentarily.

I was checking out Facebook earlier, as I like to see who is celebrating their birthday. Today was the birthday of one of Michael's best friends, so I went to her page. While there I decided to check out her photos, and didn't prepare myself for what I might see. It was the photos since Michael's death that hit me, and hit me hard.

I got through our two year wedding anniversary really well last week. I had the loving support of my kids, and of Abel. I had a quiet evening, but a peaceful one. Today, looking at photos of Michael's friends spending time together during the past couple of years was very hard to look at. I suppose it was just a harsh reminder of how much time has passed since he's been gone. I think I incorporate my daily life, my life without him, and it all is beginning to feel more comfortable. Yet, I don't often think about how much his presence is missing in the rest of the world.

Immediately after looking at the photos, and making a casual comment to my daughter about them, I realized that the dark bile of grief was working it's way up my throat. I went into my bedroom, and was knocked to my knees. I haven't felt this level of pain in such a long time. It was cutting me from every side of my being. From within, and from without. I couldn't find comfort laying on my bed, so I did as I usually do. I lit the candles that sit along side his urn, got out my meditation pillow, and sat there before the glowing warmth of the candle light. For comfort I reached out for the pocket watch he gave me five months before his death. It was supposed to remind me of the beating of his heart, yet in the two years that have passed, the battery had died. I sat there on the floor, with a dead pocket watch, crying over my dead husband.

How pathetic.

I must have released a shitload of stored up grief, because it went on and on. As I sat there I felt the need to connect to him physically once again. I didn't want something that used to belong to him, I wanted him. I know this may be morbid to some, yet I know what I need from time to time. I went to his urn, opened the lid, and reached in.

My fingers grazed across the jagged mixture of bone and dust. I opened a small bag that I keep separate from the rest. I let my fingers dig deep, and to feel his ashes in between my fingers. I ran this dust, his ashes, across my hand, and then laid back down on the floor. I laid there, physically connected, spiritually reaching out, and waited for a sense of healing. I wanted so badly to have him reach back out to me. I waited, then waited some more.

I soon began thinking of Abel. I thought about the many times I have found myself lying in his arms. I took that feeling, and mixed it up with Michael's embrace. I laid there on the floor for a very long time, and realized that I was likely missing Abel's nightly call during his break at work. I reminded myself that someone cares about me. Someone cares about me out there in that place I have no real knowledge of. Someone cares about me here in my current world as well.

I feel such comfort knowing that I have Michael so close to me. All I have to do is reach out for him and he is there. I also feel such comfort knowing that I have someone, Abel, who is willing to listen to my stories of Michael whenever I need to speak.

Just a minute ago Abel did call. I took a break from writing, and he could hear something in my voice. He asked, I shared, and he reassured me that if he were here there would be a great big hug for me. I'm feeling so much better now. I am feeling like I am back on my feet, and okay with continuing on my journey.

Funny how there is no conflict between my two loves. They coexist, and I am at peace.

To Be Happy Once Again

2011-10-24T20:44:00.000-07:00

Well, yesterday was a step into the next phase of my relationship with Abel, and the beginning of my family getting used to seeing me with another man.

It was the occasion of my niece and her husband baptizing their newborn baby boy. I drove up with two of my kids, and a new person at my side. It was not a surprise to them, as I had broken the news of this new relationship with them one week ago. Each of them were surprised to learn that I had been dating, and that I had chosen not to share the news with them for well over a month.

I let my family know that I needed some time to feel secure in being part of a new twosome before having to deal with the looks of confused emotion on their part. My family loved Michael, and they, like me, continue to grieve his absence from their lives.

Abel himself was a nervous wreck. I suppose it's always a big occasion when the new love gets introduced to the extended family members, and he wasn't quite sure how he would be received. He knew that my family had grown used to seeing me either as Michael's husband, or later, as Michael's widower. For the past two years they grew used to seeing me in a continued somber state of mind and emotion.

Once at the house, most of Abel's concerns began to melt away. My brothers and parents were very gracious in introducing themselves to him, and each spent some time getting to know him and wanting him to feel comfortable in their presence. At one point Abel leaned over to me and pointed out that my mother kept glancing our way. I reminded him that this is the first time that she has seen me with another man. It has to be both pleasing and bittersweet. Around this time my mother told me that my decision to move to San Diego has been the best choice I made for myself. She reminded me that I now have "a lovely home, a good job," and looking at Abel, then back at me, she said, "and now you have this."

On the long drive back to San Diego from our day in Thousand Oaks, I received a text from my older brother telling me that his day was great. Among those events that made his day was seeing me happy again. After reading the text to everyone in the car, my kids both chimed in, saying "Abel, we are so happy that you and my dad are dating."

Oh, to be happy once again.

Love to Love You Baby!

2011-10-19T22:47:00.000-07:00

I had a wonderful love.

I had the opportunity to love Michael for the rest of his life.

It didn't really matter how long we loved.

It mattered more that we loved.

I learned much about myself by loving Michael.

I learned much about love by being loved by Michael.

I am now able to trust love.

I am now able to love again.

Michael, I love to love you baby.

Expressions of Love

2011-10-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

So High. So Low.

My week has been different than what I'm normally familiar with. I'm experiencing such high moments. Moments of feeling the excitement of new love. I look forward to his calls. I smile from ear to ear whenever we are together. I feel so excited with each plan we make.

I also come home each late afternoon, and as I close the door to my bedroom the tears fall down my face. I wrap my arms around myself, and hold on tight. I lay on my bed, and feel such sorrow.

One wanted me to be happy. Another is making me happy.

One gave me all of his love. Another looks forward to sharing more days together, with hopes of a love that can signal a future together.

For two years I slept with his pillows taking up the space he used to occupy. I held onto these soft objects that no longer carry his scent. For two years my arms and legs clung to a form that served to remind me that yes, he was here, but now he is gone.

This weekend someone new occupied his space. My arms were wrapped around this new person. The space he takes up is different. He is not the same person. His form feels different.

There is comfort. There is affection. There is warmth.

Tonight the pillows will be back. Tonight I will grieve the one that is gone. Tonight I will miss the new one that is absent. Tonight I have a longing that is less clear. Tonight there are two that occupy my mind. Tonight there are two that fill my heart.

Wednesday is, was, our wedding anniversary. It's a very odd day. Yes, it is the day we wed. Yes, it is the anniversary of a wonderful love filled day. Yet, it is also an occasion we never celebrated together. Michael died one month shy of our first wedding anniversary. The wedding came later in the relationship. It was a day we never expected would be possible. We seized the opportunity to stand before our loved ones and pledge our love to each other. With all that happened in the year after we wed, few ever remember the day. His death eclipsed any type of celebrated remembrance.

Perhaps this year I will simply celebrate love. I will celebrate that I stood before a man, and pledged my love. I will celebrate that I made a vow, a promise, that I kept. I will celebrate that while I have yet to say those words to someone new, those words have been on my mind. I will celebrate that one day soon, those words will be spoken again. I will celebrate that my heart is filled with love.

I will celebrate that there is room enough for the love of both of them.

Relationship Status

2011-10-11T15:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I was surfing the net, and decided to drop by Facebook and see what was up with some of my friends. I'm one of the many that has not been too happy with the changes that Facebook made, so rather than rely on what Facebook decides to show me in their "Top Stories" I click in and out of every one's pages. It kind of serves to make me feel like I am visiting a friend, although no one usually knows I've been there unless I take the time to leave a comment.This is a long-winded way to get to the point of today's writing.

I was checking out a particular friend's page, and noticed that her relationship status had changed. Yes, you know who you are! Well, it's not that I didn't know she was in a new relationship, as we both started our new relationships around the same time. And no, our relationship is not with each other. My point is this, her Facebook status reflects her current relationship status, and mine still says Widowed. It had me thinking, why haven't I changed mine? Now I know that I don't have to do everything she does, after all we are two very different people. Well, we aren't that different, but different none the less.

So, what's up with me?

I wonder if I'm having a difficult time letting go of my widowed status. Actually, there is no reason to wonder, as I know that I'm having a difficult time letting go of my widowed status. Besides, it's not just reflected in my Facebook status, it's everywhere else in my daily life. After all, the only people that know of my new status are you, my online community, my friends from work, and a few friends who happened to have notice a new face pop up in my uploaded photos.

This morning I woke up thinking about all of this. I realized that I have been in this relationship for about a month now, and it was time to begin letting more people know. I also realized that the first person I needed to share this with was my mother-n-law. I know she didn't expect me to remain single forever, yet I also know that it might be another transition in her own grief to know that someone is now occupying some space that Michael once had sole custody of. Because I was at work, I decided to write her a message, as I would then be able to best articulate my thoughts, and give her the opportunity to re-read them if needed. I expect that now that I have completed this initial task, I will begin sharing my new found status with my parents and siblings soon.

Here's the thing, I will always love Michael. Michael will always be my husband. That will never change. It's just that I need time to sort out my frame of reference regarding these two men. For one, it's still early on in my relationship with Abel, yet I already know that what is developing is something significant. When speaking of Michael, I always say "my husband." Rarely do I refer to him as my late husband. So maybe I'm looking for a term that speaks of a widower who is in a relationship.

For some reason I keep thinking about the film Doña Flor and Her Two Husbands.

Sweet Surrender

2011-10-09T20:25:00.000-07:00

First off, I want to say that I have been given the green light by Abel to share stories about our developing relationship. I gave him a bit of a tour through my blog, and through other places where I write. I let him know why I write, and how I try to be honest, and straight forward about each development in my life journey. He said he completely gets it, and has no worries about his name coming up now and then.

Watch out Abel, you don't know what you just signed on for!

Anyway, one thing that is certainly new, well not completely new, is being sexually active again. I feel like I have been on a long walk through the desert, and have now landed in land of milk and honey. My dry spell is over, and I am truly enjoying an aspect of life, such as passion and romance, that I have gone without for quite some time.

This weekend gave Abel and I much time to be together, walking, enjoying nature, sharing meals, working on my yard, and yes, some fun time in the sack. But what was most significant about today, was not about something sexual, but something else that happened in my bed. Being held.

Let's just say this, I have always been considered quite the caretaker. I shoulder the burdens of my children, and I shouldered the difficult challenges that came along with Michael's illness. In my intimate relationships, this has also tended to make me the more dominant one. The one who does more of the holding, and less of being held. To be perfectly honest, this was something that became quite a problem for me after Michael got sick. Our relationship was turned on it's heel, and what used to be a two-sided intimate relationship, began to feel top heavy. I didn't often get to feel cared for, as I was doing most of the care taking.

Today, as we laid on my bed, I was holding Abel in my arms, and talking about some of the things I went through in my relationship with Michael, and with my loss. Abel was a really good listener, and thanked me for trusting him with my thoughts and feelings. After a slight pause, he sat up, and asked me to lay head, and body, across his. He then guided my head to lay exactly above his heart, and then wrapped his arms around me.

There we laid. Me being held. There we slept. Me being cared for.

To be honest, I initially felt quite uncomfortable. This is not my role.
I'm the dominant one. I'm the one who takes charge. I'm the one who does the holding. Then, as I began to listen to his breathing, and feel the steady beat of his heart, I relinquished the upper hand, and surrendered.

I felt such peace. I felt such gentle caring.

It felt like such a gift.

Bedroom Conversations

2011-10-06T22:11:00.000-07:00

Funny how lying on a bed can bring about soul searching, or heart wrenching, conversations. My bed is no different. It has been host to many discussions in the past, and continues to host myself, and various people I love, as we explore our intimate thoughts and feelings.

Earlier, after coming home from work, and getting out of my work duds, I was lying alone on my bed, looking at Michael's urn, and feeling a variety of feelings. I wanted to smile, and I felt like crying. I'm in a good place right now, and yet my grieving continues. As I began to bury my face into the pillow, and allow myself to give up control, there was a knock at my door. It was my 13 year old son, who asked if he could lay on my bed with me. We lay there, in silence, with my arm across his body.

"Dad, can we talk?"

Yes, Remy, whatever you want to talk about.

He wanted to talk about my developing relationship with this new man in my life. He expressed, as well as a 13 year old boy can, how conflicted he feels about how quickly things appear to be moving for this person and me. He said that it is clear that I am happy, and he is happy for me, but what must Michael be feeling right now? Before I could answer, he said that he knows that Michael would be very happy for me, because Remy knows that Michael wanted me to be happy, and to love again. Yet, Remy wanted to know, "Don't you think Michael might be just a little bit mad?"

It's been two years, two very long years. And yet, it also feels like it just happened yesterday. In the two years that Michael lived with his death sentence he would speak of my next boyfriend, and what my life might be like. I would ask him not to talk like that, but he never would stop. He was very clear with me. He wouldn't be happy, if he knew that I wasn't happy. He wanted to die knowing that I would find love and happiness once more. He believed that I deserved that.

One day, long ago, my older son Dante was having a conversation with Michael. He told Michael that he worried that I wouldn't survive after Michael died. Michael told him, in his usual humorous way, that he certainly hoped that I would be heart-broken, and that I would miss him, but that he had no doubt that I would survive. After all, Michael was there with me when I went through many a trial in raising my kids.

Today, while lying there with Remy, I reminded him that we are all so capable of loving. I love him with all my heart. I love his brother and sister with all my heart. I love Michael with all my heart. And, I can love someone new with all my heart.

One love does not negate another.

Tonight, lying in my bed, I spoke with this new person in my life, his name is Abel, and we too spoke of Michael, of Remy, of Dante, and of Arianne. We spoke of my journey as a widower. We spoke of my heart-break and healing. We spoke of the time needed to grow into love, and we spoke of how we can carefully navigate all this while being mindful of younger minds and hearts.

This has become a part of my nightly ritual. The nine o'clock hour arrives, I pick up the phone, I call him, we talk, we listen, we laugh, and we smile.

I have the ashes of my husband to my right, and I have the voice of a new love interest to my left. Is this balance? Is this chaos? Is this right? Is this wrong? Will it last? Will it not? Will I be happy? Will I be sad?

There are no easy answers, but then, I'm not looking for easy answers. I'm looking, and planning on, more work ahead. I'm expecting struggle, and I'm expecting ease. My life is a journey that I often have little control of. At this point in my life, I no longer seek to control it. I choose to experience it, and to embrace as much of it as possible as it unveils itself to me.

I consider myself gifted by this new person in my life. I am experiencing hope once again. I'm feeling like I have much to offer, and I feel like someone is extending a gentle hand my way.

After an hour of intimate conversation, it was time to say goodnight. There was a longing there, which we both verbalized. It gave me a feeling of anticipation when I will have this person before me once again. I rolled over on my bed, and looked up into the brightly lit night. I thanked Michael for his love. I thanked Abel for his open heart. And, I smiled.

Off the Market!

2011-10-05T22:35:00.000-07:00

Well, it's happened. I'm off the market.

What? You didn't know I was on the market? Well, I suppose I haven't been too vocal lately. Yes, at some point last month I decided to re-post my profile online, and take my chance at...something different.

I wanted something different than the existence that I've known for the past couple of years. I decided that I needed to open up. I needed to take the risk at having my heart broken again. I decided that it was worth the risk to not spend too many more days and nights feeling so alone. I decided that it was time for a little romance. I decided that it was time to reignite passion in my life. I decided that it was time to take the next step.

It was time.

It happened. I met someone very special. We spent the first couple of weeks chatting online, then on the phone. Our interaction went surprisingly well. He sought me out, and I decided to embrace the opportunity to share some time with him, albeit on the computer or phone. Then a couple of weeks ago we actually met in person, and once again, it went extremely well. We then scheduled to spend an entire day together, and that was one of the best days I've had in the past two years. Then another date, daily early morning texts, afternoon emails, and late night telephone conversations.

He's very expressive. He's very considerate. He's sweet. He's tender.

Last night was a discussion about what each wanted in a future, or developing relationship. Tonight was a decision to take down our personal profiles, and to focus solely on each other.

What does this mean? I'm not completely sure. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I'm happy.

All I know, is that for now, I'm off the market.

Back To School Night

2011-09-23T18:37:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I haven't felt much like blogging lately, and I'm really trying to rely on the support of folks at the office these days. Anyway, yesterday I have a bit of a tragic evening, that I now realize that other widowed parents might appreciate the opportunity to see their reflection here today.

Now when I say tragic, I have to tell myself that it wasn't all that bad, but perhaps a vulnerable evening. Anyway, it was back to school night at my son Remy's school. I wasn't really wanting to attend, yet if I did'nt I'd spend the rest of the school year feeling like a lazy shitty parent. Times in the past always felt horrible, so I just should have given myself a break, and not attended.

I attend not just out of guilt, but because my son has so many special needs, all of which are significantly more apparent this school year. He is now in 8th grade, but being in the 4th percentile for his size, often gets mistaken for a 5th grader. And since he has many new teachers this year, I needed to know what they expected out of him, and to allow them to meet me, as we will definitely be conversing through email a lot this year.

My son has multiple diagnoses. He has ADHD, a mood disorder, and a behavioral tic disorder. The tic disorder has been there for awhile, but mostly went unnoticed by most people in the past. It is similar to Tourettes, only there are only physical tics, minus the verbal ones. Unfortunately the tics increase dramatically during puberty, which is now in full force. My son has very little control when he body decides to jerk to the left or to the right. And when his body is not making uncontrolled movements, he is focused on trying to control them when they do arrive. Throw in the ADHD, and staying focused during class becomes almost impossible.

Anyway, with all this in mind, I attended. Now, during the past few weeks my son has been struggling with one of his new teachers. His resource specialist recommended that we switch him to another teacher, as she seemed to have more experience working with kids like my son, and personality wise, seemed more like better match. This too was another reason to attend.

So we parents are given a copy of our kids' schedules of six periods. We follow along, and go to each class every 15 minutes or so. As I sat in each class, while waiting to the teacher to speak, all the parents were either with their spouses, or openly talking about how their spouse was at home with the kids. I on the other hand, sat there alone, knowing nobody. I began feeling quite sad having to see myself in light of all the other coupled parents.

With each period that I moved through I became more and more sad. It was just another clear reminder of how different my life has become. When each teacher spoke about their expectations for the students I couldn't help but think to myself, my son won't be able to meet that expectation. After having to think about this over and over again, I felt more sad. I realized that not only do I immediately begin thinking these words, but how my son must do the same each day.

By the middle of the schedule of announced periods, I realized that the next period that parents were headed toward classrooms, I didn't have one to go to. My son goes to the resource specialist room during that period, and receives help organizing his work for the day. On the schedule of directions my son gave me about what classroom to attend each period, he had put a question mark next to this one, as he didn't know where to send me. I walked over to the resource specialist's room, but it was dark. Obviously there was no need for her to attend last night, as she doesn't teach classes like the others. Now keep in mind, the specialist is the most wonderful teacher I know. She has been a god-send for my son, so I have no ill feelings about her not being present last night. But what it meant was that I had no where to be, and ended up sitting on a bench in the dark, as there were no outdoor lights.

How depressing is that? I sat there wanting to cry as I realized that this is likely what my son feels at times.

The last class I attended was the one my son was recently transferred to. The very nice teacher began sharing with all the parents about how wonderful their children were, and gave an example of how caring they are. She was telling them about a recent student transferring into the classroom, and how all the kids were very welcoming, and wanted to know all about him. The teacher wondered out loud if this student's parents were in the room, and as I, and all the other parents began looking around the room I realized that the parents she was referring to was me.

No, there are not two parents, just one. I began to realize that she has no idea that Remy's other parent died. Something I need to address I suppose.

Well, let me tell you, by the time it was the hour to go home, and I found myself walking back to my car alone in the dark, crying. As I got into the car, and began driving away I wondered, who am I crying for? Me, or Remy?

It's easy to fall into the trap of feeling sorry for yourself. All the more sad to feel sorry for your baby.

Fido

2011-09-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, last year brought an unexpected visitor. He arrived growling, showing his teeth, and was host to several hundred lovely fleas. He was cautious, and didn't know whether to be grateful for the place to lay his head for the night, or to just bite the hand who was trying to feed him.

He arrived at a time when I was quite low. He arrived at a time when I welcomed the distraction. He arrived in perfect timing, and never left...my side.

This dog loves me. I don't just mean that he loves me, I mean he loves the hell out of me. I think he misunderstood my intentions. I was just trying to help out a little guy who was down on his luck. My intentions were purely platonic, yet he fell for me head over heels, or should I say paws.

He has given me a year of dedicated love and affection. He has given me many a day of serious frustration. (He is quite the barker) He is my constant companion, whether I like it or not.

For better, for worse, in sickness...Whoa. Wait a minute, now I'm getting carried away. What has he done to my mind? When Michael said he wanted me to love again, I don't think he meant in a canine sort of way.

Humble Growth

2011-09-13T22:32:00.000-07:00

Calm from the storm. It always happens. And, that is what I experienced today. It's been a heavy few days, or more like a week. Yesterday I was overwhelmed by all the support I received, and then today came around, and I was met with even more.

I can't go through such a time without counting my blessings. Yes, even me, that guy who is so angry at God, can count his blessings, and acknowledge that I really don't have a clue why all of life's ups and down occur, yet they do. Of course when we are down we have a tendency to take it personally, how could we not? And when we are up, well, I'm not exactly up yet, but I have been lifted higher by all of your support than where I would be today without it. Now that was a long sentence!

Today I couldn't help but notice how different I felt on this day, this year, as opposed to last. Part of me doesn't exactly remember how connected I was feeling to the outside world a year ago today, as my existence was a bit different at the time. I wasn't working, and I had only been in San Diego a few short months, so I was feeling a bit disconnected from the world at large. This year, my circle of widowed friends has grown. Those that have been with me from the beginning are still there. This year I saw old friends and family members reaching out to me. This year I have a whole network of new friends here in San Diego, that took the time to figuratively stand beside me, and check on me throughout the day.

Did I not have all this last year? Likely I did. I'm finding that with each day that passes, my ability to acknowledge my needs, and to ask for support, is growing. This is definitely not where I was last year, so in spite of the painful days that led up to all this support, it was definitely worth the lesson learned.

Humbly, I thank each of you, my community, for helping me to grow.

Breathe Me

2011-09-12T20:43:00.001-07:00

I remember this night well.

Holding him.

Reassuring him of my love.

Making sure he was not in pain.

Kissing him.

Telling him how much I loved him.

Not allowing myself to sleep.

Not allowing myself to turn my focus off him for one second.

Knowing it was a matter of hours.

Loving him.

Loving him.

Loving him.

It went this way throughout the night. Remy laid there next to me. Michael to my right, Remy holding on to me to my left. 3am arrived, and it was announced by Michael significant change in breathing. It was so strong that Remy woke from his sleep, and was crying in fear. I told him to go sleep with his sister. I went to awake Michael's mother. I told her the time was coming soon.

Barbara and I cradled him between us. She laying at his side. I holding his face in my hands. For hours, I sat there staring into his face. This went on for another few hours. 6am arrived with another undeniable change in his breathing. I woke Barbara up, and told her he would be leaving us soon. We held him tight. I told him that we would be fine, and again told him that I loved him over and over again.

6:05 am, those last breaths arrived, I pressed my mouth to his. I wasn't going to allow those last breaths of his air to float into the air around me. What if his soul left his body through his breath? This was the last piece of Michael, his spirit, to be present with me in this world.

My mouth to his. His final breath arrived. With a deep breath in, his last breath entered my body. I didn't breath for that moment. I wanted each of those molecules to find a permanent resting place within me. Once I felt sure of this, I breathed for the two of us for the first time.

I was alone. He was gone.

Somehow I ended upstairs on the kitchen floor, and the world, all matter and space came crashing down. The walls shook, and the animal within me howled. I awoke the whole household. My kids came running toward me, and we all laid there on the floor together, without him.

Somehow there is beauty in all this pain. I don't want to ever forget those moments. I know that are only but a few brief moments in the life that I have lived thus far, but they are moments that define my existence today.

I lived a life for so long into my adulthood not knowing that which I was missing out on. Then I met Michael, and I knew that my life would never be the same.

I knew love. I knew the power of love. I knew the honor of loving a man with passion and desire. I knew the honor of caring for a man who needed me, and fighting with all my might to keep him alive. I knew the honor of keeping a man focused on the joy of life in the midst of hardship. And I knew the honor of walking with a man toward his death, with peace, love and dignity.

I bathed him. I dressed him. I held him. And, waited.

Today many of you honored me with your presence and support. I love you all dearly for that. Michael loves you all dearly for that. I know in my heart that he doesn't want to ever think of me as being completely alone. Each of you carry out his desire to be there for me.

I thank you. He thanks you.

Sending out an SOS

2011-09-12T11:34:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do. But I'm falling apart here at work. I need to express myself without speaking, as I am unable to speak without tears. Heavy tears.

I came into work today expecting it to be like any other day. I am a family court counselor, and I meet with parents to help them reach agreements regarding the custody of their children. Sometimes they reach agreement, other times I utilize my skills as a counselor to give recommendations back to the court.

Today an odd case was assigned to me, and it arrive late, without adequate time to prepare. There was no father and mother sitting before me. The two parties were the mother and paternal grandmother, as the father died last year. We were discussing issues regarding a 12 year old son. I tried my best to work with these two parties, and needed to take a break to get some supervision around some of the goals of our session. In discussing these, I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into my own issues and grief. I let my supervisor know that I need to maintain some distance, and be aware of any counter transference that might be occurring. As I began to explain this, all I had to say was that tomorrow is the anniversary of my husband's death, and the dam I had built began to break.

With those words, I fell apart. Sobbing.

This has never happened to me before. I have always been able to be in complete control at work. I am the ultimate professional when it comes to utilizing the skills and experience I have attained throughout the years. My supervisor was wonderful, immediately taking the case from me, and telling me not to give it a second thought, that she would take care of this. She suggested I take a break, yet I can't wander far, as I am on-call to testify in court any minute. So here I sat, at my desk, knowing that rather than let go, and get out what I need to emotionally, I needed to pull myself together, and find another way to deal with this.

I'm having my own issues with my 13 year old son. He is going through a difficult time, and I am having a difficult time adequately addressing his issues, as we are both continuing to grieve. Unfortunately, each of our grieving process is not always going to end each day with a sense of growth, peace, or resolve. It is going to be a very long process, and I, as the now only parent once again, will need to rise to each occasion knowing that I am still quite broken, and ill prepared for what life throws at me.

That's it. I need to get through the day. I need to get through tomorrow. I also need to learn that I am human. Even now, as I sit here, I am beating myself up about losing control of my emotions. I am judging myself because of breaking down here at work. I am worrying about how this family is being served, knowing that I was already told not to worry about it. This is definitely something new to work through.

So while this is not something I usually do, I need to put this out there at a time when I usually focus solely on work. This is my outlet right now. All I need to know is that someone is reading this, and you understand. Thanks.

Doubled Over

2011-09-10T00:17:00.000-07:00

It feels like day one. It hit me as I turned out the lights tonight. I feel so alone in my pain. Why does it still hurt so much?

I feel desperate, like I have a hunger, but nothing to feed me. I need something to hold onto, but what?

I looked around the room, tried to think of something of his, something that will soothe me. Nothing will. Why even try?

I need to see his smile. I need to feel his embrace. Why is this happening all over again?

There's nothing to hold onto. No one to turn to. Nothing that can take the place of what I need. Him.

It feels so unfair. I still don't understand why this had to happen. Why him? He was such a sweet and loving man. He gave me so much. I loved him so much.

I don't want to sleep. I don't want to feel this. I don't want to feel anything any more. Something needs to happen to distract me. Something needs to pull me back out from this abyss. I can't help but feel like I'm being punished. But for what? Why was my happiness cut short, yet others get to live out their happiness year after year? Why must I have to be witness to what others are given, and somehow feel gratitude for what I had?

Fair? Why do others always thank God for what they have? Why do they thank God for all the blessings bestowed upon them? Why do they feel like they are being rewarded for something they have done? What the fuck did I do wrong? If they get to sit and praise God for all their blessings, then what the hell am I supposed to be saying to God at this moment?

Where is all this anger coming from? I wish I knew what lies on the other side. I wish I truly knew if there was another side. Where did Michael go? If he went somewhere else, does he even remember me? He often said he would miss me after he died.

Do you miss me Michael?

Do you know that I am still here?

Are you crying with me? Or are you in bliss?

I wouldn't want to you feel this. I wouldn't want you to worry. I wouldn't want you to be anything but happy. Look into my heart and feel my love. You don't have to take care of me. I'll be just fine. You know I will.

Nothing

2011-09-08T00:05:00.000-07:00

What to do when too restless to sleep.

I'm back to that old pattern of staying up far too late at night. I'm not really doing much other than stare at this damn computer screen. I'm not sure what I'm trying to find, or what I'm wanting to find me. It's just a familiar pattern, one that was a major part of my early grieving process. Of course it's not something that is conducive to being completely productive at work the next day.

This is how that last few nights have been. Then once I do fall asleep I am back awake around 4am each morning. Why? I don't really know.

It was a busy, then emotional day. Nothing seems to satisfy me, and nothing really to hold my interest. Earlier I was laying prone on my bed, feeling too numb to move, then thought for a moment how wonderful it would be if my bed came crashing to the floor. I imagined that I would come crashing down with it, and the force of my fall would cause something to land on my head, and leave me with a huge bump or bruise. I would be in so much physical pain, yet it would feel so real. It would be tangible pain that I could carry with me. I would be able to see it on my face whenever I looked into a mirror. People would stop to ask what the hell happened to me. I would be so preoccupied by the pain, and the visual effects of the fall, that I would lose sight of the fact that I was previously feeling numb, and restless.

I laid there on my bed, waiting for something to happen. The crash never arrived. No physical trauma availed itself to give me some kind of relief from the stalemate that I find myself in. Instead I have been sitting here, for hours, waiting for something to arrive, or something to change.

Nothing. Nothing is happening. Nothing.

Talk Talk

2011-09-06T20:17:00.000-07:00

So I was having lunch today with friends from work. There's a group of us that try to get out for lunch as often as possible. I really enjoy these outings, as it is always nice to have some adult conversation now and then.

I'm finding that I am far more extroverted than usual when out. I've always been a fairly open book as far as my life goes, but in getting together with friends, I'm finding that I rarely use a filter these days. Sometimes I can go a bit too far in my humor, then step back and wonder why I am doing this. Often times my humor is sexual in nature, which is mostly received with a collective good sense of humor in return. Yet it all makes me wonder why I am doing this?

Which brings me to another topic. Friends reading my blog. I think there is a generalized perspective that bloggers are hungry for attention. That we have a need to share everything with the world, and thus publish our every thought and experience. Of course by nature of this post, I suppose part of that is true. Yet in my defense, I didn't start out with this in mind. At least I didn't consciously have this agenda.

My blogging beginnings were born out of my need to limit the direct responses that Michael and I were having to respond to when he got sick. I began blogging to keep our family and friends up to date regarding his cancer treatment. Along the way I began collecting new friends, who were mostly other caregivers whose loved one also had a brain tumor. Anyway, it was after Michael's death that I realized that I then had a need to blog for myself.

That blog, which is the one you are reading, began on our first wedding anniversary. It was my way of keeping sane during a horrific time when my grief was still so raw. In time the whole experience became such a significant part of who I am. I was suddenly part of a community who spanned throughout the world. I made connections that continue to be significant today.

Anyway, along with these new connections, I had my friends and family, who continued to read my daily writings. At first they would contact me, and give me some feedback about my writings, or offer their support. In time they drifted away, as their lives are just as busy as anyone else's. As I have met new people along the way, they learn that I am a blogger, and often then search out my written words.

It is always a surprising realization for me that someone new has taken the time to read my blog. I used to check to see where my readers were from, which gave me an indication if any locals were checking in. With time I have chosen not to look to deep into these details.

So back to my original discussion. While at lunch today, while joking about something, my friend turned to me to joke about my libido. At first I wasn't sure what she meant, then it suddenly hit me, she had read my blog. I found this quite funny, and loved how she used her humor to share it with me. Yet without skipping a beat, she also shared that she found my words quite sad, and how they brought about tears. We discussed this briefly, and what surprised her most was that my written words were so different than how I was presenting myself to our group.

In thinking about all of this, I have to admit that my interactions during the day are significantly different than how I am once at home. I go from being outgoing and jovial, to being quiet and reflective. I go from being overtly sexual in my humor to feeling alone and starved. Is it that lack of touch that is coming out in my humor? I suppose. Is it my need for sexual intimacy? Emotional intimacy? Any kind of intimacy? Intimacy with him that I miss?

Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes.

Well, once again you have a blogger sharing what normal people keep to themselves. You have someone who is talking about subjects that most folks would consider far too revealing. Yet I always come back to the same place. What do I have to lose? Really. I benefit, and others benefit, from my written word. Sometimes it brings up discussions that I would otherwise not have. Keeping all these types of thoughts to myself is far too easy, and only serves to isolate myself further. There are too many of us out here who have suffered a great loss. There are too many of us out here who don't have someone to have these conversations with. So maybe they take the form of sharing too much. Maybe our lack of a significant other at home means that we say things, or express our thoughts and feelings in ways we never would have before.

Maybe we regret that we shared to much. Maybe we have no regrets.

What am I feeling immediately about this?

I think I'll keep it to myself.

Rambling

2011-08-31T23:16:00.000-07:00

In the two years that Michael struggled with his tumor, I was part of an online community of caregivers whose loved one had a brain tumor. Most of these caregivers were spouses, yet some were parents. I kept in touch with a few of these people over the years, and followed many of their stories by way of Caring Bridge once I left the online group. Sadly, over the years all but one of those I have followed has lost their loved one.

Part of me was wanting to hold onto hope, to see that someone was actually going to survive this awful disease. Now not all of our loved ones had the same type of tumor, so to be fair, I'm sure some had a better outcome than Michael. Yet, of the those that I kept up with, just one has held on all these years later.

I'm sad to report that he, a young man, has now entered the hospice phase. As I read the updates posted by his wonderful mother, and I understand every word that she shares. I also empathize with her and her family, as this is a very intimate and painful period. You are savoring every moment, every breath that your loved one still has. This is coupled with complete exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.

Today as I was driving home I was thinking about this family, and wondering how they were managing. As my mind drifted a bit I began to sob heavily. It touched on a pain that I try my best not to succumb to these days. It's the pain of knowing that any moment could be their last, and wanting to hold onto each of them. I began picturing Michael in his hospital bed, and all the love and care he needed. I began to picture him in our own bed, sitting their doing his annoying Sudoku that he loved so much. I began thinking of him laying there next to me, with his eyes fixed on mine. I began to remember the feeling of holding him tightly in my arms as my body spooned his.

I sobbed, and I sobbed some more. I know that it doesn't help to get too lost in these old feelings, yet I suppose I must revisit them from time to time. I miss him so very much. I miss his beautiful smile, and the way he made me feel so loved. I miss his goofy flirtatious ways, and how I would laugh at his silly sexy moves. And I miss the look on his face when we would make love.

Yes, I know. These thoughts will only serve to bring more tears tonight, yet I can't help but go there. The difficulty for me is that this young man who is lying there in his own hospital bed, with all of his loving family caring for him, appears to be following the very same time line that Michael did. In two weeks it will the the second anniversary of Michael's death. It seems like a life time ago.

I sit here and take a deep. I know I was fortunate to have him, and yet I can't deny that I am not still angry that I had to lose him so quickly. I don't really know what the point of all this rambling is.

Just where I'm at I suppose.

Where did I put my libido?

2011-08-23T21:43:00.000-07:00

I am feeling painfully restless tonight. I'm not sure what I want, or if it is something that I can go out and find. I think this is a feeling that comes over me when I am on an upswing from my depression. I start feeling better, and feel like I should have more going on. But I don't.

I wish there was a place where all the single guys like me would gather just for conversation. You know, like a well lit coffee house, with not too loud of music, and not too many posers. You could just drop by, grab something to drink, and plant yourself down into one of several sofas, or over-stuffed chairs, and join in a conversation. It would be a given that anyone that walks in is immediately acknowledged, and welcomed. There would be no overt cruising, just light, fun, or even deep, conversation. Yes, at the end of the evening you could trade telephone numbers, and plan to gather again another evening, or just drop by again, as there would always be a number of guys eager for some interaction.

No, there are not groups to join. I've looked. No, the online thing isn't doing it for me. And no, I haven't been to yoga in months. I'm not really looking for ideas on where to meet guys, or how to meet guys. Okay, maybe I would like to know how, but what I think I am exploring is the desire to be back out there again. I briefly entered the land of the living last month, only to sink back into the safety of my home. I'm also well aware that I'm feeling especially lonely right now because the two year anniversary is coming up soon. For that reason in itself, I'm not sure this would be the best time to meet anyone new. I'm almost certain that I would just retreat once again, but who knows, the two year mark may not be any different than today, or yesterday.

I just know that I am spending too much time each evening staring at this computer screen, expecting something, or someone, to jump out. It's just not going to happen that way. I need companionship, and I need it from another man right now. No, not necessarily sex, as that has not been of any interest for me in the last couple of months. Which makes me question, where the hell did I put my libido? It appears to have been missing from my life for quite some time now. It's like something you just stop using, then after awhile you forget that you even had it. Then one day it occurs to you, hey, I used to have a very nice libido? I wonder where I put it? You go through all of your drawers. You open up the boxes you have stacked in the corner. You go through both of your cars. The kids start to ask, hey dad, what are you looking for? You say, well, something I misplaced, but not to worry, I will find it. Then you return to your search without ever having to identify that which you are searching for. The kids say, well, let us know if you want some help searching for whatever it is. Okay. Thanks.

Okay, so let's say I find the damn thing. Then what? At this point, really, what would I do with my libido? Yeah, I could take it for a walk by myself. But hey, I've been doing that most of my adult life. For a short time I was able to share it with someone that I loved. I always knew where it was when Michael was around. I never lost it then. Well, maybe I would put it aside at times, but I always knew it was there when I had need for it.

Oh well, it's getting kind of late in the evening. No sense to looking for it now. If I remember, I'll look for it tomorrow.

Michael

2011-08-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

Tonight I needed something different. I have been feeling so down today, and really looked forward to coming home from work so that I could lay down and give in to my emotions. Being that I come home to my kids, and various pets, my plan didn't go exactly as planned, but I did eventually have the opportunity to enter my bedroom, and close the door behind me.

I needed to get in touch with why I am feeling so down. The tears came naturally, but I sensed there were reasons ingrained in my soul as to why I needed this time to acquiesce. After laying quietly on my bed I turned to a book on my shelf. It was sitting right below Michael's urn, which at the time was being cradled by my hands. It was a book called Michael's Journey, a printed version of my Caring Bridge blog from our journey through cancer. I have not looked at this since Michael died. I didn't have the strength of heart to go there, yet today I knew it was what I needed.

I turned to the entries that were dated around this time two years ago. It was a time when we were heading into Michael's final days. My words were quite straight forward in that I needed to quickly inform our friends and family about the progression of Michael's tumor. My words were also inspired by the love I had for Michael, and for the gentle ways he was still communicating his love for me. I laid there reading each entry, taking time to soak in each word with purpose. I kept reading until I got to that final day when I needed to let everyone know that he had departed.

Surprisingly, these words are giving me comfort right now. Yes, they were hard to read, and brought back emotions from a very intense period in our journey together. Yet, they provided me with the answers I was looking for tonight. I needed to know why my body and soul are struggling with such despair.

I went through so much during those days. How could I not find myself reliving those emotions during this time of year? I was living in the final days of almost two years of struggle. I was working overtime to care for my dying husband. And, I was taking in each moment, knowing that it could be our last moment together.

As many of you know, Michael lived on for almost another month from this time two years ago. It was both horrific and endearing. I was in pain, and filled with immense love. I was on overload. No wonder my heart has been feeling so heavy.

I think back on that time period now, and feel so blessed to be the one to care for Michael in his final days. I feel like I was somehow chosen to help prepare him to exit this world, and to send him off knowing that he was loved with all my heart. I can still picture his trusting face, and his eyes that would follow my every move at that time. He surrendered all to me, knowing that I would give him all that he needed. I surrendered to him, knowing that he would always be there for me.

I am a very fortunate man. I found love, and love found me. It came in the form of Michael. The sweetest man I've ever know.

San Diego Here I Come!

2011-08-04T23:44:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah, I'm already here.

Camp Widow 2011 is just one week away. I have been prepping for it for several weeks now. Candice and I are presenting a workshop for the newly widowed, which I suppose in the big picture I'm still a part of.

Perspective. I guess that's what it comes down to. Perspective.

Am I new at this, or is this old hat? I'm not completely sure at this point. I know that my journey has it's ups and downs. I know that I was on an upper for awhile there, and lately have been on a downer. Yet, in the larger picture, I feel like I'm doing okay. There is always room for improvement, and there is still plenty of time.

I'm really looking forward to seeing many friends next week. There will be so many that I will be meeting in person for the first time. I remember the excitement last year, and the joy that it brought me to be among those that I had been corresponding with all year long. This year has brought so many other new friends into my life, and for that I am grateful.

Who would have know that I would one day be looking forward to spending the weekend with a bunch of widows?

This is the life!

Good Grief! Hair Grief.

2011-07-27T20:36:00.000-07:00

I didn't plan on writing again so soon, and I'm not writing to report any major change, just felt the need to write.

My son and I had a difficult morning. I was so frustrated with him, you know, typical moody morning teen stuff. Anyway, by the time I dropped him off at camp he knew I was a wit's end with his behavior. Perhaps he also recognized that I am at this low point emotionally. When I arrived to pick him up at the end of the day he was quick to apologize for the morning problems, and said he had a gift for me. He quickly removed a rubber sports bracelet from his arm. It was one of those bracelets that have metal that's supposed to keep you balanced, only his interpretation was that it was a bracelet that will make me feel happy.

Well, it did make me smile.

This leads me to move onto something more trivial. Hair grief!

Last weekend my son and I went for our monthly haircuts. The last time I was there my stylist suggested putting a color rinse in my hair to blend in my grey. Now, I love my grey, but had to admit that the color at the sides of my head are so stark, so I agreed. Well, last time it turned out nicely. The grey was still there, but just not so prominent. My stylist announced that it took 10 years off me.

Thanks!

Well, this time it was quite different. This time he got it into his stylist head to put in a darker color. When he placed me in front of the mirror I kind of freaked. It was black. Jet black. Well, that's how it looked. He saw the shock on my face, and quickly headed me back to the sink. He put something in my hair to lighten the color a bit. That something turned out to be bleach. Well, it lightened it up alright, but it turned my hair brown. And, by the end of the weekend, it looked sort of chocolate brown. I looked ridiculous. I turned to my daughter, who I knew would be honest with me. Arianne, what do you think? "Dad, it looks like you are trying too hard to look young." Shit! She suggested I go out and buy another color rinse, and dye it a darker brown, which I did.

What the hell did I do? Every time I look in the mirror I am surprised by the person looking back at me. Do I look younger, perhaps. But, it doesn't look like me. Now the nice people at work tell me it looks fine, and that they mostly noticed how short I cut my hair. Yet I can't stop looking in the mirror wondering who the hell is looking back at me.

Now I am fixated on the fact that I will be presenting at Camp Widow, and everyone will be staring at my damn hair! "Hey, where's Dan?"

What happens if I suddenly meet Mr. Right? Will he expect that I will always have brown hair? Will I be trapped into dying in every month?

Truth be told, I used to dye it. In fact, when I met Michael I had been dying my hair. After we had been together awhile he said that I should go ahead and let the grey come back in. He and I agreed that we preferred the grey. Well, Michael later shared something with me. After I had gone back to grey, Michael's prior roommate asked Michael what had happened to Dan. He said that Dan seems to be aging very fast.

Ouch!

Moral of the story? I don't really know. Perhaps it's that I should be less superficial. Perhaps it's that grieving people do strange things. Perhaps it's that old guys stay single. I honestly don't know. But let me tell you, I can't wait to see grey once again.

Good Grief!

Hair Grief.

Tears

2011-07-26T20:28:00.001-07:00

You know, I have avoided writing lately. It's not that I've been busy, as there have been many quiet evenings. It's also not like I'm just sitting around doing nothing, as I hosted a fun gathering with friends last weekend, and have been quite busy transplanting two magnolia, and one palm, tree from the front yard to the back. I guess you could say my life has been quite normal.

Then why am I so depressed?

I can't shake it. My mood has been terribly low. Actually, extremely low today. I feel like either I'm very sad, or I'm not feeling anything at all. It wouldn't be so bad if I only had myself to worry about, but that is so not the case. I have a 13 year old that needs me, and needs me to be something beyond depressed.

I felt so bad tonight. I picked up my son from camp, and took him shopping for new shoes. Afterward we stopped for dinner, and that's when I realized that I had nothing to say, and I wasn't really focused on what he might be trying to share with me.

Is it time to get back on antidepressants? Last week the pharmacy mistakenly filled an old prescription for an antidepressant I was on in the past. It's sitting there on the table, ready to return when I get a chance. Now I'm wondering if it was just meant to be. Are there really mistakes in life? I don't know what to think.

I do know that I have really avoided my emotions for awhile. It's not that I have been in denial. I know what I'm feeling at any given moment. It's just that I have avoided tears. Yes, there has been no tears for quite some time. I needed a break from them. I was past the point of daily, even weekly tears. I was...shit

Tears.

The Cost of Moving Forward

2011-07-20T22:01:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling quite stressed out these past few weeks. Stressed over money.

First a disclaimer, I'm not broke, and I have a regular check that arrives every two weeks.

I've forgotten how expensive summers can be when you are a single working parent. My son is now thirteen years old. Old enough to spend some time on his own, not old enough to always make the best decisions when on his own. I didn't want to be at work all summer, wondering, worrying, about what he was getting into while I was away. I also didn't wanting him sitting at home alone, bored, with the depression that still surrounds our home and lives.

I look at the distant years past, and our household was filled with many people. We had two parents, three kids, and a host of friends that visited on a regular basis. Now granted, we were dealing with Michael's tumor, and impending death, but we had a full and active life. For this reason alone, I wanted my son to have a summer where he was active, involved in many fun outdoor activities, and not focused on the fact that there are only our two faces around the house.

Today it hit me why I as feeling stressed about money, and why I have been feeling somewhat depressed as I pick him up from camp each day. I have not had to rely on such camps for several years. When Michael was around, Remy only went to camp when we felt he would enjoy it. Back then there was always one of us around if it got too expensive, or if Remy just wanted to be home with one of us. Last year, the first summer without Michael, I was not working. I had just quit my job, moved to San Diego, and the boys and I would hit the beach every afternoon. This year is quite different.

So, my realization? This is my life now. This is the aftermath of the tragedy of losing my husband. This is the emotional, and financial, cost that it takes to keep moving forward. The cost means that I have gone through a significant amount of money to provide myself, and my son, some sense of normalcy, some peace of mind, and hopefully, some a little joy.

The cost is emotionally taxing. The cost is financially destabilizing.

It's Raining Men

2011-07-14T21:27:00.000-07:00

Remember that Martha Wash song?

Well...

They seem to be everywhere these days. It seem like not so long ago I was sitting here, night after night, in my home, staring at the walls, feeling incredibly lonely, and now I have had three dates, with three men, in one week's time.

Am I a slut?

Well, if I slept with each of them I suppose that would earn me my slut-ville key to the city. It's just that a few guys approached me online about the same time, and I began exchanging nice, and interesting, emails with them. Not all live near me, so it didn't seem likely that I would find myself caught with too many dating opportunities at once, but that is in fact what happened.

This week I arranged for my son to attend a surf camp, where he would have a week of fun in the sun, camping with other kids his age. And, since I would suddenly have lots of unencumbered evening time, I put a message out to these nice guys, that I could be available for a dinner date. Two responded, and I made my plans. Then, the unexpected happened. I ran into a guy that I had traded passing glances, and one brief introduction to in May, and suddenly I had a third potential date. All that happened in the course of a couple of days, and I found myself having a bit of a panic attack at my desk Monday morning.

Here I am with several possible suitors, and I don't even know if I'm ready to be dating. I don't even know who I am completely. I don't even have worked out how to present my past, and my dead husband, to potential romantic partners. See my dilemma? And, as it turns out, they are all really nice guys. What does one do? Even back in the day, when I used to do some brief, and casual dating, I never really had the problem of having to juggle several dates at once.

What's interesting, and I didn't have time to get back to Chelsea about this, but she informed me about a dream she had the night before last. One that included Michael, and me, and the possibility of someone new being welcomed into my life. That same night, I had one of these guys over to the house, and as we sat in my living room talking, I realized that Michael was likely smiling. I was positive that he would be so proud to see me really starting to live again. I am also positive that he would revel in the idea that I might begin being sexually active once again. It's what he wanted for me. Well, to be loved, not necessarily to get laid.

What do I want? I want to feel alive every now and then. I know that my grief won't go away, and that I still have much to go through, but maybe, just maybe, I don't have to do it all while sitting alone in my house. Maybe I can take on more than one theme in life right now.

Grief and Happiness.

Grief and Pleasure.

Grief and Companionship.

At the same time, I am also keenly aware of the fear that should I allow myself to feel anything other than grief, that I could lose it in a second, and fall harder than I ever imagined. Yet, even as I write those words I am reminding myself that nothing could be as painful as those early days, so in that case, it's worth the risk of possibly finding some happiness, pleasure and companionship.

Dating Again

2011-07-11T08:01:00.000-07:00

Well, last week I wrote about visualizing change. In fact, "Visualizing Change" was the title of concurrent posts both here and on my personal blog. I thought it appropriate to discuss the issue in both forums, as I wanted to feel like I carefully explored what I was wanting and what I was feeling.

The subtitle to my personal blog is "one gay man's journey through love, life and grief," so I feel like it is appropriate to be sharing each step of this change. I have shared my grief, so now it's time to share other developments in my life, including my quest for possible new love. I tend to be a man of action. If I say I'm going to do it, then I must be ready to follow through. Well, for those who visited my blog recently, you might have seen that I in fact took that first step.

First Date.

It was the first date in 5 years. I don't think the time described is what is actually most significant, as even if it had been less time, or more time, it would still have been a monumental step for any of us. It's about feeling ready to open the door to possibility. It's about presenting yourself to another person, from where you are at this point, and with all the expected baggage.

For me, it meant showing up. Not just in person, but emotionally. I had to be available to let someone in, if only for a short time, and if only for a guarded look. What I found was that I was indeed ready. Now, the first step I took was to not over think it. I made the choice to put myself out there, and someone voiced interest. That was enough to let me know that the timing was right. And, a first date is just that, a first. There was no need to worry too much about expectations, and there are usually very little of them the first time out, at least for me that is. I approached this as an opportunity to sit across the table from another adult, enjoy a nice dinner that I didn't have to cook, and to share in some mutually satisfying conversation.

My fist date didn't mean I was committing to anything other than having this introduction. It didn't mean that I was going to marry this person. It didn't mean that I needed to fit in with his family and friends. And, it didn't mean that I had to be sexualy compatable with this person. All of these thoughts and concerns are what will get played out if I continue to see this, or any other, new person. So, putting those worries aside, I realized that the first date was not very scary at all.

I won't get into the personal details of the person I met with, or too much about the conversation, as I don't want to ever make him, or others, feel that anything that happens around me will end up on some blog. What I can say was that our dinner conversation was primarily a very intense conversation about God. Yes, God. Now that I reflect back on it, I'm sure that is the last topic that many Americans would expect two gay men to be discussing out on a first date. By the end of our dinner, he asked what I thought. I said that I enjoyed our conversation, and that the subject was one that I both enjoy, and feel comfortable, talking about. Yet, I also said that after this somewhat intellectual conversation, that I didn't really have a good sense of who he was, and that perhaps he didn't have a good idea of who I was.

We chose to go somewhere else, and just sit and talk. And that's exactly what we did, for an additional two hours. I now feel like he can make a good assessment about my potential for a platonic or romantic relationship. I can now do the same. Yet, I am also quite aware that I have no need to make any quick decisions, as I'm in no hurry to define, or limit, the types of relationships I am developing for myself.

Will I see him again. Yes, if that is what we both want.
Will I see others as well. Yes, as that is what I want.

The change I was visualizing has room for many people. The change that I am visualizing has room for many types of relationships.

First Date

2011-07-06T23:02:00.000-07:00

In quite some time.

I need to admit something. I often hesitate to state how many years we were together, or how long we were married, as the number of years doesn't even convey an ounce of the love, and loss, that I have gone through. I know that for many I have met along this journey, they have had a life time together. For us, it was only just beginning when it ended.

It's put me into an odd fit of a category really. Most of the widowed that I have met who are my age, tend to have been those that were married 20 plus years. Those that had their relationships ended quite early, tend to be much younger than me. This is a dynamic that continues to make me feel displaced, and frankly, a bit confused as to how to proceed from here.

Well, I'll say it, it has been over 5 years since I have been out on a date. To some it's not so long. To others, it may seem like a life time. For me, it's a timeless occurrence, as I feel like I have loved Michael forever. And, at the same time, I feel like I have been without him forever.

For several months now I have toyed with the idea of dating again. I posted a few profiles on select dating sites, and cast them into the web. Yet, at the time, I knew I wasn't ready. I now know that what I was doing was taking small steps forward.

Well, this Friday I will be taking the next step forward. I will be going on my first date since...

It's someone I have exchanged a few friendly emails with. I haven't invested too much time into this, as I want to meet, and get to know guys, face to face. I don't want to set myself up having these extended online relationships that only disappoint when we realize that in person, there is just not the right chemistry. So, without too much personal investment, thus far, I will be headed out, feeling anxious, but optimistic.

Enough said.

Visualizing Change

2011-07-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

This is the same title for tomorrow's post on Widow's Voice. I'm feeling like it's time to get back into the dance. I need more dance, more movement in my life. I need to allow someone new to enter the dance, and to even let him lead if he so offers.

I need to stop clinging to tightly to my past, and to perhaps hold on with one hand, while reaching out with the other. I know it's going to take time, and practice, for this to completely feel comfortable, but it's what I want. I want to be out there, moving through my daily life with someone at my side. I want to feel seduced, and to seduce him as well.

I want to feel passion in my life, and I want to remember what it was life to have an active sex life once again. I want laughter, and I want serious late night talk. I want romantic dinners, and weekend BBQ's with someone special. I want to sit and read quietly while he is at my side, and I want to take some late evening strolls throughout the neighborhood, the city, or the beach.

I want to get swept up in his arms, and feel that excitement that only new romance can provide. I want to smile with my eyes, lead with my hands, and speak with my body.

I am visualizing this change.

Super 8

2011-06-20T21:35:00.001-07:00

For those that did not read my post on today's Widow's Voice, you might want to follow the link and read before continuing.

A Child's Grief.

For those that have read it, you will see the irony in finding myself in the theatre, watching this film.

I picked up my son from his summer day camp this afternoon, and was eager to hear about his first day. His initial comment was that it was kind of boring, but then he quickly shifted gears, and said that he did enjoy getting to know this younger kid. They both attended a Skateboard/Scootering Camp, and he came home with all the expected scrapes and bruises.

On the way home I mentioned that I wanted to stop and have dinner, as I don't usually cook at home but a couple of times a week. He quickly noticed that we were by one of the local malls, and suggested we eat dinner at the food court. I made a quick and abrupt right turn, and parked the car. After we were finishing our meals, his a hot dog on a stick, and mine, Mediterranean, he asked if we could see a movie, as the theatre was conveniently right next to the food court. Hmn, was I just had? I laughed at his clever ploy, and said that I was quite tired from work, but he reminded me that I have taken many a nap in other movie theatres.

Because we didn't want to be out too late, we chose a film that was just about to start, Super8. I didn't know much about the film, other than it was a bit of a retro sci-fi. I thought, okay, it looks like fun. I had never been much of a sci-fi fan, but that changed when I met Michael. He was the biggest sci-fi freak. I remember the kids looking at me strangely when Michael would first start coming over to the house for dinner and a movie. Eventually the kids walked into the living room to announce that "our dad must really like you because he hates sci-fi films." Oh how poetic kids can be.

Anyway, yes it is a sci-fi, and a fun one at that. The part I had no idea about was the back story. As the film opens, the boy, who happens to be the same age as my son, is sitting outside on a swing, as guests fill his house. He is sitting there in a black suit, and as the camera winds it's way into the house, it is clear that this is a funeral reception. The boys mother died, and he is left alone with his grieving dad. The film them quickly moves forward four months later. The kid is at his friend's house across the street. His friend comes from a large family, which includes five other siblings, a mom, and a dad. The house is loud, chaotic, with kids running and laughing throughout. Quickly we hear the mother calling her kids to the dinner table, which is filled with a big home cooked meal. The mother looks to the main character, and lets him know there is plenty of food if he wants to stay. He thanks her, but says he needs to get home, as he has dinner waiting for him there as well.

The boy walks across the street, and you begin to see his body language change. It's as if he is suddenly carrying a heavy load. He opens the door, and enters his house, which is quiet, and still. He walks through the kitchen, which has an obvious layer of dust throughout. He walks down the hall, and calls out for his dad. As he comes to the end of the hall way he sees his dad, sitting alone in the bathroom, his eyes, and face, filled with tears. The father quickly wipes the tears from his face, and with a quick closing of the bathroom door, he announces that he will be out in a minute.

Loss. It's everywhere. It's in my life. It's in my son's life. And, it's on the screen in this harmless sci-fi movie. I won't go too far into the plot, but it's your basic alien, trying to get back home. Near the end, the boys says to the alien that he understands. He tells the alien that “Bad things happen, but you can still live.” It's corny, yes, but spoken from one who knows.

Throughout the movie we see the father and son at odds. They are both grieving, and are joined by their loss, but they grieve in very different ways. They are separated mid way through the story, and in the end are reunited. When they do find each other, the father holds his son so tightly, that you know he doesn't want to lose him again. He then whispers into his ear, “I’m just doing the best I can to save you.”

Isn't that what we are all trying to do? I know that is what I am trying to do. I'm not always good at it. I sometimes get angry, and lose sight of the fact that my son is also grieving, and in a way that is not my own. I need to remember that he too fears that we may not find our way back, but I was reminded last night, and I am reminded again tonight, that I too am doing the best I can to save him.

Streets of San Francisco

2011-06-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a brief trip back to San Francisco. It was a business trip, not one that I had chosen on my own. The week before starting my new job, I was told that I needed to attend a training, and was a bit thrown off when told where it would take place. I decided that the universe was telling me that it was time to walk some of those familiar streets once again.

People have been asking me a lot lately if I miss San Francisco. After all, I did live there for about 25 years. I give the same answer every time.

No.

I think I surprise people by my response. I then try to fill in some of the missing blanks for those that ask. "When I move on, I move on." It's not really a cop out, it's really the truth. I don't miss it, and I have moved on. I'm also keenly aware that by not missing it, I don't fall into the pitfall of doing any reminiscing. No reminiscing means not having to remember more than I want to. It's not that I don't have fond memories, as I have a lot of them. It's just that they still feel like harsh reminders of what was, and what no longer is.

I approached the return with careful planning. I arranged to visit with a couple of very close friends, and otherwise did not tell a soul that I would be in town. This allowed me to focus my energy on the training courses that I was sent for, and to enjoy the company of my new coworkers who were there with me. I became a bit of a den mother, taking them to a couple of nice spots for dinner and drinks. It was a good time for bonding, and a good distraction from what could have been an emotionally loaded occasion.

There was a bit of an awkward moment when out with a few of the gang, and was asked what the tattoos on my arm symbolized. They were surprise to see my arm covered in ink, as I always cover up for work. I began my explanation about the loss I experienced, and was standing in a bar just down the street from where Michael and I met as I spoke. It was clear from their faces that my new friends were completely blown away by what I was sharing. It was actually a cathartic moment, sharing this with them over a drink, then being able to move forward with some fun and laughter for the rest of the night.

What was also nice were the surprise encounters everywhere I went. I must admit, it was rather sweet to be walking down the street, cross a bar room, or enter a building, and be met by familiar smiling faces. With each chance encounter was a look of joy at the opportunity to catch up with me.

I returned home late last night, and felt like it was a good trip over all. Today, though, has been a different matter. Today I have been feeling so down, and deeply depressed. It's clearly one of those "day after" situations. These occurred often during my first year of grieving. I would have all this anticipated worry about days that felt loaded, only to get through them relatively well. Then, the day after would arrive, and all the emotions that had been held back would on in full force. It's text book really.

Anyway, my point is that I was able to recognize it this evening. Rather than worry too much about what I am experiencing, I am able to put it into perspective. I have learned that the pain, or sorrow, cannot be passed off completely when re-experiencing the past. But, no matter how tough that day after can be, the days that follow do get better, and perspective is regained.

What the f*ck have I done?

2011-06-05T22:31:00.000-07:00

Well, obviously I haven't written here in a long time. I guess you could say I've been busy getting on with my life. I'm pretty much settled into my new job, and looking forward to getting busier there, as I don't do well with too much time on my hands. I have had many projects going on at my house, which has been expensive, and has also been a bit nerve racking.

Just a couple of days ago I was walking around my home, and stood on the back deck looking at all the completed upgrades I have done. It's a very large space, filled with furnishings, yard, and garden. It's just perfect for social gatherings and fun times. The problem is, I'm all alone.

I found myself in tears as I stood there because I was asking myself what it was all for. It was also a bit disconcerting when I realized how much my life has changed in the past 20 months since Michael died. I have desperately, and fervently, tried to create a new life for myself, and actually have, with much success. But have I don't too much?

What the fuck have I done?

Poetic. Right?

All of these changes have come somewhat easily. I set out to create something new, but I worry if I have gone too far, too soon. Now that I have this larger home, with this bigger space, I feel even more alone. The house is so quiet these days. I can wander around, and rarely have someone to interact with. It's clear that I need to put a lot of effort into getting some visitors this summer. I need to start planning some barbeque's, and invite friends and family over. I also need to step out of my home more often, and once again, start meeting new people. Mostly, I need to begin meeting some other gay men. This is clearly one area that I am lacking in my life.

I have never been very good at making friends with other gay men. I have tended to surround myself with straight women, which has really been reinforced since becoming a widower. The few gay widowers that I have come into contact with throughout this journey do not live near me. If I'm going to have the gay male relationships that I desire, then I will need to try something new. I'm not quite sure what that actually entails, but I'm ready to begin.

I don't want to be alone in my life forever. I don't want my kids worrying about their dad, or feeling guilty about the fact that I am so alone. I want some male friendships, and I would love some male "attention" now and then. I'm going to work at being more outgoing, and I am going to work at renewing a sense of optimism.

Wish me luck.

The New Office

2011-05-26T21:05:00.000-07:00

20 months. A nice sounding number.

I started my new job this week. A new transition for me once again. So much new, all the time it seems. For some reason, I didn't prepare myself for the questions, and the feelings that come up with them.

Sitting here in this empty office.

A bit of a blank slate.

White walls, nails where pictures used to hang.

Small holes in the walls where prior residents hung their photos and memories.

Staples where those quick postings were attached, now all torn down.

All that is left behind are indications of others, that used to be. Feels like being surrounded by ghosts.

What am I doing here?

"Hey, what brought you to San Diego?"

It's the question everyone asks, yet clearly no time for any type of meaningful response.

Oh, just needed a change.

Tomorrow I actually move into the office that will be my new home away from home for a significant amount of time each day. I'm realizing how important this environment will be. I really need to be comforted by a space that feels like home, that reflects me, and that I can build on.

Yet, while I wait, and find myself unable to tune out the ghostly walls, the feeling of detachment, and the sense of no history, so I mourn. I want to close the office door. I want to sit and cry. I've never had a private office, and don't know that this is the best time for me to have one. I have too much alone time as it is. I wonder if I'll draw out my sessions with clients longer than my peers, out of sheer loneliness or to fill the empty space.

Hey, don't feel sorry for me. I'm being paid well.

Hey, don't worry about me, I'm surrounded by what seems like very nice people.

Roots will be established, and friendships will be created. My life outside work has improved significantly. I no longer go home and stare at the walls. Well, maybe I still do at times, yet I clearly have options at this point.

I'm pinching myself... yes, he is still gone.

The office is now almost empty. Everyone has left the building. I'm in no hurry. I want to finally say it out loud...

I'm here because my husband died.

I'm here because I wanted to die.

I'm here to continue my healing.

I'm here to start over.

Tomorrow begins the reveal. Tomorrow I set up my new office. Tomorrow they will see the healing nature of how I arrange my space. Tomorrow they will see my family photo. Tomorrow begins the next phase of questions.

"Hey, who is that guy in the photo?"

Life Is Too Short

2011-05-20T23:43:00.000-07:00

You know, there is so much that I don't seem to share these days. I wonder if it is because I am so busy actively doing what I need to be doing, rather than writing about what I'd like to be doing.

I am actually feeling quite integrated into life once again. I have developed a group of friends, many of which know each other, yet mostly I spend time with them individually. I am out several times a week, either having lunch, dinner, walking, or just plain chatting, with friends.

It feels so good to know that there are people around for me to socialize with, and who are eager to do so. I don't feel so isolated anymore. I can stay at home, and still enjoy it for the most part, but I can also be out there having a good time.

So far I am spending my time with my mostly straight friends, having a good time socializing. And for the most part, I seem to have developed a very sensitive, and fun, new group of friends. I started a new job, and I want to continue to help others

I am also actively putting myself out there for potential dating. I'm on a few dating sites, and have corresponded with a few guys. I'm not sure if I will meet a new "man of my dreams" or my "next new husband" as Mike would say, but I am out there connecting to guys, and remaining
open to these connections moving in a romantic direction if it develops.

I am also doing all this with a renewed spirit, and with the attitude that life is too short, so why limit myself. I am giving myself permission to just enjoy life. And, as I was telling a new friend tonight, I don't have too many hang ups in regard to just having a fun time, meaning a casual fling here and there. I will not deny myself any type of pleasure at this time, well, almost any type. I just don't need to be giving myself any type of heavy handed self judgement. Again, life, too short.
so enjoy it.

Tonight's events? A two hour early evening walk through Balboa Park with a friend, then a nice Lebanese dinner.

It's all good. Of course, so much makes me think about Michael, which still brings about a sudden onslaught of tears, but I am back to being comfortable with all of this.

Went to a Garden Party-for one.

2011-05-16T22:09:00.000-07:00

I had the most wonderful day today. I took a drive up to San Marcos, which is about 30 miles north of the city of San Diego. I wanted to go meet with a home spa dealer whom I had spoken to previously on the phone. Not sure if I'll buy anything, but it was a great conversation about how to take care of yourself in your own home. My next destination was a great nursery that I had seen when I was up there on business a couple of months ago. I didn't have time then to stop, so I had made a note to get there as soon as time allowed. Well, time allowed today.

I took a lunch break after spending an hour walking throughout the nursery. I had spotted an Indian restaurant earlier, and knew that I would have to stop for lunch. Just so you know, Indian food is this year's crack.

With the top of my car down, I drove through the beautiful city of Carlsbad, which led me to the San Diego Botanic Garden. This was my ultimate destination, and it was so worth it. I had been the fortunate recipient of a gift membership to the Gardens (thanks again Megan) and wanted to begin what I expect to be many visits. The Garden is broken down into various categories, such as the types of plants, regions, and so on. Rather than take in all in at once, I decided to carve out small portions of the Garden, and really spend some quality time appreciating what it had to offer.

Today's visit was in the Bamboo Display Garden. Now, I have this long history with bamboo, and to be honest, it is a love/hate relationship. I love the simple elegance, beauty and strength, that bamboo possesses. I hate that it grows like weeds, faster than a speeding bullet, and that I had to deal with it in my childhood home, and now in my new San Diego home.

That's it, nothing more.

I got a bit carried away this afternoon, thinking I was some kind of photo journalist. I have many photos of my day in my flickr account. Please take a look when you have some down time.

I also made several very short videos. I'll just share a few with you here, so as to not completely bore you.

First Day

A Quiet Day

Not Jay Leno

Africa

Blog to Win!

2011-05-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

Not sure what happened, but this was scheduled to post yesterday. I just now realized the problem.

Widowed Bloggers -- win a ticket to Camp Widow!
Write a post sharing WHY you want to attend Camp Widow 2011. LINK your post below to make sure we see it (you can also send us a note when you post it, to supa.dupa.fresh AT gmail.com).

Camp Widow is a exceptional weekend for widowed people of all ages. We will choose one (possibly two) bloggers to receive a PARTIAL scholarship that covers Camp registration and some incidental expenses. NO ACTUAL CAMPING IS INVOLVED. Learn more about this event, which is in its third year, at campwidow.org.

How do I enter?
Please write and publish a blog post telling the world WHY you wish to attend. You can include topics such as how you expect to benefit, or share about some of the widowed people you've already met. You do not need to demonstrate financial need though if you wish to write a separate note discussing your financial circumstances, you may do so. Those notes should go to supa.dupa.fresh AT gmail.com.

Who is eligible to compete?
Widows and widowers of all ages who started blogging before 4/1/11 and who are interested in attending Camp Widow 2011. Please note: you should be prepared to pay for and arrange your travel to and from, and your lodging in San Diego. (We can help you find a roommate to reduce costs). If our generous donors can pay more, they will, but please don't apply unless you are prepared to make the trip (including arranging child care, taking time off work, etc.).

Schedule
You must publish your blog post AND notify us by midnight EST, Tuesday, May 31.
We will notify the winner within 2 weeks.
Camp Widow will be held August 12-14. Details are at campwidow.org.
Winner MUST his or her your own travel and hotel reservations. Scholarship covers Camp Widow registration fee plus some incidentals.

Questions? Want to help fund this scholarship?
We want to hear from you.
Supa.dupa.fresh AT gmail.com.

New Connections

2011-05-11T08:11:00.000-07:00

I'm not really sure why I'm writing here today, as I haven't felt much like writing lately. I'm going through a period of time that I like to call my Walking the Walk time. For most of my first year here, I was pretty much focused on Talking the Talk. That is not to say I wasn't actively "doing" something, but I was mostly focused on recording my thoughts, than out pursuing a change in my life.

It's funny, because I often find myself being quite careful in my word choices here. I don't want to come off as sounding critical of my own prior behavior and choices,and I don't want to come off as being judgemental of how others are spending their time. I just feel the need to be a bit self critical, as in an analytical, of my current state of being.

Writing this blog, and posting any clean, or dirty, laundry, is my way of taking little snapshots of where I am at, or where I think I am at. I suppose these snapshots are open for your critical analysis, but probably best kept to yourself. I'm much more fragile than these word choices appear.

Recently I made a correlation between 12 step meetings, and support group gatherings for the widowed. I was half joking, but there is always some element of truth in my humor. In the past, I made regular use of Al Anon Meetings to help me deal with issues being faced with my daughter's choices. I found these meetings both satisfying, and quite rewarding. They taught me that there is so much value in the experience of others. If you haven't attended a 12 step meeting, there is always the disclaimer given at the beginning of the meeting, reminding those that gather that there is no cross talk, and that we are not there to give, and receive, advice. I know that for some, the question then becomes, then what is the point of such a meeting.

The meeting, as is this blog, is so that by hearing of an other person's daily challenges with this area of their life, we can see similarities, reflections, from our own life. It then becomes a catalyst for further self examination, and also encourages our own thoughts and feelings to rise to the surface. I always tell my children to be patient with their feelings, and let them fully rise to the surface before acting on them. By doing this, I am able to respond to, or reflect, on a deeper level, rather than off the cuff.

My writing is there for that same purpose. It gives way to my own deeper stirrings, that may rise later in my post, or later in my day. This is the same internal interaction that occurs when I visit other blogs. I do, at times, leave encouraging words, but mostly I tend to reflect on what their words have touched on in me.

So, what was the purpose to all of this rambling anyway?

I have a lot of time on my hands currently, being in between jobs. What's interesting is that the weather has not been that great, so my plan to do some exterior house painting, or further landscaping, have had to be put to the side. In their place have been a lot of connections, or attempted connections, with other people. I am doing a lot of writing, but primarily through chat room conversations with others online. I don't usually enjoy this mode of connection, but it has been both interesting, and encouraging, for me.

I am putting more attention into developing a better social life for me here in San Diego. I am talking to other gay men about the new direction in my life, and what I am seeking in way of new relationships. I am also seeing myself beyond the life imposed label of widower. While this label has come up here and there, it is just one of many that fit into the list of descriptors that help others get to know me. I like that. I like that I am being reminded that there are many sides to me, and that my being widowed is not always going to be the most dominant descriptor that I rely on.

It's all good.

So Be It.

2011-05-02T22:33:00.000-07:00

I’m down to my last few days at the job, which means there is little for me to do. I don’t do well with idle time, so my day is going quite slow, as I have run out of things to keep me busy. I still don’t have a start date for the new job, which is a bit concerning, but they did say they would not call until all the required clearances were returned to them, which always takes some time. For the most part I have accepted that I may be told at the last minute that I start on Friday, or I may have the next couple of weeks free.

Most people of learn of this think that I am so fortunate to possibly have some free time on my hands, but to be honest, I still have too much free time on my hands. I am doing more, and making an effort, but truth be told, I still tend to stay home a lot. It’s a difficult balance, because I do have my 12 year old son at home, and he still, or probably more than ever, needs careful supervision. I am taking a friend out to dinner tonight to celebrate her birthday, so it’s not like I am a shut in. It’s all just one step at a time.

I decided to take a step at making my dating/social life begin. I posted an updated photo of myself on a dating site, and sent an email introducing myself to someone who is also gay, and a parent. There is no reason why I should be taking the passive position in this new dating venture. In the past, and okay, still in the present, I often hesitate to make the first move. It’s not that I am all that shy, well, I suppose I am, but it’s more because I come with some baggage, meaning three kids. For many single gay men, the idea of kids is a deal breaker. Not that I blame them, as my kids do take up a significant amount of my time and attention. But, if I am to be blessed with another relationship in my future, then I have to accept that there are more than one gay man out there does not mind, or likes, that I have kids.

There is also the widowed thing. Oh, that. I know that for many, the idea that I am back on the market after only 18 months, might seem a bit soon. I know that I would have questions if I met someone who was open to dating after only 18 months. It’s not that there is a judgment against it, it’s just that you want to be sure that the person you start to date can really see it through. I would hate to get deep in the dating someone, only to realize that I am not ready, and to hurt that person. I know that there are also a host of reasons why a new relationship might not work, or might have some bumps in the road, so I am telling myself that this is only one factor, and to not put too much weight on it.

I am really working on self affirmation. No, I’m not taping messages all over the house, or filling my Facebook account with quotes, but just giving myself an ongoing talking to. I’m reminding myself that I am capable of loving. I am capable of being love. I have a lot to offer, and I have plenty of room to receive. I am still young, well according to my peer group at least. I don’t dare ask my son’s opinion. I still have my looks, thanks to my recent visit to a skin rejuvenation center (can you say “wrinkles no more”), and my libido has shown a recent increase, thanks to the healthy array of Internet “art” films. (I am a man, no apologies.)

So, what’s the point of this post? I seem to have forgotten momentarily. Okay, so my mind is beginning to fail me now and then. You know, some people get a bit concerned about their mind slowing down. Some have suggested Ginkgo Biloba, but to be honest, some things are better left un-remembered. If I forget the depth of my pain and grief at times, oh well, so be it. If I forget that my waist line measurement is now larger than my inseam, so bit it. If the reflection in the mirror now displays more salt than pepper, well, cover the damn mirror. Do I really need to be focusing on such details? I don’t think so.

Funny, it reminds me of the country song by Toby Keith. “I may not be as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was.

Lust is in the air, everywhere I look around...

2011-04-26T23:31:00.000-07:00

It's late, and I should be heading off to bed. Unfortunately, I have slipped back into an old behavior of just staying up very late. I mean, very late. My work at the office is quite slow this week, and because I only have one week left at the job, I'm not getting any new assignments. That said, there is really less need for rest and sleep, so just stay up!

I have also been aware of dreaming a lot this week. The crazy thing is, my dreams have been coming true. I have always been a bit of a dream interpreter for friends, so it's usually quite easy for me to look at the content, or mood, of the dream, and understand what it is I might be working through. Yet, this week has been quite different. I was even sharing one dream with my youngest son a few days ago, then by the end of the night I pointed out to him how it actually came true. It was a very strange feeling, but not one that I feel a need to analyze further.

For those that don't know, I will be starting a new job soon. Last year I flew down to San Diego and interviewed with the Superior Court to work as a custody mediator. It is something I really wanted to do, it pays well, and I honestly believe that I have much to offer them. The openings at the time were a bit far from where I planned to settle, so I let them know that it was not my preference to work so far from home. Fortunately for me, someone recently retired from their downtown court house, and they offered me the job. I've done all the preliminary finger prints, medical exam, and mandatory drug test, and am now just waiting for all the results to come in so they can give me my start date. The funny thing is, I've been kind of stressed about the drug test. Why? I have never used drugs. I think that I am still in a very vulnerable place in my grief. Having this job dangled in front of me, which is my "brass ring," is making me worry that some kind of fluke will occur, and I will lose what I am expecting to get.

Along with this job process, I did have an interesting moment, or two, while having my employment physical. I was being run through the various stations at this employment health care facility, while in the corner of my eye I could see this very good looking doctor. I just smiled, and thought, I hope I get assigned to him! Well, maybe I was also a bit nervous, as I didn't know how thorough this exam would be, and do I want to get undressed in front of this very cute doctor while I begin fantasizing about our future life together?

There I was, sitting on the exam table, all clothing remaining on. It was just a quick perfunctory exam, but throughout it I kept catching him catching my eye. He would smile, then look away. At one point he asked if I suffered from any hernias, such as abdominal, or groin. What! No. No such problem. Again, I sensed a bit of bashfulness on his part, which made me go weak in the knees. I may be making this part up, but I think he actually asked me once again if I was worried about a hernia. For a moment there I was tempted. Of course, now that you mention it, I was kind of worried about a hernia. Maybe I need to lie back on the table while you palpitate my abdomen. Or, maybe there is something wrong with my groin. Oh dear me, where those my trousers that just hit the floor?

Okay, so I can be a bit naughty. Well, to be honest I can be a bit of a perv. Tomorrow I have to return to have my TB test read. Of course we expect that it will be positive, as I was exposed to TB about 18 years ago, and took INH for a year. But, because I didn't have my medical record of it, the kind, and concerned, and good looking, young doctor said we should just go ahead and do the test. In my fantasy, he has been quite worried about me since yesterday. He is wondering if he should break a boundary, and call to check in with me. Looking at my arm right now, well, it's quite red, and raised. Fuck. I really didn't want to go get an X-ray of my chest, but I"m sure that is where this is headed. But, I'm almost positive that this man of integrity, and nice bedside manner, will take it upon himself to see that I am okay after having to stare at the ever growing red raised area at the test site of my arm.

Okay, I'm also a bit of a nut. Yes, I know when I am truly losing it. But, look at where I am. I am fantasizing about another man. I am allowing myself to get lost in the idea that there could be romance in my future. Not likely with this cute doctor, as he is probably at home with his wife and kids right this minute. I'm sure I created all of this up in my head.

But maybe I am wrong. Maybe it's the beginning of my next romantic adventure!

A Special Day

2011-04-21T21:30:00.000-07:00

Five years ago. Standing in the middle of a nightclub, listening to the pulsating music. An awkward tall guy came up to me, "If you don't start moving you hips people will think you are straight." I smile, even laugh a bit, and he moved back across the room.

It takes me a couple of more songs to realize that this was the guy's lame attempt at flirting with me. I seen him standing by the dance floor, looking my way. I smile again, walk across the floor, and say, "Well, I don't see you dancing either."

Well, as the old saying goes, we danced the night away, and never stopped.

Michael and I loved to dance, and we loved to flirt with each other. We hired a dance instructor to help us choreograph our "first dance" at our wedding, and there were many nights when we danced to his favorite Bette Midler song in our kitchen. These are all such precious memories.

This was the night that we always celebrated as our anniversary. We would always go out for a romantic dinner together. My favorite evening was one spent at a cute little french restaurant the Michael was eager to try. It had about seven courses, each with a special wine pairing. This was the year before his tumor arrived. There wasn't much that I enjoyed on the menu, but Michael was so enjoying his meal, and wine, that I just smiled and laughed throughout the whole evening. He was like a child in a candy store.

Michael loved nice things, and enjoyed "doing it up." I enjoyed "doing him." Okay, probably too much information.

Remembering this day, and it's significance, makes me feel good. I'm in a good place right now, and I'm feeling like all signs are telling me to keep taking big steps forward. I'm determined, and committed, to living the life that Michael wanted for me. One where I am happy, and one where I am loved.

The Birthday

2011-04-14T21:45:00.001-07:00

Wasn't planning on posting anything today, but here I am.

My day went well enough. The nice folks at work had a cake for me and a fellow worker who share the same birthday. From that point on I was on a marathon of appointments throughout the county. It was very busy, and very tiring. I couldn't wait to get home, throw off my work duds, and put on a big over sized shirt (Michael's of course) and a pair of shorts.

Other than a quick run out for dinner with my son Remy, I have been sitting here reading email, the many wonderful greetings that only Facebook can provide for, and staring at the silent television screen. I was doing okay most of the time, then it hit, the tears.

For some reason I kept telling myself not to cry today. I felt like I had to have a happy day, sans tears, to some how prove to everyone that I'm not wallowing in my grief. I'm not quite sure why I give myself these messages, as no one else is telling me this. I suppose we are always our own worse enemies, right?

Anyway, I finally gave myself permission to cry, which I did very easily. I only needed a few minutes, then stopped to catch my breath. Just then, the phone rings. I don't ordinarily answer the phone when having one of these moments, but this call was needed. It was Michael's mother. If anyone was going to understand, it was her. Sure enough, she said I sounded like she usually feels. We laughed, and joked about lying about our age. I promised to say I was 39 so she could then claim a younger age as well. It was a very nice, and fun, conversation. I feel much more connected as a result, and can spend the rest of the evening in a better state.

Thank you Barbara for your call. Thank you for your continued love and support.

Thank you to all my friends and family that reached out to me today.

Thank you Michael for your love. I miss you more and more each day, but hold your smile in my heart, which keeps it beating.

Visiting Familiar Territory.

2011-04-13T21:58:00.000-07:00

I just arrived back from a visit with my parents. I decided to take the afternoon off from work, and make the two hour trip to have dinner with them. It was a very nice visit, but one that seemed to be pushing my emotional buttons now and then.

Being in my new home, and in my new city of San Diego, has buffered me from always having to face ghosts of my time with Michael. I needed to deal with my grief internally, and lessen the blow of the constant reminders of where we used to be. Visiting my parents, on the other hand, is filled with reminders of where we would sleep, sit, or dine, during our visits. It's also very odd to be sitting there, watching my parents go through some of the situations that I did with Michael during his illness. My mother is quite ill, and due to her pain medication, doesn't always have clear control of her thoughts. At one point she was sitting where Michael always sat in their living room, then struggled to get up to her walker, with my father right behind her. She suddenly had the presence of mind to make a joke about the indignity of being ill, and some of the unfortunate changes that go along with it. I found myself laugh, then tear up, as it was as if Michael was right there doing the same. Then as they walked down the hall toward their bedroom I thought to myself that this is not how life is supposed to be. I'm not supposed to be watching my elderly folks going through a stage that I have already passed through.

I was glad to have the living room to myself for a short time, as it allowed me to feel what I was feeling, then to regroup. When they did return, I felt comfortable to share some of this with them. It's a conversation that my father and I often have, as we have both been in the role of caretaker for our spouses for quite some time. It's also always nice that he ends these types of conversations reminding me of how much they loved Michael, and how much they think of him each day as well.

As I drove closer and closer to San Diego, I began to feel a bit of optimism. It was an odd sense of optimism in that I was missing Michael's presence in my life, yet also feeling so much appreciation for having him for the time that I did. It was also a reminder of how far I have come in my grief. I now have a new environment, where I can find solitude if I choose, and also a strong social group that keeps me busy with invitations to lunch or weekend dinners. I'm in a good place, and I appreciate that.

Just continuing the walk.

2011-04-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

Time for a check in.

My social life here in San Diego is beginning to take off. I'm spending more and more time with the crowd from work. I really clicked with this group, and feel so comfortable with each of them. I also get to see a new friend, who recently lost her child, during these gatherings. Sometimes I can talk to her about her grief, other times there is just that unspoken acknowledgement that we share with our eyes. I'm being taken out to lunch by some other new friends later in the week, which I have been really looking forward to. It's nice to find kindred spirits where you decide to lay your hat.

I think that this current change in my social life in a combination of some very special people that have chosen to go out of their way to engage me. It's also because I have come out of my self imposed hibernation. I really think is was a necessary part of my grieving journey, and I feel so much stronger as a direct result of it.

I did notice today though, that in between these fun, and supportive, connections, I have a tendency to slip into my depression, but not for long, and not as deep. When I can step back at look at this whole grief experience, I find that it is so fascinating. I have definitely had times in my life when I was sad, anxious, hurt, and so on, but never have I had those gut feelings that go along with such periods last this long. It's like having a chronic condition. You treat it, you try to sedate it, or you try to manage the pain, and yet, it is always there.

No new insight really, just my current level of awareness.

Unexpected Visitors

2011-04-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

This has definitely been a week of social connections. It's that old saying, when it rains, it pours. Well, in the past I may have used this line to convey that I had been crying a lot, but I am pleased to say that it has been a time of pouring love, and interaction with friends.

Friday I posted a stupid April Fools joke on my Facebook account. I wrote that things were not working out for me, and I was taking my 12 year old, and moving to a meditation center in Thailand. I even went so far as to research a place where I could actually go, and that had programing for children. Well, most assumed, or perhaps, hoped, it was a joke. But, a good amount of friends began asking about a going away party. Some panicked, especially my new friends here in San Diego. I think they felt somewhat betrayed. Hey, we have really come to care about you Dan, don't leave us!

I was quick to let my local friends know that it was a joke, but I tell you, I have received a fair amount of teasing at the office all week because of this. At this point I am seriously thinking of planning a trip to the very place I joked about. I think it would be a good way to get myself back on the spiritual quest that I began this past summer.

Anyway, because of the alarm that was sent out on Friday, I got a quick request to join some friends at a local hangout. I met them for food and drinks, and had a really great time. The next night I hosted a gathering at my home for several more friends. We cooked, drank, laughed, and cried. It was a lovely evening. It gave me an opportunity to share my home for the first time. It also gave me an opportunity to connect to a couple who recently lost a child. I had a truly intimate moment, standing in my bedroom, my hand on Michael's urn, sharing with the young mother about how our pain is part of the healing process.

As this week has gone on I have received two calls from old friends in San Francisco, wanting to catch up with me. They are both planning on a visit next month, which really makes me happy. I also got invited out for a birthday lunch by a few new friends I have made in the community of which I work. One, also someone single, extended herself further by letting me know that she is always looking for someone to dine with, or to do fun things in the city. She told me never to hesitate to call, even if it is very last minute, as she loves to do things on the fly. This was a great thing to hear, as I had been thinking about asking the same of her.

I must also say that since my first day on the new job, I was blessed with the most amazing office mate. And even though I have since been transferred to a different floor in the building, she has continued to go out of her way to connect with me, and make many of these social gatherings happen. I have quickly grown to love and cherish my friendship with her.

So what am I trying to say tonight?

I am blessed. Truly blessed. Something is changing around me. I am coming out of hibernation, and as I poke my head out, I see that I am not alone. There are people there, willing, and wanting, to be a part of my life. There is no regret, okay, maybe there is, but I know that I needed to go through this dark and lonely period that the past few months have been. I needed the quiet time to mourn further, and to let things fall into place. This is not to say that everything will suddenly be rosy, but I do feel that I will no longer be allowed to completely withdraw again.

I can honestly say that I am happy at this moment. I woke up this morning, not having slept too long, or too well. I woke up with an odd feeling that I had a visitor last night. You see, I don't remember my dreams. I used to be quite a vivid dreamer. Ever since Michael died, I can only remember two dreams. That's it. There are no pictures, words, or symbols that I can recall being a part of my sleep last night, but there is a feeling, a feeling that he was there. I remember lying in bed, not being able to sleep. I kept asking Michael to come visit me. I really wanted to see him, or feel him again. I remember wishing I could have lovely dreams of us together, yet it has never happened. I don't know how it happened, or what happened, or if it happened. I only know that he was there, and that is lovely for me.

Blue Skies

2011-03-25T17:43:00.000-07:00

Today's weather in San Diego was rather odd. There were moments that it would pour down heavy rainfall, then as if walking into a different room, complete bright sunshine. I was out attending to several appointments I had, so I was able to experience this in dramatic fashion as I drove along the freeway.

How similar it is with grief. There are definitely periods of long days of rain, followed by weeks of a lighter heart. It doesn't always move along with consistency, but can have some familiar seasons. In between such periods, I have found my grief to be more that of today's weather, moving along my day, and being caught off guard by a sudden outpouring of grief. Then, within a moment or two, the sun comes out, and my spirit is lifted.

Late in the day, and it would appear that the sun was won out.

True Blue

2011-03-24T21:23:00.000-07:00

Fast & True.

Unwavering.

Grief.

Can I be honest with you?

2011-03-22T23:00:00.000-07:00

I feel like it's a "come clean" with my reality time once again.

I have been terribly unhappy. Okay, no big surprise.

I'm so burdened by my grief these days. I feel like I am carrying an enormous piece of baggage, and I'm getting so tired of the excess weight. I can feel the weight bearing on my heart, and on my shoulders. It makes any type of movement all the more strenous. And, for the most part, I only carry it around while at work. The rest of my time I come home, sit it beside me, and choose to take the easy way out, meaning go nowhere with it.

I am alone.

Yes, I do have my kids, yet only one at home at present. He is twelve, and at this point that means forced meals together, and some side by side computer time. He is quite content to be out with his friends, and that is the way it should be. As for me, I just want him to be busy enough to not notice how depressed, and stagnant his father is.

I feel like a cloister.

I live in a world of silence these days. There is little person to person interaction in my life. The whole world has moved on, yet I am still here, mourning, and somewhat giving up. I go to work each day, and do my job. I have a little interaction here and there, but most of my opportunity to talk with another person happens on the phone, or in person, with clients. I tend to work long days. Not because I have a lot of work to do, quite the contrary, I have too much time on my hands at the office. I'm finding that it is not as challenging as I would like it to be. But it, like me, is a work in progress. I don't rush to leave, as there is no real pay off in returning home.

The days go by painstakingly slow. Lunch time comes, and though I may be hungry, I'm in no rush to do anything about it. I quietly walk out the building, and get into my car. Most of the time this too is in silence. I sit in my car, then realize I have no where to go, and no one to go there with. I think that because my position is that of a floater, it makes it hard to connect with other folks at work, and more difficult to maintain friendships. Just when I think I'm getting to know people, or them me, well, it's time to move on once again.

You know, people may hear this of me, and think that I should just stop dwelling on the past. Most have no idea that my life feels so empty. I don't know what others think I am filling my time with, but all I can come up with is empty space.

That's it. My life feels so empty.

This is not a cry for help. Lord knows I did enough of that in my car today. It's just me, trying to be real with my readers. 18 months out, and I'm a real fucking mess. I've thought about getting back into therapy, which I most likely will do, so nobody needs to leave me a list of shoulds. The reality here is this. Life is shit. You give your heart to someone, and that someone is taken away.

Oops. I think he took my heart with him. Maybe I should have asked for it back before he left.

How do I explain this. I was very happy. Even after the devesating news that he would die of a brain tumor. I still had him, so I managed to find happiness while I battled that damn tumor. Now I have nothing. About now most are scratching their heads. Nothing? Well, yes. Nothing. Nothing has replaced the pain and emptiness that placed upon me 18 months ago. And, remember people, 18 months is not that long ago. So many people expect me to be different at this point. What point? My husband died. Wouldn't you be different if your spouse died? Of course you would be, and not for the better.

Last week my mother gave me a gem. I don't even know is she realizes it. My brother is having a birthday party for my sister in law. I love my sister in law, in fact I just call her my sister, as that's who she is to me. Yet, I can't see myself at a party with a bunch of couples, laughing and having a good time. What they don't realize is that one of Michael's most happy memories together was having party/gathering at their home. It was the first time he was meeting all of my family together, and my brother and sister made him feel so much at ease by their joyous nature. I can still picture him smiling, and laughing in their patio.

Back to the gem. My mother was talking to my sister, and explained that it would be unrealistic to expect me to go to such a party. My mother reminded her that while the rest of them have kept moving forward, life for me has moved extremely slow. She said that the rest of my family just doesn't realize this. She is so right. If they did, they would realize how slow, and quiet, my life continues to be.

Well, this was not meant to be a woe is me type of post. I just don't want my newly widowed readers to think that at 18 months, Dan, in real time, is doing exceptionally well. It just doesn't work that way. I know what people want to hear. I know what people don't want to hear. And, I know what people would prefer for me.

Sorry folks, that's not my reality.

My reality is that it is a hard and difficult road. It's also a very long, and lonely road. Sometimes I wish it was a dead end, but it's not. I know that I must keep walking. And, I know that I will to continue walking. Just not as fast as you might think.

Knowing

2011-03-20T18:54:00.000-07:00

I knew the day would come, that I would attend my first funeral since that of Michael's. I often wondered what the situation would be, and why I would chose to put myself in such a place. After all, people would understand, right?

Maybe it was because of the type of loss, that I felt moved to do so. Maybe it was because I didn't really know those in pain too well. Maybe because I did know those so closely affected by the loss that I felt moved to stand among them.

It's very hard to understand why people are taken from this earth at such early times. Of course, "taken early" is such a relative term. When Michael was taken, that is what I felt. When people made comments to me, that is what they said. Yet, when you see the pain of those left behind, I suppose that any age is considered too soon.

In this case, it was too soon for my mind, and heart, to understand. At least with Michael, I could say that he lived a life full of many adventures. He lived, and traveled all over the world. He touched the lives of people on many continents. And although I don't know the type of pain Michael's mother necessarily felt, having to say goodbye to her adult son, I tell myself that at least she got to see him grow into such a wonderful man. She got to feel the pride of watching him achieve so many of his goals and dreams. And, she got to walk him down the isle, and marry a man who loved him dearly.

Friday's funeral was for one much younger. Friday's funeral was for a child, only 21 months.

Not long before starting my present job, a young woman from my office left to concentrate on raising her two boys, and focus on higher education. I know of her because she is very much loved by the friends I have made in the office. And although I haven't had the opportunity to socialize with her, her name, and those of her husband, and two young boys, come up in conversation all the time. There have been a few times when she has visited the office, once with her baby boy, and we were able to meet. Each time since that initial meeting, we both smile and greet each other. It's a smile of knowing that we share a friend, one that we both enjoy, and find emotional support from.

When I learned of her child's sudden death, it brought such sorrow to my heart. For one, I know loss, and for another, I could to see the pain it caused in those close to her. After the funeral there was a social gathering in a nearby hall. I sat with friends from the office, and spoke quietly with them. When it was time to leave, I took a deep breath, and found the courage to walk up toward her. Part of me didn't want to see that familiar look in her eyes. Part of me didn't want to see how burdened she would be with her grief. Yet, I knew that I had a gift to offer her, and that was the knowing.

I don't know the pain of losing a child, but I know the pain of having your heart torn apart. I know that look of trying to make sense of something that is beyond us. I know that darkness that must be walked through.

I walked up to her, and saw myself in her. It was a face I know so well.

A gentle embrace.

I'm here if you need someone who knows.

Things Are Not What They Seem

2011-03-17T20:18:00.000-07:00

I tell you, my experience of parenthood has definitely been an interesting one. I must also say, that my experience has been a difficult one.

During the past week, my 12 year old has been once again obsessed with reading. He has always been the type, that once he finds something of interest, he gets completely lost in it. Recently it has been The Hunger Games book trilogy. To my amazement, he read all three books in only 7 days. Now, there were two competing, or contributing, factors here. For one, he found himself loving the first one. About the same time, I mistakenly ordered two Kindles online, and really didn't want to go through the trouble of sending one back. I initially offered it to my daughter, who always has a book in her hand. But she is a die hard paperback reader, and said she could never give up actual books. Remy, on the other hand, simply saw the opportunity to own yet another electronic gadget. I suppose he gets it from me.

To prove his point, that he would make good use of the Kindle, Remy began reading his books on it night and day. Of course, when ever I walked by his bedroom I would stop and make him turn out the light, and get some sleep. I suspect that he waited for me to go to bed, then just flicked the light back on.

Yesterday morning Remy was very tired. He said he was so tired that he felt sick. That didn't go far with me, as I just instructed him to get ready for school. He then went down his usual litany of symptoms, that were meant to prove to me that he really needed to stay home, including having a hallucination.

"Right Remy. Nice try."

I arrived home from work last night around 6pm. Remy was sitting on the couch, looking catatonic. "Hey, did you do your homework?" These words were met with the slightest eye movement, as if to say, of course not. I then firmly told him to get to the table and get started. That is when I began to see that something was very wrong.

At first I thought he was just acting silly, or trying to work my last nerve. He kept looking around the room. He would mumble words that I couldn't understand, and he would get up, and walk around the room without any purpose. At one point I turned to him and asked what he was doing. He responded the "she" needed to use the bathroom, and he was showing her the way. He then turned, and began talking to "her."

From that point on I began to see that he was completely out of touch with reality. I was in the room, but I don't think he really knew who I was. Every time I asked him a question he would begin to answer, then get lost in thought, as if his mind's course got disconnected. I started looking into his eyes. I looked around the kitchen to see if he had mistakenly, or not mistakenly, took some medication. I began asking if he took any pills, or if someone gave him something to ingest. He just kept looking at me as if I were far, far away.

I then explained to him that we needed to go to the hospital, because something was very wrong with him. He said okay, but didn't know what the reason was. In fact, he was more compliant than I have ever seen him. As if my words were his thoughts. I would say stop, and rather than ask why, he would just stop in his tracks without any response. At the hospital emergency room, everyone was watching him, as it was clear that something odd was occurring. Almost immediately we were escorted to the triage nurse, who attempted to take all of his vitals, but we had a difficult time getting him to stay put, as he just kept wandering. She then had us wait in a different waiting area than the rest, as we didn't know what he would do. Our wait was very long, and I had to constantly redirect him from walking away.

Eventually we ended up in a private room, where they drew blood, took a urine sample, and ran an EKG. During our very long wait, he was constantly interacting with characters from the books, and it was clear, that I was not always dad, but some friend of his. After awhile I began to really worry. Would he come out of this? What was the cause? I didn't know if I wanted there to be a cause. It would be simple for the cause to be drug induced, right? But then, did I want to learn that my 12 year old had taken some kind of drug? Then I thought, but what if it isn't drugs? Then it could be something much more serious. What if he had some kind of psychotic break, and what if he doesn't come out of it.

Well, we were there for over 7 hours, and in the end all of the test results came back negative. Eventually the doctors and nurses just looked at me, and asked what I wanted to do. It was obvious that I knew how to handle the situation, as I remained so calm and focused during the entire night. Occasionally my mind kept gravitating to Michael. I kept wondering what else lied ahead for me in life. What other challenges would I have to face alone. Then I just paused, prayed, and also asked Michael to be with me so I wouldn't feel so alone.

Finally, about 3am we headed back to the parking garage for our car. I didn't know what was ahead, and he didn't know what was happening, but he did seem to trust me. We drove home, had something to eat, then both climbed into my bed. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, and hold him close to me. But then I had to remember that I wasn't "Dad" at the time, I was some dude. He just looked over at me, and with a quick lift of the chin, he said in a very 'guy to a guy' way, goodnight.

In the morning, I was awakened by the sound of our animals, who were at my door, wondering where their morning meal was. I started to get up, then looked over at Remy. He sat up, looked at me, and walked out of the room. I sat there wondering if he was back, and if not, who I would be this morning. I walked out into the kitchen, and said good morning. He looked up, and smiled, good morning Dad.

After breakfast, Remy wanted to go to school. I explained that we needed to stay home today, as I needed to watch his behavior. Throughout the day he has been piecing together his whole evening. He says he felt like he was awake in a dream. It is all coming back to him, and he can even remember who he thought I was, and why he was responding to me in certain way. I looked up his symptoms online, and found that the lack of sleep can certainly bring on hallucinations. We have an appointment tomorrow afternoon with his psychiatrist, and hopefully he will agree that it was because of the sleep deprivation.

All I know is that he is back, and I am thankful. It's nights like last night that I can truly recognize the gifts that Michael left with me. He left me a good helping of his calmness. He left me feeling like I am more than capable of taking on what life puts in front of me. I wish my life, or the life of my children, didn't have to be so complicated. But, if it need be, then I am grateful to all that contribute to my being able to respond to their needs.

That Which Is Broken

2011-03-14T21:48:00.000-07:00

This afternoon my 17 year old son dislocated a finger while playing basketball at school. I met his school counselor at the hospital E.R., and waited while they got the finger back in position, and took some x-rays. Turns out he had a chip fracture.

On the drive taking him back to his group home he turns to me and asks,

"Dad, have you ever had something broken in your body?"

Hmm

Can you make me look younger?

2011-03-11T21:04:00.000-08:00

Earlier today I took my son to get his hair cut. He's the Emo kid with the cool do, so I always have to pick a stylist that will make him happy. As I sat their waiting for him to be ever so perfectly coiffed, I began looking through the latest Details men's magazine. I flipped through a few of the pages, then came across an article titled "5 Ways to Look Younger In Less Than 30 Minutes."

I really need to read this!

I have aged so much these past few years. I used to look in the mirror and like what I saw. I used to get told that I looked too young for my age. I used to be in great shape. I used to...you get the idea.

I have completely fallen apart. I know when the downfall began, It was October 2007, when Michael was diagnosed with his tumor. From that day forward I stopped taking care of myself. Before that day, I used to love exercising, eating well, and all the other good healthy stuff. I wish I could get back there, but I'm not so sure I have it in me anymore.

I'm really wanting to start dating again. Not that I'll be much good at it, or not that I'm necessarily ready to fall in love again, but I desperately need a distraction from my current life.

Trying to date again is not so easy. I'm a single parent once again. I have a 12 year old son at home. It's not like I'm going to leave him here alone and ggo bar hopping at night. Besides, I'm too much of a wallflower, and have no clue what to do if I do find myself in a bar. Basically, all this leaves me to is the Internet dating sites. So there I am, for all the other single gay dudes to see. The problem is, nobody has written me back. What the hell is wrong with me?

I know that my status as a widower might be a bit of a downer, and perhaps that I have three lovely children might not be what other single gay dudes are looking for, yet this is who I am. But, in anticipation of possibly meeting someone, and going on a date, I need to get my act together, start exercising again, and do something about this recent aging that has taken place.

I know that having a husband who suffered from a brain tumor took it's toll on me. I also know that spending the past 18 months grieving didn't help matters either. So, when I saw this article, I thought wow, just what I need.

5 Ways to Look Younger In Less Than 30 Minutes

1. Enhance your hair color. What? I used to color my hair. But then, I used to do a lot of things to look younger. The women all tell me not to touch my salt and pepper hair. And, I'll admit, I do love my gray, but do the guys? To be honest, most guys my age that I come across here in town, do color their hair. It does have me thinking...it might make me look a bit younger, but I highly doubt that the new growth a month later would. Okay, skip step one.

2. Refresh you skin. Easier said than done. Here the article talked about botox, fillers, and chemical peels. It listed this procedure as taking only about 10 minutes. Hey, I've got ten minutes! Poke, fill and peel away! Oh, what? It costs $2000., and only lasts 6 months? Never mind. Honestly, I'm not ruling this out. I have never been against people doing things to enhance their looks. I've just been against me spending that kind of money to do so. The guy that I see for massage actually does skin care full time. I think I will start with a nice facial, and go from there.

3. Tame your eyebrows. Amen! I completely agree with this. What is with all the bushy eyebrows that reach out 3 to 4 inches in front of men's faces? I just don't get it. Sometimes I want to walk around town with a small pair of shears, and just do these guys a favor. Clip the damn things, will you! I agree, trimming the brows does give one a more youthful and refreshed look. Problem here is that I trim my brows on a regular basis, so I don't benefit from step 3 at all. Next!

4. Get a tan. Now, not that I am a sun worshiper, but in the past I was a regular visitor at the tanning salon. This was more in my working out-buffed days. I agree, a bit of sun does give one a healthy glow, but I would more likely stick with the spray on tans. Given that I am spending more and more time working in my garden, I think I will soon develop just the right amount of bronze color to truly look like the Latino that I am. So, rather than spending money on a good spray job, I'll just stick to the natural way, and have my face receive a little color as I work hard to develop my nice farmer's tan.

5. Perfect your smile. Well, I don't think I'm going for perfect, but I think I am covered here. About the time that I first met Michael, I had spent way too much money on Invisalign braces. I was very pleased with the results. Of course I haven't exactly been wearing my retainer since then, but I did recently find it at the bottom of box. I'm afraid of putting it back on, as I'm sure that my teeth have moved. I know that this will mean pure torture each night if I really want to get my teeth back to where they were expensively paid to be.

So, looking younger in just 30 minutes isn't as simple as it would appear. Along with these 30 short minutes are a number chemicals, dollars and painful situations.

I think not.

So, when the stylist was done with Remy, and he looked adorably cute, (Remy, not the stylist), I looked up and asked if he had time for another haircut. He said sure, he could fit me in. He cleaned off the chair, and draped me with the cape. As he fastened it around my neck, he asked, "what can I do for you today?"

Can you make me look younger?

A Satisfying Day

2011-03-05T20:50:00.000-08:00

I had a satisfying day. It started with an early morning trip to my favorite place in the world, The Home Depot. Go ahead and laugh, but I love this place. Whenever I walk through the store I am in my element, and at peace. It is pure nirvana.

I got a couple of unsolicited comments in the checkout line, as my cart was overflowing with gardening and yard work items. I had six pots of bush lilies, bark ground covering, a new water hose, water hose reel, a rake, and an old fashioned push reel lawn mower.

"Are you going to get all that done today?"

"I guess we know how you're spending your weekend."

It was kind of funny. I love chatting with people at Home Depot. Everyone is always involved in some kind of project. And, everyone loves to talk, and give advice. I also love working on the yard, especially the front yard. It always gives me the opportunity to talk to people as they come walking by. Most of the day I didn't see a soul around, but it was kind of hot, and I suppose most wanted to stay in where it was cool. Not me, obviously. When the air began to cool off, the sidewalks began to fill with folks walking their dogs, or pushing baby strollers. That's when I get to talk to people. They always ask about the house, and if I am enjoying it. Apparently everyone in the neighborhood had been through my house before I bought it. I suppose whenever a house goes on the market, everyone is curious how it compares to their own. I love it, as my house is so different from every other house in the area, so there is always some fun questions asked.

Toward the end of the afternoon I pulled out a lounge chair, and sat under my tree reading online. Modern technology meets good old fashioned relaxation. As is usually the case after a day like this, my poor old body is sufficiently sore. My son, Remy, reminded me that I have that big lovely bath tub, that has only been used once. He also reminded me that I had bought all those bath and spa products, so I should go soak in them, and completely relax. I did just that, and it was wonderful.

Now the house is quiet, well, except for the sound of two boys hollering at the electronic game they are playing in the far off bedroom. Unfortunately, the hollering and laughter will be going on late into the night, as Remy has a friend sleeping over. Damn, I should have invited a friend to sleep over too!

Bloodletting

2011-03-03T20:35:00.000-08:00

There is nothing like a good bloodletting.

Now, I know that the practice of bloodletting is for the most part considered non-beneficial, yet I have tried it in the past. Years ago I suffered from serious back problems, and at the time was trying every conceivable treatment. One practitioner I was seeing for acupuncture offered this as one type of intervention. It was actually a very cool experience. No, I didn't open a large vein and just bleed out, he simply made slight cuts at the back of my legs to let some of the toxins drain from my system.

Sometimes I look at my writing as a bit of a bloodletting. These past few days have been what I would consider dark and infectious. I had been feeling so blue, and not knowing how to pull myself out of it, I chose to do what usually works best for me. I allowed myself to go deep within myself, and to be honest with myself, honest with you, about the depths of my grief burdened thoughts and feelings.

When I find myself in this type of familiar territory, I know that one thing that can turn things around is to get back to my writing. It allows me to make slight cuts into my psyche, and allows me to slowly bleed out all my emotional toxins. Are they completely gone? Of course not, but my mood, and my ability to function, have been given a reprieve.

There was definitely a lightness about my day. I felt much more connected to the people around me. I was able to see the sun up in the sky, and feel a sense of appreciation. I was able to seek out conversation with people that feed my soul. As I relaxed here at home I could feel myself wanting to fall back into that murky place, but I resisted, and decided to keep the connection going. Tonight, that connection is a collective you.

If you are reading, you are feeding me.

If you are reading, you are instrumental in cutting through that thick layer of grief that can weigh me down.

If you are reading, you are considered a companion who walks beside me.

I thank you.

Empty Chairs

2011-03-02T21:53:00.000-08:00

I've been sitting here in my living room, with a fire going, trying to busy myself all evening on this computer. It is as quiet as ever. My son has been in his room playing games online, but even he has been quiet for quite some time. I figure he must have fallen asleep while playing, which is what tends to happen each evening.

I have been reworking my profile on the social networks, in hopes of creating some new friendships. I was even bold enough to send out a few emails these past couple of days to guys that seemed to have similar interests, but to no avail.

I keep wondering, what the hell am I doing here?

I don't even really know what I mean by this question. Am I wondering what I am doing here in San Diego? Was this a good move for me? Am I wondering why I sit here every night rather than get out of the house? Am I wondering how it is that I find myself in the state of mind, with these circumstances, with my husband dead, and me alone? Or am I wondering why I am still here on this earth?

Last week my cousin's young adult daughter went into the hospital to have her fourth baby. The doctors had told her to stop getting pregnant, as it was too much of a strain on her body. She was scheduled for a cesarean, and while in surgery, began to bleed out, and almost died. It was touch and go for most of the week, and everyone was preparing for the worst. I'm told that she had another surgery a couple of days ago, and it looks like she is going to make it.

Yesterday, one of my second cousins had a massive stroke. He is only 50 years old. I'm told that he was out having lunch with his son, and began to feel quite ill. He has been in a coma ever since. It's my understanding that his is experiencing intra-cranial bleeding, and may not pull through. Again, everyone is in shock.

I have been having ongoing telephone conversations with various family members, all trying to keep up with how each of our family members are doing. It's a crazy time. I've felt bad, as the cousin who's daughter is still struggling in the hospital, is one who I was very close to growing up. A couple of years ago, I left Michael at home with the kids, arranged for someone to check in on him, as he was still going through chemo, and flew down to So. California to be with my cousin when her father was dying. It was my father's only surviving brother, and I knew that he, and my cousin, could use some support. A week later, Michael, the kids, and I, drove back down to attend my uncle's funeral. I introduced Michael to my cousin, as she didn't attend our wedding. I never even got a response from her. Within the year, Michael was also dead, and once again, I never got any acknowledgement from my cousin. It hurt me so much. My parents keep trying to make sense of it. They keep thinking that of course she meant to contact me, after all, we have always been so close. And yet, nothing.

You know, I have many wonderful relatives, many of whom came to our wedding, or sent gifts and cards to us. I had many who sent lovely cards and messages, when Michael died. I also have many, like my cousin, who have never even acknowledged my loss. This is very painful to me. At this point, I choose not to participate in any type of gathering that might include family members that have chosen to look away from me, or to acknowledge that I had a love, or that I lost my love.

Sitting here, with the glass doors all around me, I can see the empty patio chairs that I have tastefully arranged on my back deck. There are six of them, all positioned into a square, all ready to be occupied by visitors. I start to wonder, who will fill those chairs? Will there be a time when I will have friends in the area, or family members willing to make the drive here, just to sit, and visit.

You know, I'm a private person, and yet, I'm also a social person. I don't like large loud groups, but I do like being surrounded by people that I love, and that love me in return. Lately, I tend to think that those that see themselves as close to me fail to see how empty my life continues to be. They fail to see that without Michael here beside me, I am empty.

There are chairs all around my house. Empty.

In my darker moments, I start to wonder why certain people have to be taken away so young. I think I am almost there with not questioning about Michael being taken so soon. He is gone, and I accept that. But if I am perfectly honest, I must say that I also sometimes wonder why I am not taken. Why is my cousin lying in a coma? Why is my niece still in the intensive care rather than home with her new baby? Why are these young people so close to death, when there is someone right here who wouldn't be too bent out of shape to get his exit papers?

Don't worry, I'm not suicidal or anything. It's just that in the past I was part of a couple, a fairly young, and new couple, who people looked at and said, why them? I was the one left standing, with people looking at me and saying, why him? I'm no longer part of something young and vibrant. I'm now someone who people would say, well, at least he is now with Michael again. Isn't that strange? Somehow, I think people would feel like it was okay, that maybe I would now be happy again.

I'm surviving. But I am empty.

Just thoughts that are occupying my head.

Alive and, well...

2011-02-28T19:28:00.000-08:00

...I wish I could say that I'm well, or that I have been so busy out having fun, dating, and moving forward with my life, but that would be a bold face lie.

Truth be told, I am stuck. I am stuck in the damned mud, and have put little effort to get myself out of it. Where am I stuck? In the land of the non-living. In the land of the morbidly lonely.

I was thinking about this a lot today at work. I feel so isolated at the office. (More on that later.) I came home tonight and found that a reader, Jimmy, had left a message on my blog, basically wondering where the hell I was, or more apt, how I was. It made me smile, and laugh a bit as well.

Where I am is lost. Where I am is disconnected. Where I am is alone.

I was thinking about this at work, as I feel so "not" connected to anyone in the office. Part of the problem is that I am a floater, no not a fluffer, at least that job would have me interacting with others. Just as soon as I was developing friendships, and enjoying lots of laughs at the office, they up and moved me. Currently I'm in a unit, and floor, that is a bit more reserved. The women I work with are friendly enough, but everyone seems to keep to themselves most of the time. Also, they have worked with each other for quite some time, so they have developed strong friendships. I get the feeling that when people see me walking by, they wonder who I am, or perhaps realize that I'm just floating through the floor, so don't get too invested.

One of the things I really long for is friendships, relationships, with other men. For a social service agency, there are a significant amount of men who work there. The problem is, they don't seem too friendly. I take that back, there are a few very nice guys, who do go out of their way to say hi when we cross paths, but most don't say anything to me. Even when I say hi, or smile, I don't get much in return. What am I, the plague? The kiss of death?

It made me start to wonder why this is happening. Of course the easiest thing to turn toward is my being gay. One thing that I have realized in moving to San Diego, is that it is much more conservative than I am used to. Not that this is a surprise, but I guess I expected different. You know, when you work in a field that is filled predominately by women, you would think that the guys would reach out to each other. Not the case with me. I can't seem to get those connections made.

Driving home I was doing my usual combination of trying to sort out my life, and fight back tears. If I look at my life, and who has been there for me, it's the ladies. When Michael was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I went looking for online support groups I turned to a brain tumor caregivers group. Now I can't say I was the only guy, there were a few that popped in and out, but I was the only one who became a regular in the group. It was me, and the hundreds of ladies. I remember searching online for a men's caregiver group, but it didn't exist. When one guy in the brain tumor online group asked about starting an off-shoot men's group, I said that I was interested, but wanted him to know that the person I was caring for was another man, not a women. I never heard back from him.

After Michael died I found myself in the same situation. I searched, and searched, trying to find a gay widowers group, which for a short time I had in San Francisco, but it ended after only eight weeks. In turning to the Internet, I came up empty handed. When I looked for a basic widowers group, no such deal. So I ventured out into cyberspace on my own, by way of this blog. Now, one of the first to embrace me was another widower blogger, turns out there are maybe three of us. But who are the ones that welcomed me into their lives, the ladies once again. God love them. I do.

This all really makes me wonder, what the fuck is wrong with me. Am I not acting like a true man? Obviously not. Now I know there are guys out there who lose their spouse, or guys at the workplace who could use a new friend, but are guys not supposed to express such needs? Once again, obviously not.

If I am honest, I need to take some responsibility here. I know that I have many insecurities. You can't grow up as a gay kid, especially a Latino (meaning male of Hispanic origin) and not feel like you don't measure up. When I think back to the Camp Widow that I attended last summer, I can share with you many great conversations I had with many of the women there, but can only recall one conversation with one of the guys. I just wonder where exactly am I supposed to fit in? If I join a widower's (meaning male) support group, they will be talking about losing their wife (meaning female.) If I try to join in on a widow's (meaning female) group, we are all talking about losing our husband (meaning male,) except I am not a woman.

This is depressing. Let's move on to dating.

Recently I have put a lot of effort into joining some online dating services. I have posted pictures and filled out every detail requested in the profile. Some guys have stopped to read my profile, but nobody is writing to me. Is it that ugly word, widower, that may be sending them running? I know that I am not an unattractive guy, so really, what could it be?

Okay, by now you are all sufficiently tired of all my moaning and complaining. I am too. If you are really frustrated with me, blame it on Jimmy, he's the one that begged me to write. Here is something I am working on. I need to stop being such a passive guy, and go out there, hit some guy over the head with my club, and drag him back to my man cave.

I recently bought myself a Kindle. Yes, yet another electronic toy. Further proof that yes, I am a man. I really needed it, as I can increase the font size so that I can actually read what is in front of me. Get some glasses you say? Fuck no. I paid a lot of money years ago for Lasik surgery, and I'll be damned if I will wear glasses again. Anyway, that wasn't the point. I have been reading a book called The Manly Art of Seduction: How to Meet, Talk To, and Become Intimate with Anyone It is written primarily for gay men, but it's a great book for men in general. At first glance, you would think the book is about how to get someone into your bed. Now maybe that is the ultimate goal for many of us, but it takes this much deeper. It is really making me look at myself, and own up to my own insecurities and fear of rejection. The book is written in a workbook fashion, and it tries to help you understand how to get a date and move it forward into intimacy, both emotional and sexual. Who doesn't want that?

Anyway, this is my current attempt to pull myself up by my bootstraps. And speaking of straps, have I shared with you how much fun a leather whip can be?

Emo

2011-02-17T20:07:00.000-08:00

"Dad. I don't think I would have been emo if Mike hadn't died."

-says my 12 year old emo son.

"My friend's house is just like ours was right after Mike died. Everyone just takes care of themselves."

-says Remy in response to my question about how meals are handled at his friend's house.

Affectile Dysfunction

2011-02-16T22:16:00.000-08:00

I desperately need to elevate my mood.

It's a very wet and gloomy day. I am in pain, as my back has been quite sore for days. Unfortunately, ever since the incident with my teenage son, my back has been causing me lots of problems. Here's the biggest problem, the thing that keeps bringing back the pain is the thing I enjoy the most. Gardening.

This has really depressed me. And, just like my grief, no matter what medicine I take, or what ever I try to do, my back pain won't go away.

You know, I hesitate to write, as there doesn't seem much new to say. I go to work each day, and get so much done, as I am a quick, thorough and organized worker. Eventually, like today, there is little left for me to do. I've offered to help other workers with their cases, and have done some work for others, but once again, I sit there bored, with too much time on my hands. I get home and it's more of the same. Because I stay of top of things, there isn't too much to get done there as well. I once again end up bored, with too much time on my hands.

Here's the problem, I used to have more to do during, and after, work. There was more to do at home as well. That more to do was...a life. I used to have a full life. Now, I have lots of empty time. This is further exaggerated due to having little interest in anything. I don't feel like reading. I don't feel like watching television, and nothing else seems to spark anything within me.

I'm feeling old. Older than my years would indicate. I look in the mirror and I see an old man. I move about, and i feel like an overly weathered man. This is really sad.

I keep wondering what it's going to take to regain some of that vitality I once had. Is there some kind of Viagra for the heart and soul? I could sure use the boost. I would sure be nice to see that deflated heart of mine stand up and take notice of the world around me. Even if only for a few hours. At least I would have a little enjoyment that I could look back on with pride and joy. I could walk around with a silly little grin that would tell people that I recently got some...some happiness that is.

All Dressed in Red.

2011-02-14T20:15:00.000-08:00

It's Monday night, Valentine's Day night, I'm all dressed in red, and no where to go.

Today was a very busy day at work. I spent the morning filling out documents, and entering data on the computer. My afternoon was spent meeting with families in their homes. And while the day was moving along fairly fast, my mind seemed occupied with other thoughts, and I never really felt appropriately focused on what I was doing.

It wasn't until moving along in very slow traffic at the end of the day that I realized how sad I was feeling. Lately I have either been more removed from my feelings, or leaning toward the more peaceful side. I don't ever really know what I am feeling, or thinking, as everything in my life still feels a bit complicated, and cloudy at best. Today, in traffic, I began to visualize Michael on a good day. I was feeling his smile, his touch, and his humor. It all felt so good, and so familiar. Then just as quickly, I felt stabbed in the heart with the reality of him no longer being on this earth.

It all just didn't make sense to my heart. My thinking self is always a realist, but I suppose my heart isn't. It was that feeling of "this can't be." How can there no longer be a Michael Lowrie? He can he be permanently out of my life?

These same thoughts and feelings are still lingering within me tonight as I move about my evening routine at home. I keep stopping in my tracks, and quietly start to cry. It's just me and my son Remy here, and he has been in such a good mood, so I don't want to worry him with my sad 'ol self. I took some time for myself in my bedroom, and let the tears flow. It brought me some relief. I then took off my work clothes, and just laid on the bed, not wanting anything to touch me. I think I was feeling overwhelmed with emotion, and didn't want to add any outward physical stimulation to my body. I wanted a pure moment with as little connection to this world as possible. If it were possible, it would have been most satisfying to just float there in mid air, no clothing on, no wind to distract me from my inner stirrings. When I felt aptly satisfied with giving into my emotions, I reached into my top drawer, and took out my comfort clothing.

I have never been much for pajamas. In the evenings I had always been more of a boxers and t-shirt kind of guy. Michael was very much a pajamas kind of guy. He had pajamas for almost every occasion. Some were fancy ones from Japan, others were nerdy ones like Star Wars, and others were seasonal. But my favorite were just an old pair of red plaid pajama bottoms that he would wear with an old t-shirt of the same colors. They came to symbolize comfort to me. Whenever I would see Michael in these I would just want to wrap my arms around him and smother him in kisses. He was just adorable.

Now, whenever I need that extra layer of comfort, I don his apparel. At first my kids thought I was nuts, as clearly they are way too big for me. But in time they began to see how much comfort they provided me. Some people eat comfort food. I wear my comfort. I suppose it's the closest thing I have to Michael wrapping his arms around me. It allows me to move about my evening with only his touch directly on my body.

Tonight I can wear my red, and make like I'm celebrating Valentine's Day. A couple of months ago I could wear it and look like I was celebrating the coming of Christmas. I know that I don't need a reason, nor do I need to justify it. I'm sure that everyone that comes across me will know that I am doing the best I can, taking care of myself, and feeling close to the man I love.

Beauty

2011-02-12T20:56:00.000-08:00

I sit here surrounded by beauty. I love beautiful things. I have carefully selected each item to bring into my home. Each possesses a quality that brings me to peace. Each has a aesthetic that blends with what ever mood I am in.

Tonight I am feeling pensive. Is that a feeling?

I went to a cocktail party tonight. It was a client appreciation event given by my realtor, Jonathan. He is a wonderful guy, and puts so much effort into bringing each of his clients into the fold of his family. I got to meet a few new people, and was especially excited to meet Patricia, the loan officer for my new home. We had corresponded by phone and email, and even shared some thoughts on grief along the way. It was nice to put a person, a face, to the voice.

Going out like tonight is such a stretch for me. It is quite far beyond my comfort zone. I was thinking about this on my way home. I kind of have two distinct persona's these days. At work, as a professional, I am very self assured, and find a way to connect with people everyday. At home, in my personal life, I am much more reserved, and feel more vulnerable.

I went tonight, as I think Jonathan would have been disappointed if I didn't show up, but it was so tempting to find a reason not to go. You see, I am very uncomfortable in these social types of situations. I was also more filled with anxiety, as the room would be filled with many happy new home owners, which I assumed would translate to many happy couples. I was right.

I realize that it has been 17 months that I have been single once again, but I still feel like I am wearing a sweater that doesn't truly fit. It feels stiff, and unlived in. I know that the more I wear it out in public, the more it will soften, and in time it will be an old familiar and comfortable fit.

As I stood there, smiling at everyone at the party, I couldn't help but think about the person missing to my right. He was also a bit of a wall flower at such events, so we were perfectly matched in that way.

You know, this road has been quite difficult. It has introduced me to a level of pain I never knew existed. It introduced me to a life I never wanted, nor was ready for. But I must say, I have come a long way. When I drove up to my home, I sat in the car, and decided to check my email on my phone. There was a message that was left on a blog post from last year, entitled Gay Grief. It is the one post that usually comes up quickly in a Google search, which is exactly like I wanted it to.

Back when all this started, 17 months ago, I sat there on my bed, in the middle of the night, and tried to find someone out there, someone with a voice like mine. I didn't find it. I was looking to something for this heart broken gay husband, who had just been transformed into a widower. I felt so alone, and could feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into despair. Those feeling didn't get any better for quite a long time, but I just kept on writing, as it gave me a reason to wake up the next day.

Tonight a new gay widower found my blog, and poured out his heart. He too knows despair. He too is feeling so alone. He too wonders why he is here. I share this to let him know, and all others that need to hear it, we are here. There are many of us here. We know your pain. Some of us have wondered how we will survive without the person we love. Some of us have come close to making a choice to end it all. I was one of those people. I am pleased to say that I survived one very scary night, and I continue to survive. Is my life easier these days? Yes. Do I still feel the deep pain of my loss? Yes, again.

I do believe that there will be beauty again in my life, and in my heart. I do believe that I will slowly become more comfortable away from my own home. I do hope that my nights will not always be so quiet, and so alone. Until then, I will continue to stretch my wings. I will continue to draw peace and comfort from the beauty that I surround myself with. I will continue to find joy in the little things I do each day.

Today I worked on my backyard. It is lined with very tall, and out of control, bamboo. It grows faster than I can keep up with, and takes a great amount of strenuous work to maintain, but it is quite satisfying. I do like hard work. I love to look behind me, and see all that I have accomplished.

When I was done working, I got myself something cold to drink, then sat on a chair out on my back deck. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a lovely cool breeze. I looked up at the sky, and saw beauty. I smiled, and felt joy.

Here's Looking At You.

2011-02-07T18:53:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting here next to my mother’s bed while she sleeps. It’s nice to see her sleep, as when she is awake she is just in pain. Earlier when she was awake I asked if she heard the doctor earlier, who was talking to me about her possible discharge. They can’t seem to find any medication that takes the headache away for more then 10 to 15 minutes. They have used up all of their arsenal, and feel that it is time for her to be at home, where she basically has all the same medications.

My mother turned to me to ask what I was giving Mike when he was at home. It was a question that surprised me, as other than remembering to tell how much they miss him, my parents don’t often ask too many questions about what those days of hospice were like. I let her know that he had various medications that would calm him, but mainly I was giving him high doses of morphine. She has her own supply of morphine at home, but the goal with the medication is very different. I explained to her that the goal with her is to reduce pain so she can get through each day as best as possible, and the goal with Michael was to keep him sedated, as he would otherwise have been suffering not just from the pain, but that he was no longer able to swallow, and I had to keep him from getting agitated. She nodded in an understanding way.

After she fell back asleep, I pulled out my laptop, and started going through all of our pictures. I haven’t done this in awhile, as it usually just brings me too much pain. But having my mother ask me that question earlier made me realize that those were still some very special and loving time. Death is difficult yes, but it can also encompass so much beauty. I really miss taking care of him.

Michael and I were very fortunate, that in our short time together we were able to do a lot of traveling. We went on many local weekends away, as well as many larger vacations. Some were with the kids, or with family and friends, but mostly it was just the two of us. We traveled very well together. We are both very easy going people, and besides, I just let him take the lead in planning each of our days. As I look at the photos that span from a couple of months of knowing each other, to a few months before his death. Each is filled with such love and joy. I particularly love to see photos that I took of him, or that he took of me. In these I am able to see him looking directly at me. I can see the love and delight in his beautiful eyes. In looking at the photos of me looking at him, I see the happiness that I never had before experienced. My kids, and my parents, always told Michael that they had never seen me as happy as I was with him. The photos of me looking at him clearly illustrate this.

It’s nice to look back at these photos and feel joy. I’m sitting here with a smile on my face and a bit of a giggle when I see one of us being goofy for the other. Some of those photos were when we had what I call our innocent days, which were prior to cancer. We had nothing but time ahead of us, and we were carving out a future that seemed without limits. I then look at the photos of us post cancer, and that same joy is still present. It serves as a reminder that even in the thick of facing his illness, and our limited time together; we never let it take from the joy we felt with being in each other’s company.

I must admit, although I am still not quite the same, meaning I walk through my world feeling quite depressed, I am changing. I am slowly allowing those memories that for awhile made me feel cheated, to now begin to remind me of how lucky I have been.

Parallel Love Stories

2011-02-05T20:56:00.000-08:00

I spent a good part of this afternoon sitting, and hanging over the side, of a hospital bed at the local Kaiser. My mother lay there, hand on her head, trying to find a way out of the painful headaches she has been suffering from. Medication after medication, with very little relief. All I could do was hold her hand, rub her back, and get her another cold compress. I felt helpless, knowing that while she appreciated that I was there, I was really of little help. I couldn't take her pain away.

Throughout the day, the nurse would come into the room, log on to the computer, and look at my mother's medical records. I know the Kaiser system well. It is where Michael received all of his medical care. We would meet with his oncologist every two to three months, log into the computer, and view his latest MRI. We would sit with a combination of hope and fear.

As I sat there next to my mother, my body was remembering oh so well, the posture of trying to sit comfortably in a chair next to a hospital bed. While Michael didn't spend too much time in a hospital, we did have a hospital bed for him at home, and I spent far too much time leaning over the metal bars that separated me from the man that I loved. Most of the day I would be leaning over the bars, hold Michael's hand, tending to his needs, and speaking softly to him. At night I would push a cot next to his bed, and do my best to stay close to his side without ever letting go. In his final days I laid there in the hospital bed with him, rarely sleeping, just holding, kissing, tending, and crying.

For the past couple of nights, and also tonight, my father is doing the same. I know that my mother will be coming home eventually, as I don't think it is her time, but I do look at this scene, and fear for what lies ahead. During my years of caring for Michael, my father was caring for my mother. When we were able to take a break, he and I would compare the roads we were on with our spouses. We talked about what love, and commitment, really meant to us. We listened as the other talked about the sense of exhaustion, and also the fear of loss.

As I left the hospital room tonight, I turned and took a final look into the room. There they were, the perfect loving couple. One in need, the other at her side.

"In sickness and in health."

I must admit, I felt a tinge of jealousy. Here they were, in the same position as Michael and I, yet 25 years older. They have been together in marriage for 54 years. We had less than four.

"In death do us part."

Yet, when I think about the parallels on a deeper level, I know that while Michael and I had far fewer years, we did have that same deep love, and that same deep commitment. Tonight I want to thank my parents for teaching me how to love. And I want to thank Michael, for accepting my love, and for the honor of sitting beside him when he was in need.

In Denial

2011-02-01T10:12:00.000-08:00

Recently I have come to realize that I am in a bit of denial when it comes to how my children are dealing with their grief. Most of the time they don't say much about how they are feeling, but then I have to remember, they are pretty much all teenagers. They aren't supposed to know what they are feeling anyway.

This past weekend I had some good friends over for the weekend. We spent a good amount of time reminiscing, and also sharing where we find ourselves in our lives. My 19 year old daughter was with us for most of this. At one point the conversation turned to a discussion about the various ways people can feel about their spouse. Some people consider themselves kindred spirits with their spouses, other's say they are good friends. Sometimes spouses will say they have grown apart, some have found deeper love with time. Some have shared honestly about compromises made to make a marriage work, and others share that they loved their spouse whole heartily.

During one of these type of discussions, I could see that my daughter was getting quite teary eyed. She then turned to me and asked how I loved Michael, and how did we relate to each other in private. I assured her that I loved the hell out of Michael. I also let her know that while we were mostly in sync with each other, we both really appreciated, and enjoyed, our differences. Those differences often became something endearing to each other. With these words, my daughter's face relaxed, and a peacefulness found a home in her eyes.

Yesterday afternoon I was driving my 12 year old home from school. I could see that he was in a deep, and thoughtful, place. I asked what was on his mind. He said that his class had watched a movie about bullying, whose main story line was about a gay teen. This story really cut him deep, and made him feel sad and emotional. He then said that sometimes he feels like life is not always worth living. Of course I have felt this way at times as well, but got very concerned hearing this from my son. When I questioned him further, he said that he feels that he has gone through so much more than other kids his age. He has lost Michael, his step-father, lost his birth mother, and has experienced the emotional, and physical, challenges that have plagued our family. Before I could respond to this he then said that at the same time, he feels very good about our move to San Diego. He loves that he has developed some really good friendships in our own neighborhood, and that I have given him some increased freedom, which makes him feel like I have recognized that he is almost a teenager.

Each of these recent situations have really caused me to look beyond my own personal grief, and get in better touch with the grief that my kids continue to struggle with. I have sometimes wondered if they were feeling the loss of Michael as strongly as I have, as their relationship to him was different than mine, and that the must have at some point pulled back a little from him as a way to self protect when he did die.

I love each of my kids, and try to always be mindful of the fact that loss has always been with them. Even at a young non-verbal age, they began experiencing loss, especially when they were removed from their birth mother. It's hard enough when you are an adult, and have words, and some wisdom, to attach to your experiences. It's another matter when your mind has not yet fully developed, and you are trying to make sense of something that will never truly make sense.

Now just as quickly, and unexpectedly, as my kids' recent sharing of their sorrow arrived, they have moved on to their other daily activities. They seem better able to just shift here, and shift there. For me, I need to not allow myself to get too far into my own denial of their grief. I need to remember that even though they are running around with their friends, laughing, and making plans, they too carry a considerable amount of grief with them everyday.

The Sound of Hope

2011-01-27T19:29:00.000-08:00

Today at work a very odd thing occurred. I heard the sound of hope.

I have been in a training all week at work. This afternoon the focus was on various disabilities, and how it feels to have different type of disabilities. We had various stations that we would go to, and someone would lead us through an activity. One of these was the experience of being blind. We wore black-out glasses, and were led by another worker through the courtyard. After the exercise we sat and discussed what it was like to maneuver the space without our vision. We talked about how difficult it was for parents of disabled children, and how they managed, given their child's disability.

I shared that my husband Michael had been diagnosed years prior with a brain tumor, and how there were times when we would awake to a completely new disability. Some days he couldn't walk, some days he couldn't talk, and other days he had no awareness of what was going on. As his spouse, and caretaker, I never knew what I was waking up to. I would have to just figure out how to care for him each day based on what abilities he had. It was very difficult, as I was never really prepared for any of this.

Now earlier in the training I mentioned to the group that I was a widower, but people can forget some of the details. Just before this conversation, I had been talking to one of the women, who shared that the tattoo on the base of her head symbolized her being a survivor of cancer. I shared that I had similar tattoos on my back in honor of my husband.

Well, after the discussion about the challenges of being faced with Michael's daily manifestation of his tumor, the woman who survived cancer turned to me, and with so much hope in her voice, asked how my husband was doing now. I paused, and looked into her face, it broke my heart to have to tell her that he had died. My heart didn't break for me, as this is something I have learned to discuss without as much pain. My heart broke for her. I know how fragile a survivor still feels. I know how they so want to always hear stories of survival. I saw it in her eyes. They looked sad, met mine, and she offered her condolence.

I thanked the group, who all joined in saying how sorry they were to hear of my loss. I then quickly moved the subject forward, allowing us to return to the original discussion.

In my drive home tonight, I realized that I was somehow carrying that feeling of hope with me. I was doing this unconsciously since the discussion earlier in the afternoon. It felt so good, and at the same time, it felt so odd. I haven't felt this type of hope in such a long time. The hope I felt was specifically tied to Michael. I was feeling hope for Michael.

So odd, yet so familiar. Even writing, and thinking, about this makes me smile. I remember this feeling. I have it symbolized in Kanji on my back.

What strikes me right now, is how powerful the sound of hope is in the human voice. It has a spirit to it that feels amazing. It is so uplifting. It carries you just slightly off the ground.

What I am recognizing is, that I want to maintain some of that hope. Yes, it sounds strange, but I want to maintain some of my hope for Michael. It was so empowering, and it carried me through such dark and difficult days. I know that in the past, my hope was meant to hold out for the best, for recovery, or for extended time. Perhaps I can tap into that hope again, and allow it, still tied up in Michael, to carry me through my days ahead.

I want to hear the sound of hope.

I want to recognize the sound of hope.

I want to feel the spirit of hope.

Basking in the Light

2011-01-25T16:55:00.000-08:00

I got out of work early, so I'm sitting out on my back deck writing on my laptop. The air is turning a bit cool, yet the sun it still shining, which keeps the area somewhat warm. Now that I have something to sit on, I plan to be out here a lot more. It is so relaxing, and so beautiful. My dogs love the yard, and as long as I take a moment to throw a ball across the yard every few minutes, they allow me to focus on what I am doing.

I can't help but sit here and count my blessings. I am a very fortunate person. Funny thing to say, right? It's not often that those words are used to describe me, either by myself, or by someone else.

There is something that Megan wrote in one of her recent posts that has stayed with me. She was talking about how our loss has really tested our faith. She proposed different ways of thinking about God/Love in light of our loss. This was one of the options listed as a possible choice in our way of thinking.

"There is a god, and s/he knew this was coming. Therefore, S/he put you as far into love and trust and goodness as S/he could, hoping it would shield you from the blast. Hoping it would be enough to carry you."

This analysis has really carried me these past few days. I'm really making an effort to see my life in a more positive light. I'm trying to look for the goodness, the grace that I have, and had, throughout my life. Yes, there have definitely been some real trying times, yet it is well balanced in love. I want to allow that love to carry me through these difficult times. I want to call on that love, and let it cloak me when everything is feeling dark.

So today, right now, I'm basking in the light.

I am embracing love, and all it's blessings.

What If's

2011-01-24T19:23:00.000-08:00

Okay, as is my usual, I have done nothing about getting some, but I will do something about it soon.

Tonight I'm having one of those anxious evenings. I can't figure out what is making me anxious. I keep having this nagging feeling like I should go somewhere, but I have no where to go. Anyway, I have a child at home, so it's not like I can be out having a good time.

It's often evenings like this that I end up just needing a good cry, which is likely how tonight will culminate. I think my grief just gets built up, and for the past few days, I haven't given in to it. I kept myself busy all weekend with purchasing, and putting together, inexpensive patio furniture. It was actually quite an adventure. Target was having a sale, and I found these cool white metal chairs that had nice clean modern lines. I paired them with some sand colored cushions, and bought four small matching side tables, and put them together to create an outdoor coffee table. Now, for some reason, each of the local stores purchased only two such chairs in white, so I was using my GPS to find all the local Target Stores, and went from store to store to make a complete set. My kids thought I was nuts, and whatever I saved in the price, I likely spent in gas, but it was something that gave my weekend purpose. I enjoyed it.

Just a minute ago my 12 year old started walking over with open arms to give me a hug, then turned away at the last minute, trying to be funny. I groaned so loud that he came back for a real hug. I hugged him so tight, and planted a big kiss on his cheek. I told him that I really need regular hugs, as they just don't come my way much anymore. He smiled, and gave me another.

Then I made the mistake of calling my 17 year old to see how his day was going. He began by complaining about how the staff at his program were giving him consequences for things that were not fair. Quickly he began saying that he was just going to move back home. I explained that moving home was no longer an option, as he has proven over and over again that he does not want to listen to me, and is unable to be safe. That went over real well. Suddenly it wasn't the staff's fault, it was mine. While it was an unpleasant exchange, and my blood pressure has just shot through the roof, it is a reminder about why he no longer is at home. My role now is to see that he has the best treatment, but also that my younger son, and I, can live our daily lives feeling safe. This is not an easy thing to do, as in my daily fantasies, I still wish for a time when my older son is "normal," and we are all able to live together harmoniously.

It all brings me back to those times when I allow myself to think about all the what if's.

What if my kids were not born with all these problems?

What if my husband Michael hadn't died so young?

What if I was living the good life?

What if?

This is all pointless of course. "What if's" won't change anything. I know that I have to learn to find happiness with what I have, and with what I find in the future. It's a real struggle, but this is the way I'm trying to live. I refuse to allow myself to wallow in the past. I have to be stern with myself. I have to tell myself to feel the pain of letting go, grieve my loss, and be mindful of moving forward as I do this.

I am going to get through this. Even if it kills me. Okay, a bit dramatic.

My son just came by with another hug. Lucky me.

Getting Laid

2011-01-21T19:05:00.000-08:00

I'm contemplating getting laid.

Yes, you read that right.

I suppose it is no surprise to any of you that it has been awhile since my body joined the forces of another, to make a joyful motion, and sing out in passionate unison. Well, let me tell you, it has been a very long time.

What am I waiting for? I'm not getting any younger. If I wait too long, getting laid will start getting very expensive. I'm not talking about paying someone for sex, I'm talking about waiting so long that I then require a hefty investment in erectile dysfunction medication.

Holy Viagra Batman!

I am trying with all my might to get out of this deep depressed mode that I have been in. Nothing seems to work. And perhaps getting laid won't either, but in past bad times, sex often seemed like an easy solution.

In college, if I had a test to study for, or was running late on a paper, and was getting frustrated, and needed a break, well, what to do? Go out and get laid!

When raising my young kids was becoming overwhelming, and I was beginning to feel old, punchy and unattractive. What's the answer? Go out and get laid!

When Michael and I were having an argument, or not seeing eye to eye on something...Get laid!

Grief got you down? Get laid!

No time for a work out? Get laid!

Can't afford a day at the spa? Get laid!

Get the picture?

Now here is my new predicament. Since saying goodbye to my lovely husband, and saying goodbye to a wonderful sex life, I have made my body a bit of an inked road map to my grief. I've got symbolism up my wazoo. Well, actually, I haven't gone that far, but you get my point.

What do I do when that wonderful moment finally occurs? He's softly kissing the back of my neck, and begins to trace the top of my spine, and there it is... M W L

What does M W L mean?

Well, um, those are my late husband initials.

He lets his hand stroke the side of my back, sending a lovely tingling sensation down my body...

What is with this tree? And with the bird flying by?

Well, you see, when I say My Late Husband, well, that means he died, and this is a tree of life, and....

See what I mean. Not exactly the ideal time to be talking about the dead, just when your hormones are starting to rise from the dead.

Talk about killing the moment.

Which all goes to the point being that there will not likely be a casual fuck in my life anytime soon. Either it will have to be in the extreme dark, or we will have had to have some heart to heart conversations about this long journey that I am on. And if by chance I find someone willing to listen as I share this experience with him, then he is not likely the type of person who is looking for a one night stand.

Am I ready for a non-one night stand?

I don't think I want a new, or potentially new relationship right now. But then, when? Will I know when I am ready, or will it just knock me on the head, have it's way with me, and tell me we are on the road to blissful happiness?

I don't know. I don't have all the answers.

I'm just out here trying to get laid!

Keep on Crawlin'

2011-01-20T19:19:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling a bit better tonight. I'm sitting here drinking a beer, and eating hummus and crackers. Not my usual evening, but it's working for me tonight. All of you who read, and write, are such wonderful support. Each of you make such good observations, making me feel less crazy, and better guided.

Thanks.

I'm kind of being thrown off at work. I was hired as a floater, and have been blessed to be working with such a wonderful group of people these past four months. Now it is time to report to a new office, and while I'm only a floor away, say goodbye to my daily conversations with my office mates. At the same time, it is a good opportunity to meet others at the office, and stretch my social skills.

I think I need to come up with a weekend project. It always helps to have a focus when I find myself with too much time on my hands. If I promise myself not to spend too much money, perhaps I can put together some inexpensive patio furniture. The weather has definitely been nicer lately, and it would do me well to be outdoors, possibly getting back to some of my other writing projects. Who knows, maybe something fun will come up. I'm ready for some fun times.

You know, sometimes I feel like I have been on this journey a very long time. Then I count the months, and realize that I am still a newbie. I like to think of myself being able to soar, yet I think I need to be more patient with myself, and just crawl for awhile.

Day After Syndrome

2011-01-19T21:08:00.000-08:00

Man, I really thought I was doing okay.

I suppose I am.

I know I am.

But...

I'm a wreck tonight.

I don't quite know what to do with myself.

I'm sad. I'm lost. I'm empty.

I'm sitting here staring at this computer wondering how it used to entertain me.

What happened?

I'm restless. I'm anxious. I'm frustrated.

What the hell is wrong with me.

Nothing holds my interest tonight.

I feel like such a waste.

Why the hell can't I be happy?

Why the hell can't I find a significant reason to exist?

Why the hell can't I find something to look forward to?

This is so painful.

Fuck!

A Good Day

2011-01-18T21:33:00.000-08:00

My day at work went well. It was a very busy, but quiet day. In the late afternoon my daughter called to let me know that she was bringing over dinner, and a birthday cake, to celebrate Michael's birthday.

I love my daughter, and am so grateful that she chooses to always commemorate the important dates that mean so much to me.

We had dinner, talked about Michael, then sang happy birthday to him. Even our two dogs, Ranger and Fido, got in on the act. I think they thought it was their birthday. I picked up Fido so he could help blow out the candles. Some have commented in the past that perhaps Fido is Michael reincarnated. After all, he did arrive the day after the first anniversary of Michael's death. I told the kids Fido could help blow out the candles just in case he is Michael, but that I highly doubt that Michael would be pleased coming back as a Chihuahua. Then I did have to admit that Fido loves to be spooned at night, just like Michael. This gave us all a good laugh.

After dropping off my daughter back at her home, I stopped by the store to buy Michael some flowers. I placed them by his urn, and lit two candles. I stood there talking to him, reminding him of my love. I then came out to the kitchen, poured me a vodka and pomegranate drink, and sat to write. I did for a moment think that the Margo would recommend coke with my vodka, but I'll save that for the next time I sit and have a drink with her.

My daughter commented that I appear to be doing much better recently. I explained that I do feel a change in the last couple of days. I think having my parents around this weekend really helped to boost my feelings. Celebrating Michael's birthday was also a reminder about how blessed I was to have him in my life. I won't lie and say I didn't shed some tears today, but it's all good.

If nothing else, I can say I truly knew love during my lifetime.

Birthday Celebrations.

2011-01-18T00:01:00.000-08:00

Michael loved celebrating his birthday. There couldn't be enough celebrating according to him. This photo was taken in 2008, after spending three months recuperating from brain surgery, and completing his first round of chemo and radiation therapy. This particular birthday was celebrated with the kids and I on January 16th, 2008. The next day Michael and I went away for a needed weekend together in Napa, California. We spent two nights are a beautiful Inn. We had a room with a huge bed that was placed in front of an even bigger fire place. In the next room was a wonderful jacuzzi tub for two. We went out for a delicious dinner, followed by a casual evening walk, then back to our room for a bath. I remember laying in bed that night, cozy, feeling loved, and loving and appreciating the gift that he was to me. It was one of many great memories I have with Michael.

So romantic. So perfect.

Dearest Michael,

Happy birthday my love. This is the second year that I will be celebrating your birthday without you. Know that you remain in my heart. With every breath I breathe, I do so for both of us. We had many dreams together, some realized, some yet to be completed. I will do my best to make you proud. I will remember, and channel, your loving patience when I feel that I have none to draw on. I will remember your beautiful eyes, and the smile that made me melt. Those images will keep me safe from all my fears. I will remember the feeling of holding you in my arms, and the way you always rested so securely against my chest. I had never felt such love before meeting you. Thank you for all that you shared with me. Thank you for staying close to me during this difficult time without you. Thanks for holding me safely through each night. I carry your last breath within me, and I will never let it go.

All my love. All my appreciation

Your husband.

Dan

Open House

2011-01-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

It's midnight, and everyone has gone to sleep. One of the unfortunate aspects of having my oldest son back in therapeutic placement is that I now have this big house, with only myself and my 12 year old, Remy, in it. I know that eventually my older son will begin visiting on weekends, and eventually my daughter's life will slow down a bit so that she can start visiting more often, but for now, it's rather quiet.

This weekend I have five days off in a row. Due to big cuts in the state budget, the agency that I work for has had to resort to eight furlough days without pay during the next 6 months. While it's nice to have more time at home, it does mean less money, and less time to get the same amount of work done. Oh well, I can't do anything about that.

What I can do is find ways to not feel too lonely in my own home. The prospect of sitting here for five days, feeling low, was too much for me. The first couple of days I found some fun decorating activities, but now I'm spent too much money, and the projects are done with, so life starts moving slowly once again. I decided that it would be a perfect time to have my parents back here for a visit. I really loved having them with me during the Christmas holiday, and since they no longer drive long distances, if I want them to visit, then I need to go get them.

I gave my folks a call, letting them know that since I was not working, I would love to have them visit. They also thought it was a great idea, so I drove the two hours to their home, and now they are here. We sat and talk most of the day, cooked our dinner together, then talked some more late into the evening. I love my parents, and greatly appreciate the gift that they are to me. And, because my parents are here, one of my brothers called and said he and his family would like to come visit tomorrow as well.

This is the gift that keeps on giving!

Tonight I realized that I have only used my oven on two occasions, and both times have been because my parents were here. I love catering to them, and cooking for them. I love discussing my job with them, and explaining how I came to decorate my home in certain ways. I love sharing my world with them. Because I made the move to southern California, I am able to do this more often. Having these types of visits have really helped fill a big void in my life. I get to sit in my home, share it with other adults, and have adult conversations. I get to talk about Michael, about my grief, and hear of their feelings about the man that I lost.

And because of the loss that I have experienced, I don't take any of these opportunities for granted. Just like I knew that I would not always have Michael, I know that I will not always have my parents. I want to enjoy my time with them as often as possible.

I'm realizing that my home is just like my heart, if I open it, they will come.

A Painful Day

2011-01-08T20:21:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago I had my yearly physical. While there my doctor had the brilliant thought that I should have a tetanus shot, especially since I work with infants and toddlers. While they are cute and cuddly, apparently they harbor deadly germs and viruses. What do I know?

Anyway, whenever we get these helpful shots, like the flu shot of the moment, there is always the chance of possible side effects. My doc said not to worry, as my flu shot from last month went without a hitch. Well, last night I got deadly sick. Aching muscles and bones. Shaken nerves, headache and nausea.

Lovely.

I ended up going to bed early, choosing to just sleep through it. I had some crazy dreams, but mostly slept well, and felt enormously better this morning. In fact, I decided to get out the vacuum, and do some light house cleaning.

Bad decision.

While moving the very light vacuum, I pulled a muscle in my back. I let out a very loud scream, and found myself, tears in the eyes, descending toward the floor. I had all the animals around me looking traumatized, and my youngest son running out from his bedroom to see what had happened.

Well, that pretty much stopped me in my tracks. Nothing much was getting done today. Fortunately for me, I had stored up quite an arsenal of past prescribed medication, and found myself popping some expired Vicodin, and some helpful Motrin. Within a couple of hours I was beginning to feel better, yet had to make every move with caution.

It's quite scary when you become so sick, and you realize how alone you are. Now, I did have my son, but a 12 year old can only do so much. I also didn't want him to worry too much, so I told him I was much better than I actually was.

I took a seat on the couch, and tried to entertain myself with the television and computer. I read each email as soon as it arrived throughout the afternoon. At one vulnerable point in the day I received an email from the Musella Foundation, which does research on brain tumors. I don't know how to unsubscribe from their mailing list, so I always take a deep breath when these messages arrive. Today's message annouced a lecture titled "Practical Suggestions For Brain Tumor Families" which was to be held on January 18th, Michael's birthday.

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Punched real hard. I sat here, and began to sobbed.

As the day has gone on that deep emotional response to this email has stayed with me. Each time I think about it, the sobbing returns.

My body, and soul, certainly knows pain. Pain such as this has the powerful ability to lodge itself deep into my memory bank. With each of these painful deposits, I suppose I could be considered quite wealthy.

No worry. This will pass. As each of us has learned, while pain doesn't always completely go away, it does become less intense with time. We become familiar with it, and we come to have our individual ways of getting through it.

I will get through it.

You will too.

Enough

2011-01-05T15:36:00.000-08:00

Today has been a very difficult one. Although I have written in the past about my teenage son's emotional problems, I have not addressed them here for awhile. I think I wanted to pretend that it wasn't truly happening, or that my life could suck any further than it does.

For the past couple of months life at home has been very unpleasant, and very draining. I feel like I rarely have a moment's peace. It's tough enough getting through life after losing your spouse, but it gets amplified when you are being attacked emotionally, and sometimes physically in your own home.

Mental illness is a crazy thing.

I know that statement is funny, and there is little to laugh about these days, but having a son with mental illness makes your own life crazy. You know longer have a good grip on your own reality, or the reality that most enjoy. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I had more sanity around me. I wonder how I would be adjusting to Michael being gone if I had the opportunity to live each day feeling emotionally safe, and stable. I don't have those things, and for the most part, never did.

I gave it my all, and tried to make it work with my son living at home, but the final straw hit today. That was me. I have been his punching bag for far too long, and I have now decided I can no longer live this way. I don't want to live another day with any type of violence in my life. I no longer want to question my own sanity, well, anymore than any normal parent does.

I'm okay, but a little sore. I was hurt this morning, and my son was placed in a psychiatric hospital. I have spent the day talking to police, school personnel, therapists and doctors. With each conversation each wanted to know why we moved here, and if there have been any other major changes in our household.

We moved here to make a change.

We needed a change because my husband died.

Because my husband died.

Condolence. Condolence. Condolence.

I know I'm writing about crazy stuff. I know that I'm trying to deflect from the trauma of the day. I know that life will get more sane. Soon, I hope.

In a way I am used to this type of trauma, and all that will unfold from it. At least now there will be the appropriate services put into place for my son. At least there will be a plan of care which will include emotional and physical safety for us at home.

I will be fine.

Can we talk about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?

As a side note. People are funny. Today the cops were very helpful, but very young. There were three different ones who came into my home at different times, and within 5-10 minutes each would say, "hey, nice house, did you remodel it?"

Consolation Prize

2011-01-04T21:45:00.000-08:00

I have been feeling anxious tonight. I reflect on all who grieve, all who remember, and all who struggle to keep their lives moving forward.

This journey can be so painstakingly slow, and oh so laborious. I'm not sure if I am making progress, or just biding my time. I suppose anything I experience throughout the day is authentic, and where I need to be, or what I need to experience. In a way I am appreciating how life has kind of slowed down for me.

Still, I am not fully engaging with those around me, yet at the same time I don't feel like I am in hiding. Just taking it slow, and being mindful of my emotions.

I was sharing with someone this weekend that my new home, and anything else positive that seems to come my way, feels like a consolation prize. In a way, I am leading a life I had not anticipated, one that affords me new opportunities, and new relationships. My life feels full, but scattered. Yet as I write this, I begin to question my own statement. Is my life full?

It is definitely not the life I wanted, but not necessarily a bad life. I suppose it is really just an alternative life. One that I must live until I can better define what I want. I'm a realist, so I know that I need to work with what I have. I need to be willing to see positives, and move toward them. I need to seek joy, and open myself up to opportunity.

So what if it is a consolation prize of a life. Is that so bad? Can I find a way to embrace the good fortune that I am afforded as I continue on my own life journey?

I think I am setting myself up for a quieter version of my life. It works. It isn't terribly exciting, yet I'm not expecting much right now.

Zen New Year

2011-01-01T01:51:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year to each of you.

I just got home from a New Years evening out. It wasn't the traditional way of celebrating, but it was great. I went to an evening of yoga. We gathered at 10pm, and were guided through two hours of quiet, and slow moving, yoga. The evening culminated in savasana pose at midnight, which was signaled by the three rings of the bell. We shared an appreciation to each other, and bowed in our communal response of Namaste.

Afterward we open sparkling cider, champagne, and treats to eat. We sat, we spoke, we touched. We laughed, we shared, we confirmed each other's presence.

I came home feeling peaceful. I came home feeling connected.

Someone asked where I have been. My absence from our class had been noticed. I was encouraged to return. Maybe it's time to come out of hiding. Maybe it's time to rejoin the world. Maybe my self imposed hibernation is over.

Maybe.

The Perfect Master Bath

2010-12-29T18:29:00.000-08:00

I'm addicted to HGTV, and all their home buying/designing television shows. What I like best is House Hunters, where the mostly happy couples go looking for their perfect home. Of utmost importance to many of them is the size of the master bedroom and bath. Without fail, they always get so excited when they see a double sink. "How perfect! Now we don't have to share. We each get our own sink!"

I never had much of a master bedroom at my old home. It was a small room created out of the basement, but we really loved the privacy it provided. We also had a very small bathroom, and we shared a very small vanity and cabinet. The idea of a large vanity with double sinks seemed only for those happy couples on t.v.

Well, alas, my new home has a huge master bedroom, and a huge beautiful bathroom. It has a big sunken tub, a nice sized shower for two, a private room for the toilet, and drum roll please....an extremely long vanity with double sinks.

I have so much space, I don't know what to do. I set up all my things in "my cabinet" and arranged my toiletries nicely on "my side of the vanity." What is painfully clear is that this bathroom was meant for two. Now, between you and me, if you open the unused side of the cabinet you will find a few of Michael's things. I couldn't resist. Outside it though, I tried to not create a 'Michael shrine.' The problem is, what do I do with the unused side of the vanity and sink?

When my parents were visiting, my mother wasted no time arranging all her make up and lady items all around the vacant vanity. It felt nice seeing the east side being used. I didn't feel so alone when using the bathroom. Now that my parents are back home, it is empty once again.

Here's where I need help. What do I do with the vacant side?

Should I rent it out? Maybe one of my neighbors really need the added space when it comes to bathroom time. Maybe one of the neighboring couples are always getting in each other's way and starting out each day in a fight. Renting it out to one of them might be just what they need to maintain a happy home. It would have the benefit of me not feeling so strikingly alone each morning and each night. It might also bring in a little added income.

I suppose I could always find me a rent boy, and he could use that side of the vanity.

What? That would not be very respectable? I might be setting a bad example for my kids? Well, maybe your right.

Okay, if you are going to get so high and mighty about how I make use of this empty space, then perhaps you should give me some good ideas.

Well. I'm waiting....

Don't Take It Personally

2010-12-28T20:14:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure where to start, but this title was with me throughout the day.

I keep having this nagging feeling that I am disappointing people. I have definitely sort of dropped out. I haven't been to my yoga class in many weeks, haven't seen the gym in ages, haven't visited anyone, haven't called anyone, and haven't really left my house other than to go to work, or to pick up my folks for Christmas. I didn't call anyone to wish them a Merry Christmas, and completely flaked out about Chanukah.

There have been calls sent my way that never got returned. There have been cards received without a response. I'm sure many have wondered if I have been abducted by aliens. I think that is what I would like them to believe, then I would have no responsibility for my lack of action.

I'm sorry. Please don't take it personally.

I just don't feel like participating in life right now. I don't want to have fun. I don't want to make polite conversation. I don't want to wear a smile. I don't want to be challenged. I don't want to be cheered up. I don't want to be told what I need to be doing. I don't want to see that worried look. I don't want to hear the overt concern. I don't want advice. I don't want sympathy. I don't want human contact.

I'm sorry once again. And please, don't take it personally.

I'm not proud. I'm definitely not where I would like to be, but at the same time I don't really desire to be anywhere else right now.

Maybe I'm hibernating.

Peace

2010-12-25T16:32:00.000-08:00

"Well, the weather outside is frightful...."

Actually, it's not so bad at the moment. We here in Southern California have suffered through too much rain as of late, and after a couple of nice sunny days, it appears that the clouds are rolling back in.

Let's hope my grief doesn't follow suit.

I've tried my best to make this another generic Christmas. Last year I stayed at home, which was San Francisco at the time. This year I did the same, but went and collected my parents first. I decided it would be nice to have them here for the weekend, as they really wanted to see my new home, and I really wanted a distraction from my usual depressed self.

Success. Sort of.

Something I also did these past two Christmases without Michael, was to simplify my decorating, and put up only new decorations. It has helped me feel a bit festive, make the kids and my parents smile, and not remind me Christmases past when I was much happier with Michael beside me. It was going great until I left the house last night to pick up my daughter from work. She ended up working late, which kept me waiting in the parking lot for over an hour, then found that she was not ready, in my mind, to really participate in our Christmas Eve celebration. A lot of anger came out, as there have been a couple of unresolved issues that I needed to call her on. While on my way back to the house I called and asked my youngest son to please set the table for our formal dinner. I had spent a good part of the afternoon cooking a turkey, and all the trimmings. Well, my son took it upon himself to unpack some "fancy" wine glasses that he felt we needed to properly serve our chilled sparkling cider. When I walked in the door, my new dining table was set with Michael's more ornate wine glasses that I had purposefully not unpacked. Not only that, he had broken one while unpacking. He must have seen my reaction, and began to explain why he had chosen the glasses. I let him know it was fine, then quickly joined the group for dinner. Once I had finished forcing the food down, I excused myself to go finish wrapping presents, and to have a good cry.

It was a good release to cry. I then pulled myself together, and brought out the rest of the gifts, and set up the deserts for everyone to enjoy. The kids then happily opened their gifts early, and we had a good time. I had purchased some Victorian "Crackers", which were filled with jokes and trivia. My parents really enjoyed these, so we sat around popping the crackers, and cracking up with all the lame jokes.

This morning we all got up early, and went to Christmas Mass at the local Catholic church. It felt very strange, yet also very comforting. I have pulled away from attending a church, as my anger at God for taking Michael away, coupled with my anger with his followers taking away my right to marry, made for a less than spiritual experience. The kids had also been feeling the same way I had, yet also seemed to really get something out of attending today's mass. Who knows, maybe we will find our way back before next Christmas arrives.

Today has been good. I'm not feeling very joyous, but I'm also not feeling extremely sad. I'm just feeling quiet, and contemplative. I think this will be the week that I also make a return to my yoga class. I think it is time to resurface, and begin interacting with other adults once again. There is going to be a New Years Eve Yoga Flow Class. We will be ushering in the new year with our various poses and meditational states. Perhaps it's just what I need.

I hope each of you can find something that brings you peace, and something that helps you take that next step forward. You have each been a great source of support to me, and provide me with a reason to keep expressing myself.

Love to all.

Dan

Holiday Greeting

2010-12-24T19:14:00.000-08:00

Wishing you all the happiest of holidays. I'm having computer problems so my post is being done via my iPhone.

Short and brief. I love you all. Thanks for reading, and for being such an important part of my journey.

I Thought...I Wish.

2010-12-16T20:00:00.000-08:00

***WHINE ALERT***WHINE ALERT***WHINE ALERT***

Another busy day at work. By the end of the day I was the only one left in the office. Most had left for the day, and many had left for time off for the holidays. Man, do I wish I could take time off right now. Being new, and with little to no vacation time earned, I will be working straight through the holidays. And judging by the stack of boxes that border each room in my new home, I haven't made much progress in the unpacking department.

I left the quiet office, and walked out into the cold night. Mine was one of the few cars still left in the lot. How symbolic for me. All alone in the dark cold night. As usual, I got into my car, took a deep breath, and let the tears flow. This time I cried more than usual. It's the holiday season, and most people are filled with joy. I wish I could be joyous. I sat there in the car, sobbing, and feeling angry and resentful once again. Why did I only get three and a half years with my husband? Why do others get what seems like an eternity? Why do I return home every night alone? Well, the kids are there, but you know what I mean.

I feel so cheated. I feel so let down by life. I feel so let down by God. I'm trying to psyche myself up for an early Christmas celebration with my extended family on Saturday. We will be gathering at my parents home that day since each of my brothers and their wives will spend Christmas in their own homes. They will experience the joy of waking up next to the person they love, and exchange gifts, and cuddle next to the fire. I on the other hand, will be sitting here desperately clutching my laptop, which is my only extension to what feels like real life.

What hurts the most is that it doesn't feel like my family understands how hard this still is for me. They love me, and are good to me, but I don't think they get how hard it is to hear so much laughter and joy. They don't see how it rips my heart apart just being around them, and seeing how happy they are. When I am with them the conversation often turns to issues of being a couple, and the jokes fly about things they say and do with their spouses. I'm a good brother, and I just smile, or try to discretely separate myself from the situation.

I know there is nothing anyone can do to change what life has dealt me. I get it. I know that I have to learn to move forward, and I am. It just hurts like hell, and in times like these, the holidays, I do find myself thinking about how different we thought life would be. Michael and I had it all planned out. We talked about the house we would buy together. We talked about working on that house together. We talked about growing old together. We pictured ourselves, two old men, sitting on the porch, resting with a cold beverage after working all afternoon in the yard. I thought about how lovely life would be, always sleeping next to that person who loves me, and who I love with all my heart.

I thought about becoming grandparents together. I thought about all the travel we would do. I thought about all the passionate nights of sex we would have, even through our "golden years." I thought about all the ornaments we would collect over the years, and how much fun we would have reminiscing while decorating the tree each year. I thought about all the traditions we would create together. I thought about how we would use our wedding china for every special dinner. I thought about how happy we would be.

As I may have mentioned in the past, I rarely dream. In fact, I have only seen Michael in my dreams on two occasions since he died, and both times were about his final days. I tell myself that I don't allow myself to dream so that it won't hold me back, yet I now find myself wishing I could. I wish I could have this fantasy life in my dream world. I wish I could be visited by Michael, or that I could go visit him where ever he may be. I wish I could feel his embrace, or to see his smile once again. When I can't sleep at night I talk to him. I ask him to come back to me, if only for a minute. I tell him I won't be afraid, and I won't even tell a soul that he was here. Yet, nothing.

It's no good, none of this is helping me. Even as I write this I am telling myself that these things are not good for me. I tell myself that if I really thought it would help me, that I would be dreaming about him. I hate that about myself. I know what's good for me, so I don't allow myself to be self indulgent. Well, maybe just a little.

If you are still reading, then bless you. I don't know if I could stick with this if these thoughts were not pouring out of my own head. I hate whining. But as my kids say, don't be a hater!

Okay, I feel better now. I just needed to get this all out.

I'll be fine.

Eventually.

Endurance.

2010-12-15T22:07:00.000-08:00

I want to thank each of you who read, and each that leave me messages. I take each of your thoughts to heart, and use them as my mantra each day. I am trying to draw strength from the encouragement.

The emotional turbulence that is often my oldest son has settled down a bit. New psychiatrist, new medication, and perhaps just time, has brought back some stability. I was definitely at breaking point, and I pray that this reprieve will last awhile. It has become increasing difficult to have the same presence of mind, or surplus of patience, that I once had when things got this challenging.

I also find that there is little about daily life that lifts me from my depression. I get breaks from the new low during my work day. My office mate and I often have good conversations, and even have a good laugh here and there. My work with families is rewarding, and I take great pride in providing a service to the parents of young children who are exhibiting delays in their development. I really feel like I have much to offer, and they are always so eager for help and support. But it's those long pieces of time, in between these brief distractions, where I find myself consumed by my sadness.

I know people are concerned, and I know they wish I was further along in this process, but I don't have the will to be something I am not, happy. This is not to say I am closed off to happiness, just that it isn't present at this time.

I can endure. I can keep myself afloat, but I have to be who I am. I feel like something will soon happen that will be the catalyst for change in my heart. I'm not sure what it is, but it will happen.

I am not without hope, just lacking inspiration.

Missing in Action

2010-12-08T21:19:00.000-08:00

That's me, missing in action.

I have been missing from this blog for some time now. It seemed that for the past year, this blog defined me. It provided me a much needed outlet, and it kept others connected to me.

I have also been missing in action from myself, and from my kids.

I have been really lost and overwhelmed. My life became suddenly very busy, closing escrow, packing up once again, and then moving this past weekend. On top of that I have been going through another extremely challenging time with my oldest son. I have contemplated placing him back into residential care, as our home life has begun to feel like a battleground.

With all of these challenges I have become increasingly aware that I no longer have what it takes. I am no longer capable of responding to life's difficulties the way I used to. This is no surprise, as we all know that I am a wounded soul. I guess many of you who read this might be saying the same about yourselves. And although I understand why I am this way, I don't like it. I feel like the quality of my life has been forever changed.

Funny, even through his crazy manic, rage filled days, Dante continues to complain that I am no longer the same person. He is angry that I am so depressed. He wants to see me out doing things, and to see happiness and optimism in my face. I think that for awhile, I was able to pull it off somewhat better. These days my efforts have been futile. There is nothing within my reserve, and I find myself feeling quite weary.

I fear that if I don't bounce back soon, the lives of my children will be seriously altered. Their daily lives are so complicated to begin with, that having a father who is less able to maintain the stability they seek, is only compromising whatever hopes they have of feeling secure. I wish I could just snap out of this, but being cognitively aware of my situation doesn't lend itself to any type of easy solution.

Perhaps life just gets too complicated. Perhaps God does give some of us too much to handle. Perhaps we can find ourselves lost in this sea of grief and stress. Perhaps we just go missing. For how long, I do not know.

I am lost. The old me is gone. The new me is less than.

I am missing in action.

Soon Enough

2010-11-23T21:24:00.000-08:00

I'm finally close to closing escrow on my new home. It has been a long process in some ways, and not so long in others. It didn't take very long for my wonderful realtor to find this home for me, but I have had to be patient during this whole escrow process.

I found that my initial excitement quickly turned into depression. I think it had a lot to do with the timing of finding the house around the time of my wedding anniversary. A past that I am still grieving converged with a future that looked so beautiful and promising. The end result was anxious anticipation, along with disappointment that I find myself here without Michael.

I am very fortunate to have a house that I absolutely love. It will give me so much to do in way of projects, such as decorating and gardening. Lots of gardening. I know that once I'm in the house that my spirit will once again be lifted from these dark clouds.

I think that change is difficult. Change during times of grief is even more difficult. The reality is that I wouldn't even be here if Michael had not died. Yet, this is what I have chosen given my reality. The challenge before me is to allow myself to be happy. Most people would not likely understand how hard it is to be happy. I find that it takes an enormous amount of effort for me to keep my spirits up during the day. Honestly, I crash each day on my drive home. Sometimes I wonder how I am able to drive given the amount of tears that blur my vision.

I hesitated to share this, as I really wanted to be doing better at this point. Yet, as has been my blog policy, I have to be real with each of you. You know, I never really believed that the second year would be this difficult. I had read other people describe how you then experience your loss without that numb feeling, but I just didn't get it. Now I do.

This will all change. Maybe not as quickly as I would like, but soon enough.

Weathering the Winter

2010-11-22T21:34:00.000-08:00

Hey friends. I received a newsletter from the American Brain Tumor Association today, which had this great message about coping with the holidays. I thought I would share it with all of you. Here is an abridged version.

Weathering the Winter

Family celebrations, get-togethers with old friends, gift giving and receiving, and spiritual observances are all popular seasonal activities. However, if you recently lost a loved one, these traditions can challenge our time, spirits motivation, and even our health.

You may face an increased pressure to interact with relatives even though you’re not quite up to a visit. You may also feel burdened by the financial pressures of lavish gift-giving, and the need to convey a cheerful demeanor despite your private pain. Try paring down expectations for the perfect holiday.

Once you let go of the guilt of the “wished for” holiday and allow yourself to enjoy what blessings you do have, then you can truly appreciate what the season is all about.

Instead, mark this season as a time of personal growth. You can start by putting your emotional, physical and spiritual needs first, even if it means attending only events that will brighten your spirits. Remember that the true spirit of the season is the mental and emotional renewal gained through the gift of love.

The licensed social workers at the American Brain Tumor Association recommend asking yourself these three questions as you approach the holidays:

• Who and what in my life brings me a sense of thankfulness and gratitude?
• What nourishes my spirit?
• What non-material gifts can I give to others or to myself?

Your answers may surprise you and change the way you approach your holiday season.

This is what I need.

2010-11-16T21:05:00.000-08:00

I thought I would return to my blog tonight. I realize I have been absent for some time, as I really did need a break from the discipline of writing. I wish I could say it was a welcome break, or that it created space for some fun and enjoyable times, but life doesn't seem to work that way just yet.

The first thing that I found as I didn't write was that I was quite lonely. I have become so used to sharing my every thought and action with so many of you, and I have benefited so much from each of your responses. They really give the acknowledgement that I need. I think it's acknowledgement that while I am making progress, you know that it's a daily struggle. When I realized how difficult it was to not have this, I actually made myself hold back from writing to better understand what it is that I seek, and figure out how I can start having that need fulfilled here at home as well.

I have been going through a pretty bad depression. I have been sinking deeper and deeper, and worrying about where I was headed. The big problem was that I wasn't sharing it with anyone. Fortunate for me, I have a bit of a guardian angel, known as my cousin Fred, who paid me a visit this past weekend. We were able to get out of the house to talk heart to heart. He really gave me a lot to think about. I need to not isolate myself, especially during this difficult period. I need to seek help, support, or just some kind of activity. I don't need to make any major strides, just keep making some kind of effort.

Tonight I went to a meeting/workshop that was supposed to be focused on dealing with your grief during the holiday season. It was held at the Lesbian and Gay Center. I thought I might meet other widowers, yet I didn't find exactly what I was looking for. It was a very small turn out, and the few that did show up seemed to have other compounded issues that needed to be addressed. The end result was that the meeting seemed quite of task, but helpful in the end. I came away realizing how fortunate I am, and how many tools I already have in my grief tool chest.

I recognized that I have maintained a great sense of optimism in spite of my loss. I still see the world as a good place. I still see kindness in people, and I find compassion when I am willing to open up. As I shared at tonight's meeting, I don't go out into the world expecting anyone to take my grief away. I don't want someone to put their arms around me while I cry. It's just not me. When I am in that state I want to be alone. It's when I am alone with my tears that I can feel Michael's love holding me close. What I want in others, is to be willing to hear about my experience, and be willing to share theirs with me. I want serious talk, and some laughter. That is what reminds me that I am still in the land of the living.

In looking ahead at the holidays, I know what I need, and what I don't need. I need to be around my kids, and my family. I need to see the smiles on their faces, and see them interact with joy. I don't need over the top celebrations. I don't like to be around too much laughter quite yet. It is still a bit too painful, and it makes me feel out of place. I don't want to bring people down, or cause them concern. I just want to enjoy every one's company, but in a quiet way.

Therefore, the task at hand for me is to explain to my family what my needs are. I need to give them permission to enjoy the holiday as they like, yet allow me to be myself. I need to ask that they not try to cheer me up. I need to remind them that Michael is still always on my mind, so sharing a memory of him is a welcome gift. I would like them to be gentle with me, and to put their arms around me even if I say I am alright. With this I will be able to slowly come out of my shell. I will feel safe, and I will feel cared for. Most of all, I will feel understood.

What more could I ask for?

Stick in the Mud

2010-11-09T17:22:00.000-08:00

Today I went to an all day training sponsored by the agency where I work. It was the usual, long, and tedious amount of sitting, and listening, but I got through it. During the break I went with a group of coworkers to have lunch. Everyone was in a good mood, joking around and sharing stories. Now, I have only known these people a short time, and they have a lot of history together, but I realized that I am such a stick in the mud.

I am far too serious. I don't seem capable of just letting loose, and having a good time. Well, maybe I am, but I seem to take forever to get warmed up. Perhaps it's just that I am out of practice, or that my life has been focused on serious matters for so long.

I think I need to give myself permission to just relax, and have some fun. Why must I always be so serious? I sometimes wonder if I am not allowing myself to have a good time. I thought I was past that. Yet, here I am, sitting at home most of the time, comfortable with the sorrow.

I need a swift kick in the pants.