Love to Love You Baby!

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

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.

Life Is Too Short

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.

Just continuing the walk.

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

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.

Namaste

Okay, so I had to write tonight. I'm being my ol' obsessive self, and couldn't resist the need to make it to 365 days of non-stop posting.

I'm not sure what triggered the beginning of this "No Day Without A Post" thing. It was probably done without much thought. Yet, once I realized that I had begun writing every day, I decided to make a personal commitment to talking in "real time" every day for a year. I kind of knew that it would be a way of making a commitment to be somewhere, and to have others in turn expect to find me here each day.

There were so many times during the past year, especially in April, that I really didn't want to continue, with writing, or with life. There were definitely some very dark days, and having made this commitment gave me a purpose beyond just going completely under with my grief. I also wanted to create something. I wanted to have something for others who later follow me in grief, to look at, and perhaps find something that allows them to feel less alone.

When Michael died I was at a complete loss. I didn't know where to turn. I wanted so much to find others who were like me, and began searching. My initial searches were for other gay widowers. I looked for blogs, books, websites, anything really. I didn't find a hell of a lot. I feel proud of myself, in that I have now created a place where other gay or lesbian widowed can seek, and find, someone else out here who has been in their shoes.

What surprised me, is all that I have gained from this experience. I have gained so many wonderful and loving friends. I have gained an appreciation for my experience thus far. And I have learned that there are more people than I originally thought, that can relate to me as a widower, without getting tripped up about my being gay. Now I'm sure that there are many that have found my blog by chance, then quickly left once they read the sub-heading that says "One Gay Man's Journey Through Love, Life and Grief." This is true, as I have been able to use my site meter to see who enters my blog, and how quickly they leave. That's okay, I don't expect to be everybody's cup of tea.

What is important is that we are all here. Those of us that choose to share of our experience, offer a wide range of diversity from which other's may choose. We expose our hearts and souls, find healing, and enter into the exchange of support. It's an incredible medium, and we should all be proud, and grateful. And even though my writing will now be less frequent, know that I am still here day by day, plugging along, trying to make sense of my life.

I hope to one day have the strength of heart to read what I have written during this past year. I have never gone back to re-read any of my posts. Once I publish them, I let them go. It helps me to not dwell too much on the past, and to not get pulled down by taking myself back through some of the darker days.

Love to all of you.

God bless, and Namaste.

Inner 'Old Man'

Old Man in Fedora Hat (Pentax K20D w/ EBC Fujinon 55/1.8)
Originally uploaded by dubesor

I spent most of the day out on the road. I had an appointment with my life insurance agents. We meet every few years to take a look at my portfolio, and to see if there is any need for adjustments. These appointments have allowed my agents and I to catch up with each other, as we have had this working relationship for about 20 years. Our conversation was a little different this time around, as the issue of life insurance has taken on new meaning to me. We also spent a good portion of time discussing retirement options. Another sign of the times, meaning the middle aged era.

It was an interesting discussion, especially related to what I qualified for as Michael's legal spouse for the state, and what I didn't qualify for as to any federal interests. As they both reminded me that I was still quite young, and needed to consider the possibility of a future new marriage, they wanted me to plan ahead accordingly. They were both very respectful, and careful in how they chose their words, being sure to ask me thoughtful questions. I did have to remind them that I was able to qualify as Michael's legal spouse only because of the short window of opportunity we had to wed in California, and that I couldn't remarry today even if I wanted to.

I then visited my parents, who live in the same town as the insurance office. I loved the opportunity to visit with them with no kids, and no other visitors to distract from our conversation. Again, they too were wonderful in letting me talk about Michael, and talk about the ins and outs of being a widower, and the legal hoops I have had to jump through due to being his gay spouse. I felt kind of bad when I left, because I felt like I had talked my parents' ears off. It's odd though, that here I was their son, and I was the one that had all the experience regarding legal matters in relation to death.

In having this conversation with my parents, and with my agents, who are both at least ten years my senior, I was keenly aware that I am a young widower. I don't often think of myself as a young person, but in this realm, I guess I am.

It all has me thinking about youth, and experience. I feel that I have been through so much during these past few years. I often feel like I have aged considerably during this time. This premature experience with later in life issues has really caused me to see life differently, and to experience day to day life in a new way. I have slowed down. I often observe life from the perspective on an outsider, and have lost that naivete that is usually accompanied with youthfulness. And even though I have continued to try involving myself with activities that weigh on the side of youthfulness, such as my yoga, I often look around me and think of myself as an older man that is occupying this body.

When I was a younger man people often mistook me for being much younger than my actual age. I was always having to correct them by saying that I am older than I look. These days I think people would correctly identify my chronological age, but now I would have to inform them that I feel older than my age would suggest.

Maybe I need to return to the Men's Discussion Group, where I can nurture my inner old man.

When the dust settles.

I'm struggling with the thought of what direction my writing should go. I tend to be one of those people who is always looking ahead, trying to map out somewhat of a direction. When I first started this blog, I didn't really know where it was going, or what I wanted to say through it. In a short time I realized that what would help me, and maybe others, was to commit to writing on a daily basis. I wanted to have a chronicle of my grief, with all of it's nuances, written for those that follow me on this path.

As a refresher of sorts, I came to this because I was looking for a widowed voice that sounded like mine. I looked for current writings from male widowers, and I was looking for writings from gay widowers. Unfortunately for me, there wasn't much out there. That is what led me to write something myself. September 13th will be the one year anniversary of Michael's death, but not the one year anniversary of beginning this blog. That date would be October 19th, which was our first wedding anniversary, which I celebrated without him. The one year anniversary of the "one year" commitment to write daily would likely be October 31st.

What I worry about is becoming a professional widower. Does that make sense? It's a touchy subject, as I have been party to some conversation about this on more than one occasion. While I am a widower, will I still be a widower if I were to remarry? Some would say that I was a widower, but if newly married I that just that, married. And no, I'm not getting remarried. At least not that I am aware of. Along this same frame of mind, would continuing to write about grief lead me to plant my feet a bit to firmly into the widowed ground? Can I truly move forward if I only identify as a widower? If I begin to write about other themes, would my readers feel like someone changed the channel when they left the room?

I sometimes already feel some of this self resistance building up within me. Like many others, I want to write a book. Not some book for a massive audience, but a book for people like me. So in beginning to write this book I have to think, who will read it, and what do I want to convey to them? I would have to say that in my adult life there have been two very significant "movements," if we were to describe it as music. There is the parenting portion of my life that has been quite challenging, yet one which I have used to help others in many arenas. I have done plenty of speaking about public adoption and gay parenting. I have also helped others in navigating the mental health system and special education system. As a husband, I have had significant experience in being a caretaker, and widower, all while navigating a system that is not necessarily gay friendly.

Maybe because I am raising kids with special needs, I don't have the luxury to focus all of my attention in one place. This could be a good thing, and this could be something that prevents me from ever accomplishing my own personal goals. Unfortunately, that has been the fall out of my adult choices. I rarely seem to have a period of time that is conducive to achieving these goals that I have set.

I feel like these past few years have been like an enormous forest fire. And now, after all this time, the ashes will begin to settle. Well, likely not. But I want to believe that my life can get easier, and that my time can be more self managed.

If the figurative dust begins to settle, what do I want to say?

Self-Preservation

I'm finding myself becoming more and more aware of the upcoming one year anniversary of Michael's death. I keep trying to remember what It was I was doing at this point last year. Rather than get out a calendar and try to pin point exactly what was happening, I would rather just consider in general where our lives were.

It was around this time that hospice came in the picture. It is likely that by this date hospice was already active in our home. I remember knowing prior to contacting them that with brain tumor patients, the hospice period is often very short, as the tumors eventually grow very fast, and the end comes quickly. This was also the case for Michael. When the doctor and I decided it was that time, Michael was aware of what was going on, but was suffering from considerable memory loss. I also wondered exactly how he was processing information. Intellectually he seemed to understand things, but his thoughts didn't always seem connected to emotions at that point.

I remember when the hospice social worker first came to our home, Michael made a comment about not needing their help. He turned to her, and then to me to say he didn't really see that their services offered him much more than what he was already receiving from me and the hospital. I had to explain to him the the services were going to be more of an assistance to me.

It was also about this time that Michael has having increasing problems with his mobility, so we rarely left our home. In a way it made our time left more focused. We laid around in bed talking, or sat in the living room watching television. I remember feeling so sad because he could no longer work on his Sudoku. He loved Sudoku, and it really calmed him. When he wanted a break from Sudoku he would get out his crossword puzzles, and work on those. He would often interrupt my reading or writing to ask me some of the questions in the puzzle. In the past I would have told him not to ask me because I would lose all my focus, and then get quite obsessed with the puzzle. He would just laugh, lean over and kiss me, and go back to his puzzle. But when I could see that he was having significant problems remembering, I put down my book, moved in closer, and worked on the puzzles with him. Those puzzle and Sudoku books are some of my most valued possessions.

Today I been giving thought to how I want to spend the day of the actual anniversary. I know that some people hold gatherings for their loved ones on the anniversary, but most of Michael's friend, and all of his family, live in northern California. I suppose I could organize something with all of my family and friends down here in southern California. I'll have to really consider this, as I had told most of them last year not to make the trip up to San Francisco for the memorial. I didn't want anyone traveling far for the ceremony. Most of them had already been up to see us for our wedding 11 months earlier, and I knew they would be with us in spirit. Maybe having something with them this time around might be nice.

My other idea is to go off and do something alone. I don't mean check myself into a hotel, and just lay around and cry all day. I'm sure there will be plenty of that, but I would like, and probably need, something a bit more focused. I want to look into possibly finding some kind of meditation center where I can have some solitude, but that would lend itself to mindful meditation. I remember Michael's cousin telling me of a lovely Buddhist center near Santa Cruz, but I can't be traveling that far right now. I have a job interview next week, and who knows, I could be employed by then.

It feels good just to be thinking ahead about this. It feels a bit like self-preservation.

Blue II

Blue Belt
Originally uploaded by UNLV Rebel Yell

11:02, doing better.

Tonight was my office going away party. There were many people from my agency, as well has many attorneys from court. I was truly touched by each person's participation in tonight's celebration, and was humbled by the wonderful words shared by each. In the middle of it all I was asked to share my thoughts with the group. I spoke of my appreciation for the work that everyone does in the field of child welfare. I shared how in some ways this was a difficult decision, as I am quite passionate about what I do, and feel that it has been a significant opportunity for me to contribute to my community. I was also humbled by all the words of appreciation from each person. They were all well aware of the difficult year that I have had, and seem to understand my need to seek something new and different.

There was definitely some sadness to say goodbye to these wonderful people, and I left feeling blessed, but also blue for the loss that goes hand in hand with my decision.

When I got in my car, and before I started on the road, I called home to see if my boys wanted me to pick up some food. My son Dante got on the phone, and shared with me some extremely exciting news. At his final Jiu Jitsu lesson tonight, he was promoted to a blue belt. It is the first level of ranking in the sport, and is often presented to the student during his/her first year of learning this discipline. It was totally unexpected, as he has only been studying Jiu Jitsu for five month. He was so elated, and as he shared with my his joy, I began to cry with such pride. To think that my son, who has suffered from so many problems with his mental health over the years, has finished his first semester at home, with perfect attendance and ranking, then to be further acknowledged by his Jiu Jitsu instructor, well, it was amazing. He has done so well, and I am beaming, and crying, with pride. It just goes to show that when you are feeling that all hope is gone, life will surprise you.

My son has taught me not to give up on life, and that all the hard work and sacrifices that life seems to require, will at time pay off in spades. This honor, and acknowledgement of achievement, will propel him further than I, or he, can imagine.

Today was a blessing. After getting off the phone with my son, I paused and said a word of thanks. There is much to be grateful for.

Laughing through the pain.

Well, my writing ability is a bit compromised tonight. Not because of any type of emotional, or cognitive problem, just due to the simple fact that my left arm is quite swollen. After having Monday's tattoo work done on my arm, which covers the length of my left fore arm, it is now very sore. Any time I lower my arm too far, and the blood rushes downward, the pain then increases. I actually find it a bit humorous, because I can see the "I told you so" looks that Michael would be throwing my way about now. And after that I would likely pout for a bit, so he would, without thinking, put his arms around me, and crush that same swollen and sore arm. That was his style. So keeping him present in my life, I have to smile, laugh a little, and well up.

What is also funny, is that while eating my lunch at my desk today, I was reading a story about a guy who tried to cut off his own arm off when it got caught in a furnace he was trying to fix. When nobody came to help, after many hours mind you, he decided to cut himself free. As I was reading this I was feeling this intense pain in my arm. Now at the end of the day, I'm starting to see what might lead someone to do such a desperate act.

You know, the condition of my swollen and sore arm, and the fact that I can see humor in the pain, is very similar to how I am feeling about my grief these days. I can be sitting here in tears, thinking about Michael, then quickly find myself laughing at how he would be responding to me. I like this. This is how Michael and I were. There were so many serious things that we had to face each day for the past couple of years, but we always managed to make some snide remark about a situation that would have us both laughing. It's moments like that, memories like that, that put a big smile on my face, and his. I can certainly feel him smiling right now.

9 months

New LIfe
Originally uploaded by James Duckworth

Some nights words escape me.


Some nights my spirit is restless.


Nothing holds my interest,


nothing moves me.


My day was no different,


it is only behind me.


Two hundred channels,


nothing to watch.


I am tired, but don't want sleep.


I am needy, but don't want talk.


I am hungry, but not for food.




Some nights silence surrounds me.


Some nights the air is calm.


Nothing to disrupt me.


Nothing to engage me.


My heart listens quietly,


it is missing the sound of his voice.


Nine months,


moving slowly.


I am strong.


I am weak.


I am here.



Alone.



Nine months.


39 weeks.


273 days.


6552 hours.


393,120 minutes.


23,587,200 seconds.


Who's counting?




9 months.


Time enough for new life.

Awash with his love.

orion
Originally uploaded by takwaterloo

Well, it's another late night attempt to get my daily post in. I had a good day. Last nights sinking feeling has subsided for the most part. Today I'm feeling more peaceful.

Tonight I have thinking, or remembering, a lot about Michael's last week with me. He was no longer communicating throughout the day, but there were a couple of times that he somehow managed to communicate with me.

During that week I didn't really sleep. He was requiring a lot of medication, and comforting to feel safe. He had lost most of his ability to move his body, so I didn't want him waking up at night, opening his eyes, and thinking he was alone. So I either sat in a chair next to his hospital bed, or laid in the bed with him, holding his face in my hands. I would talk to him, mostly telling his how much I loved him, and that it was okay to leave me when he was ready.

Throughout the days he would stare into my eyes. If he tried to speak it usually didn't make any sense. So I would just try to comprehend what he might need to say, and respond with a similar frame of mind. I would carefully give him his medication, which wasn't easy, as he also couldn't really swallow correctly. And even though he was mostly silent, his eyes said it all.

What I saw in Michael's eyes was complete trust in me. He knew that I would take good care of him, and he seemed to track my every movement during the day. When I would get up to take care of something, his eyes would follow me. His eyes spoke his words of love. When I think about that time now, I see how beautiful it was. Yes, the moment he left, I felt like I was cut through the heart with an enormous sword. But up until that moment I focused only on loving him.

My choice to not sleep during that time wasn't just for Michael, it was for me. I knew he would be leaving me soon, and I didn't want to miss any single moment of our time together. On two occasions that week, late into the night, Michael opened his eyes, to find me sitting next to him on his bed. As if he had been perfectly well, he looked into my eyes, and said "I love you." It was the most precious gift he could have given me. It felt as though he had conserved all his energy for those single moments.

As I sit here thinking about this, I am filled with such peace in my heart. He gave me so much. Everyone who visited us during that week often commented on how much I was doing for Michael, but what they didn't see was how much he was continuing to do for me. He made those last days and hours a time of complete connection. I already knew that he loved me, and knew all that he would have wanted to say. As difficult as it was knowing that he was going to die, it gave us plenty of opportunity to say the things most people wish they have the opportunity to say. Our conversations about our love, about the people that he cared about, and what mattered most to him after he was gone, had all been completed prior to his losing his voice. I suppose this is something to be thankful for.

You know, it's been a while since I have felt comforted by my memories, but tonight I can say that I am. Maybe the word memories is not the best choice of word. What I feel when I think of Michael right now, is something that is in the present, yet tied to the past. Because he got to say all that he needed to say, and because I was able to do the same, I can hear those prior conversations in the present tense. I can play our conversations as if he were hear right now. This is something that I am connecting for the first time. Rather than feeling so lost tonight, this awareness is allowing me to experience his love in the present moment.

It is quite wonderful to experience this after feeling alone for so long. I feel like my whole being is awash with his love. Tonight I am feeling very fortunate. Michael was a very special person, with such a kind and loving soul. I was lucky to have him in my life, and I will carry him in my heart forever.

Broken Record

Broken Record
Originally uploaded by Noella Choi

My head is spinning. I had a really good day at work, meaning I was busy as hell, but accomplished a lot. For some reason I seem to have many teenagers on my caseload right now. This week has been filled with placement changes, court hearings, and the ongoing emotional breakdowns that can come with adolescence. While it has felt good to be able to help all these young people, I have been coming home just emotionally exhausted. Fortunately for me, my own young people have done a great job getting along with each other, and allowing for some quiet time each evening. Those who have raised teens know that their tempers can flare so easily. And usually, with too much time on their hands, such as this initial week of summer vacation, they are usually jumping down each other's throats.

My daughter is off with some of her girlfriends tonight, having dinner together and hanging out. So I picked up the boys from their afternoon activities so that we could run some errands and grab a quick bite to eat. Once we got home they were both off to their separate bedrooms to play on their gaming systems, so I don't expect to see them until morning.

What I feel that I must report, is that while I felt so good about my day, and my early evening, I find myself getting more and more depressed as the night goes on. I have been busy doing my nightly search for rentals down in San Diego, and feeling quite discouraged, as I don't really know when we can make the move. I'm so needing to move on, but I'm still waiting for the decision about the job, and today I decided not to give notice to my employer for another week. I'm getting a bit worried about the cost of our medical insurance, so I thought I should wait it out a little longer.

I hate to sound like a broken record, but then that is what my life appears to be of late, as I'm sitting here tearing up on and off. If it were only as simple as people think it is. I can try to keep my chin up, and I can try to focus on the positives, which I do. But I cant always control my emotions, or, more like I can't always pretend that I'm feeling better than I really am. I'm thinking that I might be feeling the weight of my loss because on Sunday it will be nine months since Michael died. It will also be the rare anniversary that the date actually falls on a Sunday, which is the day of the week that he died. It was Sunday, September 13, 2009 at 6:05 am. I try not to put too much weight on these anniversaries, and usually I can get through them fairly well. To be honest, I usually get through them fairly well in public. When I close the door behind me I find that I am once again doubled over in pain.

It's this strong, and deep, pull within me that is starting to happen. I am quite familiar with the process at this point. I was hoping to bypass it this time, thinking that I would be in a different place, literally. I'm realizing that there is just no escaping it. I'm going to just keep telling myself that these feelings are okay. These feelings are normal, and what I would expect after losing Michael. Perhaps I need to find me a mantra to say during these next few days. Any suggestions?

So here's the broken record portion of my written broadcast:

I miss Michael so much.

I miss his touch, and I miss his breath.

I am still so much in love with Michael, and I don't know how to redirect my love.

Nothing seems very important now that he is gone.

I wonder if I will ever know happiness again.

I wonder if I even want happiness again.

I have to fight the urge to go through all of his things, touch them, smell them, get lost in them.
I need to hear his voice, see him laugh and smile. All I have is a video from our wedding, which will hurt more than ever.

Nobody need worry. I will get through this. It's not the first time. It won't be the last. This broken record is destined to play over, and over, and over again.

Therapy Tuesday-EMDR

Portada libro
Originally uploaded by Victor Gally

Today was Therapy Tuesday. I have my usual weekly appointment so that I can check in about how I am doing. It has been a very good process for me. I started my individual therapy quite soon after Michael's death, maybe about a month afterward. The therapist that I see is the same therapist that worked with Michael and I a couple of years ago after he was first diagnosed with his brain tumor. When Michael died, I knew that I needed help, and it made the most sense for me to return to the therapist who knew us both.

I am so glad that I chose to do this. It has allowed me to work through my issues, while also keeping a very honest, and realistic, point of view about our relationship. I have shared here in the past, that when Michael was first diagnosed we went through some difficult adjustments in our relationship. We had only been a couple for a year and a half, and had only been living with each other for about 9 months. Suddenly I was his caretaker, as well as his partner. Suddenly I worried about how my needs were going to be met while also meeting Michael's needs. And while he was doing very well at the time, considering he had undergone brain surgery, we knew that in time he would experience deficits that would only increase my responsibility, and his reliance on me. And mostly, we knew that time wasn't on our side.

One of the new modes of therapy that my therapist has been using with me is EMDR. EMDR is an acronym for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. In a nutshell it is an information processing therapy that uses dual stimulation such as eye movement, tapping or auditory tones. These dual sensations are occurring simultaneously while you are attending to, or focusing on, whatever traumatic experience, or negative belief, that you are wanting to work through. By focusing on this external stimulation while also focusing on the image, or thoughts, new insights begin to emerge. The therapist then acts as a guide, helping you work through the belief system you have put into place, and guide you to a place where the negative beliefs can be reprocessed in a way that are less problematic.

If any of that description peaks your interest, please follow the link provided, as I don't feel that I am appropriately describing the process. My purpose here is not to educate on this particular mode of therapy, more to show the various ways that I am attempting to work through my grief.

One of my main concerns right now is my feeling stuck. I feel really stuck in my anger about Michael's death. As I said yesterday, death is final, and there is nothing I can do to change it. Yet at the same time I am so clear in my heart that I want, and need, Michael to be here with me. I am never going to get what I want, that I am very clear about. The problem then, is that I have clarity in my mind, but not in my heart.

One of the concepts that I have for myself, is that my experience with grief is going to be greatly influence on my past experiences, and by my personal beliefs. Now I am not talking about religious beliefs, I am talking about the messages that I give myself today, and the messages I have given myself for years.

One of the key beliefs that I have is that I am not meant to be happy. That happiness is for other people. I dare to go as far as to say that sustained happiness is meant for most people, but not for me. I feel like I must have really pissed someone off, perhaps the big guy in the sky, for him to keep fucking with me. I honestly feel that in every choice that I have made as an adult, nothing goes smoothly. Every time I attempt to make my life, and my kids' life better, something always comes around to screw it up. I feel like I am a nice guy, and that I have done many good things in life, yet good things don't seem to go my way, or that don't seem to last.

When I met Michael everyone who knows me was so elated. Everyone said that nobody deserved more to be happy in love than me. I am just one of those nice guys that should meet another nice guy, and have a good life together. If that's as simple as it is, then why the hell didn't it happen until I was in my late 40's? And if I had to wait so long, and then finally met the man of my dreams, and guess what , I fit perfectly into his dreams, then why the hell did he have to die? I hate to say it, but couldn't someone else in this world have died that day except Michael? Am I horrible to think that?

In my negative belief system, of course Michael had to die. In this universe that fills the space around me, I had far too much happiness than I was supposed to get, so he had to go. So now, given my experience, every time I see what appears to be a happy couple, or even a miserable couple, I become filled with rage. It angers me so to have the world of happy or content couple parading around to remind me of what I no longer have. Is it all just a huge hurtful joke being played on me?

Okay, so this is what I am working on, and this is where I have identified that I feel stuck. I don't want to be stuck here, as it only serves to make me into a bitter old man before my time. Maybe I was already bitter, but just had a brief reprieve when Michael came into my life. The problem was that like a typical man, I didn't read the fine print. If I had, I would have clearly seen that this relationship had an early expiration date. How terribly stupid, and ignorant, of me, to believe that life was handing me something good, something that I could count on.

Today's EMDR session was to help me work through this negative belief that I have about life's happiness, and how it gets triggered by images of happy couples. And I have to say, that through the process of today's therapy session, I did come away feeling less angry in my still held belief about all of this.

What I did come away with, today at least, is that what all those supposedly happy couples have, is no different than what the happy couple of Mike and Dan had. Some how I need to remember this, or believe this. I want there to be a time that when I think of these types of images, that I immediately have a comforting emotional response about the gift that Michael was to me. I want to immediately feel his love, and smile. I know that this type of thought will always be followed with a sense of sorrow because he was taken so soon, but I don't want the sorrow to be my go-to response when I think of him.

And for what it is worth, tonight I am feeling his love, and remembering that he wanted me to find happiness. I truly think he would be disappointed if I didn't try to work through all of this. I want him to be happy, and I want happiness for myself. When I think of his spirit today, I see him filled with joy. I don't see him focused on what he was taken from. I see him focused on what propelled him forward. I just love him, and loved him, so much. I feel so good about what I was able to experience with Michael in the time we had together.

It was magical.

It was real.

It was lovely.

Let me make you a bit more comfortable.

Focus
Originally uploaded by Nicholas Maleno

It has been an interesting couple of days as far as talking about Michael's death goes. Yesterday I was in a meeting at a school regarding a teenage client of mine. His attorney was present, and I have known her for many years. While we were waiting for one last person to arrive, I told her that I was planning on moving to San Diego. This came up because many people in my office have chosen to retire recently, and it is all the talk these days. When I mentioned that I too would be taking an early retirement, she looked shocked. She asked how this was possible. I explained that you could take a service retirement once you are 50 and have 20 years on the job. She then began to ask about my plans, which led her to ask if my daughter would be joining me in the move. I explained that yes, although she is 19, she still lives at home. I went on to say how all the kids are very excited about the move, and then talked about how each one reacted to my decision. She then said to me, "well, isn't your partner going with you," meaning I hadn't brought his name up. I suddenly felt like I had walked right into a wall.

She must have seen a startled reaction when I explained that he had died eight months ago. She was obviously shocked by the news, and felt quite embarrassed for not knowing this. She quickly apologized for not knowing, and for bringing this up. I quickly let her know that it was fine, that there was no harm in her not knowing this.

This afternoon I was loading up the car to put some boxes in my storage unit. My neighbor from across the street came over to say hello, and asked if I was making one of my regular trips to the Salvation Army to make a donation. I explained that I was planning on moving, and was busy packing up some of the house. She was also shocked by this news. She then said that she only recently learned that my husband had passed away. At the time she too had been diagnosed with cancer, and had undergone surgery, and then chemotherapy. She wanted to offer her sympathy. I found myself explaining about how it has been for myself and the kids, and why I have chosen to make this move.

This is a clear example of why our grieving process is not as simple as others would like to think. I find it somewhat similar to the coming out process. Being gay means that I will always be in the process of coming out to people. Because life brings new people, and new situations, to my life, I am always in the position to come out to others. Until the day arrives when people naturally ask, "are you gay or straight," then I will always be in a situation where I need to correct someone when they assume I have a wife. My kids have also had to come out each school year, as they always have a new teacher, or classmate, who may ask about their parents, or about their mother. They then always have that moment, when they need to explain that their father is gay, and that their other father died. This is not an easy process for them.

This is how it feels to now explain to people that my husband has died. Some, like the attorney, or my neighbor, know that I had a husband, and might naturally ask about him. Others may not know, and ask if I am married. In each case, I am then left with the decision to explain that yes, I was married, but that my husband passed away. Of course this is always met with discomfort, so I am then in the position of having to make the other person feel better about the fact that they may have brought up something painful.

You don't know how many times over the years that I have said the words, "oh, well, I'm gay, it's okay, I don't have a wife, I have a husband," or, "don't worry, you had no way of knowing that my husband had died." I am quite familiar with the process. I have lots of experience at this point in making the embarrassed, or shocked, person standing before me feel a bit less awkward, and a bit more at ease.

Here, let me help you be a little more comfortable with who, or what, I am.

Thank you for being a friend.

I was so saddened yesterday to hear that Rue McClanahan had died. We here, at my house, are big time "Golden Girls" fans. For years I have enjoyed the humor, great acting, and perfect comedic timing of all the Golden Girls. They each brought such individual charisma to the show, and to this day, someone is always watching their show throughout week in my home, especially my daughter.



Today, after work, I came directly down to my bedroom to relax, and to work on the new support group I am starting for gay widowers. Just a bit ago I decided to go back up for a bit of a break, and found my daughter watching back to back episodes of the 'Girls' on the WE network. I sat down to watch with her, and found that the episode playing was "Mrs. George Devereaux," where Blanche (Rue) was having these recurrent dreams of her deceased husband. In her dream Blanche finds that she has a secret admirer. When she finds out who the secret admirer is, she is shocked to learn that it is George, her husband that died nine year prior. I don't remember if they say how this happened, but the focus of the story line is that Blanche is feeling so many mixed emotions. She and Rose both talk about how they never got to say goodbye to their deceased husbands because of their unexpected deaths. In the dream Blanche is torn about whether to see George or not. She is feeling so angry to find out that he never died. Yet in this recurrent dream, Rose tells her that she would give anything to have her husband back, if even for a single moment.


Toward the end of the episode Blanche has her recurrent dream once again. In her dream she is able to make peace with George. She is able to forgive him for being gone all this time. He is able to forgive her for the things she feels guilty about. In the end, Blanche and George share an embrace, and she wakes up. The other 'Girls' gather around her when they hear her talking in her sleep. Blanche shares with them that even though it has been nine years, she still misses him so much. She talks about how painful it has been to have this same dream night after night, yet this particular night it ended differently. She got to hold him, and be held by him. She wraps her own arms around herself tightly, and says that she can still feel his embrace. The scene ends with Blanche saying goodnight to the 'Girls.' She lays back down in her bed, and reaches over to "his side of the bed." Her hand gently caresses his pillow, she smiles, and drifts back to sleep.


I have never consciously remembered seeing Michael in any of my dreams since he died. Recently I woke up feeling that he was present during one of my dreams, yet there was no visual to support it. But just feeling his essence, or his presence, brought me immediately to tears. I look forward to a time when I do find him in a dream. And, I too, like Blanche, would love to feel his embrace, for one last time. Until then, I will also continue to reach out to his side of the bed, and wait for that sense of peace to wash over me as well.

Shades of Blue-Gay Widow(er)s

I have started an online LGBT bereavement support group. As a quick reference caption, I have used the term "Gay Widow(er)s." Please know that this is meant to be inclusive for all LGBT or Q identified widow(er)s. I hope this group can be of help to other widow(er)s, who like myself, find themselves struggling to find a sense of healing. If you are interested please follow the link, and request to become a member. If there are other ways in which I can offer you suport, please feel free to ask.

We are here for you.

Shades of Blue

Weary

I am sitting here drowning my sorrows in a loaf of Judy's Vegan Whole Wheat Breadsticks. It is my one vice. Yes, I am a bread junkie. This is my comfort food.

Today was a very long day. After work I picked up my youngest son to get him to his guitar lesson. While at the mall I decided to buy new phones for the kids, as two had lost theirs, and one had taken his for a swim during our spring vacation in San Diego. I was feeling generous, and needed to be able to reach them when I am at work. I also kind of saw this as a bit of a moving gift. They have all been such good sports about my desire to move to San Diego. I know they are each looking forward to the move, but I also know they are being very agreeable for my sake. I also know that as clues keep coming in that I will be offered the job very soon, they are worrying about saying goodbye to all of their friends.

Because of these after-work activities, I didn't get home tonight until close to 9pm. Since I left the house at 7:30am, it has been a very long day. After handing the kids their dinner, and phones, I came directly down to my bedroom. I knew what was coming, as I had been using a lot of emotional strength all evening to not break down in public. I laid down on my bed and unleashed the tears. There was no real reason for tonight's down pouring, I just needed a good cry. I feel so much better for doing so.

It's funny, today I was missing my wedding ring. Not missing as in misplaced it, but I was really feeling it's absence from my ring finger. What's also odd, is that I seem to miss it most when I am interacting with others. Some how I feel uneasy presenting myself as single, you know, without a wedding ring. I still don't feel single, but I'm also trying to get more comfortable not relying on putting out there that I am currently married. It's something that I am struggling with.

Earlier, when I first got home, I was lying across my bed. I think I was crying so strongly because I so desperately needed his arms around me. His touch has become so painfully absent from my life, and with time the absence gets felt almost stronger. I sometimes think that it gets easier in between my giving in to this need, but when I do allow the reality of his being gone to hit me, I feel it so much deeper. Now at almost 9 months out, I feel so much despair at the reality that he will never be back.

Tonight's pain is being experienced like an assault on my heart. I feel like I am being stabbed with a blunt knife, and the pain reverberates throughout my body. There is also a weariness about me. This is likely the reason I am feeling so vulnerable.

Weary of mind.

Weary of body.

Weary of soul.

Dirty Old Man

dirty_old_man
Originally uploaded by skmull

The kids and I arrived this afternoon at a resort in Coronado, San Diego. We will be here for three days, having our mini vacation. I found a good deal on Expedia, and also decided that the kids deserved a bit of luxury after a very difficult year. All of their eyes were wide open as we arrived, taking in the beautiful surroundings.

I'm having to remind myself to let go of my worries about money. I have some money put aside for long term goals, such as the kids education, which I don't usually touch. If money runs out during our week, then I just stop spending. I make it a point to not touch the funds. Yet, I realized that we really needed a break from the harsh reality that is our day to day life. We have only been here a few hours, and it is already paying off.

The boys are in heaven. They have already played basketball, tennis, swam in the pools, played playstation in the teen room, and charged beverages to the room several times. I'm sure I will regret this later, but for now they are feeling great. I'm not going to rain on their parade.

Earlier my oldest two kids were swimming in the pool, and I didn't see my youngest, Remy. I walked around the pool area, and eventually found him sitting at the bar, enjoying a virgin pina colada. I had to laugh. Just now we came down for dinner, and he was walking around with a dress shirt, jeans and dark aviator glasses. He is really living the high life.

This is priceless. Well, maybe not priceless, but memorable.

My daughter has been with me most of the day, being very adult. She also brought her dog, so she is running to the room often to play with him, and take him out now and then. As for me, I spent most of the afternoon sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, just taking it all in.

When I booked us at this resort I knew what I would be exposing myself to, happy vacationing families. For the most part, that is what I see. I have made a conscious decision to wish each couple well as I come across them. I don't want to go to that dark place, or to spend the next three days feeling envious. I want to enjoy my kids, and be happy for all the families around me. Earlier one of the pool guys gave me some props for the tattoos on my back. He had some questions, such as the usual, how painful were they? Very painful. At the end of the afternoon he saw me walking across the pool area with my daughter. My daughter said he probably thinks I'm a dirty old man, vacationing with this young woman. So I looked back at him and explained this is my daughter. He laughed, and shouted at her, hey you gold digger! Very funny.

Once we were upstairs in the room my daughter started surveying the place. Right away she said, "I'm going to take the note cards for Mike." I laughed. Then I reminded her, "Now don't forget to little bottles of shampoo." More laughter. This was because where ever Michael and I vacationed, he was always coming back with everything he considered complimentary. To Michael, complimentary meant anything not nailed to the floor. I would tell him, "now Michael, we don't need all those small bottles of toiletries." But to Michael, this was the perks of staying at a hotel. He would respond with, "we might need them. Next time we travel you will be happy that I brought these home." I would roll my eyes, take a breath, and say, "okay, but not everything."

Michael grew up in less fortunate circumstances than I, which probably contributed to this behavior. Even now, I still stumble upon some of his treasures when I am going through our things at home. All those little bottles now feel like they are made of pure gold. I treasure them so much.

As the kids were reminding me, the last time we stayed at a nice hotel, or resort, as a family, was when we went to Hawaii about 2 1/2 years ago. I have a picture of Michael and I sitting by the pool, with my arm around him, smiling. I often now look at the picture, and think of how innocent we were at the time. Little did we know that within a few months he would be diagnosed with a brain tumor, and would be on the operating table. Now I look at the photo of us, and look deep into Michael's eyes. Now I see that he had to have been sick already, yet we had no idea.

Fast forward to today, and I am sitting alone by the pool as the kids laugh, and play, in the water. I look around the pool area, and watch all the loving couples interact. Many of them are young, and maybe on their honeymoon. Others are near my age, and enjoying a vacation with their kids. Yet, my eyes also fixate on a few young guys, either there by themselves, or with a friend. I realize that not so long ago I would have thought of myself as just like them. I took very good care of myself, and although I am 50, I was able to turn a few heads as well. In other words, I was still in the game.

These days I no longer feel like a young 50. I feel like an old 50. Make sense? I have been through too much to be naive about life. I have been through too much to entertain the idea of cruising, or flirting. I am merely a spectator at this point. I feel like I have aged, and that my heart and soul have aged. Perhaps one day I will find myself in these same circumstances, and feel differently. Losing your spouse is like losing your fountain of youth. No, having Michael in my life didn't stop the aging process, but it certainly made me feel young, and alive. When he died, part of me died. Now that he is gone, I am missing that which allowed me to feel youthful.

I don't mean this to be a downer, or to say that I will always feel this way. But at this time in my life, this time in my grieving process, I am content with where I find myself. I can sit back, watch the rest of the world enjoy their youthfulness and vitality. I am happy to just sit, enjoy the view, and feel like a dirty old man.