Dear Diary, Time Flys When You're.....A Widow.

There’s this meme I saw not too long ago that is like…

Susan: “My child is 48 months.”

Normal Person: “Your child is 4, Susan. They’re 4.”

And that shit cracks me up because I hate when people try and make me do math when telling me their child’s age. For example, don’t say 18 months. Say a year and a half. Actually, don’t even say 14 months, just say “Oh he’s a little over a year old”. It makes everyone’s lives easier that way.

Today, January 20, 2021, marks 13 months since I lost Wes. But to keep things consistent (and because I hate hypocrites), I’m not sure I want to even say 13 months; maybe I should just say a little over a year instead? In this ‘little over a year’ time frame, I have had to do, and think, and process things I never thought I’d have to at the age of 28 (and rapidly approaching 29…holy shit I don’t want to admit that one).

In 13 months, I’ve had to plan my husband’s funeral. I had to sit in a funeral home and literally discuss casket colors like I was truly interested/prepared to do so. At one point, I had to look at the sweet man that was helping me and say, “Am I truly supposed to give a shit about what color his casket is?” I had to pick out photos to display at his funeral. Do you know how hard it is to feel like you are limiting yourself to adequately represent your soul mate’s life to a 20 min slideshow of pictures? It’s enough to drive you insane. I started going, and have continued to go, to therapy sessions. It’s hard to live day by day feeling like your life ended when your significant other passed away, but knowing that you are only 28 (I mean 23) and probably have many more years ahead of you. I’m very thankful for the clarity therapy has provided me and the goals I have created for myself with the help of my therapist. 10 out of 10 recommend, even if you haven’t been through a traumatic life experience. I’ve had to try and figure out what a new future looks like for me. NEWS FLASH: I still haven’t figured that out at all, but various thoughts have run through my head. I’ve had to think about a new career, where I want to end up living next, and when to start saving to possibly adopt a child (some find this one insane, but I want this more than anything tbh). It’s all very different than the happy marriage/big family/house closer to our families future that Wes and I had planned, that’s for sure. I have had to lean on my friends and family more than ever before. I’m a strong willed (hard-headed) and independent type of person. In the past year, I have stepped so far out of my comfort zone by asking others for help, advice, and reassurance. Because of this, I have developed some amazing friendships, reconnected with people from my past, and created a new appreciation for the term ‘tribe’.

Among all this learning and growing throughout 13 months, I’ve also had a lot of fears pop up. There’s a fear that I didn’t tell Wes I loved him enough (I know this is insane, but these types of things keep you up late at night). There’s a fear that I’ll never understand why this happened to one of the kindest, funniest, and full-of-life person I knew. There’s a fear that I’m not making him proud or living life the way he’d want me to. There’s a fear that I won’t know a good plan for my future before it’s too late. There’s a fear that I’ll end up alone when all is said and done. There’s a fear that I’ll push people away with this hole in my heart that I’ll carry forever. There’s a fear that I’ll forget all these wonderful times I experienced with Wes. There’s a fear that people are judging me too harshly while I try to figure out this new life of mine.

In conclusion, these 13 months haven’t been the easiest of things to tackle. There’s been ups that I didn’t think were possible and there’s been lows that left me feeling fucking broken. I’m not an idiot; I know that just because I made it to the year mark that my life won’t magically all make sense, and everything will go back to ‘normal' (whatever the hell that is because 2020 messed that up for all of us). I do think that as time goes on, however, that I’ll continue to develop a deeper understanding of myself. I’ll continue to see my strength throughout everyday situations. I’ll continue to make decisions that I think Wes would support and celebrate.

So here we are at 13 months…excuse me…a little over a year. I’m still hurting. I’m still healing. I’m still praying. I’m still growing. I’m still trying. I’m still thankful. I’m still hopeful. Here’s to taking life one day at a time.

---

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27