Monday, March 25, 2013

Suffer the Children

Dear Michael,

Tomorrow it will be the 6 year anniversary of the day you nonchalantly walked over to me at the nurses station, (at the facility where we were both working), handed me your business card, and oh so coolly, said "why don't you give me a call".  Playing just a little hard to get, I said  "I don't call men..if you want to talk to me, you pick up the phone and call me" and handed you my number.  Fifteen minutes later, you called and left a message on my phone...and that began the great love story of our lives.  Tomorrow is also the 10 months anniversary of your death.

As much as I miss you, as much as I don't understand, even more than my loss, is the loss that our "Little Guy" has suffered.  So many times I have questioned God about this.  "God, I get it that you thought I could handle the loss of my husband, but why did you have to take this man from our child"?

There were so many times that I would watch you and Tru together.  You had this special, wonderful love between the two of you.  I would think "If Tru turns out well, it will be because of Michael".  You were so amazing with him.  You played with him, gave him one on one time, you sang songs together, went to ball games together.  Every night, he went to bed when you did and I would carry him to his own bed when I came to bed. The two of you would be snuggled up so tightly, that I didn't always know where you ended and he began    He was just starting to grow up, just starting to learn from you, and then, you were gone!  Suddenly, a little boy who lived in a happy home and was the center of the Universe for the two of us, became a little boy without a father figure and the only child in the home of a grieving widow.

This has been such an excruciating journey for the two of us!  We're both so lost in our grief.  I can't be who you were with him.  I fall so short in comparison to who you were...even to who I was, when I was parenting with you.  He tries me constantly.  He questions everything I tell him to do.  He looks for a father, he longs for that relationship that only a man can give him.  He talks often of wanting to come to Heaven to help you build our mansion so that we can all be together again.  And my heart just breaks for him!

Baby, I wish that you were here to tell me what to do.  How do I help his little heart to mend?  I worry that I'm not enough.  He looks at other men with the hope that maybe someone will be there for him.  Someone will play ball with him, someone will dance with him and sing songs with him.  Someone will discipline with love and strength.  He looks for someone to be his role model.  He looks for you in the face of every man he sees.

He's growing up so quickly and I'm so afraid that he will forget you.  That he will forget the wonderful things you taught him.  I asked him today if he still hears your voice in his head.  He said "Yes, ALL the time".  I asked him what it was that you say to him.  He told me "He always tells me he loves me and that when I get to Heaven we can play checkers.  He says you can play checkers with us too, Mawmo".  I asked him if he ever sees you.  He said "Yes, Mawmo, in my dreams.  I always see him in my dreams".  Baby, I hope that he will always hear your voice and see you in his dreams so that he never forgets.

Day by day, our life is going on without you in it.  I pray that God will heal my heart so I can be the parent that our little guy needs.  He's only five years old, and already he's been orphaned for almost a year of that...orphaned by a Popi that went to Heaven and a Mawmo that has been wounded by grief.

I'm not sure how this will all work out, but I'm trying, Michael.  I'm trying to be healthy and I'm trying to learn to be a single parent.  It's not easy, but I love this little guy so much, and he is worthy of my fighting my way out of the pain.  He is worthy of having a happy parent and once again, being the center of the Universe.

We love you so much, Michael!

G and your "Sidekick"


In the United States, by the age of 20, one in nine children will have lost a parent to death.  In 2001, the US Census said that 4% of all single parents were widowed.  I pray that people will take an interest in these lost children.  A little bit of time from a caring friend or relative can mean so much in the life of these little ones who are hurting so badly.

If you know of a child who has lost a parent, I hope that you will take the time to include him in your life.  These kids need someone who will be dependable and constant.  Someone who will be a positive roll model.  Someone they can call on when they are being left out of the Father/Son or Father/Daughter activities in school, because they have no father.  Someone who is willing to be a part of healing the broken heart of a child.

What Are the Signs That a Grieving Child Needs Extra Help?

The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry (1998) cautions parents and teachers that, although most children grieve less over time, counseling might be considered if children exhibit several of these behaviors over an extended period:
  • Depression so severe that a child shows little interest in daily activities
  • Inability to sleep, eat normally, or be alone
  • Regression in behavior to that of a less-mature child
  • Imitation of the deceased person
  • Repeatedly wishing to join the deceased
  • Loss of interest in friends or play
  • Refusal to attend school or a persistent and marked drop in school achievement

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Not Just A Widow, But A Woman Too.

My Sweet Michael,

It's been 9 1/2 months now that  you've been gone.  Just when I think I'm getting the hang of this "widow thing", the missing you starts over again.  Somehow, life has gone on without you, even though I didn't think it was possible.  I can't say that I've been a willing participant. I can't even say that I've really participated in life at all since you've been gone, but rather I have been pulled along in the current, bobbing for air, resting occasionally and more often, fighting the  hold that it has had on me.

It's not as if I want to stay in this place.  I hate the darkness of my sorrow.  I hate the way that it steals my energy and my drive to accomplish the day to day chores and necessities, but it does.  So, I am trying to fight this monster-this thing called grief, before it steals the rest of the life that I've been given.

For 9 1/2 months, I haven't cared too much about myself.  I have literally eaten my sorrows.  Late at night and in the afternoon when no one is here, I eat.  I eat and I smoke and I stay planted on the couch.  The t.v. putting out mundane noises and my life revolving around this cyber-world that I have built for myself.  I have abused my body horribly.  I have forgotten what it feels like to want to look pretty.  And somehow I find safety and comfort in the ragged sweats and pony tails and lack of adornment that I've taken as my shield.  My outer appearance seems to reflect my inner turmoil.

I want to stop longing for you, Michael.  (Would that make you think that I want to forget you? Or that I no longer love you?).  I just want the pain and the sadness to end.  I want to laugh and I want to take a deep breath that doesn't burn my lungs.  I want to be the person that you loved.  And I want to learn to love myself.  To love the life that God has given me.  I want to bring laughter and happiness back into our home, so that I can parent our little guy.  And so, I'm going to start by trying to teach myself that even though I am a widow, I am still a person who deserves my care.

And Michael, I'm still a woman.  I'm still a woman who misses her husband.  Who misses the companionship of the person God created me for.  I feel as if my body and my spirit have gone into some sort of suspended animation.  I've forgotten what it means to be a woman.  And in loving a husband who is no longer here, I'm not sure that I know what to do with that part of who I am?  But, oh how I miss the way that you made me feel pretty.  I miss the intimacy of our marriage.  I miss hearing your sleep noises, feeling your warmth beneath the blankets.  I miss rolling over and laying my hand on you.  I miss your arms around me and I wonder if I will ever know what it is to be held again?  Remember how you would hug me in the kitchen and you would start to drop your arms and I would say "I'm not finished yet"?.  Baby, I really wasn't finished yet. I wasn't finished being a wife and a woman yet.

Baby, I miss you so much!  I am still so very much in love with you.  There is not a day, or a moment that I don't long for you with all that I am.  But somehow, even in this pain, I know that it's time to start caring about myself too.  It's time to start taking care of my body, it's time to start allowing myself to feel pretty..not for you, or for anyone else, but for myself.  Even your mother tells me that it's time to do that. So, I'm going to try.  I'm going to try my very best to take care of your wife.

I have a wonderful group of women who have surrounded me with friendship and the common bond of widowhood.  I have these beautiful friends that also know that it's time that we learn to love ourselves and so we are holding each other up in this quest for healing.  For learning that even though we are widows, that we are women also.  Women who are worthy of care and adornment.  Women who still have a lot to offer our families and the world.  God must have a purpose for us, or we would not still be here.  So, we will try, with this first step, to move into this unknown life that God has planned for us.

You are now and always will be, the love of my life.  But I know that I must move forward without you.  And as I move forward without you, I also move towards the day that I will be with you once again.

I love you, Baby.