to my Valentine

Elliott,

Well babe, what can I say to you today... words just can not do justice to what my soul feels. 

This is the first Valentine’s Day I am facing without you... Today I was supposed to wake up in the morning to you saying “babe c’mon it’s time to get up.” A few minutes later I would have crawled out of bed with my hair a mess and sleep in my eyes... then stumbled down the hall to find you sitting in the living room. After a few minutes my eyes would finally be focused and I would see something special; something that took a lot of thought. It would be something I mentioned I wanted months ago and had forgotten about coupled with gift cards to my favorite places and flowers or candy. Whatever it was it would be overboard and amazing, never generic  I would look at you and say “babe, you weren't supposed to get me anything, what is all this?” You would look at me with a mischievous grin and tell me “ Happy Valentine’s Day.” I would ask  “when the hell did you do all this?” You would tell me you woke up early while I was asleep and drove all around town to three or four places to find just exactly what you were looking for. You would probably have some story of how you got frustrated trying to find just the right color so you had to go to another store, and you were kinda worried I’d wake up before you got home and set everything up. But, you knew you’d probably be fine because of how much I love to sleep in. I would see a card that you most likely hand drew or embellished with your beautiful writing. I would start to read it, but I would be in tears before I even made it through the first sentence because I knew how amazing your words would be. I’d finally make it to the end of the card a crying blubbering mess. With happy tears streaming down my face I’d hug and kiss you. I’d spend the rest of the day thanking you and telling you what an amazing husband you were and how absolutely blessed I was to be your wife. We would have a little debate over who was luckier to have who and you’d tell me how much you loved me. The rest of the day we’d just hang around the house, maybe we’d go to dinner or maybe we’d cook at home and stay in. We would probably cuddle up on the couch with our pups and pop in a movie and munch on candy...

I know exactly how it would go because it would be the same as it has been the last five  years we’ve been married. Unfortunately I have to spend today reliving those memories instead of creating new ones. It’s not the gifts or the flowers I miss, I never cared about that stuff. It’s you, it’s your face, your voice, your arms holding me tight to your chest. This is not how it was supposed to be, and I still can’t completely comprehend this new reality without you. 

My heart is so filled with love for you, yet simultaneously broken in your absence. I miss you with every ounce of me and every fiber of my being aches to feel you near. If God would let me join you I would go without reservation. However, I know that is not what is in his plan. I know I must be patient and that one day my number will be up, you will greet me in eternity and it will be as if no time has passed. Be that as it may, every second here with out you is a second too long. Each breath is a battle to push forward when all I really want to do is go back; to return to a time when my heart didn’t know this sorrow and our souls didn’t know this separation. I want to return to that time when we were only conscience of love and grief couldn’t stain every thought.

I was supposed to live this life with you, we were supposed to walk through this world  together. I don’t know how to live it for us, I don’t know how to do this by myself. I need you El. 

Though I’m not ready babe, I promise to try my best to live for you. I promise to try and be a reflection of your love; to show the world who you are and to never let them forget you were here, and you were real. 

So Happy Valentine’s Day ♡ babe and thank you for the greatest gift of all. You gave me the gift of TRUE LOVE. A love that most never find, a truly unconditional, unwavering, selfless, beautiful amazing love.  

I don't want it anymore

I don't want it anymore.

It's broken.

It belonged to him and he's gone.

What am I supposed to do with it now?

... long time, no blog

It’s been a while since I’ve been here... almost a month since I’ve written or read any blogs. I have made it my goal everyday since my last post to write another one, but it seems like grief has other plans for me. Well actually, Iv’e written in my head every day, and typed out ideas and saved them in the computer, but none of those ideas ever made it into a cohesive post. 

I’m tired, beat, sad, unmotivated, exhausted, defeated, and any other negative feeling that comes to mind... 

I’m still in California. Iv’e been here for a few months now. I’m trying to help my dad downsize and close up most of his business. It’s a huge task, it’s physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. This past year I’ve witnessed the two most important men in my life suffer. I watched my husband, the love of my life be killed, and now I’m watching my father loose everything he’s worked his whole life for.

There is so much more I want to write about tonight, but I’m drained. I’ll try again tomorrow.

6 months and waiting

                                                             

As I sit here tonight on the six month anniversary of Elliott’s death I wonder once again 

“how the hell did I get here?"

I have reached a milestone that only lives in a wife's worst nightmare, a day I have been dreading— 6 months of walking this earth without the man who made my world spin, my life worth living, my heart full of unconditional love, and my soul full of light. 

I never would have thought six months ago that I could even breath one minute without Elliott in my life. Although I’m here and I ‘m doing it, I’m “surviving” this, I don’t feel like giving myself any kudos or pats on the back. Iv’e made it six months, can I make it six more, another year, 10 years, 20 years? Sure, but do I want to make it one more day without El in my life? NO not really. 

I don’t really know what my life is without him. It sure as hell doesn’t feel like a life any more. It feels more like waiting than living. I continually have the sense that I’m just waiting, waiting, waiting, as if I’m in this holding pattern, on pause ... For what? I’m not really sure. I know Elliott is not coming home, there will be no joyous reunion—no unexplainable miracle for me. Maybe I’m just waiting to talk to him, to communicate with him, feel his presence in a way that is undeniable— to find my way to him. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the end, for my time to go home. Nevertheless I’m waiting, waiting to catch my breath, waiting to process, waiting to reach the darkest depths of my grief.

I’m in a weird time warp where it feels as though It’s been an eternity since I kissed Elliott’s lips and heard him whisper “I love you.” Yet simultaneously six months feels like it has only been six days. I literally feel like everything just happened days ago, it is incomprehensible to me that I am now on the back side of approaching the year mark. I remember in the first few weeks and months hearing about widows and widowers at this point and thinking “ wow, that’s so long, I don’t want to get there.” I really hoped that I would follow close behind El and get in some freak accident or die of a broken heart. I read an article about “The Widow Effect” when a spouse dies and the surviving spouse falls ill and dies shortly after due to stress, a rare complication, or heart issues, and I so badly wished to be a part of that statistic. But, unfortunately it effects older widows and widowers more profoundly. I actually just heard of my mom’s friends nephew who lost his wife three months ago and just died of a heart attack leaving three young boys behind. It breaks my heart for those babies, I don’t have any children, why not me? I don’t necessarily want to die,I’m not suicidal ( of course I’ve thought of it, most widows would at least toy with the notion) I just want to be where Elliott is. I don’t want to make anything out of the cards I’ve been dealt. I want to fold. I’m sick of the widow game. I’m ready for my husband to come home. I’m ready for the joke to be up— for the nightmare to end.

I know better though, I still have a lot of life ahead of me. I feel so unbearably young, at the same time though, I feel like a broken old woman. I’ve had far too much life experience for my twenty-seven years. Despite that, I know I’m going to gain a lot more. Whether I like it or not I still have more to do in this world, I still have more to experience and to learn. I just wish I could figure out what those things are. I’m still just spinning in circles, trapped in a vortex. I don’t know which way or direction to just step off and walk in.

Dear El,

I love you more than anything. I’m trying really really hard to be a living example of your love. I trying to walk this treacherous path but, I still need you mor than ever babe. Please be with me. I love you.

Love Always,

Your Wife Lacey ♥

"widow brain"

I pretty much blog in my head all day long. I think of all sorts of random things I want to write about and share. I have all kinds of emotions and epiphanies. I figure out the sentences I’ll form when I start typing my posts. I think about the love and the pain, memories, grief, stories and sorrow I want to share. However when I actually sit down to write I draw a blank.

The “widow brain” kicks on in full force and I go dumb. I have so much that I want to express and I just struggle with getting it out in the way I want to. By the time I’m able to actually sit down and write I’ve literally forgotten all of the subject matter I mentally gathered up during the day. 

It’s so damn frustrating! I feel as though my memory just betrays me. Its not only with writing but with everyday living. My brain just doesn’t function as sharply as it used to.I can’t form logical thoughts. I don’t really have much of an opinion to offer on anything. I just walk around in a foggy haze. 

Is this a symptom of witnessing and living every wife's absolute worst nightmare?

At times I think maybe it’s just a coping mechanism, maybe if my mind was crisp and clear the pain would be too consuming.  At the same time there are moments when I just want to be consumed by the darkness of this grief— times when all I hope for is the pain to overwhelm me so intensely that I’ll meet my love at home on the other side.

A few days ago I had  an extra aggravating day over a seemingly small incident. I went to drive my moms car to go help my dad at work. I got in the car and the alarm started going off all crazy and I couldn’t get it to stop. I struggled for five minutes trying to put the key in the ignition, and it just wouldn’t fit. I became so annoyed and aggravated I marched back in the house and yelled for my mom. I proceeded to tell her that her car was all messed up and something was wrong with the key. Thats when she said “ you have the wrong keys Lacey.” I had gotten myself all worked up and anxious. I marched back to the car with tears welling up in my eyes. Of course I had the wrong keys anyone would have been able to figure that out. Nevertheless I stayed in the car trying my hardest to make the wrong key fit because  my brain is just mush. 

My parents live on a busy street, with lots of cars rushing by... when I stepped around to the drivers side door I envisioned myself just stepping out into oncoming traffic. I would never actually do that. but for some reason imagining doing it feels like a tiny relief sometimes.

I wonder how long this “widow brain” is going to last. I have a feeling it’s going to be longer than I’m comfortable with. I hope that my mind isn’t as permanently damaged as my heart and soul are.

grief is a thief

Grief has totally stolen my ability to make decisions.

Elliott and I had been planning to get a new pup for the last couple of years. We really wanted a large breed dog and we had done all kinds of research to figure out what breed would be right for us. Since El was killed I knew I would eventually get another dog , but I just didn’t know when the timing would be right. 

To make a long story short my sister convinced me to go take a look at a litter of pups and thats when things got complicated...

After visiting with the pups, when I got home the anxiety kicked in and my brain began to spin... 

“I really want one of these dogs, but can I handle it ?” 

“Elliott would love this dog.”

“I can totally handle it, wait no I can’t handle it.” 

“Yes I can , no I can’t, yes I can, no I can’t...” 

The thoughts run ramped I can’t make a logical decision on what to do. My brain keeps spinning... 

“ I can take good care of this dog, no I can’t I’m a mess I have nothing to offer.” 

“I can give this puppy a good home, who am I kidding my home is broken.”

“This puppy will bring a tiny bit of joy, but what if I screw the dog up?”

“What if I’m too sad? “

“I’m getting the dog, I’m not getting the dog.”

“It’s a good decision, no it’s a bad decision, wait who cares if it’s a bad decision I’m a crazy widow I’m expected to make bad decisions.” 

“I’m getting the dog, I’m not getting the dog.”

Grief has taken all my confidence not just in my physical appearance, but the confidence I had in myself— in my judgement, my reasoning and my capabilities. I used to be self assured, independent and assertive. I now question everything. I am good with animals, I already have dogs, El and I were going to get a dog anyway, Yet I feel like I’ll fail at raising a puppy. It not just the decision on whether to get a dog or not. I struggle with the most minute choices. I could stand in the isle at the store and just stare at the shelves for hours trying to decide between two totally insignificant items. I tried picking out a stupid curtain rod and and left empty handed because it was too overwhelming to make a choice. I could literally leave a store with tears welling up in my eyes because I get so much anxiety over the dumbest decisions.

The world isn’t safe anymore. Nothing is the same, nothing is how I thought it was. I can’t trust the world, I can’t trust Life... So why the fuck would I be able to trust myself.

I could trust El. He was my safety, he was my rock. I could count on him. Everything is different now.

... After all the mental anguish I got the puppy. I brought him home to my parents house and  the first night I really felt numb. It scared me because here is this adorable bundle of pure puppy love, and I wasn't completely enamored. I went to sleep hopeful anyway. The next morning I woke up and thought I made a terrible decision. I freaked out and thought “I need to take him back, he deserves better than me.” I spent a few more hours in mental anguish over what I had gotten myself into. But, by the afternoon, a calmness washed over me. I stopped beating myself up and I made a commitment to give this dog the best I could along with my other pups. Elliott would love him— and I’m totally in love with him too...

I'm jealous of dead people

I wish we could have gone like this... together

Tonight I caught a glimpse of the news, they were reporting on a married couple that was killed last night on their way home from a New Years Eve dinner party. Their vehicle was struck by a man fleeing from police. All I could think is “damn they’re so lucky.” They got to go together neither one was left behind to mourn or grieve for the other. They entered eternity hand-in-hand. 

Elliott and I used to argue about who should die first. He’d say well “ I hope I go first, I wouldn’t want to be here without you.” Of course I wanted it to be me who went first also. We would eventually just come to the conclusion that we would have to die together. Unfortunately life doesn’t follow the plans you make. Somehow I ended up being the one left behind. 

I view death in a completely different way than I did five months ago. When I hear about someone else dying I actually get jealous. People keep dying all around this world everyday and I just keep thinking “man you lucky bastards.” I sit there and wish that I could trade places with them. I fantasize about some kind of bartering system where I could swap positions with someone so they could live and I could join Elliott on the other side.

Sometimes I feel so guilty— I’ve lost several people in the months after Elliott’s death and I’ve barely felt a thing except envy. I feel like they got to go “home” and I’m still stuck here in the waiting room of life. I’m sure I’m still numb too and that has played a role in my lack of emotion. 

I know it’s not my time yet, I know I’ve still got work to do here on earth ( I have no clue what). I know that I will see Elliott again. I just wish that it could be sooner  rather than later.

quote- love is a feeling

"Theres no rules saying that love has to die too... Love is a feeling and, if I feel it, it exists, and if it exists, it is real."


                                                        -To Gillian on Her 37th Birthday (movie)

new year, same feeling

Well it’s officially 2011 and as expected nothing feels different. I’m still here and El’s still gone.

 I contemplated what I should do today, the last day of the last year Elliott was alive. I thought maybe I should drag myself to the beach and stare at the ocean and cry. I thought that maybe I should write and reflect and soak up every second of this day. But the reality is I don’t have the energy  to do anything but continue being a zombie, and really what makes today any different from any other? 

Instead of doing anything profound I spent the day running errands with my mom and sister. We grabbed lunch at a tiny cuban restaurant and the went to IKEA to shop for a new dresser for my sis. I walked around IKEA in a complete fog and before I knew it we were headed home. I’ve been sitting in my parents living room ever since. I did not celebrate one bit, I barely acknowledge the new year. I didn’t watch the ball or count down until the clock struck midnight. Instead my sister and I popped in a “GLEE” dvd. I just started watching that show since I’ve been helping my family down in California. Sometimes it’s hard for me to watch because the character Finn has a close resemblance to Elliott. I had a few people who had told me about the resemblance before, but I didn’t really believe them. When I first watched the show it was so bittersweet because they were right. Finn (Cory Monteith)  has a similar look tall with light skin and rosy cheeks. It’s not even so much his looks as his mannerisms. There just certain times when he does really remind me of El, it’s weird. Anyway the night has been quiet and uneventful, and at this point thats about all I can handle. 

As much as I hate that Elliott will never live in 2011 it’s really just a technicality. It’s not the year that hurts, It’s the fact that he’s no longer here no matter what the date. I miss him so much. I miss everything about him and about us together. I miss all the small stuff like him calling me ten times a day when he was at work, or him waking me up in the morning to kiss me good bye before he was off to the fire house. I miss cuddling up to him on the couch and catching up on our DVR’ed shows. I miss his body next mine as I lay in bed at night , this list could go on forever ...

time marches on

Time marches on... and it feels like I’m getting trampled under it’s boots. 

So 2010 is coming to and end and I really have mixed emotions about it. In many ways I still yearn for time to stand still and give me a moment (a lot of moments) to catch up, yet it keeps marching forward relentlessly.

Iv’e lived seconds that Elliott did not— those seconds turned into minutes, hours, days, and months I experienced on earth without him. Now It’s here, it’s happening I’m entering a new year that El will have never lived in. Every day I get farther from his touch and earthly presence, and there is nothing I can do about it. You can’t fight time.

2010 began beautiful and ended tragic. In the beginning of the year we were finally getting all settled into our home, visiting with family and friends and just enjoying the road we were on. I celebrated the new year at our home with my mom and dad. We watched fireworks light up the sky from my back deck in the freezing cold. El wasn’t far he was at the fire-station waiting just in case those fireworks lit up someones house or a drunk driver plowed through a red light and someone was injured. The year was full of potential and we were happy truly happy. We started the exciting process of updating our home, upgrading the bathrooms, installing new flooring, and  picking out new furniture. I was busy with school, and El loved being a firefighter. In May we flew down to California and Drove my dads motorhome back up to Alaska. We spent an amazing month on the road. If only I knew it would be our last trip and some of our last memories (sigh, tears welling up in my eyes).

July brought upon the worst time in my life. El was so violently ripped from me, from this world. Now I’m struggling with time. Do I want to leave the year that Elliott was killed behind and move forward ? Or do I want to stay there because it was the last year I would ever see his face, kiss his lips, hear his voice, feel his touch ... ? I wish I was at the point where I really wanted to move forward, but I’m not. I’m holding on tight to what I know, what I know lives in 2010 and before...  The future holds only the unknown, there will be no comforts of my life as I once knew it. 

On the other hand 2010 brought so much pain in my life and the lives of my family, that maybe just maybe there will at least be some relief from the continuous tragedy. After loosing Elliott there will never be anything that will equal the intensity of the pain—everything just becomes salt in the wound, but salt in the wound hurts too. After Elliott was killed 3 more people I knew died also... including my older sister Sheri. My uncle suffered sever brain trauma, and my father is still in the process of loosing the business he gave his blood, sweat, and tears to (literally) for he last 30 years.

Even though It hurts to be moving into a year that Elliott never lived in, time is not going to wait for me. Though I’m not ready and I’m dragging my heels and Kicking my feet into 2011, I secretly hope ( HOPE is a word I struggle with) that this year brings me to a better place than where 2010 left me. I hope that with each day I can focus on and feel Elliott’s love shining down on me.

a new name

El and I

So, I’ve decided to rename my blog. But, I’m going to keep the web address the same because I’m not computer savvy enough to change it without messing things up. When I first started this whole blogging journey a few months ago, it was all so overwhelming. I had wanted to start writing very soon after El was killed, but it took me about two months to find the energy to figure out what exactly a blog even was. 

One of the decisions I struggled with was what to call my blog. Its such a personal choice, and you want it to reflect who you are and what your writing about. I wracked my brain and came up with several names, but none of them quite fit. I settled with the name “Widow Taboo” because I needed something and It described how I was feeling. 

I felt and still feel like everything about being a young widow is taboo. Death is a profoundly taboo subject in-itself, that most people prefer to gloss over —as a widow you now walk hand-in-hand with death, sometimes you wish for death, and your in love with someone who has experienced death. The general public isn’t comfortable with a young twenty-something woman being labeled a widow. People don’t know how to react to the immense grief and despair we feel. Loosing a spouse at a young age thrusts you into a minority that most people have no clue how to react to. Every single decision we make from finances to relationships has a social consequence and will come with judgement from those who do not understand. OK, I could ramble on about this forever but even though I definitely feel like a taboo, I just didn’t like it as a name for my blog any longer.

I’ve been thinking long and hard about what name would really fit me and I haven't been able to come up with anything creative or clever that I just love. Maybe it’s the widow brain preventing me from thinking straight... so this evening the name El and I popped in my head and I think it feels right.

This blog isn’t just about me, it’s about Elliott too. It’s about our Life and our love and how death has infiltrated all aspects of our world. So I like the new name because it is about El and I, short simple and to the point. Plus I just like seeing his name when I log on to blogger. Hopefully I won’t think of a new name tomorrow and want to change it again... I am one of those kind of girls who has to constantly rearrange the furniture...

sarcasm

I lost me too

Wow today has been rough, for no other reason except that grief makes no sense and it’s another day living without Elliott by-my-side. Nothing in particular set me off, nothing in particular has happened today to make it any worse than any other day existing on this earth without him here. It’s just “one of those days.” 

I went to the craft store earlier with my sister, she had to pick up some yarn. I walked up and down the isles like a zombie. I stared at all the things I would have bought before, in my old life. I thought of all my projects that are left unfinished. I saw a skein of the same yarn I was using to crochet a pillow with just minutes before Elliott was killed. 

As I meandered around waiting for her to figure out what she needed, anxiety set in. My chest became tight, my knees went weak, I felt the nausea brewing. Why, why does that happen? The anxiety makes me feel so nervous and hopeless, it makes me feel fearful and timid... Like something terrible is about to go down. The funny thing is IT ALREADY HAS, the WORST has already happened. What more do I have to fear? Still even though I reassure myself mentally that I’ve already walked through my worst nightmare, the physically affects still linger. I have no control and I can’t shake it.

I also have been realizing that I’m not passionate about anything anymore. I used to love so many things. I especially loved sewing. I loved cooking and baking, adorable cupcakes were my specialty. I loved decorating and all things crafty and vintage. Anyone who knows me would describe me as creative. I even supported Elliott and I for a few months while he was going through the rigorous hiring process for the fire department by selling my hand painted glassware. 

a pincushion I made from my favorite scraps

baby shower gifts for my good friend and neighbor

El and I at one of my first craft fair booths

I loved simple things too. I’m a sucker for a beautiful view. I loved a yummy cup of coffee and a good interior design magazine or a beautiful sewing book with delectable patterns. I loved the sun rays that splashed across the kitchen floor at 4 in the afternoon. I loved seeing the first hint of green in my flower bed after a long Alaskan winter and watching the wild flowers pop up in the ditch in our front yard. I loved staring at the birds outside my kitchen window.The list goes on and on... 

our backyard woodpecker

wild flowers in our ditch

The point is that none of the things I loved do it for me anymore. I’m dull and uninterested. I can’t savor the small stuff, I can’t savor anything. I’m just going through the motions, nothing excites me. The world used to be so beautiful and amazing. Everything looks different now. I can’t see the beauty without him here. I want to I really really do, but it just doesn’t look the same.

My life is so fundamentally different that it was just five short months ago. How do you prepare for this? How are you one person and seconds later you become some one completely unrecognizable not only from the outside (see my previous post), but on the inside too. Not only did I loose the absolute love of my life, my world, my reason for living and breathing— I lost me too.

It’s going to be a long road and tough fight back. Sometimes it feels like too much and I don’t know whats left to fight for. I’m not at the point where I can fight for myself. But, I can try to fight for the girl Elliott loved, I’m willing to do it for him. 

I'm nowhere near perfect, I had my issues, but I was happy, truly happy to be loved be him

I love you babe, more than any words could even begin to describe. You probably wouldn’t recognize the broken girl I’ve become, but I’ll keep working to get back to the girl you loved so that when we’re reunited we can pick up just where we left off.

who is that girl ?

It feels like death stole my entire life and then smacked me with the ugly stick...

The past few weeks have continued to be a spiral into the darkness. Lately I  have been feeling just disgusted with myself.  My self-esteem is at an all time low. It’s almost like I am so filled with emotional sewage that its starting to seep and be visible from the outside. 

My skin, my hair, my body, everything looks so different. I can barely stand to look in the mirror. I don’t recognize the broken girl that stares back at me. I don’t know her and I don’t like her. She’s empty and ugly. Whatever spark that used to live me— the one that made the most amazing man fall madly in love with me, has completely burned out. 

I have always had my insecurities, yet I always felt beautiful in Elliott’s eyes. I was always hard on myself, especially when it came to my weight. El used to get so frustrated with me when I would make negative comments about myself. He would tell me that no matter what I was the most beautiful girl in the world to him, and I knew that he meant it. He loved me without conditions. He stuck by me through thick and thin literally.  I could care  less what anyone else thought of me because in his eyes I was perfect. I never struggled with jealousy because I knew he had eyes for only me. He saw me in a way that I could only comprehend because I saw him in that way too.

 I miss the that feeling I would get with his glance, the feeling of being completely loved, and safe and beautiful. I miss the confidence he gave me. I miss being the spark in his eye. I miss the security in knowing that no matter what happened I was the most precious thing in his life. It wasn’t just that I was important to someone, it was that It was  him, the most amazing man I have ever known, the only man I could ever love so purely and truly. Even at my worst moments deep down I felt amazing because of his love.

I fear I will never be able to see myself in the way that he saw me. It was like the light he cast upon me filtered out all the flaws. Now that light has been stolen, and I can see myself through the glaring lens of reality .I hate what I see.

meet me in my dreams

As I fell asleep last night I asked for you to come and meet me in my dreams... If you were there I couldn't find you, but I won't give up. I'll wait for you again tonight, same time same place— let our love ♥ lead the way.

A Christmas letter

In my post today I really wanted to share some Christmas memories and pictures. I wanted to talk about how Elliott and I loved this time of year. I wanted to tell you how we loved to decorate and how much fun we had hanging Christmas lights on the house in the freezing cold Alaskan weather. There are so many wonderful memories... But I can't bring myself to share all the good times yet. The pain is still too fresh and the tears are flowing like the rain outside of my window right now ( I'm in California). I tried to blog last night, but ended up laying in bed and crying myself to sleep at 6pm so I didn't have to face my first Christmas Eve with out El by my side. Again today I tried to blog again, but the pain was too sharp. Instead I wrote a letter to El, so I'm sharing it with you. 

Last Christmas with our little nephew

Dear Elliott,

Like so many others times I don’t know where to start. How do I put these feelings into words when there are no words? Maybe that’s what tears are for; an expression of emotions that no words could even come close to describing. But then again sometimes this hurts so much that I can’t even cry and the fog of numbness descends so thick I become a zombie incapable of any emotion at all. 

It’s Christmas, but not in my world. Today is just another day I’m walking this earth without you by my side. It baffles me that I’ve made it this long without you babe. I feel totally incapable of living without you yet I continue to wake up every morning; though I wish I wouldn’t— it makes no sense to me how I can go on with the day. 

I look at pictures of you and it takes the air from my lungs. You’re so strong, handsome, full of life and love ... how can you just be gone? It doesn’t make any sense. My mind knows your not here anymore but my heart still believes your coming home. Sometimes I start to think that you were just a fantasy that I made up in my head. The grief is so real now that it feels like you were never here. It clouds my brain and threatens my memories. The love you gave me was so sweet but I can only taste the sourness of the pain I’m left with in your absence. You lit my world up—now I’m living in the darkness and I can’t find my way out, without you El my light is gone. 

Surround by people I still feel alone. You weren’t supposed to leave me here, you promised me forever... you said that your love was so strong that nothing could break it. Well what about death? I believe in our love, I really do, but it’s exhausting to fight alone. I can’t fathom a future without you in it. Everyone says that you would want me to be happy—what they don’t understand is that you were my happiness. You were my world, my reason... when I watched you die I watched myself die too. Yet somehow my soul got stuck here, even though I wanted to go home with you. Now I have to wait to find you, and living every second without you is torture. 

I know as the days pass I may get used to it, but the pain will always be with me—sometimes it will be as fresh as just yesterday. One day I want to feel the love more than the grief, but I can’t imagine a day like that. I love you more than ever, and I miss you more than words. I hope that you can feel my love.

Love Always

Your Wife,

Lacey

the world keeps spinning

The past few months have been a whirlwind and I just can’t catch my breath, it feels as if my life continues to spin more and more out of control. All I want to do is read and write, grieve, process, connect with  my fellow widows, reconnect with my friends, focus on feeling Elliott, and the list goes on ... Instead I’ve been trapped in the cliche´ “the world keeps turning.” Yes the world does keep turning, people I know keep dying, my family continues to struggle, the man who killed my husband gets away scott free, —heartache, stress and loss threaten to consume me... five months feels like five days and the sixth month mark is rapidly approaching.

Is it to much to ask the universe to just slow down and give me a break, a moment in time to take in a breath and recenter myself— some time to process and grieve for the loss of my husband the person I love more than anything in this life or the next. 

Oh the irony... just as I’m typing this plea I hear the phone ring to deliver the news that my older sister died only minutes ago... I knew it was coming she’s been sick for a while but I didn’t think it would happen this soon.

When will the bad news stop coming I just need some time to put my feet on solid ground. Although I don’t know if i’ll ever find solid ground again. Elliott was that rock for me. He was my safe place, my comfort and support. He was my stability and sanity. He’s gone and i’m left in this volatile world.

I’m not having a pity party for myself, I don’t want sympathy all I want is a little peace of mind. I want the comfort of knowing that things are not going to continually get worse. I want a chance to pick myself up off the floor before some new tragedy thrashes me to the ground again.

All the chaos of this year would be hard to deal with under any circumstance but riding on the coat tails of El’s death makes it all seem like a cruel joke. I need him here, I need to feel him. I need the safe haven he provided. I need his unconditional unwavering, steadfast love. I need his advice, ideas and opinions. I NEED HIM, I JUST NEED MY HUSBAND. 

As I’m typing these words the thought rushes through my brain “you don’t have a husband anymore.” Immediately my eyes well up and the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I don’t want to believe, it can’t be true... I have an amazing husband he’s just dead.

just another day

... Just another day without El

Though today is thanksgiving I am not really acknowledging it. I have a hard time admitting being thankful for anything lately. Even so, I can't deny that there are things I am thankful for, the most being Elliott. But, I don't need a holiday to state that. I am thankful for Elliott's love and his presence in my life each and every second of everyday. I'm thankful to be loved unconditionally my the most amazing and handsome man I've ever met in my life...

I refuse to claim this day as my first holiday without El. I figure that if I'm not celebrating then it doesn't count. You can call it "widow logic."

So, I haven't experienced that I want to rip your head off for no good reason except for the fact that "I'm a widow and your not" feeling until today...

Travel in general is hard, travel alone is a little tough, but traveling all by your lonesome as a widow just down right sucks. Well, let me rephrase that, because I love to travel it's the flight and the the airport that make it hard for me. The airplane and airport is like a cespool of seemingly happy couples of all ages and fresh young families embarking on holiday getaways. It's a blatant reminder of what I no longer posess— a future with my husband that includes children, anniversaries, travel plans, wrinkles, retirement... I could go on and on.

So back to my I feel like ripping your head off moment. I boarded my flight early this morning. The flight was oversold so there was a sea of people trying to get situated in their way too small airplane seats. I get to my row only to discover that a man is sitting in my seat and he swears it's his. That's ok because I didn't really want the middle seat any way. So the flight attendant verifies that I'm correct, but I tell him its fine I'll sit somewhere else. Score, he finds me an isle seat and I get all comfy and settled in. Just when I think the flight might be ok after all a woman appears out of nowhere and asks me to move so she can sit with her husband. She tells me if I move out of the exit row ( which has way more leg room) that oh, I can recline, like I give a crap about reclining. I felt like she was just so condescending to me. I understand wanting to sit with your husband I probably would have asked the same if Elliott was alive, but he's dead— and at that moment I really didn't need a reminder that I was the single girl who should give up her seat to the snobby married lady. Of course I pleasantly gave it up and moved, but not without my blood boiling. I realize that this is irrational to have been so angry but I've been through a lot and I deserve to have my little moment of irrationality.

There was a time when I really enjoyed going to the airport and boarding a plane. I mean it's never a blast or anything but traveling with El was always so nice. Somehow it always made me feel like an adult to be with my hubby boarding a plane and being excited to get away from home for a while. It was so nice to be able to just cuddle up and lean into him when I was squished into the sardine box they call seats. Now I always leave the plane cramped and stiff from trying so hard to stay in my own personal space or from leaning away from people who don't get the concept of personal space. El was always such the gentleman too, carrying the heaviest bags. He would always tell me it looked bad if the girl was carrying all the stuff. Good thing I bought new luggage with four nice wheels so I can manage by myself.

There are just so many reminders everywhere I go. I'm sitting in the Seattle airport right now on a six hour layover. Living in Alaska we almost always have to come through the Seattle airport so it's inevitable to not run into a bunch of stuff that reminds me of the trips when El and I passed through here. I remember every shop and book store we browsed to help pass the time. I remember where we sat in the food court, what he ate, what I ate, the coffee we ordered, everything. It hurts to be here, to be anywhere without him. It doesn't help that there's a song playing right now with lyrics like "i miss you and I want you and I need you but I can't have you." How ironic.

To pass some time I got a manicure, I know it's crazy to get a manicure at the airport but I have a lot of time to kill. Anyway I still refuse to take off my wedding ring. When the manicurist saw it she said "oh are you in engaged?" "No I'm a widow I just don't want to take my ring off." It was the first time someone asked about my ring since El was killed. It was a little surreal, at my age I look more like a newlywed than a widow,oh how I wish that were the case. But I'm a widow and I had a beautiful marriage and an absolutely out of this world amazing husband. That's what that ring represents and I can't bear to take it off.

I hate cleaning

I have realized along with my new found hatred for cooking, I hate cleaning too...

In preparation for leaving my home yet again and Flying to California I am trying to tidy up a bit. I haven’t cleaned the floors in my room since Elliott was killed. Who am I kidding I have barely cleaned the house at all. The dust bunnies or as we would say in the Marines Corps— “ghost turds” were horrendous. It made me feel even more like a widow, a black widow spider who has weaved an intricate web of dust debris from corner to corner to cocoon herself within the chaos she calls a bedroom.

After a little bit of vacuuming and shifting of accumulated random items I have neglected to put in their proper place, I am completely exhausted. I mean I am physically and mentally just spent. I have barely exerted myself and all I want to do is curl up on the couch and zone out again.

There is still so much to do, mop the floors, pack my bags, finish the laundry, tidy the kitchen ... and thats just the surface stuff. Eventually I will have to get to the deep cleaning and organizing that I fear I will never have the energy desire or drive to do.

I really used to enjoy cleaning and organizing. I learned the most about cleaning when I was in the Marines. Every friday we would have a field day where you would clean every inch of your barracks room and we would do the same kind of thing at work in our shop and the aircraft hanger. Of course there was always an inspection to follow, so if you didn’t want to loose any weekend time you were going to work your ass off. I remember one time my Sergeant Major sent out an email to the whole squadron stating they should all take a look at my room as an example of how to clean for a field day. I was really proud of that.

 Elliott was damn good at cleaning too. He helped out a lot in the house, but his specialty was keeping the vehicles, electronics and garage sparkling— he was a pro at doing the dishes too. My favorite time to clean the house was when Elliott was at work. As a firefighter he worked twenty-four hour shifts. I would stay up late at night and put some music on. Then I would just tackle whatever needed to be done. Elliott would usually call me several times while on shift, just to check in and see what I was doing. I would never tell him I was mopping the floors or deep cleaning the kitchen. I think I just really liked to surprise him by coming home to a sparkling clean house. 

In the morning when he got home, he would come back to the room where I was still cozy in bed. Ooohhhhh (sigh) how I miss that so much, the sound of him unlocking the door and his footsteps down the hall— waking up to his voice ... On the days that I had cleaned he always noticed. He always made sure to tell me “ the floors look really nice babe,” or “thanks for cleaning the kitchen babe,” or  “organizing the mail and filing the paperwork...” It didn’t matter what I had done, he would notice and he would make sure to let me know he appreciated the effort I put into our home.

Now, there is no praise for the effort I put in, no words of appreciation from the man of my dreams. It’s just me and the dogs and I’m sure the dogs don’t really care about the floors. I have to clean so that I don’t become a crazy widow living in a filthy environment like on the show “Hoarders.”  Before there was joy in keeping the house nice for my little family. I was a wife and I enjoyed some of the responsibility that came with the title. As a widow there is no joy in cleaning, except maybe the brief distraction it provides. Mostly it’s just tedious, exhausting, and another reminder I am alone...