waiting

Today marks four months that I’ve been alive without my beautiful husband. How have I walked this earth for four months without him by my side? How have I taken each and every breath I’ve taken to sustain life without him on this earth? Each and every second that passes seems unbearable so how is it that the seconds have turned to minutes, minutes gave way to hours and then turned into days, and now days have become months ... 

I feel like it has only been a just few weeks since he was so violently ripped from this world. I feel like I was widowed just yesterday. Have I really been able to claim the title for four months now?

I wonder, when will it really sink in. I know that he is dead, I know that I won’t hear the door click unlocked in the morning when he returns home from a long shift at the firehouse. I know that I’ll never hear him say “ I love you babe” , or feel his strong arms hold me close to him as I fall asleep at night. I know all of the things I miss and grieve for... I just can’t yet fully comprehend it. I cannot fully comprehend the finality of it all. Is this really my life now? 

Every day this feeling just looms over me ... I feel as if I am waiting, just waiting and waiting. What am I waiting for? I have no clue. It is not a conscience decision to wait made within my brain. It must be a sub-conscience feeling manifested in my heart and soul. You see deep down my heart and soul is waiting for El to come home, or to communicate with me, or to just let me feel his love once again. My heart and soul believes that our love is stronger than death. So I wait and I wait and I wait ...

I can't feel you

My Journal entry from last night ...

October 24, 2010 3:41 am

This hurts so bad, and I know this isn’t even the full intensity of the pain. I know I am still numb. I cried out to Elliott “please, please, please help me, comfort me, let me feel you.”

I yelled to him “if it were me I’d find a way to let you know, I would, I’d find a way.” “ I would try to let you know I was here.”  You’ve abandoned me, you don’t care, you don’t love me. The tears get so much bigger when I write that. It feels like you don’t love me anymore. You used to love me now you don’t. I’m alone. I want to kick your picture, I want to kick you in the face. How can you see me in this pain and do nothing ? I’m so angry I’m arguing with my dead husband.

I don’t mean it ... I’m just so sad... broken... I can’t feel your love.

I’m not sure what set me off last night but, the pain descended so quickly. I sat on the floor in my room and rummaged through Elliott’s bag from the firehouse. As I touched his things I just cried out for him. I want to feel him so badly. I want to know he’s around. I need that sign or feeling that I just cannot deny. I know he’s got to be around— I just can’t feel him. 

The pain gave way to anger. When I couldn’t feel his presence I just got mad. I know Elliott loved me more than anything, I know our love is true and pure. But I don’t understand why I can’t feel him. The love he gave me filled me up, so full of life and happiness. Without it I am just dead. Without his love I am nothing. I know he still loves me. I want to believe love wins— love transcends — love can be the bridge between this life and the next... the pain is just so raw I can’t feel it yet.

He didn’t abandon me. He would have never left me, I know he fought so hard to stay. He was taken, ripped from this world without warning. Yet sometimes when I get so deep into the pain I feel abandoned. I know it’s because I am the one left behind. I wanted to go too. I would follow him anywhere. I feel like he got on a train and left me standing alone in the dark, just lost and confused. I know he would have wanted me to be with him, but the choice wasn’t his. Now I feel as if I’m in a waiting room .Elliott has already gone in— to the other side... I’m trapped here in the in-between. In between life and death. I’m just waiting for my turn. 

Will he be there waiting for me when my number is called?

Will there be a reward for my love... In the end will I be reunited with Elliott?

Does love win, does it really conquer all? Will he be proud of how I loved him... will it even matter?

I love you so deeply El, you have always been my world... I don’t know how to exist without your presence. I need you babe, I need you now more than ever.

retail remorse

It never fails I always end up feeling guilty ... I don’t know why I continue to do it, I guess it just seems like a good idea at the time. Maybe I do it for the brief distraction it gives me, maybe I do it because I’m bored, or maybe it’s just because I want to get out of the house. It’s shopping, I guess it could be called retail therapy, except for the fact it usually makes me feel worse by the time I’m done.

I just spent two hours and a hundred dollars at Target. All I came home with is a bunch of crap I don’t really need. I aimlessly wander around the store pushing my cart with no real direction. I don’t have a purpose for being there. I am lost, I am a zombie just walking up and down the isles. I look alive to all the other shoppers— they have no clue how dead I am on the inside.

I pass by all the holiday decorations and I think about how I will not be celebrating— screw pumpkin spice coffee creamer and cinnamon scented candles. I want to cancel the holidays from of my life forever. Holidays are about family, my family exists as a box of ashes sitting on my headboard.

I pass isles lined with wall decor and pictures frames that have quotes about “family”, “love”, and “memories”. F*uck that! I hate that generic crap. Where is the real stuff, the wall art about about pain, torture and despair. I saw a sign that said “where flowers grow hope lies,” I have a huge flower bed in my front yard, and theres no hope there.

Then I see the mens section, my heart aches ... I have no reason to venture over there. Elliott’s dead I don’t need to pick up anything for him. He doesn’t need new socks or boxers. He doesn’t need me to grab some axe deodorant or skin bracer aftershave.

I randomly find myself standing in the car care section. I have no clue how I got here. Elliott loved washing our vehicles. He would spend hours detailing them. Even though they are old he took pride in the things we owned. He took care of our things. This is a section he would be standing in, he would be staring at the Armor All  wipes and tire cleaners. I have no business being in this section, this is El’s domain. I realize where I am and It stings, I quickly grab the handles of my cart and get out of there. 

No matter where I go or what isle I wander down I cannot escape my reality. It slaps me in the face at every turn. Each row of neatly placed merchandise conjures up a thought or memory. Those thoughts and memories always lead to the same place— I am alone, my husband is gone, and shopping sucks.

roots

Fall is in full force. The feeling of the crisp and cool air on my face is a subtle reminder that I am still alive, even though I do not want to be. This the first new season I'm entering with out my beautiful husband, the first fall we will not experience together. Today I woke up at 5 pm, I know it seems pointless to even get up at all at that point. It's trash night so I gathered up the house trash to drag out to the drive way. I decided it was time to dump some of my flower pots from this summer. I went out to the back deck and collected all the pots full of dead flowers. When I pulled them out of their pots I couldn't help but notice their roots. It made me think about my life here in Alaska. Elliott and I started our married life in San Diego. We lived there for 6 months until we were both discharged from the Marine Corps. Shortly after we packed up our Jeep, bought a trailer and headed north to Alaska in spring 2006. I followed him here, I would have followed him anywhere. I wish I could have followed him in death ( I just have to be patient ). We started a new life together. We established ourselves, we bought a house, I started school, Elliott was hired onto the Anchorage Fire Department. Everything was falling into place. We have amazing friends, Elliott's family is here, and we became a part of the fire department family. My point is that we laid down roots. Slowly those roots took hold and were becoming the foundation for our life. Everything is different now. Just like I pulled those plants out of their pots today, I have been pulled from my pot, my safe spot to grow. My roots are fully exposed and I'm vulnerable. I don't know how to salvage what is left. Elliott and I worked so hard to grow the life we had together, and just like the plants in my yard it is dying. The one thing that cannot die is my love for you Elliott. I love you more  than ever and I miss you to the depths of my soul. 

How did I get here ?

How did I get here ? That is the question I keep asking myself. How? I mean I understand what happened that day. I know that my husband was killed, that he's gone, that he's not coming home. But, somehow I just can't quite wrap my mind around it, I just can not completely comprehend it. 


I am still stuck in the fog. I'm trapped in the place between life and death, between the only life that I know and the new life that I fear...  A new life that I don't want, I did not choose and can not yet accept.


 It has been a little over two months since Elliott was killed. The days keep passing, with no regard for my pain. Doesn't the earth know that Elliott is not here anymore ? How can the world keep spinning ? With each new sunrise and sunset I feel like I simultaneously get unbearably farther yet a teeny tiny bit closer to him. I get farther from his earthly body but closer to his spirit. 


I have wanted to start this blog for the last two months now. I just could not muster up the energy to put it together. I'm not sure what I am supposed to be doing, but some how this seems right. I am here to remember, record, explore, vent and most of all CONNECT. I want to connect with other women who are walking the same path. Women who have been inducted into this club that no one would ever choose to join. I hope that through writing I can help myself and maybe somehow help someone else who may be feeling the same way. I want to be raw and candid about my journey as a young widow. I want to use this place to express my thoughts and feelings without fear of  judgement from those who may not understand. 


I give myself permission to be honest, to be how ever I need to be, say whatever I want to say, and write whatever I want to write about this messed up journey I call my life.