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.  

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 ♥

treading water

...Sitting here on the couch not knowing what to do. The tears begin to fall...

 I ask my self “how did I get here?” I mean I used to be the one who had it all together. Just a few short months ago I was a wife and homemaker a student and avid crafter. I was a good friend and sister and daughter. I was the one giving support and encouraging words to friends and family in need. I was happy and in love. I was blessed to be married to the man of my dreams, a man who loved me deeply and passionately. I was in ignorant bliss— ignorant to the pain of life and the reality of the world.

How could my life change so fundamentally to the core, in just seconds,  without my permission? How could I be so out of control of my life and my future.

Today I am a widow, a sad and lonely soul— Lost and searching for my other half. I am floating in a vast sea of grief and I am searching for the lighthouse to show me the way to shore, but it is no where in site. The waves are violent and cold. Sometimes they sting when they crash against my body. Other times the waves are so chilling I just go numb. I want to let go. I’m tired, I’m ready to stop treading water. I’m ready to drown but for some reason I’m staying afloat and it feels like torture to keep my head above water.

I know there are some things left worth fighting for, I just have a hard time admitting it.  Are those things enough? 

What would Elliott be doing right now? Would he be treading water too? Would he be hanging on, if I received the bullet? I want to honor him so badly, I want to do what he would do, he was the best person I have ever known. I want to be like him.

OH ELLIOTT... BABE I NEED YOU SO MUCH PLEASE LET ME FEEL YOUR LOVE

washed away

He’s not here , I’d hoped to find him, feel him at least just a little bit. Find some peace a brief moment of acceptance but it’s not here. I’m searching for something that cannot be found. I thought that maybe if I could get away from home, from all the distractions I could maybe just maybe feel a tiny bit closer to him— instead all I have found are metaphors. Metaphors that keep reminding me just how far apart we really are.

Just as quickly as the surf can wash away writing in the sand, my life was washed away in an instant. I carved Elliott’s name on the beach just above the tide line. I wanted to take a picture as a physical representation that he was on my mind (as always, every second of the day). Just as I had finished crossing the last “T” and dotting the “I” with a heart the tide came in and washed it away before I even had a chance to turn on the camera. I thought “of course, how ironic.” The water erased Elliott from the sand before I was ready—just as the bullet erased him from my life. How can a matter of seconds— a succession of events line up so perfectly that It can fundamentally change my world forever? There are so many questions and no answers. 

I thought I would hike down a trail to a beach near the condo I’m staying at. Maybe I could find him there... The trail was steep and long. On the way down my foot slipped and I fell down and busted my knee. As I sat there staring at the blood I felt numb for a few seconds. Then the sting from the scrapes quickly reminded me that unfortunately I am still alive, still a widow. I thought dammit if only I could have slid a little farther I may have went over the edge and bumped my head on a tree or something. I could have gone home, home to where my husband is. But no, instead I was halfway down a trail to a beach with a bloody knee and a broken heart. I decided to keep going, and eventually made it to the beach. I did a little bit of reading and a lot of crying. The way back up was harder than I expected my knee was killing me and the trail was so steep. I thought this is just like my freaking life. I have to climb this huge hill all beat up and scared, the hill of widowhood, grief, anger, confusion ... Halfway up I stopped, huffing and puffing, short of breath I yelled at Elliott  “WHERE ARE YOU, I NEED YOU NOW, I CAN’T  DO THIS WITHOUT YOU.” I need him more than ever to help me tackle what the world has thrown my way, to help me navigate the giant hills ahead. But he doesn’t answer when I call out to him. I am alone and I’m going to be climbing for a long time, with no end in sight.

I don’t feel that being the one who gets to live is a gift, it feels more like a curse, a life sentence to grief, sadness and loneliness. It feels like torture to be the one left behind, the one who can’t see the other side, the one who can’t hear the other, the one who misses the other with every fiber of their body and soul. I want to live for the both of us but how do you live for two when half of you is missing ? I love you El even if I get mad because I can’t hear you, I know your probably frustrated too. I just want to feel you babe. Please let me feel you soon.

Hawaiian Anxiety

Warm breezes, sandy beaches, crystal clear blue water ... yes, I am talking about Hawaii. Tomorrow morning I’ll depart from the crisp cool air of Anchorage and head toward the balmy sun soaked shores of Kauai with some girlfriends. 

I know what everyone is thinking ... “oh Hawaii, how nice” and “oh how exciting.” Blah blah blah ... 

I really wish I could say I felt that way too. In my reality it’s just a warmer place to be sad. Now, don’t get me wrong I am looking forward to spending time with friends and feeling the warmth of the sun and lord knows I probably really need the vitamin D. The problem is I cannot be excited about anything anymore. My world has been rocked in the worst way possible. My life is fundamentally changed to the core. All the things the old me would have loved or been excited to do seem trivial now. 

How can I find joy in anything when the man I love more than life no longer walks this earth ? Elliott was my life, my breath, my reason for existing ... now he’s gone and I am left behind — an empty shell, lost and confused.

This will be the first time since El was Killed that I will be leaving our home — the comfort of my grief cave, AKA my bedroom. All of his stuff will be here and I’ll be in Hawaii. What if someone touches something or moves something of his? You see by leaving I’m giving up control of all that I have left, all that we physically shared together.

I know it’s just stuff , materialistic stuff, but it was his and ours and it’s all I have. I know Iv’e got my love and my memories but the stuff is all that is tangible, all that can be seen and felt.

Furthermore theres the fact that Elliott and I went to Hawaii with my parents shortly after we were married ( there's memories there), and we were supposed to go again last year for a friends wedding. But this time it was going to be just the two of us, we were going to attend the wedding but it also gave us a good excuse to plan our own little getaway. We had it all planned, the tickets and condo were booked and the new swimsuits and sandals were purchased. It was going to be great— relaxing and romantic. Then a few weeks before, the wedding was called off. Of course we still could have gone on the trip but we thought long and hard about it, money was tight and we had the rest of our lives right? We chose to use our tickets to fly my sister and her family up to Alaska to visit instead. It had been too long since we'd seen them, and we were craving some baby Danny time ( our nephew). Family has always been the most important to us, so the decision was easy. I don’t regret the fact that we cancelled the trip. I just hate that I’m now taking the trip without him— that Iv’e packed things that I bought for the trip we were supposed to take together and never got the chance.

All in all, anxieties aside I know this trip will be good. It should at be least be better than spending the next week hibernating in the grief cave. I am thankful that I have good friends who didn’t just talk about it, but planned it. I got a message from a girlfriend tonight , when I told her I was a little anxious she said “ Focus on feeling, praying, and fresh ocean air.” “Maybe you will feel him with you and God too ...” I think that is good advice and that is exactly what I’m going to try and do. 

... So El if your reading I’m expecting you there. I love you babe.

heart beat

"You know, a heart can be broken, but it still keeps a-beating just the same."
                                          - Ninny Threadgoode Fried Green Tomatoes


I just wish my heart would stop beating ... without Elliott there it no reason for it to continue, yet it continues to sustain my life ... utter torture.

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.