Widowed at 41

On Tuesday, May 19th, I came home from work and found my 37-yr-old husband dead.

Let that sink in. Really, let it sink in.

The initial shock and trauma have passed. The memorial service was beautiful and arranged to a T as Kelly had requested. His parents have now become part of the group of bereaved parents that I never wanted to be in. I am a widow at 41. My child is fatherless at 2.

In the past 8 days, I have seen sides of people that are surprising, shocking even, to me. My friends have been amazing, as they always are. Three core members of my posse dropped everything and came to my side the night I found him. They stayed with me for hours as my house was combed by police and my husband taken from here for the last time.

There are others. Others who believe they knew him better than anyone else. Others, who, believe that they have "rights" to him. I have spoken to people individually. I have tried to be reasonable. It hasn't been successful. This is why I write today.

We have been married a little over three years. We have been together for five. We have lived together for four years. So, during the past five years, I saw him almost every day. It was I who held Kelly when he was scared, crying, or sick. Were you there when we lost two pregnancies? Were you there when I threw up for hours on end, day after day, for 22 weeks of my pregnancy with Emory? No, but he was.

Were you here when we bickered? Were you here when the ugly sides of both of us came out? No. You may have heard from one or both of us, but you didn't see what really happened. My friend, Julie, saw more than most. She had the unfortunate knack of being here on a couple of days when ugliness was spewing. I believe she would answer questions if you really want to argue what you think you know.

There are people who have started social media pages and events using my husband's name without my knowledge. When I asked for that to be stopped, not only was my request not honored, I was criticized and disrespected.

My heart is broken. It breaks over and over. I come in my door and see the place where I last saw Kelly and it wasn't pretty. My beautiful, wise child asks in different ways every day for his daddy. I am the sole party able to handle the legal aspects of his death. I am out of work, so there are financial concerns.

My funny, sweet, imperfect husband has been dead for 8 days. People, you need to back off. Things I may be happy to see occur in the future are not appropriate now. I cannot believe that I am being pushed about festivals! For the love of God and the memory of the man you say you love, please stop. Please let me grieve and try to get my life in some kind of new order. I should be doing nothing except necessities and taking care of Emory.

Thank you to all of the family, friends, coworkers, and strangers who have shown me love and compassion. You are greatly appreciated and cherished.

It's That Time of Year

Where were you 13 years ago?  I was in a similar circumstance.  I was 39 weeks pregnant and about 4 hours into labor with the baby who would be known as the world's most beautiful girl.  You may scoff at that.  If so, it's because you never saw her.

I never dreamed I'd be pregnant at this age when I was giving birth to Olivia.  I never dreamed what the next 8 years after that night would bring either.  I dreamed of everything every young pregnant woman does.  I dreamed of snuggles, kisses, diapers, preschool, kindergarten, bikes and dolls.  I never dreamed I was entering a world of hospitals, doctors, and death.

I remember that night vividly.  It isn't only the pain I remember.  I also remember the tears that exploded from my eyes when I saw her for the first time.  I remember the feeling that my heart, the literal center of my chest, would explode at the love I felt at that moment.  

I can't remember Olivia's birthday without remembering her angelversary.  They come only five days apart.  That seems such a cruel twist of fate.  I don't know if the pregnancy hormones make it worse this year or if it would be the same regardless.  I have been sad for several days.  I have had a shorter temper.  I have had horrific nightmares and sleepless nights.  Will it change after Sunday?  The grief never goes away, but its sharpness dulls over time.  At these special dates, the edge of grief's sword is dangerously sharp.

On the way home from work tonight, I heard one of our two songs.  I Knew I Loved You doesn't really play on radio stations anymore, but I'd like to think it was a gift to me.

The tears began to flow as soon as I heard the first notes.  I fear the next 24 hours or five days may be the same.  I'm a few hours early, but, I didn't want to count on waking up at 4:58 am to publish this.  Happy birthday in heaven, my angel.  There is nothing I wouldn't give to kiss your sweet face again.