The First Mother's Day

Two days ago, I experienced my first Mother's Day without Megan.  Had you asked me back in January how I would have handled it, I would have expressed sheer terror at the prospect.  At that time, just two months since losing her, all I could imagine was that I would be an emotional train wreck, and would probably have just called my mother and mother-in-law to wish them a happy day, and stayed holed up in my house.

That isn't what occurred, however.  Yesterday was "OK", for lack of a better term.

Our tradition for the past few years had been for Shelby and I to wake up early, go downstairs, make a mess of the kitchen preparing bacon, eggs, pancakes, and coffee, and bring it to Megan in bed, along with a card and a small gift.  Shelby would turn some cartoons on and we'd sit and talk, all three of us, until Megan was ready to get out of bed.  It was a simple acknowledgment of how special she was, and that we would do anything for her.  We would clean up the kitchen and get our day started, where we would be visiting our parents and probably going out to dinner in the evening.

I woke up Sunday at that same early time that I always do, fully aware that it was Mother's Day, and painfully acknowledging the fact that for the first time in eight years, Megan wasn't there to cook breakfast for.  The dogs, having woke me up, were fed and let outside, and I went back to bed.  The bacon stayed in the freezer, and the coffee pot sat there cold.

Sunday was, well, just Sunday.

After a few hours, I roused and went downstairs to find Shelby watching some cartoons, and the dogs, as per usual, passed out on the couch beside her.  I asked if she was hungry, she responded with a yes, and asked if we could cook.  This suggestion seemed completely foreign to me for some reason.  I think that I may have forgotten in that moment that cooking breakfast wasn't just for special occasions, and I casually suggested we just go to McDonald's.  Even Shelby was somewhat miffed at this, as it is very rare that we eat McDonald's period, let alone on a Sunday morning.

We returned home, greasy, bagged food in hand, and sat out on the deck to have breakfast.  I began to think about what Mother's Day would or should be in the future.  I don't want random Egg McMuffins at 10:00 AM to be our new tradition.  This was one of those times where it would just be nice to shoot a text to Megan and say "What do you think we should do?"

I felt incredibly "single" at that moment.  This started as neither a depressing nor contented feeling.  It was just present, acting as a catalyst to my thoughts.  I'm a single parent.  Within the four walls of our home, Mother's day has lost it's happy connotations.  Now, it only sharpens the focus on Megan's death.  It serves as a reminder that Shelby will never make breakfast in bed for her own mother, ever again.  At just 8 years old, Shelby is celebrating Mother's Day by sitting on a deck and eating fast food with her dad.  This is not what I had in mind.

This brought me to thinking about the woman I am now dating.  Shelby adores her.  She has no children of her own, but I know she is an incredible mother nonetheless, and she understands (and sympathizes with) how confusing this journey is for not only me, but also for Shelby.  I am indescribably lucky to have someone that I can at least bounce things off of, and not have it seen as "baggage".  Undeniably, the thought crossed my mind that she may be celebrating Mother's day with us in the future.

As I sat and let all of these thoughts manifest, Shelby began playing with the dogs and laughing.  It was one of her deep belly laughs, the one you hear when you know she doesn't have a care in the world.  It was then that I knew that it will be Shelby that dictates how we celebrate her mother.  If it means cooking breakfast, and eating it ourselves, then so be it.  If it means eating fast food, then we'll do that.  She is old enough now that she can make her own judgments, and I will support her in whatever she wants to do, just as I did Megan.  Mother's day will now be Shelby's day.

I may make suggestions to her, but ultimately, I still have my mother to celebrate.  Only Shelby truly understands what it's like to have lost hers.  Perhaps in this case, she should be my guide.

Every other Tuesday, I write for Widow's Voice, the blog of the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation.  This post was originally published at that location.  Widow's Voice can be found at http://www.soaringspirits.org/blog

Their Own Chambers

I'm learning how to love a new person right now, and even though I love her deeply, she is not the person I spent 12 years of my life with.  There are different mannerisms, needs, and habits that I have to learn how to fit into.  This is not to say that it's a bad thing; just that it's a learning experience just like so much of life is.

I spent a lot of time recently, thinking about how different I am now than when I was 22.  I had all of the patience in the world then, because I felt I had my whole life ahead of me.  I'm now 34.  I have a stable, well-paying career.  I have an 8 year old daughter.  I'd been married, for almost a decade.  There are many times when I look at those facts, and think that my whole life has pretty much been fulfilled.

Marriage, or any relationship really, is not a rose garden or fairy tale.  I refuse to put Megan and I's relationship on a pedestal and not acknowledge that it took a lot of work sometimes.  We had "rough patches", just as any couple will do, and we worked it out and started over with fresh perspectives and goals.  We loved each other, and we were able to weather these storms.

There was a process to this.  Megan would pull back and become quiet. I would generally perceive an issue or stress of some sort, and do my best to analyze and resolve the dilemma, oftentimes having to pry it out of her.  Before she began the process of rejection, we had begun "dating" again as an agreed upon solution to a funk we had been in as a couple.   Things were going well.  We had talked everything over, and I was happy with the direction we were going.  While it certainly wasn't easy mentally, to have had the stress in the first place, it was nice to have a common goal and solution to work on.  Ultimately though, she died before we could hit an equilibrium where it wasn't just work, and it haunts me to have never fully resolved that phase.

So now, I am starting over with a completely new woman.  I knew Megan's process and mannerisms.  I knew how to "play her game" and work with her.  This is something I have to learn again though. I have to learn that when my new woman gets quiet or needs time to herself, that it's NOT because she is mad or has an issue with me or us.  That is the hardest thing for me to grasp right now, because it was Megan's "tell".  Something was ALWAYS wrong when she got quiet.  That's not the case with the new woman.  I love her deeply and truly, and I need to disassociate the love I had for Megan from the love I have for her.  This is not to say I should forget or love Megan less; that will never happen, but I need to see them as living in two different, albeit equally sized, chambers of my heart.

I guess what I'm taking away from all of this is that I need to sometimes reset my own perspectives.  While there may be similar mannerisms or behaviors, they can be, and likely are for very different reasons. The way I live my new life, while greatly influenced by Megan and the life I had with her, cannot be BASED solely on her.  It's not fair to myself, or my new love to compare what I had with what I have.

I am learning that I need to archive the chamber of my heart that Megan lives in.  I need to always use it as reference material, and sometimes take the lessons I learned with her and move them to the new chamber.  The key is to make sure that Megan is not the only author in the library moving forward.
   

Weeping Willows

Hey babe,

Do you remember this place? Do you remember how much Shelby loves coming here? It was the first place that Shelby and I ever took a hike, and it's the final place, a year ago, that you and I took a walk. I can still remember Shelby running around, picking up last year’s acorns, the few remaining ones left alone by the squirrels at least. I remember holding your hand and just walking, letting her be fascinated by nature, as she always was, and still is. We strolled...slowly. You had already been in rejection for a few months, but you weren't sick enough yet that you couldn't shuffle along.

We could smell the dogwood trees blooming, and I remember you commenting on how they smelled so much better than any perfume that anyone had ever worn around you, and how, for a change, a potent scent didn't make you cough.

I remember being terrified at the time that this would be the last walk we would ever take together. Turns out, my fear would become reality in November..

God, how many times we came here, and walked the different paths through the various gardens, but we always ended up here, at the “Weeping Collection”.

You loved weeping willows. They were your favorite tree, and every time we would pass one on a drive, you would always comment on how much you loved them. I always wished that we lived somewhere where I could have planted one for you. They need more space, and our little white house with the white picket fence on a ⅛ acre city lot in Akron just would not suffice. I wish we had gotten even just a year or two more...long enough we could have moved, and I could have planted that willow for you on the little mini-farm I always wanted to live out the rest of my days on. I knew you weren't going to be around forever, but I had at least hoped for the chance to get you out of the city.

We would have renewed our vows on our 10th anniversary, this coming August, right here under this weeping willow in the gazebo. I had decided upon it on our walk, but I never got the chance to tell you.

So, I came back here today to write this to you. I had to come in the spring, just to remember that walk, and all the sights, sounds, and smells. Honestly, what I needed most was to sit and mourn you for awhile. I haven’t mourned the loss of you for some time because frankly, I've been happy. I needed to sit here and talk to you, honestly, deeply, and frankly, in a place that was one of the last that you and I shared before sitting quietly among industrial tile floors, a ventilator pumping away, and IV poles for six months, and I needed to do it alone, at least this first time.

I’m sorry babe. I’m sorry that I didn't move fast enough in life to plant that willow for you, or to renew our vows under the little gazebo covered in wisteria. If I knew then what I know now, we would have done it that very day. There was no sense in waiting for a specific date, because honestly, the vows I took, and wanted to renew, meant the world to me no matter when they were stated. I guess there is no sense in renewing them now, as now that death has done us part, they can never be broken. I am morbidly proud of that fact.

Unfortunately, we can only know what we know now. I know now that you were preparing me, for 12 years, to be the man I am today. I know now that, other than still being alive and healthy, you wouldn't have it any other way for Shelby or I. I know now that I am supposed to continue my life as if you were still here with us, but with someone else that is just as special as you were, and that I can love just as much as I loved you.

I know now that every spring, I should come here, walk, talk to you, mourn you, and thank you for being who you were, and who you continue to reveal yourself to be. I know now that the same thanks should have been given to you while you were alive. I know now that those who deserve thanks and love should get it then and there, when I’m feeling it, and not on some arbitrary “special occasion”, because there aren't any guarantees that the special occasion will occur.

You taught me all of this, Megan. You've taught me that I can love even more than I ever thought possible, and that my love for you will continue to grow right alongside my new love. You've brought me to where I am today, and you'll continue to take me where I'm going. In that sense, we're still holding hands, walking together, and I know you'll be there by my side the rest of my life. Shelby? She's running just ahead, taking in everything on her own terms, but always under both of our watchful eyes.

Thank you.

Take care babe, I love you.
Mike

Every other Tuesday, I write for Widow's Voice, the blog of the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation. This post was originally published at that location. Widow's Voice can be found at http://widowsvoice-sslf.blogspot.com/

Setting a Standard

Shelby needs to have an example of what a caring, devoted man, father, and husband should be.  She is a mere 8 years old, but I believe most readers here will understand when I state that, well, I might not be here by the time she's 18.  It's a cold, hard truth that should never be swept under the rug or glossed over, and I can unfortunately speak from experience.

She needs standards, before she even sniffs at being interested in boys.  I can only hope that I've been, and will continue to be an example to her.

She needed to see that a man can allow and encourage her to be independent, but to always support her in a time of need.

She needed to see that a man will sacrifice his own happiness, not in love, obviously, but in general for his wife's well-being.

She needed to see that a man will hold his wife's hair for 1.5 hours, every morning for a decade, as she has her routine coughing fits, and that it is never seen as normal to him.

She needed to see that a man will be calm and collected and able to make informed, quick decisions when faced with his wife coughing up pints of blood.

She needed to see that a man will carry his wife to bed when she can't walk up the stairs, and that it is always effortless.

She needed to see that a man will bathe his 33 year old wife as she cries, because she can no longer do it herself.

She needed to see that no amount of sickness, frustration, or trauma will ever make a man walk away from a woman he truly loves.

She needed to see that 12 years is not nearly enough time for a man to give all of his love to his wife.

She needed to see that a man can be strong most of the time, but it's OK for them to cry when their goddamn wife dies.

She needs to see that a man will fulfill his vows, in sickness and in health, until death does him part from his wife.

She needed to see what true love is, and she needs to see it again.

She needs to see that though a new woman may be now part of his life, a man can and will still love his wife, and the mother of his beautiful daughter just as much.

She needs to see that a man in this situation will make smart decisions about bringing a new woman into his daughter's life.  Decisions not based on loneliness.

She needs to see that a child is always the priority for a man, but he is able to balance that with someone new that he truly loves.

She needs to see what it's like for two smart, experienced adults to meet and fall for each other in a healthy way.

She needs to see that a man can only expand his heart with love for another person, rather than replace space that someone else previously held.

She needs to see that a man should have his own drive and determination, but that the women in his life will always factor into that.

She needs to see that a man can lose his wife, but still have the confidence to move forward and keep living life without fear.

She needs to see that a man will always honor, cherish, and respect a woman's past, and know that it is what makes her who she is.

She needs to see that a man will always tell his worst truth, rather than his best lie.

She needs to see that lightning can indeed strike twice.

Shelby needed to see me love and take care of Megan for those years. As much as it pains me to say this, Megan becoming sicker and dying was another learning experience for her.  She learned that although her dad bent over backwards, he didn't break, and would walk to the end of the earth for the woman he loves.  He didn't shut down or stop taking care of his one remaining piece of his wife.  She deserves to be honored, respected, loved, and taken care of by a man just as much as I honored, respected, and loved Megan.

As I'm writing this, I'm realizing that Megan also set a standard for Shelby, upon which she can judge all women.  She has briefly met this new woman, just through a video call, and she has fully approved.  She has even made the statement that she is "magnificent", and she can't wait to do things with her.  To have Shelby not only approve, but to encourage me to love the new woman means the world to me, because Shelby is the closest I will ever come to having Megan's approval.

Shelby knows I deserve a woman that loves me just as much as her mother did.  She knows that whatever woman comes into my life will need to be strong, driven, smart, and ultimately, will need to accept that Megan is and always will be a part of our lives.  She knows that no woman could ever replace Megan, and that a new one should only compliment her.

She knows that this new woman fills out all of those check-boxes.

No matter what anyone else's opinion is on new love, there is only one person's that matters to me, and that is Shelby's.

I need to ensure that as I move forward with this new woman that the example I set with Megan continues on.  Megan is no longer here to advise Shelby on these matters, so all I can do is lead by example.

I am setting the standard by which Shelby will judge all men.


Every other Tuesday, I write for Widow's Voice, the blog of the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation.  This post was originally published at that location.  Widow's Voice can be found at http://widowsvoice-sslf.blogspot.com/

Where do you Want to be in Five Years?

I hate this question in job interviews, not only because it's cliche, but also because it's a bullshit question.  First of all, if I'm interviewing for a position, I obviously don't work there yet, do I, dipshit?  How the hell am I supposed to know where I want to be in five years in relation to your company?  I might hate the place two days after I start.  "Well sir, I would like to be running the company, with 10 weeks paid vacation, a corner office, and a liquor cabinet near my desk like Don Draper, only I'm never wearing a suit"

It's so dishonest.  Really, if we're strictly talking about where I wanted to be in five years in relation to the company I'm interviewing for, it would basically be that I want to still be working here, and not wanting to rip my hair out every single day.  I want a decent amount of vacation time, a salary I think is fair, and to not feel like the entire company's business rests on my shoulders when someone's printer goes down, let alone when I want to take a half day.

Let me talk about where I want to be in five years in general, from this very point in time.  I've done a ton of reflecting on this, and it hasn't only been since Megan died.  We had talked about it for a few years, albeit not too seriously, but she knew that deep in my heart, it's what I really wanted, not just for me, but for us.

A little background is in order.  I'm an IT systems engineer by trade.  I make a very good salary.  I get paid vacation, sick days, and at my current employer, a private office.  I have good health insurance, no job security issues, and generally, the day to day tasks I'm faced with are very easily handled.  I've been doing this for 17 years now.

I don't want it anymore.  It is NOT interesting or challenging or in any way enjoyable.  Its a goddamned paycheck is what it is.  For what?  So I can have three cars and eat steak instead of hot dogs?  Yes, I have another person to feed, clothe, and shelter with Shelby.  You know what?  She likes hot dogs and reading books.  She's just fine being entertained by an old smartphone with no service plan and wathcing netflix on the shattered screen.

We (including Megan) are not materialistic.  I worked so we had health insurance to keep Megan alive as long as she did.  She knew I was miserable, but it was a reality that I needed to pursue this career to keep her healthy.  I have the money, so I buy shit, simple as that.

So where would I like to be in five years?  Someplace else, geographically, mentally, and financially.  I'll keep working in IT as long as I need to in order to reach that goal.  I'll pay off whatever debt we have, ensure we're stable, sell some things, and start a new life for both of us, on my own terms.  I'm older and wiser now than when I was 17 and shipping off to boot camp.  I can decipher the things I need versus the things I simply want.

What I need is for Shelby to be smart, happy, well adjusted, and ready to be her own woman and make her own decisions when she grows up.  I have no doubt she will achieve that goal I've set for her in whatever way her amazing little brain and heart decides.  I'm going to make sure that little girl grows up to rule the goddamned world.

What I want is for that to occur, but to finally be doing what I really desire, which is wandering the wilds.  There are ways to do this, and even to still monetize it.  Something I've always wanted is to be a wilderness guide.  NOLS offers these courses, allowing me to become certified to do just that.  In five years, if I play my cards right, I could be wandering the Rockies or Appalachians, taking people with me, and teaching them all about the wonders of these places and how to appreciate them.  Yes, I already have the background experience.  I'm self taught.  Now I have the means to make it official by taking a course.  Yes, it sounds all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but hell, I do this stuff for free now.  

Talk about a life change.  Honestly, I've been keeping up with the Jonses for so long, over half of my life, that I don't even know exactly how to roadmap something like this.  What I do know, is that when I was 8 or 9 years old, I would pour over trail guides and maps of wherever we would be taking a family vacation, and I would plan the entire day out and know the ins-and-outs of every single trail or overlook we would be passing.  I could tell you exactly what species of maple tree you were looking at, even in winter.  I could forage for ramps, berries, watercress, and any other multitude of edible plant.  (I still make dendelion salds from the weeds in my front yard from time to time)  I've wanted to guide people into the woods for that long.  I could pack my bags in about 15 minutes, drive to Dolly Sods in West Virginia, and get someone to any single point in that federal wilderness without so much as a glance at a map.  I want to do that for people.

I want to be a modern day Mors Kochanski, John Muir, Ansel Adams, and Henry David Thoreau all rolled into one.  I want to be the person, as an adult, that can shepherd a group of unassuming "city folk" into the back of beyond, and show them why these places are so special.  I want to make sure that that 8 year old me, pouring over trail guides, learning how to use a compass, reading books upon books about the wilderness and how to survive and thrive in it is brought out in people of any age.  I want to write about it for those that aren't there, in those spaces, and make them want be there with simple words.

I don't care about money, fame, or fortune.  I really don't.  I care about Shelby.  We don't need a little house with a white picket fence, two dogs, three cars, and cable TV to be healthy, smart, and happy.  She already has that same love for nature and learning about it that I did when I was 8 years old.  She grabs a map at every trailhead we go to.  She reads books about wildflowers, insects, trees, and mountains.  She can sit, starry-eyed, and just flip through a photo book of the Grand Canyon or Yosemite, and can tell you all about the various landmarks at a glance, without ever having been there.  She is my doppelganger.

So, where do I want to be in five years?  I want to be shepherding people like Shelby, regardless of their age, over the river and through the woods to what could be their own calling or love.  If people pay me to do that, all the better.  I think I've finally come to the realization though, that through all this time, it's the one "job" that no one would ever have to pay me to do.