Category: wifing

Month 3

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Dear Jonesie:

It’s month 3 since you left this world. Happy anniversary?! That’s not appropriate. First, I’ll be nice to you. We miss you. We miss your silliness, your laugh, your smile, your grumpiness first thing in the morning, the way you never know what’s going on any given day. We miss your playfulness, your abilities with the grill, your hugs, your kisses, your love. We miss it all. The good, the not so good and the in between. But we’re doing ok.

Jack just finished his best basketball season yet. He was confident on the court, he was a real leader and he had FUN! Something we’ve been trying to get him to do for years. We have one weekend off and then baseball season starts. Our favorite season (yours and mine that is). This is the first year you won’t be coaching and gosh we’re gonna miss not being able to watch you not pay attention while coaching first base, looking around at everything but the game. Haha! Jack hasn’t expressed whether he’s looking forward to baseball or not. I’m hoping the confidence and leadership will carry over from basketball season but you never know with that boy. You know how baseball is a little bit tainted for him without you.

In other shocking Jack news (seriously, if you were here, this would shock the pants right off of you) – he signed up to do the talent show at school. WHAT?! How out of character is that! He’s going to do stand up comedy. I am floored. You would be floored! He had me order a whoopee cushion today (don’t worry, it was only $5) because that is the prop he needs for his act. I’m so proud of him. You would be so proud of him. He’s blossoming (doesn’t seem like a fitting word for a boy of 10 but whatever), maybe growing is the right word, into such a confident and inspiring young boy/man (boy doesn’t seem right, man definitely isn’t right – so some hybrid in between).

Mr. Tolt is still in the thick of his basketball season. He has improved so much from the beginning. He’s starting to score baskets in practice and even scored once in a scrimmage. Still waiting on the big game score – it might happen, it might not, but he is trying, still great at galloping and mostly having a good time. He just had to bring in a family picture for his Spanish class at school. I was nervous, talked to his teacher about what to do. His family has changed. You, of course, will always be his dad, but I didn’t know if this picture would upset him and I didn’t want that to happen. But this is Mr. Tolt we’re talking about here – blunt, matter of fact, straight shooting Mr. Tolt. Of course he will bring in a picture of his family and it will be a picture with Mama, Daddy, Jack and me. That boy amazes me. He grieves for you all the time. He will sit down, a somber look will come over his face and he will say I miss Daddy in heaven. I wish he didn’t have to go to heaven. I always say me too, buddy, me too.

T-Ball season is right around the corner for our Mr. Tolt. He still hasn’t decided if he’s playing. He really wants a trophy, though, so I think he’s leaning towards yes. The problem is I can’t remember if you get a trophy in T-ball. When he turns 6, I think Boy Scouts/cub scouts will be a great option for him. He’s our outdoorsman. Remember the commercial (I think it was Geico) with the young, rich maybe brother and sister and they’re off to some sporting event that they have no idea about and they’re like “yaaayyyy sports!”. That’s Mr. Tolt. Only he’s not rich. And doesn’t have a private jet. But he really doesn’t get sports. Or love them. Or particularly want to participate. Your brother seems to think that’s going to change and he’s going to surprise us all. We shall see.

Me, I’m ok. This isn’t easy, but we knew it wasn’t going to be. I want to move. I know we spent all that time and money trying to make this house what we wanted, but it’s just not what we want. First of all, the fire station building is still going on, may never end and just all around sucks. Ok, I know it will end but between it and public works, I’m over it. We’ll miss being able to walk to school but you know how much I love to ride and drive in the car, so it’ll all be just fine. The memory of you leaving us behind in our living room is too much to handle. Our memories here are mostly of illness, disease and death. We deserve a fresh start.

I’ve narrowed the lot search down to 2 and I really think I know which one I want, but I wouldn’t mind a little guidance from you somehow if you would be so kind. Except I know you won’t. Someone told me that our loved ones come back to us in our dreams. I’ve dreamt of you exactly 1 time. What the fuck, man? I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Ash. You do what you want, when you want, on the timeline you want. I should be used to it by now. But seriously. I’d love to see your face in my dreams. I’d love to know that you’re still here with us, checking in, keeping your eye on us.

I’m still doing the ladies golf leagues at Turf’s Up. It’s not the same. I’m grumpy every time I go. I want you to be impressed by this, though. I was on bay 4 on Monday and I hit some pure shots. I know they were pure because you taught me so well. I can now tell the difference between greatness and shit. And I had some greatness Monday night. And some shit. Because it’s me. Ha! Anyway, the greatness that I could feel was registering as shit on the screen so I said something to you know who. He told me he was on that bay earlier and it was just fine. I was pretty bitchy and said no it’s not and we kind of moved on. It pissed me off because you know how competitive I am and you know I want to win and I knew I was right because, let’s face it, you and I both know I am right 98.9% of the time. It’s both a blessing and a curse. (Also, side note, the team next to us scored a +7 Monday night and you know who entered into the scoreboard as a +6 – don’t think I didn’t notice, I did, and I’m mad.). Anyway, guess who texts me last night to tell me I was right, cameras were reading the wrong launch angle? It was said you know who. And this girl was right. Coz I know stuff. About golf. And golf simulators. Thanks to you. I also think my teammate and I should get like 4 mulligans next round for the inconvenience. But I’m not in charge. Boo.

We have a 4 day weekend this weekend. Today is the anniversary of your death. Friday is Valentine’s Day. So we’re getting the fuck out of dodge. We can’t be here and our lovely friends in West Virginia invited us to come stay with them for the weekend. Wish me luck. 8 hours there and back with the boys. What am I thinking? It will be an adventure, though. And it will be a distraction. And that’s what we need. Plus, we get to see our friends and we’re so excited about that.

I know this is getting lengthy, but I haven’t talked to you in 3 months. And I have so much to say. You should understand that, no one can talk more than you. I’m still pretty angry with you. And God. And myself. I often wonder if I had forced you into more treatment, would you still be with us today? But I know that wasn’t what you wanted. Or the right thing to do. I know you were suffering. And I know you are exactly where you are meant to be now.

Just to piss you off a little bit, I let the boys shower and use our bathroom every day. I don’t know why that bothered you so much, but ha! I’m in charge now. There are guys and trucks in the bottom of our shower all the time. It would annoy the shit out of you. They also use our fence toilet every day. I kind of understand your annoyance with that one, though. Those dudes can’t aim for shit! It’s gross! The boys still sleep in the same room. They need each other. Maybe, once our new house is built, they will go back to their own rooms. I’m fine with it either way.

Your puppy has apparently entered her “teen years” according to the vet and that means she’s rebelling, as teens do. Do you know how teen dogs rebel? They piss and shit on the floor again. Cool, huh? She’s still really cute but I’m close to my wit’s end with her. Maybe you could send some magic heaven voodoo down to make her stop. Is that possible? The brown girl is still Dog Kellie – bitchy, moany, groany and mostly annoyed but very cute ;). She get’s grayer by the day and that one tumor on her underside seems to be growing at quite a rapid rate. Maybe you need her? But we still need her here so ease up, would you?

Your mom is hanging in there. We’ve had many cries together. Colt is still her favorite. They spend some good, quality time together. She watches the boys on Mondays when I go to golf league and she picks Colt up from school once a week. She’s come to all their basketball games and so has Steve. I just love Steve. One of the best men around.

I know I’ve said it, but we miss you so much. We hope you are happy, pain free and giving God some good tips on his golf game. Check in on us when you can. We’re here and we’re ok.

Love,

Poopsie, Donkey and Mr. Tolt

Adventure for My Soul

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There’s been something on my mind for a while. (Mama, be warned, you’re not gonna like this one!). As you know, Ash was cremated and had a few spots he would like his ashes scattered. Jack, Colt and I took care of the first spot, off the Kitty Hawk Pier into the Atlantic Ocean on New Year’s Eve. It was a beautiful, crisp bright day. A little windy (hence why a little bit of Ash may or may not be stuck on a piling on said Kitty Hawk Pier). I said a few words (the boys didn’t want to), we took a few pictures and we let go of our first piece (is that the right word? Probably not.) of Ash. There was some laughter, a little tearing up and a lot of arguing between the boys. I don’t think Ash would have expected it any other way.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the next destinations. The Grand Canyon, Salado and Ft. Worth, Texas and Ireland (wherever I so choose!). I’ve decided Texas should definitely be a family trip with the boys. They had so much fun when we went last spring break. They got to meet some of Ash’s closest friends, fish, ride horses, play in the creek, eat real Tex Mex, and Texas BBQ (different from NC BBQ) and they/we fell just fell in love with all of it. It will be difficult to go back without Ash but it is something we have to and need to do together. The 3 Musketeers (ok, we don’t call ourselves that but whatever.)

Ireland is in the 5 year plan. I don’t intend to take the boys to Ireland. They are young and complain a lot and it’s too much money and too far to go to spend 10 days listening to them bitch. Sorry boys, you know it’s true. So that will be an adult only trip, but down the road a bit. It’s going to take some cash and a lot of planning that I don’t have the energy to put into at this time.

That leaves the Grand Canyon, which I’m thinking of heading out over spring break in April. I’ve had many different thoughts on this one. The kids and me? Maybe but again it’s another long trip where a lot of fighting and complaining will happen. Girls trip to Vegas with a quick hop over to the Grand Canyon? Anyone (adult) trip to Vegas with the same quick hop? I thought that was the way I would go, but the more I think about it, the more it turns me off. I don’t want to cheapen what I’m doing with some drunken trip where I spend too much money, drink too much booze and forget the whole reason I am there. I am there for Ash, to honor him, to remember him, to free him and to free myself.

So that leads me to where my thoughts lie now, something that has been toying with my brain (and my heart) for a while. It started as a fleeting thought. Road trip somewhere? And then it grew. Road trip to the Grand Canyon? And then I let it go, or I tried to let it go. But it just kept nagging and growing and growing and nagging. What if I go to the Grand Canyon, drive myself there (maybe with a friend and maybe not – it’s ok mama, it will all be ok!). What if I make it an adventure that Ash would be proud of? What if I step outside my comfort zone (Ash’s proverbial box) and do something fun and exciting and a little bit scary? What if I let go of what people think and just do what I feel is right deep in my soul? What if I create a beautiful life experience to honor my deceased husband that I will remember for the rest of my life? Just thinking about it, writing about it is bringing tears to my eyes, I can feel the blood in my veins coursing through my body, my heartbeat escalating and I just know this is what I’m supposed to do.

There is a camper van sitting in my driveway. It’s not mine, but maybe, just maybe I could borrow it? Rent it? Can someone teach me how to use it over the next 2 months should the answer be yes? Maybe I could bring a friend. Or maybe I drive my car and maybe I do this all on my own.

I want Ash to be remembered for the way he was – always LIVING, always looking for his next adventure and always Always ALWAYS having the balls to do it. And this is one thing I can do for him that I know he would be so proud of and love so hard.

So, Mama, don’t be scared. I know what I’m doing. Can you keep all my things while I release another part of my heart?

My Achy Breaky Heart

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I remember the first time my heart was truly broken. I was 15 years old and my first “real” boyfriend had broken up with me. I can’t say that I blame him. While super cute at age 15 (haha!), I was also super insecure, jealous and an all around bitch. But I remember that pain like it was yesterday. It took me years, literally, to really get over it. I can remember every day, for a while anyway, waking up and knowing something wasn’t right, not quite remembering what and then it hitting me all over again. That deep ache in your chest, the gut-wrenching sense of loneliness, the wondering if you were ever going to be ok again or ever find love again or always be this sad, broken, spinster. Ok, so I was a bit dramatic at age 15, but, hey, at least I’m honest. I’ve grown a bit since then. At least a bit. The point is that it was awful and I can still feel that 15 year old me’s pain. The pain of rejection. Is there any knife that cuts deeper? Maybe just one.

I had another serious relationship in college. It ended from natural causes. While it made me somewhat sad, it wasn’t the pain that I had felt all those years ago. I graduated. He was transferring 6 hours away. He asked me to go with him. I thought about it, applied for jobs and then said no thank you. Take your cat, but leave my sweater. He moved to the mountains; I moved to the beach.

I had a series of other “friends” over the next few years but no real heartbreaks. Maybe some rejection that stung but easy enough to get over. I was maturing. Ha. Ha.

And then I met Ash. And we know how that went. It took a while to get going, but once it did, man, did we have fun. He ended up by moving away from our cozy little beach town. I felt that awful heartbreak all over again. Not because we broke up, but because he wasn’t an every day part of my life anymore. I loved him. And he was gone. (Ash had this great knack for always leaving me wanting more – in my more immature days, I think most of the time dating someone was more about “winning” and getting what I wanted; once I did, I got bored and moved on. With Ash, I never felt like I was winning and boy did that work! I’m not saying it’s right, I’m just saying that’s how I was at that point in my life. Stop judging me!) I’m not sure if he asked me to come or if I forced it upon him (he would tell you it was all me; I will tell you that it was both of us), but either way, 3 months later we were living together in Durango, CO in a studio apartment (our bed was literally right next to our refrigerator) making a “living” being mountain bums (instead of beach bums). Being the spoiled little brat that never left her comfort zone that I was, it was a hard transition for me. I made it so much harder than it had to be instead of just living and enjoying. I guess hindsight is always 20/20 and that’s not really the point of me writing this. Ash was great at getting me or anyone really out of their comfort zone. It was one of his gifts. He liked to draw the box and live just outside of it!

We lived in Durango; moved to Denver; got pregnant; moved to Texas; got married; had a baby; moved back to our cozy little beach town where it all began; we worked jobs we hated; we fought a lot; we went to therapy; we took cool vacations; we had another baby; we quit the jobs we hated; we opened a business; we got cancer (yes, we, Ash, Jack, Colt and me); we sold a business; we took more cool vacations; we died (yes, we, Ash forever; for the rest of us, life as we knew it died.)

Death cuts more than any rejection knife ever could. It’s so final. Unless, of course, Ash is a Jedi and we didn’t know it and he’ll come back to us in hologram form but only when we’re really in trouble. In which case, send on the Sith, I’d really like to see my person again.

All jokes aside, I have grown from that 15 year old girl (bitch). Obviously I feel a shit ton of pain. But it doesn’t consume me. I’m able to get up, get dressed, function and even have fun. I’ve had lots of fun over the last almost 2 months since Ash has been gone. But it’s all tainted with heartbreak. So many times I have so many things to tell him, or text him, or call him to say. The other morning I woke up to this pushing on my lower back, to the point where I thought I was going to fall out of bed and I reached my arm back and said out loud, Ash, stop. But it wasn’t him. It was his damn puppy. Because he’s not here. I know I sound like a broken record. But fuck. It fucking sucks.

Beautiful, Awful Day

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Full disclosure – there’s a lot of whining going on here. Proceed with caution if at all.

It’s Christmas. We did it. We made it through. The boys were strong, happy and, you know, young boys who are slightly less than grateful.

Christmas Eve was the same as it always is, except someone was missing. I had my parents over, Ash’s mom, my brother and his wife. We had our traditional Christmas Eve fare of hors d’oeuvres and vodka. Not for the kids. They didn’t have vodka. It was mainly for me, don’t worry. The boys opened a couple of presents. But someone was missing. It hit me several times yesterday that he wasn’t there. If the boys ever noticed, they didn’t say anything. They had a wonderful time, ate until their bellies were near popping and jumped and skipped around like they were all hopped up on Santa and Mountain Dew, except it was Coca Cola because that’s so much better for them (insert eye roll here)!

We tracked Santa. The boys went to bed. My mom and brother stayed at the house so that I didn’t have to do everything alone. They were super helpful. Super loving. But someone was missing. I couldn’t sleep. I literally felt like my chest was caving in most of the night. Because someone was missing.

Christmas morning came. My oldest woke us all up by coughing as loudly as he could for several minutes. The boys still had the same excitement that they always have. It is me that is different. I half relished in their joy and half wanted to climb in my bed and not reemerge for a week or two. They got bikes, nerf guns, a baseball net, video games, more Star Wars action figure than anyone on Earth could possibly need and all the love they need. But still, someone was missing. I noticed. All day I noticed. We had breakfast – sausage gravy, biscuits and hash brown casserole, same as always, but again, someone was missing. Everybody left after breakfast. It was just the boys, me and dogs.

They played with all their new toys. I probably snapped at them more than once. We tested out the bikes, although very short lived, because, unfortunately, someone was  missing and this girl had a flat tire that she thought she had pumped up, but apparently needed to add “teach me how to pump up a tire” on that all important list of shit to go over before you peace the fuck out on me. We watched a movie. More family came to visit. Someone was still missing. And my fucking God, does it hurt. Bone deep. Pain. Tears. Anger. Sadness. Grief.

We went to dinner at my parents’ house. Prime rib, twice baked potatoes, roasted broccoli, yeast rolls, fresh cut vegetables. One of Ash’s favorite meals. And he wasn’t here. He was missing. I ate my dinner silently. I cried at the end of my meal. Then I ate a piece of 12 layer cake, then cried for a different reason. I got in my car, drove my babies home and cried the whole way. My oldest asked what was the matter. I just said Daddy. And he understood.

We got home, took showers, cozied up on the couch and watched junky TV. I put them to bed, read to them for 40 minutes, laid with them until they fell asleep. And now, here I sit, still fucking crying. Because someone is missing.

Someone told me not long ago to use my boys. They are a great distraction. And they are, except they are little and I am strict. I enforce bed time (not always but a lot of time) because it’s important and necessary. But then comes that loneliness again. Because my person is fucking missing. And I fucking hate it. (In case that wasn’t clear.)

Merry Christmas. It was one beautiful, awful day.

Christmas and Birthday and New Years, Oh My!

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I woke up today feeling more tired than I have in a long time. My chest hurt and there was a knot in my stomach. I woke up sad. I sat up in bed and I cried. I looked at my husband’s side of the bed, so still, so untouched and it made me feel sick. The one thing I have learned thus far is you never know what any given day is going to make you feel, you never know what song will trigger your eyes welling up with tears (today it was the always classy Get Low by Lil Jon – not generally considered a tear jerker but Ash and I had so much fun with that song every time it came on – I was in the middle of my workout, the sweat dropped down my balls (not really, I don’t have balls) and the tears rolled out of my eyes.)

Christmas is 2 days away. I have never felt less Christmasy in my life. There are very few presents under my tree. There are no presents under my tree that were bought by me for anyone. Don’t worry, I am giving my children Christmas I just can’t bring myself to wrap anything or display anything. I’ve yet to watch one single Christmas movie, which is strange for me (that’s a lie, I watched Bad Moms Christmas but it’s more raunchy-gross-why did I just waste time watching this type movie). I didn’t decorate the outside of my house this year. Well, as you know, we have all those lights but I wasn’t sure where the hell I was supposed to hang them. I haven’t kept up with the countdown calendar, taken the boys to see Christmas lights, I’ve barely even mentioned Christmas, until now, where I’ve mentioned it every other word! I’m just not feeling it. I want to feel it, but I can’t get there. Especially today for whatever reason.

Next up, 3 days after Christmas is my oldest son’s 10th birthday. Historically, we’ve always taken Jack on an adventure rather than buying him more junk that he doesn’t need. And it was generally a trip that was just the 3 of us. We went to a Redskins game one year, last year we went to a Golden State Warriors game (in DC, we’re not that nice), we’ve done Disney trips and Universal trips (and that is what both boys are getting for Christmas, so still adventuring to be had) but I can’t think of anything that will compare to years past adventures with Dad. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling. He would never tell me. He’s a closed book, my boy Jack. He doesn’t express much other than anger and irritation but so do I, so he gets it honest.

But no adventuring trip for him this year. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I went the complete opposite and am re-doing his bedroom and got him a TV for his room, which I know, he doesn’t need, but that’s what I did so kiss my ass. And maybe he does need it. Maybe he does need his own separate space where he can kick back and relax and watch what he likes without his brother or me complaining in his ear about watching Star Wars  Rebels for the 89754638th time.

Next up, New Years, which really isn’t a thing but feels like such a big thing this year. Ash and I always did something for New Years – went to friends, had friends over, nice dinner out, always something. Last year was the first time that we didn’t. He was asleep before 9:30. But he was here. He was with us. We could see him and touch him and squeeze his hand and kiss his forehead. This year we can’t. And we’re ending what was undoubtedly the worst year of our lives and starting another new chapter in another new year. It’s a little scary, a lot sad and somewhat overwhelming. How does time just keep marching on? How can it go so unbelievably fast? Why won’t the knot that’s in my stomach today loosen up? Or the tears dry up? And lastly, why the fuck won’t the house clean itself?

I Need a Volunteer

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My husband was one of my favorite people in the whole wide world. His sense of humor was just as sick as mine and he rarely ever got annoyed with all the memes, videos and ridiculous things I texted to him on a daily basis. Anything that made me laugh, he was my go to. Did he ignore me sometimes? Yes! Did I question him mercilessly when said ignoring was happening? Yes! Did he think although it was rather annoying, I was still quite cute and he put up with me regardless? Also yes!

So now I see hilarious memes with 2 reindeer in the car all like yo, bro, get in the car, we gotta find grandma! And they literally crack me up. And I go to send them to my person only to remember he won’t get it (again with the forwarding address and phone number, WTF God, WTF?) and if I send it to his last known number my 9 year old will get it and he won’t understand and he won’t think I’m cool (which, if you were wondering, cool apparently now stands for (according to 9 year olds anyway) constipated overweight out of style loser – I may be overweight but none of those other things apply to me FYI). Ash thought I was cool (like the cool kind of cool, not the 9 year old kind of cool). I also keep getting these weird ads about Jolly Jewels Ball Wash on my facebook feed. I literally screenshot it and went to send it to my husband, but, again, he wasn’t there.

If you look at the photos on my phone, literally half of them are ridiculous memes that I find hilarious and want to send to my person. My person who loved me for me. My person who always thought I was funny even when I wasn’t. My person who understood me inside and out. Was that always the case? Absolutely not. I won’t pretend that it was. But when it came to humor, we were simpatico!

And, yes, I can send them to my friends and they might find them funny or they might think I need to get a life and that I actually am the 9 year old version of cool. Ash, though, he liked me. Like really liked me. Liked me to my core. He knew the good, the bad and they ugly and he accepted it. Sure, he had things to say about it at times, but who doesn’t. We’re human. We’re programmed to complain and always want more. I just miss him. In all the ways you can miss someone. I miss the security of knowing he won’t reject anything I send his way. I miss always having someone to laugh with. I miss my person.

So, I’m looking for a volunteer. You can pretend I’m awesome or you can really think I’m awesome. And accept all of my ridiculous memes and videos and general hilarity. And send your own memes and videos and general hilarity back. I promise to laugh and love it, but you have to do the same. Or pretend to do the same but never let me know how annoyed with me you actually are! Can you feel the anxiety?! Because it is pouring the fuck out right now. Pass the Xanax.

Cancer fucking sucks.