Tag: Advice

How to Kill it as a Widow

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Ha! See what I did there? I love a good pun. Is that a pun? I don’t even know.

Either way, recently someone said to me that they admired me, that they didn’t know how I did it and how I have overcome my so called widow-hood. The truth is, well first of all, who doesn’t love being told that you’re admired! That doesn’t suck. But second of all, what choice do I have? And thirdly, you don’t overcome widow-hood. You just have to learn how to live with it, how to live through it and how to be happy while doing it.

I guess I could choose to wallow in self pity. I could choose to focus only on what I have lost. I could choose to live in the past. I could choose unhappiness. Certainly I wouldn’t be judged (yes I would) if that’s the path I chose. But I don’t choose that.

I have 2 children that follow my exact example at all times. They deserve a life of happiness and joy and freedom. Losing their father at such young ages fucking sucks. There are no ifs, ands or buts about that. They didn’t deserve that. But we don’t always get what we deserve. Life deals our hand and it’s how we deal with what we are dealt that matters. (That’s a whole lot of dealing right there!) My point is, they are watching my every move, my every reaction and they are emulating what they see in me. Do I want them to be mopey, woe is me, my life sucks because these circumstances that we had no control over happened to us? Hell to the f-ing no. I am raising men. Strong men. Resilient men. Happy men. And it all starts with me.

Secondly, and I believe this to the depths of my soul, happiness is a choice. And I choose to be happy. Do I have bad days? Undoubtedly. Do I have days where I am mopey and feeling sorry for myself? Obviously. I just texted one of my closest friends in the middle of the night not too long ago complaining of my sadness. These days are bound to happen. Hell, they happen when you haven’t lost your spouse. But on the regular, I choose to be happy. I choose to focus on what I do have rather than what I am missing. I choose to stay in the moment rather than dwell on the past.

I also choose to stop worrying about things beyond my control. Take school for example. Is it ideal for my children to be educated virtually? Fuck no. I am no teacher. I have no patience. Jack will be fine. He’s smart. He’s disciplined. He gets it. Colt, who’s supposed to be starting kindergarten, he’s not going to be so fine. And neither am I. Not because we’re not smart or disciplined, but because it’s all brand new. Everything you need to know in life, you learn in kindergarten. Isn’t that what they say? That’s a lot of damn pressure right there. But at least when Colt’s dumb as a shoe box full of rocks his whole life because his mom taught him kindergarten, it won’t be his fault. He’ll have plenty to divulge to his future therapist about how his mom ruined his life when he was 6 years old because she didn’t know how to teach the alphabet. But all of these things are beyond my control. It is what it is. There’s nothing I can do about it. Therefore, I am not going to waste my time worrying about it. Because I have no control over it.

I can control how we spend our time. I can control who we spend our time with. I can control what I choose to focus on. And we choose to stay busy, we choose to surround ourselves with the people we love, we choose to have fun, we choose to laugh more often than not, we choose to sing out loud and off-key as often as possible, we choose to dance in the kitchen while cooking dinner. We choose to focus on the myriads of good things that we have in our lives. Because that’s the way forward for us. That’s what makes us happy. That’s how we keep on keeping on.

More of the Same

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How’s everyone? Drowning in misery? Yeah, me too. I guess I have been for quite some time but this somehow feels worse. Probably being totally cut off from society (and other adults) being the culprit. Don’t get me wrong, I love the shit out of my kids, I just wish there was maybe one other adult around to love them with me. Post-widowhood pandemic is not doing great things for my mental state.

Things I’m not doing well in this new phase of life:

  1. Homeschool – I was not made to teach my child. I was especially not made to teach my child math. There has been arguing. There has been tears. We’re doing a little bit better each day, which I guess shows progress, but if we both make it out of this unscathed, well, color me surprised.
  2. Reading – I am reading 5 books at present. That’s not how you’re supposed to do it, but since when do I do things the way you’re supposed to do them. I started It’s Always the Husband while my husband was still alive. And while it held my interest for a while, whenever I did have a chance to read, I chose not to, choosing instead to hold onto my husband. I haven’t been able to pick it back up since he passed away. I stopped (mid-chapter mind you) on page 122. Next up When Children Grieve. This one is a real nail biter guaranteed to put you to sleep just by opening the cover. It should be something I make myself read, and I did for a while, and then I stopped. Next, my mom gave me James Patterson’s The Inn, telling me what a quick and easy read it was. I’m on page 59. There are far too many characters and different stories happening for my current state of ill-performing brain, so I put that one down. Another one that I pick up and put down at random is a story a bit like mine – a young widow with young children, only she lost her husband suddenly, and I knew for a while that I was losing mine. It’s called Confessions of a Mediocre Widow and it’s very relatable and very good, I just have to be in the right frame of mind to read it and currently, I guess, the right frame of mind isn’t hanging around my mind. Moving on. Last but not least, and the one I’m actually making progress on is Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine. That’s a lie. She’s not fine at all. Kind of like me, but her story is totally different. I picked it up because the cover literally said it was “Beautifully written and incredibly funny” and while I’m sure it is beautifully written, it has done nothing but invoke feelings of sadness and pity for poor Eleanor. It’s held my interest well enough though, as I’m more than 3/4 of the way through it. And while it has funny moments, I believe it to be a bit of a bold statement claiming it incredibly funny. Me thinks I was duped by that choice of words.
  3. Cleaning. Here I thought we had all this time and I could finally get some much needed cleaning done. Hard pass.
  4. Keeping my shit together. We’ve (my children and I) have been dealt a shitty hand. While we were still allowed to be part of civilization, I think we handled it all pretty well. Take civilization away, enter crazy, angry, weeping us. Apparently our people were holding us together. Take them away, you’re left with sadness from the movie Inside Out. Not really that bad, but we’re crying much more often than we used to, we’re throwing many more tantrums than are acceptable and feeling a deep void that we can no longer fill with all of our loves.
  5. Staying connected. It’s true that deep down, I’m an introvert. I like time to myself. I like the quiet. The more time I spend away from my friends, the easier it seems to not reach out. I fear by the end of this I will turn into some kind of recluse who’s book number has jumped even higher and friend count at an all time low. I won’t really let that happen, but I will deem it a concern.

But, enough of that Debbie Downer crap. On to the good bits! While trying to find a sheet of paper that Colt has not drawn planes, trains and automobiles all over, I came across another list from my Jonesie. Now, they are more of the same things he’s said over and over, but if you know Ash, you know that repeating himself in countless different ways was kind of his jam. It’s another list that he wrote for Jack and while much of it is repetitive, when can we not use a little advice on how to better live our lives, especially now?!

  1. Be open minded.
  2. Be kind.
  3. Be empathetic, compassionate and loving. Accept people. Tell people when you love them. Don’t let moments of greatness pass you by.
  4. Be strong. Don’t be easily influenced by others. Stay true to your values and beliefs. Don’t succumb to peer pressure.
  5. Choose your friends wisely. Stay away from drugs, alcohol, violence and hate. Always choose love.
  6. Set goals and work to achieve them. Start small and work your way up. Stay motivated.
  7. Maintain your hobbies – continue with your love for sports. Explore nature. Read every day (this wasn’t on there but don’t read 5 books at the same time, don’t be like Mama!)
  8. Practice, practice, practice. You wan’t to hone your skills? You have to work at it. Every. Single. Day. Hard work always pays off in the end.

Well, I was always one to argue some of Ash’s points and I will say that we worked our asses off trying to stop the spread of cancer and that one didn’t work. So while hard work may not always pay off, it is always worth trying. Stay strong my friends. We’ll get through this, one painstakingly slow day at a time. Stay connected. Reach out. And always keep an open mind.

Why?

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The dreaded question. The one that has no answer. But I can’t help but wonder, why us? Why my kids? Why don’t they get to have their father? What did they do to deserve this? How were they chosen? Is it something that God chooses? Is it an eenie meenie miney moe kind of thing? Is our fate already decided before we’re even born? Don’t get me wrong, this is not something I would wish on anyone. But I especially don’t wish it on my children. Do they ever wonder why my dad? Of course they do, but they’re kids, and they go with the flow. They feel it and then they move on. I envy them for that. I feel it nonstop. All the time. So many memories. So many good times. So many terrible times. But it all made us who we were, who we are. And I just can’t help but question why. Certainly Jack and Colt don’t deserve this. They are young and wild and innocent and beautiful and intelligent and weird and perfect and imperfect. Why don’t they get a life with the man that helped create them? The man I chose. The man that chose me. Why did we get so unlucky? Fate? Luck or lack there of? God’s plan? Well, God, guess what? Your plan really sucks for us. We are ok because we are strong, but we are not ok because a very large piece of us is missing.

Tonight was not a great night in the Jones household. That’s actually a lie. It was great in a beautiful and sorrowful way. We were sitting at dinner, just chatting and I looked over at Colt, looking so much like his daddy, acting even more so like him and I asked his favorite memory with daddy. This lead to a mad dash from the table to my (my, mine alone, just mine) bedroom to grab our “Daddy Memory Box” filled with weird and random shit chosen by the boys. Colt, in his 5 year old excitement, brings the box to the table and grabs Ash’s wedding band (one of those rubber/silicone rings you order on Amazon for $8) and declares that his favorite memory of daddy. Ok. What about anything you did with daddy, I ask him. His reply: legos and golf were my favorite things to do with daddy. Mine too, buddy. Well, not Legos, they’re not my favorite but golf, that was definitely a favorite.

Jack then decided to take his mad dash from the kitchen table to gather all the memory/photo books we’ve created over the years. We paused our eating and just flipped through them. And we cried. We cried because we made so many great memories together. We had so much fun together. We also created some pretty awful memories, but the beautiful thing about life, and death, is that once someone is gone, even the bad becomes the good. Because it’s something to hold onto. It’s something that you learned from, something that seemed important at the time, but in reality, didn’t matter one damn bit. It’s not that someone becomes perfect once they are gone, it’s that you realize how much you loved the perfect and the imperfect. Because it helped shape who you were, who you are and who you will be. You can look back and laugh at what once caused you so much anguish. You can find the hilarity in the awful, the beauty in the pain, and the love in the hate.

Ash and I were passionate. We fought with passion and we made up with passion. And what I wouldn’t give for one more fight and one more makeup. I can remember the last time we lay together as husband and wife (you know, in the biblical sense). It was January, 2019. We were in a Residence Inn in the Brier Creek area of Raleigh. It was the day before chemo. We didn’t know then that it would be the last time, at least not consciously, maybe subconsciously. It wasn’t our best effort, either, for obvious reasons. It was a little clumsy, we both cried the entire time and it was short lived. It wasn’t passionate but it was full of love, full of trepidation, full of fear and full of sorrow.

I’ve dreamt of Ash twice in the last week. In the first dream, we were riding in the back of a pick up truck. Our children were with us (so unsafe). My mother was driving (she would never allow the children to be in the back of a pickup truck) and my father was riding shotgun. Ash was upset because he had just learned I’d made an offer on a lot without consulting with him (um, bullshit babe, I asked you nonstop for guidance) while my mom was trying to tell him how nice Mother’s Vineyard in Manteo is. The next one, I walked into some kind of cafeteria. He was sitting at a table with a bunch of unfamiliar faces. We locked eyes as soon as I walked in, he got up and started walking towards me as I was walking towards him, never breaking eye contact. And then I woke up. That one hurt.

So, again, why? Why my children? Why us? And why, following all of that, must we be stuck at hour homes with no outside contact? How are we supposed to handle that? I guess with the same strength and resilience we’ve handled everything else.

My parting words to you this evening are to hug your husband/wife tight. I know he/she is probably driving you crazy (especially since you’re stuck with only each other), but imagine if you didn’t have him/her at all. Would the bad times also become the good times? I’d bet my life that they would. Fight passionately and make up with that same passion. It’s all cliche but it’s all true.

To The Woman Staring Back at Me

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I’ve spent a lot of time looking in the mirror lately. Not out of vanity, not completely anyway. But just to check in with that woman. How has she changed? How is she the same? Physical things have obviously changed. Same blue/green/gray eyes; same white line across the nose; some acne prone skin (blah). Also some new things. Sun spots. Not too many wrinkles but definitely a few more lines; more facial hair than I care to admit; one screwed up left eye brow (actually the same since high school; thank you softball); and the latest, and my least favorite is the dark circles and bags constantly present under my eyes.

I earned those bags and dark circles. This last year was anything but easy. Cancer. Late nights. Long trips. And ultimately the untimely death of my husband, my person, my best friend. That will take a toll on your face (and your body if you happen to find comfort in food rather than starvation, dammit why couldn’t it have been starvation?!). But I feel like I’m on the right track with that. I was never thin to begin with. Always curvy, always a little soft. And I think that’s ok.

What I’m failing to see is the joy I once had, so I thought I’d write this to myself, as a little self-love, self-affirmation, self-get your head out of your ass.

  1. You’re not perfect, you’re never going to be perfect and perfect doesn’t exist.
  2. Forgive yourself. You will continue to fuck up all the time. It’s ok.
  3. Love yourself. If you don’t, who will? Love the lines and the spots and the acne (ok, maybe not that one) and the bags and your slightly less than perfect form (yes, that’s a stretch, it’s far from perfect). You earned them. Every day you earned them. Also love the humor, the loudness, the ridiculousness that is you. You won’t be everyone’s cup of tea and that’s ok. Just be you.
  4. You are enough. Your children love you. Your friends love you. Your family loves you. You are doing your best. Even when you don’t feel like it, you are doing your best.
  5. Take time for yourself. It’s ok. No one needs or wants you 24/7. You will be a better mother/daughter/sister/friend if you take the time for yourself.
  6. Stop judging yourself so harshly. Be a better friend to you. You are so much better than you think you are. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.
  7. It’s ok to cry. Let it out. Yell. Scream. Curse. Just let it out. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.
  8. Try, for the love of dog, not to make the same mistakes over and over again. Learn and move on.
  9. Be patient. Not everything can happen the way you want it to. There is *probably* a plan that you know nothing about but will reveal itself in time.
  10. Respect yourself. Always. If you’re not respecting you, how can you expect anyone else to?
  11. Say no. You have the right to say no to whomever you wish, whenever you wish. This is your life. No one can walk in your shoes. No one can live it for you. No one can feel what you feel.
  12. Stay honest. With yourself. With your children. With everyone. They may not like it, but at least you can like yourself at the end of the day for being true to you.
  13. Stop seeking approval from everyone. Be you and be happy. You can’t please everyone. That’s not even your job.
  14. Write as much as you want, as often as you want, as long as you want, as short as you want. No one has to read it, but if it makes you feel better, if it gives you hope, if it brings you joy, sadness or anger, just do it. Who cares if anyone reads it or likes it!
  15. Sing. Loudly. All the time. The best way to spread any cheer is singing loud for at least yourself to hear!
  16. Remember that you will feel happy again. There are glimpses of it every day. One day the pain won’t be so strong, the memories so fresh, the feelings so raw. Soak it up, that way you really know when you’re feeling true joy again.
  17. Keep covering those grays. You’re 37, cover them up!
  18. This is similar to 13 but so important. Stop worrying about what anybody thinks. You do you, boo. Raise your children the way you want. Dress the way you want. Look the way you want. Feel the way you want. Again, this is your life. No one can do it for you.
  19. Find the fucking tape measures. (I just threw that one in for fun!)
  20. Lastly, go find some joy. Whatever it is, whatever it looks like, go find it, grab it by the balls and embrace the fuck out of it. We only get one chance at this thing called life. So fucking live it, the way you want.

I could go further. There’s so much I could tell to that woman in the mirror, but I think this is a good start. Be kind, be honest and love yourself. Everything will be ok.