Yes, I realize I’ve totally “borrowed” my title from Christmas Vacation but it seemed appropriate given my current life, and my past life, and hell, probably my future life so … Continue reading Hallelujah! Holy Shit! Where’s the Tylenol?
Yes, I realize I’ve totally “borrowed” my title from Christmas Vacation but it seemed appropriate given my current life, and my past life, and hell, probably my future life so … Continue reading Hallelujah! Holy Shit! Where’s the Tylenol?
I got engaged 12 years ago today. Now, if you know me, you know that I am absolutely horrible with remembering dates, so I cannot take the credit for remembering … Continue reading Engaging
I’ve done some dumb shit in my life. I’ve made some dumb ass mistakes. I’ve put my faith in the wrong people. I’ve made unhealthy choices. I’ve basically just been a human, you know. Sometimes I get it right. Most of the time I don’t.
Tuesday I had an appointment to pick out appliances for the new house. Exciting, I know. I feel about appliances pretty much the same way I feel about light fixtures – couldn’t give 2 shits. I’d like a refrigerator that keeps my food cold, freezer keeps the ice frozen, oven cooks shit, microwave heats shit up, dishwasher washes shit. Those were my requirements. Doesn’t seem complicated, right? Well, technically it was not complicated. However, I hopped in my car, turned it on (because one must turn the car on before it will actually drive in case you didn’t know) and the radio comes on. And playing on the radio is Maroon 5’s “Memories”. And that’s when the tears first started.
Ash and I loved furniture shopping. We would do it more often than was necessary in our spare time. (Just to be clear, I hated doing any other kind of shopping with Ash. And I mean HATED. I am a get in, get what you need, get the hell out type of gal. Ash was the polar opposite. He tried things on. He googled reviews. He tried things on again. He walked around aimlessly to “think” about what he just tried on. Shopping with him was my own personal hell. Some of our biggest fights happened because of these very opposite shopping habits.) However, furniture shopping together was a hobby at which we excelled. (Probably wasn’t a hobby and probably not something at which one can excel but whatever.) We had a favorite local furniture store. And if you guessed that I was headed to that favorite local furniture store to pick out appliances, well ding, ding, ding, you’ve won (absolutely nothing other than maybe a boost in your pride).
So, stupid song is on (not a stupid song, I really do like it a lot but just wasn’t what I needed to hear at that particular moment in time), headed to favorite furniture store and Kellie is crying. Again. (Same shit, different day?! Not really, I’m mostly fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.) It just got me thinking that Ash is really gone. Gone, gone. I will never see him again. Which, obviously I know that. I’m not completely crazy. Yet. But it was quite devastating to me. I will never furniture shop with him again. We will never grab a coffee and leisurely meander, holding hands, always holding hands, through the throngs of couches and recliners and end tables that we don’t need but certainly want to peruse. We will never dream of the day when we build our own home, to our own taste and outfit it just the way we want. I am doing those things, but I am doing them completely alone. And on Tuesday I felt that aloneness deep in my soul, in a way I haven’t felt it in quite a long time. Every little step I take is a step further away from him. It’s a step to the future that does not include him. And while my rational mind is always aware of that, my heart sometimes forgets. Luckily, a good friend called half way on my journey to the furniture store and I reined in my devastation and had a lovely chat for the rest of my ride.
Appliance ordering took me about 15 minutes (I told you I didn’t give 2 shits). Fridge: check. Range: check. Dishwasher: check. Microwave: check. Washer and dryer: check, check. My earlier pain wasn’t forgotten but had been put on the back burner while I checked things off the list.
However, and this is the part where I get to doing the dumb shit in my life, I figured since I’d made the 35 minute drive, and I do have a brand new house in the works that will need to be furnished with some brand new items, perhaps I should take a look around, see what they have, maybe, dare I say, order a new thing or two. And so I did. And I did order a few things that will be here sometime before my kids leave for college (thank you Covid for making everything impossible to get in a timely manner). But that earlier pain came rushing back as I couch hopped. I was doing one of my favorite things without my favorite person. And it sucked. I had to put my sunglasses on for a bit because I knew I looked pathetic, moving from couch to couch, with tears streaming down my face. Although, the sunglasses did probably made me look crazy (or hungover), and I hate to beat a dead horse here, but I am a *touch* crazy and I accepted that long ago.
I did eventually get my shit together and get the hell out of the furniture store. I let a few more tears out on the drive home and then I got on with the business of being the bad ass (ha ha) that I am. But for a few hours, I grieved. Hard core. Because I shopped for furniture alone. Because I’m making our dreams come true alone. Because I feel so alone.
Disclaimer: It’s very sweary up in this piece.
Building a house is not easy. At first, I was killing it. I was making decisions left and right. No problem. I know exactly what I want and where I want it. Then enter freaking light fixtures. Who knew there were so many lighting options out there? It is mind blowing. I’ve been staring at light fixtures on this computer screen for so long that they now all look like ridiculous cartoon drawings that no one should ever put in their house. I’ve been staring at them for so long and just thinking “wow, I couldn’t give 2 fucks about what the fucking lights look like in my house or on my house or around my house”. I’ve been staring at them for so long that I am now in tears questioning everything about my whole entire life.
Here’s the thing – I am not a picky person. I like to think of myself as easy going and laid back where most things, especially these kinds of things, are concerned. Aside from anything ridiculously tacky, I really couldn’t give a shit about any of the lights that are in my house. Or much else for that matter. There are some things that I absolutely do not want, such as anything with brass. Or crystals. Or brightly colored. But otherwise, don’t care. Can I get a volunteer to come pick out all the damn lights for my house? Cuz in case it wasn’t clear, I don’t fucking care.
Which brings me to my point, sort of. Someone asked me recently what I’ve been doing with my time. And I couldn’t answer the question. I had no idea. I mean, sure, I’ve been keeping my kids alive, doing the single mom thing, going to the baseball games and the practices, and the baseball treasuries thing and doing the laundries and making the meals and cleaning the toilets and getting the groceries and all the dumb ass adult shit that we dumb ass adults have to keep doing every fucking day until we die (that was dramatic). And I’ve been doing the building the house thing, well up until recently, quite well. And I’ve been doing the thing where I avoid being in my house because I hate my house because my husband (and his father) died in my house. (Hence the need to build the new house and pick out the light fixtures.) So I spend a lot time with whichever loved one will take my boys and me in for the evening because avoidance is always a very healthy choice.
But what am I doing? And the answer is, I have no fucking clue. I am lost AF, y’all. I do not know what to do with myself. Apparently, being married to Ash was my whole identity. Which makes sense. We got married, we had the kids, we did the jobs, we fell into marital bliss/marital holy-shit-I-hate-you-why-did-we-do-this (it could have been either scenario on any given day at any given moment – that’s just the nature of the beast that is marriage and if you say it’s not, I’m going to go ahead a call you a fucking liar), we ultimately opened a business together, worked together, lived together, did literally almost everything together. And then Ash had to go and get the damn cancer, and if you thought we were together a lot pre-cancer, it had nothing on our togetherness post cancer. Our roles changed, obviously. We went from happy, oblivious young(ish) business owners with their shit together(ish) to terrified people with their world literally crashing down. But, we did our best. We lived. We wept. We laughed. We kept moving forward until moving forward was no longer an option (well, for Ash, at least – I have no choice but to keep moving forward. Fucking bullshit.). But still, moving forward has me lost AF.
He’s been gone almost 18 months. And I gotta say, the first year went by in a blur, what with the grief and the learning how to do all the things alone and then the whole pandemic thing and the virtual school thing. It was a whole new horse of a whole different color (pretty sure that’s not how that saying goes). So it was hard to tell how much I didn’t know what I was doing. But now, things have gotten (I hesitate to even use this word) easier in a sense. I mean, really, when is life ever easy? Never. Easy is definitely not the word I am looking for here. But we have our routine. Things are about as normal as they are probably ever going to be for us. I now have time. And I have no fucking clue what to do with it.
I want to be a better person. I want to make a difference. I want to feel needed. And respected. And loved. And while doing the dishes and the laundries and the groceries are all necessary, they are not satisfying any of my needs to be more. To do more. My cup is wholly un-full, if you will. And I’m just not sure what to do to start filling it up again.
If I have any talents that don’t pertain to wiping asses, making jokes or bursting into tears at any given moment, I certainly can’t remember what they are. And my situation is different in that I do not have to go work some shitty job that I hate or take time away from my children or my responsibilities. I have the flexibility to be choosy, to find what will make me happy. If only I knew what that was.
For now, I will pray. I will have faith. I will smile through the pain. And I will go look at more fucking light fixtures.
Dear Jonesie: This will be my last letter to you as I’m pretty sure if I write to a dead guy for much longer, I may be hauled off to … Continue reading The Last Goodbye
Dear Jonesie:
Can you believe it? 11 freaking months we’ve had to learn to live without you. It’s quite hard to believe, yet not that hard to believe. We are walking oxymorons around here. Don’t worry about it.
Jack continues to struggle, I’m not going to lie. He resumes face to face school in 2 weeks and I’m hoping that helps return some normalcy to his life. His attitude sucks. The things that used to make him happy no longer do. I’ve taken away his x box for an undisclosed amount of time, and I have to say, I think it’s actually helping him become a happier person. He’s playing again, using his imagination and actually having to entertain himself. He has his brother ask about 5.2 times a day when he’s getting it back and my answer every time is “I’m not sure you will.” You can imagine how well that goes over. He lost another tooth, a molar this time, yet the canine he lost approximately 2 years ago still hasn’t shown its face. I’m certain some kind of dental intervention is going to be required but I don’t like thinking about that.
We went up to Virginia this weekend for a baseball tournament that ultimately got rained out. Not all was lost though, we had quite a good time at Top Golf (I kicked everybody’s ass, Colt whined because it wasn’t always his turn, Jack also didn’t love that it wasn’t always his turn or that he didn’t hit the ball perfectly every time and Mimi just genuinely enjoyed herself). All in all, it was one of our favorite canceled tournaments!
Colt is still as amusing as ever. He’s quite temperamental these days, choosing to wear his heart quite loudly on his sleeve. You know when he’s happy. And you definitely know when he’s not. He’s doing great in virtual kindergarten so far but I look forward to him heading into the classroom and having actual interaction with his teachers and making new friends. If that’s allowed during Covid. I’m not sure. There’s so many rules to follow. Today in class we read a book about “My Dad” and I was quite nervous when the teacher showed the title. I thought for sure Colt was going to mention that he no longer had a dad but he didn’t. He participated and didn’t bat an eyelash at any of it. Meanwhile, I may have been sniffling in my sleeve just a bit.
Losing you has taught us so many things. Well, I can’t speak for the boys, and they are probably too young at this point to know what it has taught them, but I can speak for me and not everything has been negative. My writings have become fewer and further between. Apparently my sadness is my muse and the more time that goes by, the less sad I feel, as is the nature of time passing and time healing all wounds and all that bullshit people tell you to make you feel better. I guess they tell you because it is true. If we had to live with unbearable pain for the rest of our lives, I’d venture to guess that we wouldn’t live a great deal longer. The biggest thing I’ve learned is to let go. I no longer sweat the things I cannot control. I worry so much less. I accept so much more. And it’s made me a much happier person. I’m quicker to laugh. I offer help more often. I say yes more often. So many insecurities have held me back in my life. You always tried to teach me to lighten up. And it only took your death for me to finally listen. Is it too late to say that you were right?
I’ve also learned to accept myself, to love myself, just as I am. Is there room for improvement? Always. But you know what, I’m not so bad. I’m mostly kind, damn funny, pretty easy going and kind of helpful. I’m still not the worlds best cleaner, I still get awkward in crowds or with people I don’t know, I’m still short on patience and yell too often, I will never let go of the excessive sarcasm and I will probably always eat more than I should because I freaking love food. And wine. I also love wine. But these are my traits. And in the words of T.O., I love me some me. Kidding. I mean, I do love me but I’m not quite as in love with myself as T.O. seemingly is with himself. The point is, I’m ok with who I am and where I am and I’m always ready to learn and grow. And losing you, well, right or wrong, it helped me learn how to love me some me.
Life is not bad. We will still have our struggles. But we are strong and we know how to get through them. We are surrounded by so many amazing people, some we’ve always had and some new and unexpected ones. Our hearts are open and as cliche as it is, the future is looking pretty bright. We wish you were here to see it but hopefully you have the bird’s eye view wherever you are.
I don’t know how much longer I will keep writing. The more time passes, the better I feel, the less I feel I have to say. Cheers to you my love. You are forever in our hearts. You are forever a part of me. I love you.
Love,
Poopsie
Dear Jonesie: I am day late and a dollar short but that seems to be the way it goes these days. In my defense, I did start writing this yesterday, … Continue reading Widow Is My Name, Awkward Is My Game (Month 9)
Dear Jonesie:
If I’m being completely honest here, I almost totally forgot that today was the 12th of the month. In my defense, I fear my brain may be partially melted from overexposure to heat and sun this past weekend. Jack had 2 double headers in 2 days in the brutal, unrelenting heat of southeastern Virginia. Seriously, at one point I put ice cubes in my bra and felt very minimal relief. Also tried some down my back. Not much better. Also forgot to bring the stupid canopy to guard us a bit from the hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch sun so today we just kept moving further and further away from the field to seek shelter and shade in the trees. Hell, towards the end of the game, I wasn’t even watching, which you know is very unlike me. Colt was sort of a trooper. Yesterday he fell asleep for a while, woke up and cried for a while. My mama thought he might was coming down with the Covid, but, thankfully, once I took him to the car and let him sit in the A/C for a while, and eat some Star Wars fruit snacks (what can’t they cure?!), he was back to his nonstop chattering self (seriously, he’s so much like you, it’s ridiculous. It was easier with you because I could just tell you to shut up or walk away or even leave. Can’t so much do any of those things with a 5 year old). Today he handled it much better.
Our oldest boy played great yesterday. He pitched well, he did well at short stop and hit some bombs. Today, not so much. That’s the nature of our boy, though. I’ll defend him a bit and say he was nervous today, playing with a team he only knew a handful of kids on and a coach he had never met until today. Yesterday was also a long day that ended late and today started early. And, again, the heat. So, Tiger Mom here will give him a bit of a pass.
Anyway, back to my fried egg status brain, I was sitting at dinner, it was the boys, my parents and me and we’re just chatting and I randomly half shouted “SHIT, it’s the 12th of the month!!” To which Jack replied so what. To which I then reminded him (well, after counting on 2 hands) it was the 8 month anniversary of your death. To which he replied “so what? It’s not like it’s been a year.” So, yeah, he’s still 10. Ha!
The truth is, we’ve been super busy. Baseball is in full swing so that consumes a lot of our time. And in between, we are going to the beach, pool, sound. We are sharing meals with friends. We are over using the grill and trying to avoid the stove. We are covered in mosquito bites from staying outdoors way too late. We are dancing by fire pits, we are staying at the beach until dusk, we are laughing and singing and finding joy in as many ways as possible. We are making new friends while still enjoying the old. Colt is fishing as much as he can. Jack is still all about the sports while adding a couple of new favorites – surfing and skimming (he could use some help with both but I’m not quite the person for that job). And I am loving watching them grow and change. Their wings our spreading and it won’t be long before they are ready to take flight (shit’s getting real deep now, you got any waders where you are?!). As corny as it is though, it’s also 100% fact.
As for me, I am in a good place. Sometimes I drink too much. Sometimes I smoke too many cigarettes (sorry but you know how I love a smoke sometimes). I stay up too late and wake too early, never quite getting enough sleep. But I am well. My family is amazing. My friends are incredible. I’m looking forward to the future while also completely embracing where I’m at today. (There I go getting all corny again. WTF is wrong with me?!)
I’m not sure if you want to hear this or not, but, for the most part, we are happy. We were in a dark place for a while, I’m not going to lie. But we can’t stay in that dark place. I think you’d actually be really proud of how we’ve dug our way out. It did get ugly for a while, I’m not going to sugar coat it. And I’m willing to bet my left arm there will be more ugly in the future. That’s ok. We can handle it. Right now, though, we are going to soak up all the happy, sun, friendships and love that we can. Because that is what makes our world go round.
We have found a sense of peace. Maybe it’s acceptance. Maybe we’re just too busy to think about how sad we are supposed to be. Maybe it’s a combination of a million different things. Whatever it is, we are happy and enjoying all of life as much as we can. In the words of Creepy Jonathon, it is well with our soul.
Certainly we miss you. Certainly we think and speak of you often. But those assholes were fucking right. Eventually, time heals all (most) wounds. Not to say we’re not still wounded, because we always will be, but the more time goes by, the better we get at going by with it. Because that’s how it has to be.
Love you always,
Poopsie
I have never been good at making decisions. I probably never will be. It’s not that I am indecisive, when it’s important, I know what I want, but in the words of Monica Gellar, I have an uncontrollable need to please people. And that’s not the best feeling in the world because you can never, ever please everybody all at once, which then leaves you feeling jittery, anxious and actually quite down on yourself. I loathe confrontation, until it’s absolutely necessary, and then I kind of let anger take over and go too far in the other direction. I want everyone around me to be happy to the detriment of my own happiness at times. Ash was very good about helping me jump through these hurdles. He was the exact opposite of me in this regard. The only person he cared about pleasing was himself (I don’t mean that to sound as negative as it does, it’s just the truth), he did not bend to make others happy and while it may have taken him slightly longer than an eternity to make a decision, he was rather decisive when it came right down to it.
Recently, I made a huge decision that “they” (fucking them) say you’re not supposed to make within the first year after a major loss. The funny thing about this decision, for me, it wasn’t difficult. Ash and I moved into our current house because it’s what he wanted. Our prior home had 3 levels, many stairs, bedrooms on the top floor, laundry on the bottom and with his health (even before the cancer), it was too much for him. Too many stairs, too much yard, too much house, too much maintenance. Our current house is all one level and perfectly fine but has never felt like home. Add in the fact that Ash, husband, father, passed away in the living room, and I’d just assume burn it to the ground than live in it. (Don’t worry, I’m not planning to burn it down, just making sure you get the picture.) It’s never felt like “home”, we have no emotional attachment to it, the boys are so uncomfortable in it, they share a room even though they each have their own rooms, all our memories here are of our husband and father being sick and ultimately watching that sickness literally suck the life out of him. Which in a way sucked the life out of our “home”.
This past Friday, I officially purchased our new home site. It was a decision that I did not make lightly. As a hobby, I am a bit obsessed with real estate. I’m constantly watching the MLS, tracking homes, land, prices, etc. I get notices when things go under contract, when prices drop, when new listings are added. Seriously, it’s a bit of an addiction. You’d think I could make a career out of it, but then add in the part with all the people and negotiating and back and forth with all the people, and it all becomes just a little too, well, peopley for me. Anyway, I decided pretty immediately after Ash passed away that we needed to move. The boys agreed with me. I started scouring the MLS immediately. I looked at a few homes, seriously considered purchasing one but thought better of it because there were some issues that were absolutely unfixable. We live in a unique area where home prices don’t exactly match the caliber of the home. We’re in a small beach town and you pay the price for living in paradise.
Anywho, obviously, I decided building was the way to go. I found 2 lots that I loved. One of them was already cleared, already had the water line hooked up, backed up to marsh land and was really quite nice. The other is covered, and I do mean covered, in brush, trees, hills and valleys but was also beautiful and backs up to the sound. I asked for advice from what felt like thousands of people (that’s a very large exaggeration, I do not know (or like) thousands of people) but I asked many, because again, decisions and me don’t go hand and hand. I asked professionals, I asked family, I asked friends, I asked acquaintances. They all had their opinions and most of them, including the professionals, chose the lot where the work was already done. And while I valued those opinions, my heart told me otherwise. I tend to lead with my heart. A lot. Which can be problematic, hence why all the asking opinions from other people. And it was really hard not to have my husband to talk it through with me. Although, if he were here, none of it would be happening, so there is that. Your fault, babe, as usual.
Anyway, two of our closest (and wisest) friends went with me one evening to look at both lots. They fell in love with the first one, the one that was cleared and “easy”. Then we went to the other one. They saw what I saw, they fell even harder as I had fallen even harder. We stood there, we took in the views, the serenity and the peace and I knew I had my answer. They posed the question “what would Ash do?”. And I knew right then. Ash would choose beauty, serenity, peace. He would choose the place that reminds us why we live on this tiny little beach. And then it was easy. The decision came natural. And the thing is, I always knew in my heart which one I wanted, where the boys and I should make our new home, our new life, our fresh start. But second-guessing myself, and my heart, is something I excel at.
Same thing happened with house plans. I asked all those people again. I had narrowed my search down to 2, again, knowing in my heart what I wanted, but seeking out other opinions. Which is not a bad thing. And again, the majority chose the one that I did not. The easier build, the cheaper build. But, again, I went with my heart, chose the more difficult road and can’t wait to see our dreams come to fruition.
I have a hard time trusting myself. I struggle with making decisions. I seek approval from others far too often. But what I continue to learn is that I am capable of making tough decisions, I know my own heart and my own mind, I am strong, I am smart and while I will continue to ask for guidance all the time, deep down, I know that I will make the right decision because it is my decision.
See that sweaty, hot, messy, but smiling, girl up there? That’s me! And I just achieved a goal that I’ve been working on since before my husband died. But before … Continue reading Run, Kellie, Run!