A tale of two lives...
It’s been four months now since my husband died. Writing that sentence still doesn’t make any sense when I read it, even though I live with the gravity of that fact every minute, of every day. The thing about grieving (for me, anyway), is how much it feels like I’m living a life divided. I can’t even say that it’s only split into two; in fact, so far, grieving very much feels like having some form of multiple personality disorder. There are times I feel pathetic and terrified, like I’m (hypothetically) cowering in the corner waiting for the feeling to pass. There are quick flashes of moments where my heart is convinced that Kenny isn’t gone, he’s just “elsewhere,” at work or golfing…I want to shoot him a text that I ran into someone, or heard something on the radio, or read that some band is touring we’d want to see. Then there are times of reflection; where I assess and reassess the last few years. Where, when I’m being brutally honest with myself, that my hindsight can see that Kenny as I knew him has been gone a long time. That the guy I’m thinking of texting or calling hasn’t been around in more than two years. Those times are hard. They say hindsight gives you 20/20 vision, but it can also be a searing hot poker.
Then there is this new “me." Single mom “me." The “me" who has to make all the decisions on my own, without help from anyone. Who has been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone, challenging myself to continue to live, not just survive. My own personal cheerleader. The “me" who has no choice but to be confident in my ability to care for three kids on my own. The weirdest thing about all of these thoughts and feeling is that they can all occur in the span of a minute. I can be happy, sad, confident, devastated, excited and terrified LITERALLY all at once. If it sounds exhausting, that’s because it IS exhausting. After Kenny passed, hospice sent across a pamphlet about how tiring it is to grieve…they weren’t joking.
During my “better” minutes, I’ve managed to make some pretty big decisions. Hard ones. Scary ones. But I’ve made them, and am trying hard to roll with them; hoping that they work out. Sometimes, the guilt makes me take pause. If he can’t be here, how can I do all of these things? How can I make these big decisions without him? But the truth is that, even in my worst state, I know that I have no other choice. I can’t stay living in his parent’s living room. I can’t ignore my kids, their needs, the fact that THEY have lives that have to keep moving. I’m doing the best with what I’ve got. Some days it’s enough, some days I try to cut myself slack where I can. I keep my goals for the next year simple. I want to take the time to figure myself out. To heal. To write. To set up our home. To take care of me, to take care of our kids. To be PRESENT as much as possible.
Which brings me here…to my new site. I’m so proud, and so lucky to have such fabulous friends who helped make it happen. When trying to come up with a name for it, my friends and I brainstormed, always kind of incorporating the “mom” factor; and time and again I’d say that one of my goals for the site would be to write, to heal, to gain momentum in life after this terrible experience…after the tenth or so time saying as such, it hit me like a big, bright lightbulb…momentum…MOMentum…strength or force gained by motion or by a series of events…pretty perfect, huh? Thank you for coming over here with me. I’m hoping you’ll continue to join me on my journey through widowhood, single parenthood, regular old life and everything in between.