Saturday, March 15, 2008

Processing and Stages

I have been thinking of this a lot the past few days. Processing Grief and the stages of grief they tell us we go through. I belief each person's grief is entirely their own, not definable. I have never put much stock in stages such as denial and acceptance. Each loss, each life is more complex than that.

Several people have asked me where is the anger. Those who know me in real life and/or know the whole story, accept that I will never feel anger at my husband. I am not capable. The words I have written here, the cause, the hurt, the reaction are truly just a slice of a horrendous story. An almost unbelievable story. My husband falls outside of the normal psychological makeup of one who is lost this way. He is not "textbook" which is why I have always disliked easy answers for life's troubles. His decision was wrong, especially in light of the situation and the people it involved. I am not deluding myself here. I have close friends and family who could verify this for me. This is not Laura, not wanting to face the truth. When I say the story reads like something out of a fantastical novel, I am not exaggerating...much. It is also why it is sometimes hard to write here and read some comments because I haven't, and cannot, give the full story here. Suffice to say, if you knew the whole story, you could not find yourself angry at my beloved either. In so many ways, he was always the boy (the boy abandoned) who spent his life helping, and trying to make things better for others. And this was the only time he was wrong with that intention. This was not a man who wanted to leave me. Again, no delusions here.

James and Nik went out on a date together. She asked him if he would like to go and see "Horton Hears a Who" with her tonight and out for dinner. It was nice of her to ask and he was excited about it so I paid their way. I hope they have a good time. Sitting here, alone in the house, is a glimpse at the future. A future with them off on their own. I confess it scares me because where I had imagined there would be quiet nights spent with my love...there will be huge empty nights, filled with books and loneliness.

For now that is how I feel. My love for my husband... my family...what we had...was so big, I kicked out anything else that interfered. I guess I must find myself as a one now. As a just me. And that sucks.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad Laura and a Meme. Meme First

Jess has tagged me for a meme, so I will do that first. No rules, so I will just spill them (7 random things about me) as I think of

1. When I was young (age 10-16) I didn't want to have kids. I wanted to grow up, live in the city, wear boots with heels and be a career girl.

2. I got my first cavity at the age of 32ish (it could have been 31).

3. My dentist is the older sister of an acquaintance from high school.

4. One of her assistants is the sister in law of one of Leonard's good friends.

5. Her (the dentist's) husband is one of my older brother's best friends from high school.

6. I have run out of interesting factoids about my dentist's office.

7. Oh, one is extremely difficult to numb my teeth for some reason. I found that out very painfully with the first cavity, mentioned above.

Thanks Jess...That was fun. I'm going to tag Ronnie, Laura, and Rebecca

Moving right along. Yes I am good at the segue...

Day two of meet a friend at the gym went great... I met the friend (my dad's girlfriend), picked her up, drove to the gym, started talking in the car, got a little misty eyed, and said,"Yes..." to "Hey you wanna go get some coffee?" Yes, I am bad. In my defense (and this is why I'm not a lawyer), we did sit in the parking lot of the gym for the 30 or so minutes that I would have been cirucuit training. I felt only slightly guilty.

Tonight, James and I watched "Daddy Daycamp", another of those camp type movies where big expensive camp challenges cheap little camp to an Olympics of some sort. You can guess what happens after. We are going to watch another movie later but James took a World of Warcraft break. Nik is out with her best friend and boyfriend. Letting go is so very hard to do and I don't care if is 18, you must still check in with over active imaginated Mama.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Good Intentions...

I meant to write here...truly I did. Instead, I made a decision to spill the worst of it into my paper journal this week, instead of onto all of you. It is a lovely journal that my brother bought for me a few years back. Tooled, pressed "recycled" leather with an interchangeable insert. I have filled 5 inserts up since then, and I shall probably break the record this year with three inserts already used up.

You see, it was like this: I spiraled very far down this week. And, yes, I was afraid to put it all out here, because I anger and scare myself sometimes. Because I sometimes think that this might be the best I ever get. Which is a sometimes dull, plodding through life, with bits of smiles sprinkled in over time spent with my children, a knowing I have to do this. A forceful acknowledgement that this is my life now, whether I want it or not. Because I still do believe that life is a gift, and I cannot take it for granted. My children need me. My friends need me. My father needs me...

...and then he tells me how it is "Time To Move On". I have discussed it here before; the many angles my father uses to try and "shake me out of it"... "It's killing me to see you like this", "I miss my best friend", "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you", "You're not creating any sense of normal for the children", "He held you back", "You can be better because of can be better for losing him", "Stop This Right Now"... Followed by "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I love you, I only want you to be happy again and I won't ever bring it up again..."...until, of course, the next time I see you crying. I didn't mean to make you cry. Only he isn't the one who made me cry. Leonard made me cry...and only Leonard could truly only make me stop. No, I don't cry all the time. I cry worst at times when I see my son so sad, my daughter looking at me, the places we used to be all the time, his empty chair, his senior picture (God he was gorgeous), our bed, his clothing, our wedding pictures. This sounds like I cry all the time, but I don''s just been a lot lately, as winter drags on and reality sets in even deeper. But I get it out, and I went back to the gym (which heartily stinks, but anything to kick those endorphins into gear) and I steel myself against the pain, and long for him to hold me, all at the same time. I just felt so very alone today, after my father left. I have told him that he doesn't have to do take some time away from me. I've mentioned that here before. I love seeing him, but hate it to. These should be happy times for him, after a lifetime of loneliness.

I am still here, I am just not the same, even though those who love me best wish for it. I wish for it to because it would mean that somehow the fates allowed Leonard to come back to me.

I bit of the "old me" resurfaced this week. I allowed myself to get into heated political arguments on a message board I used to frequent. I'm not quite as nice though..and I'm sure I made the ignore lists of a few.

We picked up Nicole's proofs today...Wow, this is really real, I have an "almost" graduate. That can't be, when I am only 29.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Ohai, I can haz sleep now? lulz

First off, thank you very much Heather(anonymous) for your words. The person in question was not my father, but someone still closer to me, whom I adore with all my heart and whose pain is my pain. I find it comforting to know that so many still wish to read the words that I write. This (along with my paper journal) is my outlet and I do, sometimes, find myself hiding from myself. I guess, wanting to present a healthier, processing this all fine-thank you, kind of me. A lot of times it's a bit farcical. Those are the days I immerse myself in reading the blogs of others (read: all of you) and forgetting about things for awhile.

Nicole was okay with me not going. My children realize (on some level) what a truly magical (yes this sounds flighty and Danielle Steele-ish, but it's the truth so I can't help it) family life we had...before. They realize and work with me on trying to forge ahead to something new. If not what we want, at least palatable to us all. This is tough at times. There are days where James would give everything to just work on something in the garage, with his dad. Last week I stood at the window, crying, as I watched my son hammer together a bench all on his own. I superimposed the image of his father, on the ground next to him, over the image. There were so many times I could pick that image from. They spent so much time putzing out there together. I have pictures of my baby boy with a shovel 2 times his height, out in the snow with daddy. My favorite picture is of my 1 1/2 year old sweeping the driveway, while his daddy and his grandpa (both now gone) talked above him. Too many images that leave too big a hurt on some days.

I have images, really all too recent images of Nicole and her dad...hunched over the engine block of the Intrepid. He, wanting to give her all the knowledge she needed as a new driver. She, eager to please her dad and cleaning up the car...down to the detailing. He was so proud to give that car to her and to see her drive off for the very first time. I know that hurts her every single time she gets behind the wheel. Sometimes in small ways. Sometimes... again in ways that hurt too much.

It is hard to explain...this love we shared. I miss the man who finished my sentences or knew when to leave me be on a very bad day. I miss the man who gave me my life back...who made my daughter ours...who soothed his new son in his first moments on earth...who cried and begged me not to leave him on the way to the hospital that one scary night...who worked 6, sometimes 7, days for us...never complaining...even though I knew how weary he was. I only ever wanted him to be happy. And he was. And we were. And so were our children. So when I say he was the biggest thing in my life I guess I mean he was the biggest thing in all of our lives. Without him, we are not we anymore. We're attempting to find a self, a family, without him. And that wasn't in the blueprint.

Oh. About the title? I couldn't really think of one and am running on a lack of sleep of late so...well...there it is.