One Year

This day (I’m writing this on the 24^th) has been on my mind for quite some time. Mostly because I wasn’t sure how I would handle it, what it would bring up inside me, and if it would set my healing back.  The answers: I handled it by declaring this the Weekend of Me, it obviously brought a lot of memories and emotions to the surface, and if anything, it propelled my healing forward.

My bad days weren’t the 23^rd and 24^th like I thought they would be. They were actually the 21^st and 22^nd…Thursday and Friday. Last year the 24^th was on Friday. So Thursday night was not so good. The crawling up in a ball and convulsively crying type of night. I felt suffocated by being inside my little cottage so I went to the beach and stayed there until the tidal wave leveled out and I felt like I could go to sleep. I kept looking at the clock recalling what had happened at each moment.  That was also suffocating so I drank a bottle of wine and watched the preliminary Olympic trials for men’s synchronized diving…man those guys are good.

So after a rough Thursday and Friday I felt like I needed a better plan for the weekend. That’s when I declared the Weekend of Me where I would do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and however I wanted. This isn’t much different from how I live my life after Kevin died anyway because I have adapted the survival method of doing what makes me happy for the next second, minute, hour, etc. This time, however, I would spend more money and go big.

So Saturday I got a peppermint pedicure and deep tissue massage, ate crab for lunch, went to the movies, ate lots of buttery popcorn, and watched the sunset on the beach at Buzzard's Bay in front of my cozy little cottage.

Today I took the ferry to Nantucket and had a surprisingly great time.

I rented a scooter and drove around the entire island stopping at a few random beaches to take in the rays of the beautiful day and snap some pictures.  For those of you who have never been on a scooter scooting around an island I highly recommend it…I dare you to be sad on a scooter traveling from beach to beach surrounded by beauty.

Beach on the South Shore

The last beach I stopped at was Wauwinet Beach. It is located near the very tip of the north shore and very private. The only beach goers are hotel guests or the rich people renting the enormous vacation houses.

As I was walking to the beach I noticed a couple perfectly shaped and completely intact shells. As I got closer to the beach I noticed there were hundreds just like it. So I did what any sensible person from a state that doesn’t border the ocean and rarely sees one would do…I started gathering as many of those suckers as I could. The only shells I have seen this perfect were from souvenir stores. Any other beach I’ve been on have either been picked by those souvenir stores or the shells are broken by the thousands of tourists that sit on the beach each summer.

I came to two conclusions 1) the people going to this beach are so rich that they scoff at the idea of bringing home a simple sea shell to their home, or 2) the beach is nationally protected and you aren’t supposed to remove the shells.  I’m gonna go with #1 just to make myself feel better.  At least I got some great gifts for Kevin’s nieces and nephew : )

 Wauwinet Beach

All in all, they day was full of beauty. I reveled in the fact that it’s been one year since my life was shattered into a million pieces yet I’m still here. My life has changed by an incredibly tragic event…yet I am still able to see good, to see hope, and to see joy. Everyday I get up and I move forward to honor him.

 Beach on South Shore

 Sankaty Lighthouse

Houses at Sconset Beach

 

 Steps Beach

 Steps Beach

 Scare Crow made of beach items at Steps Beach

 Kevin graciously let me do everything I wanted for our wedding, he only had one request...strawberry filling in our cake...so granted him that one wish. To honor him, I had some strawberry ice cream by the harbor before my ferry headed back to the Cape.

 I didn’t see any dragonfly’s today but I feel like even though my chances of seeing one were dramatically increased simply by being close to water, Kevin was still sending me a message. I feel like the whole day he was telling me “You don’t need me today…you got this all on your own babe.”

How it Happened

As I write this entry I am sitting 50yds away from a beautiful waterfront cottage that I am staying at during my rotation for General Medicine in Onset, MA…a small community located in the infamous Cape Cod. I’ve wrote about this in my entry for June 14^th because it was the source of my “incredibly happy moment.” However…the daunting one year anniversary of Kevin’s death is vastly approaching and has left me drowning in a sea of memories and realities. It’s been one year and he is still dead. It’s still not a nightmare, and I still will never ever get to talk to him, see him, or hold him again.

I feel like I have been hiding from my pain to some extent because everyone does not know the truth…or maybe they do and still ignore it like I do. I have never wrote about the day he died in this blog and I feel like I have done that for many reasons. I did lie to people in the beginning about the nature of his death because I hated talking about it and I knew it would provoke countless painful questions that I didn’t even know myself. I also avoided addressing his death because it didn’t matter how he died…he still wasn’t coming back.

However, in the days approaching the one year anniversary I feel compelled to write about that day as a step toward healing. I started this blog just after he died as a way to let my friends and family know how I was.  That is not what this blog is today. It has been my saving grace…an outlet for my grief. A way to stay connected to a widowed community that I so desperately needed in the beginning. I read widow(er) blogs reverently in the beginning and they gave me one very powerful feeling: hope. I knew that I was not alone when I read those blogs and maybe someone who is newly widowed currently reads mine in search of the same validation that I needed: I was not alone and it does get better…somehow, someway, it will get better.

On that same note I feel like I owe it to myself to talk about the worst day of my life. That day shattered not only my world…but the world of Kevin’s family and friends.

I had just flown into Boise around 12:30am (mountain standard time) on the morning of June 24^th, 2011. My grandpa was not doing well and he was going to be honored in the Hazelton, ID 4^th of July parade that weekend. I didn’t want to miss it. I knew this was possibly going to be the last time I saw him alive. Kevin was also going to pick me up in Boise the afternoon of the 24^th so we could drive to Hazelton together and spend some much needed time together and with my family. The only ones who knew about Kevin and I coming home for the weekend were my parents who so graciously funded my plane ticket home considering Kevin and I’s bank account was less than sufficient to afford such a trip. We were going to surprise everyone else.

I spoke to Kevin at exactly 1:15am for the last time. We exchanged how excited we were to see each other said “goodnight” and “I love you” for the last time. At 5:03am I got a phone call from Kevin’s little brother. When I looked at the caller ID I just assumed it was Kevin calling me from Ian’s phone (not unusual because he constantly let his phone battery die) before he went to work. I answered with a chipper hello followed by Ian’s voice telling me the news that dropped my heart into my stomach. “Kevin’s been shot…they’re working on him…he has vitals and life flight was there working on him.” I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t comprehend what Ian had just told me on the other line. This couldn’t be..I thought to myself…I just talked to him, he’s coming to pick me up today.  I don’t remember what exactly happened next but I do remember calling my friend in Boise who I knew would answer. I was alone at the time and I knew he was going to die. I didn’t want to be alone when they told me he was dead.

The next few minutes were a blur. The one thing I could absolutely not comprehend was that he had been shot.  I remember someone from the hospital telling me that they had found his truck and my mind immediately went to a more plausible explanation. He was in a car accident. This was a logical explanation that I could actually understand. It was logical that he had been in a car accident…it was not logical that he had been shot. While all this was going on I was back and forth on the phone with my parents, my brother, Kevin’s sister, and everyone at the hospital in Cedarville, CA.  I wanted to stay optimistic but my experience working as a scribe in the emergency room overpowered my hope for survival. I knew what it meant when Ian said “they were working on him.” It meant they were doing everything they could but the chance of him coming out of this alive was very, very small.

At 5:37am Ian confirmed what I already knew. Kevin was dead.  I had stayed the night at a friends apartment that happened to be next door to the church that Kevin and I attended when we lived in Boise. Immanuel Lutheran. I remembering sitting on the curb basically waiting for the inevitable.

For about 20 minutes I had a sharp clarity that came from nowhere. I had to call my school and tell them what happened and that I didn’t know when…or even if I would be returning.  At this point my mind still understood that it was a car accident so that’s what I told the director of my program.  I believe at some point during the day she sent and email to the rest of my class informing them that he had died in a car accident. It wasn’t until 2 hours after he died that I talked to one of Kevin’s friends who made it very clear what had actually happened.

Kevin was mistaken as an intruder at a friend’s house and shot in his right side. The Surprise Valley EMS, hospital crew, and life flight team did the best they could but his injuries were too great.

The amount of strength it just took me to write that was more than anybody could imagine. I have discussed that day at length with Kevin’s closest friends and family but I knew there were still people out there that haven’t heard the story, or even heard the truth.  I initially let my classmates believe that it was a car accident because I hated talking about it and I knew they had the same mindset as me. A car accident was logical.  People die from car accidents all the time, but a gun shot would have brought questions. Now that it’s been a year I feel like it’s finally time to talk about it.

Like I said before, this took more strength to write than any other posts…it was also the most healing.

I miss Kevin every single day, I think about him at least 90-100% of the day, and I love him more now than ever.

This week will be hard…but I’m searching for the healing steps forward and I believe this was one of them.

Alot has happened since my last post. This included attending a Zac Brown Band concert, moving from Bangor, ME to Cape Cod for my new rotation, taking a test, making new friends, and....actually having an amazingly happy moment.

I know right...the far most important part for me has been the amazingly happy moment. It was Thursday June 7th. I had just taken my end of rotation exam and was getting ready for much needed night out with my girls from PA school that I only get to see every 5 weeks now that we are in our clinical year. I had just dropped a friend off to get her car and I was sitting at a stop light (sorry for the exact detail but I feel like the set up is very important). I was listening to my Zac Brown Band CD...which I have done often since the concert in Bangor (amazing concert by the way). The song "Knee Deep" came on and I suddenly felt a surge of happiness...true happiness. I know you may be a little confused because to be honest, I was extremely confused. Why had I all the sudden felt happy? Why in that moment did life seem to not suck? And what was it about this song that triggered this moment?

Then it hit me. I was about to move to Cape Cod for 5 weeks, live in a cottage on the beach for free...(I'll post about that on another day), and attend my general medicine rotation in which I get Wednesdays off (more time for the beach). The days are getting longer and I was finally able to feel the warm sun on my skin again. 

And about the song. I've always taken the song "Knee Deep" literally. Meaning...actually sitting on a beach somewhere in paradise. But the more I listened to these lyrics the more I understood. Paradise can mean anything. Paradise is YOUR happiness, it's MY happiness. Whatever that may be, whenever that may come, and however that may feel. In that moment...I had a true paradise moment. I know it will come again. And maybe next time it will last longer than a few moments. Maybe a few hours? days? weeks? months...even years? This is possible. It can happen.

After I had my moment of true happiness, I started bawling uncontrollably. I know it sounds like two extreme emotions but it wasn't as insane as it sounds. I started crying because I was so happy that I had a happy moment. Even though it was only a moment. It was MY moment. It was a truly happy moment. One that I haven't had since June 24th, 2011. I felt like Kevin was with me the whole time telling me...it was okay to have this moment, he wants me to be happy again. And even though I am still in the baby steps...they are steps forward. The picture above is from Aquinnah Beach in Martha's Vineyard. A tangible paradise. A place of peace and tranquility. For now I will continue to search for my paradise within.

The video is a little off from what my post is about but a little comical anyways. The part made my heart skip was the very beginning of a shot of a direction sign for Puerto Vallarta and Manzanillo in Mexico. Our honeymoon was in Puerto Vallarta. The lyrics that really hit me in my moment were in the chorus:

Wishing I was knee deep in the water somewhere
Got the blue sky breeze and it don't seem fair
Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair
Sunrise there's a fire in the sky
Never been so happy
Never felt so high
And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise

June.

Just four little letters that carry an unbelievable amount of emotion.

I can't believe it's June. I usually don't know the date...I wake up, get dressed, go to work, and....well...work. It's not until I have to write the date on something that I actually realize what the day is.

The last couple days have been good. Not great by any means...but not terrible. And I truly know the difference...trust me. I felt a pull of deep emotion and thought about the day Kevin died all day long. And then I realized why. I think my heart knew before my mind. It's June. JUNE!!!

I was talking about the good and bad days with another widow and how I never really knew what a true bad day was, or for that matter, what a true good day was. We believe (and pretty much every single person who has suffered true tragedy that I have discussed this with) that people who do not know what deep, intense, heart shattering, breath stopping sadness is...do not know what true happiness is. They are blissfully unaware that "life is good" and "all is well" and if you do good things, good things will happen to you.  I have met some of the most amazing do-gooders in the world who were not immune to tragedy.

Most of those people that I have come across are young, naive, and completely content with not truly knowing what a really good day feels like. I know this because I was one of those people. I was apart of the "nothing bad will ever really happen to me" club. I was happy...very happy. But now I know that I never truly had a remarkable day (other than the day I married Kevin of course) because I hadn't known what true sadness really felt like.

That being said, I still haven't had a truly happy day........yet. I added the yet, because I know that happiness...true happiness...is in my future. I still miss Kevin every single day, and even more on days like today. But in his passing he gave me a gift greater than anything I could have ever expected...the gift of truly living, loving, and appreciation for each and every day. I would take that life lesson back in an instant...I would love to be blissfully unaware of what life could really be like. But I don't have that choice anymore...I am a widow now.

I appreciate the good days so much, because I know what the bad days feel (and look) like.  I know this month is going to bring on some of my worst days yet...but I will keep the faith, stand tall, and push through.  I know there are good days...No...GREAT days to come. Days filled with TRUE happiness, beauty and love.