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.

I have been in the ED for 3 weeks now and I have got to sew a fair share of lacerations...not even close to as many as I would like but I think it would be against policy to go around cutting people just so I could sew them back up. I also get to do what they call an Incision and Drainage which is pretty much a huge zit or an infection under the skin that cause an abscess...you might have seen the youtube videos going around labeled "Huge cyst extraction" or...well you could pretty much watch every video made of abscess' being excised after you search for that one (warning: if you have a weak stomach or do not like cool repulsive things...do not watch). I love the days when I get to do stuff like that. The best part is, though...that they always feel better after the cut is sewed, or the abscess has been drained. Sometimes their cut may look like their finger is going to fall off and two or three stitches later...it looks like a finger again. Sometimes theses people will get antibiotics so prevent a further infection and they are sent on their way. They will have a small scar to remember their day in the ER...but their lives will go on as if nothing ever happened.

It's been 11 months now. 11 months!! I can't help but to think about how the death of Kevin has left such an incredible wound that I wonder if it will ever be able to fully be repaired. My heart was shattered into a million pieces.  There has been days that I felt like it was being slowing put back together...piece by piece. And then there are the days when it all falls apart again. I can't predict when these days will come. Trust me...I've tried. Sometimes there are days that I have to brace myself for...only to feel nothing. And then...wham...like a nor'easter I am shoved to the ground in a white out of tears and anguish.

I wish it were as easy as a stitch and an antibiotic. My heart would be fixed and assured that it would stay that way.

But then again...the cuts on my heart are ones that I have earned. Everyday I am rebuilding and transforming into the new me. Everyday I am learning, growing, and becoming a person that I know Kevin would be so proud of. A quick fix would deny me of the very person that I am still becoming. It would deny me of a higher love that I know I am capable of giving.

Though it is hard to see through the fog now...I know one day...in the far future...that my cuts will only be scars. Those scars will carry the story of who I once was and the journey it took to be the person I am still becoming.

I decided it was time for a change. The old blog template was what I created a month after Kevin died because I didn't know what else to do. I had no motivation, creativity, or will to live. I started this blog for the sole purpose of informing my friends and family on the West that I was "ok" and still here. At times I refused to answer calls...and even when I did, I was either crying or severely depressed. The blog...for me...became much more than that. It was an outlet for my grief and a way to write down that yes...I sometimes I did have a good day and it was okay to tell the world that even in the depths of complete darkness...sometimes a flicker of light is all that is needed to restore hope of more good days to come.

Very early on (within days) I began researching the widowed community and found that unfortunately there is a large group of us who did not choose the life we now live...it was chosen for us. However, through the pain, suffering, and complete heartache...we have found a way through it all. We are all in this together, we are all here for each other no matter what.

A widow/widower is not just someone who is legally married to someone of the opposite sex. They are someone who suffers a profound loss of a person they loved unconditionally and vowed to spend the rest of their lives with. The people who carry the badge of widow/widower are not always married, they may not even had the opportunity to be engaged yet. They may be gay, strait, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, etc, etc, etc.  No matter what the circumstance, the outcome is still the same. We lost the love of our life.

Though I am a member of the widowed club...I am also a member of a group that has many, many more members. The group that has experienced a loss so great, their entire foundation of being was shaken to the core.  We are all around. We are the wife/husband staring into space at the stop light because the divorce papers were final today. We are the father of 6 who is weeping in Wal Mart because he just lost his job and does not know how he will provide for his family. We are the new mother of a beautiful baby that was just told she has stage IV breast cancer. We are the crabby old man in the grocery store that just lost his wife of 60 years. We are the rebellious 10 year old that lost her dad a year ago when he was serving in Iraq. We are the teenager who hides behind tattoos and earrings because his best friend died in a car accident and he cannot yet deal with his pain. We are the mother who refuses to hold your baby because she just buried hers.

More than anything I have realized that there are people all around who understand how painful it is for me to see a newlywed couple, a glowing pregnant mother, or a even flowers sent to someone by their adoring husband.  My eyes have been opened in a way that I wish had never happened, but always wished had been. I am so blessed to have the people in my life and the opportunity to experience each and every day...the good ones, and the bad ones...because not everyone gets that opportunity.

First...If you haven't read anything about my dragonfly's before you should read Aug. 23rd, Nov. 6th, Dec. 7th, and Feb 29th. 

Today....was a good day!! I have definitely been in need of one the last couple weeks, especially last week. I was beginning to wonder what a good day felt like and finally....it feels like this.

It all started with the first patient I got to see. It was a hand laceration, simple, no crazy curvy lines or bones sticking out. And I got to suture it!! No big deal for people who have been doing this forever, but a very big deal for me...because it was my first time. My 3rd day on emergency medicine and I absolutely love it. I may not love it by the end of 5 weeks...but for now I love it. It is fast paced, it is ALL interesting to me...and my preceptors are all very awesome to work with.

Now back to the day.  So I was on a post-suture high with a goofy perma smile and I just wanted another laceration to come through the door so I could say "Oh don't worry doc, I got this." After my high wore off a little I got a sharp pain of sadness that hit me out of nowhere. The reason? I can't tell Kevin. I couldn't send him a quick text and tell him how incredible it was.

And then I saw it...my first dragonfly of the day. It was on a nurses scrubs just staring strait at me as tears were welling up and almost ready to fall. The smile came back. The high was back. I knew he was there, I knew he saw, and I knew he was telling me how proud of me he was.

So the day went on, I had a few other interesting patients, but no more lacerations. As I was sitting in the charting room talking with my preceptor a nurse walked in and had a dragonfly necklace on...I just stared and finally I said..."I really like your dragonfly necklace," and showed her the one I was wearing (see post from Dec. 7th). She then showed me the dragonfly tattoo on her side. My preceptor looked a little funny and told me how she loved dragonfly's and proceeded to show me her dragonfly tattoo on her shoulder...I'm really not joking. The tattoo also said:

"Je vois que vous, et votre belle âme" which is French for  "I see you, and your beautiful soul."

I almost lost it, it literally took every ounce of strength to hold my tears in. If I hadn't been in the middle of the emergency department with doctors, nurses, and patients surrounding us...it would have been like the middle of one of the Oprah episodes when she just tells some homeless person that she's going to give them a million dollars. But I kept it in. The preceptor could tell something was up so I told her that dragonfly's have a very special meaning to me and I would have to tell her at a different time so I didn't flood the room out with my tears at that point.

As the day went on one of my patients had an orthopedic issue that was going to need physical therapy. The physical therapist had evaluated the patient and suggested...Dragonfly Therapy. No, again, I'm not kidding. Dragonfly therapy is a physical therapy facility in Bangor, ME. My preceptor was in the room when this happened and she also commented on how bizarre it was that all these dragonfly's just suddenly popped up today.

The rest of the day was great. I had this feeling of peace that I knew he was there...just like he has been the whole time. After I left I went to the grocery store to pick some stuff up for dinner and I had another dragonfly encounter.  My out of date GPS had taken me to 3 grocery stores that were no longer grocery stores and finally I looked on my iPhone. It took me to the only grocery store that I didn't want to go to (due to bad produce and sketchy meats) and since it had been a long day and I was hungry I went in anyway.  As I passed the bakery I just happened to look down at the cakes. And what did I see? Yup, a picture of a dragonfly on a cake.

I know to some who don't believe in signs...especially from the dead...you could chalk all these up to coincidence....but my dragonfly's do not come everyday...they come on very bad days, very good days, and very important days. This was a very good, and important day for me and he knew he had to shower me with gifts somehow. I do have a couple pictures but due to my vagabond, living partially out of my car situation...my iPhone adapter is currently misplaced. Once I locate it, I will post a few pictures.

I miss you and love you more everyday babe.

"When you're going through hell, keep going" - Winston Churchill.

Words that I constantly have to remind myself of.  I know this won't last forever, I know that time is what it takes. Time has definitely helped the last 10 months, but just because there has been more "time" does not mean there is less pain.  The pain is less intense than it was 10 months ago...but there are still times when the wave of grief crashes over my body and washes me away again. Those are the times when the pain is still as intense as it was 10 months ago. The  more time that goes on the less time the waves last...but they still come...and there is no way to escape...just to keep going.

I went on an incredible hike in Acadia National Park yesterday and I am definitely feeling it on my out of conditioned body today.  About half way through I came to an intersection where I could keep going on the the strenuous rocky/steep path or I could take the easy carriage road that would cut the rest of my hike by 3 miles and be an easy walk back to the car.  I thought it was a great stopping point for lunch so I sat and pondered and pretty much had my mind made up. I was tired, my legs were sore and I let myself tell myself that I was too out of shape for the rest of this hike and I already saw some pretty beautiful sites so I was letting myself quit and take the easy way back.

Just as I was packing up my lunch I saw a couple pushing a baby stroller on the path I was about to take back and that prompted my old athlete self to kick my new out of shape self in the ass. There was no way I was going to take the "baby stroller" way out.

So I got up and continued on the trail that led to this:

And This:

And This:

Even though for most of the way I had to maneuver and climb my way through this:

But I made it.

I kept going.

Just like I always will...no matter what hell brings my way.