Our Anniversary

Today would have been our 7th Wedding Anniversary, and we would have been together for nearly 12 years.  Sometimes I still feel "married", though I'm technically not.  I still feel like a wife, though my husband is no longer here.  I loved being married ... having a partner in life that I shared everything with.  And I know that I'm lucky to have had such a happy, fulfilling marriage.  I miss it.  It can be very lonely at times, even though I'm surrounded by friends.  I just miss him - he was my perfect match.  I dread the thought of having to go through the dating process again.  I don't even know if I'm ready ... I guess it would just depend on the guy and the situation.  *sigh*

I spent some time today looking at our wedding photos and remembering that day, such a wonderful day!  So many great memories, though painful still.  I'm happy for the time we had together.

Happy Anniversary Damien.  You will always have a piece of my heart.

     

My connection to 9/11

The 10th Anniversary of 9/11. It's so hard to believe it's been that long. I remember it happening like it was yesterday. Damien & I were both up early - he for work (when he used to have to commute from Long Beach to Pasadena), and me for school. I had turned on the computer ... it was back when I had AOL, and it was there on the news page - an airplane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. Damien was in the shower, and I ran to put the news on the TV. I yelled into the bathroom that something bad was happening. He came out of the shower, and we both watched in disbelief as it all unfurled in front of our eyes. A tragic day that would change everyone.

I have a connection to that horrible day. It's not because I knew someone who worked in the World Trade Center. It's not because I had a loved one aboard one of those 4 doomed flights. It's not even because I'm from New York, although my family lived there and my brother and sister were born there ... that was before my time. It's a connection that wouldn't come until eight years after the tragedy. 9/11 left thousands of wives and husbands without their spouses, and children with out a parent. In a matter of just minutes, they were gone. Unexpectedly and without warning. Little did I know at the time that I would be standing in their shoes. And though the circumstances were very different, the loss of Damien was tragic and unexpected none the less. My heart breaks for every single on of those families.

I watched some of the Memorial coverage on Sunday, and as I watched those families, and heard them speak, it gave me hope. By seeing that they survived, and could even move on while still keeping their loved ones close, gave me a glimmer of optimism. I am awed by their strength, and draw from it during my bad times. The greatest impact for me was seeing the children of 9/11 - healthy, happy, well-adjusted kids - they hold their deceased mothers or fathers in their hearts, but they seem "ok". It gives me confidence that I may raise my child the same way. Knowing that he can still feel close to his Dad that he hardly got the chance to know. I have this vision for Colin. I hope to have the ability to see it through. I have one idea for achieving this, and will keep you posted ...

There were a couple of readings that they gave at the 9/11 Memorial Service that I'd like to share:

Turn Again to Life

Mary Lee Hall

If I should die and leave you here a while,
be not like others sore undone,
who keep long vigil by the silent dust.
For my sake turn again to life and smile,
nerving thy heart and trembling hand
to do something to comfort other hearts than thine.
Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine
and I perchance may therein comfort you.


From Ecclesiastes:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:


 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.


I hope to find happiness again, for Colin and I.  Damien wouldn't want it any other way.
 

2 years

Has it really been that long? Seems like yesterday, 6 months ago, 5 years ago ... just depending on the moment.

I remember my sister driving me home from the hospital that morning. It was bight, sunny, warm - the complete opposite of how I felt inside. My whole being felt numb and overwhelmed. All I could think about while sitting in the passengers seat of my car was how Damien & I were never going to do anything together again. As we passed by a few of our favorite restaurants, I thought "we are never going to eat together their again" - and the same thoughts went through my head for the shops, parks, and even the gym that we had frequented. It was such a sad helpless feeling. That I can remember like it was yesterday. I had no idea the hell I was going to go through - the absolute lows, the day-to-day struggles, the stress and extreme sadness. The gut-wrenching heartache that no one should ever have to know.

But somehow, I have survived. I've come a long way from that day. Not to say that it's "easier" ... I've just learned how to deal with things, and I've become used to the way things are, knowing that they are never going to go back to the way they were. Moving forward, but still looking back sometimes. I know that I just have to keep going, no matter what. Afterall, I have a little guy totally relying on me, and I can't let him down. And when things get bad, I still feel like Damien is here, guiding me.

Two steps forward, one step back. That's how it is sometimes.

My whole life plan has changed ... so what do I do now? Where will we go and how will we get there? I don't know ... not yet anyway. There's still so much to figure out, and I just try to take it one day at a time, and one project/problem at a time. At least I feel I am thinking with a slightly clearer head nowadays. I still miss Damien every day and think about him all the time. I know I always will ...

~Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end~

Landslide

I took my love and I took it down
Climbed a mountain and turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Till the landslide brought it down

Oh, mirror in the sky - What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
I don't know, I don't know

Well, I've been afraid of changin'
Because I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder, even children get older
And I'm getting older, too

So, take my love, take it down
Climb a mountain and turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well, the landslide will bring it down
The landslide will bring it down

Going, going ...

Gone.  Just like that.  Damien's name has been removed from our mortgage.  And I hated doing it.  But upon the advice of a financial advisor, it has been recommended that I remove Damien's name off of all our bills and financial matters.  I feel like I'm deleting him out of my life, and it's a horrible feeling.  The next thing I have to tackle is his cell phone.  I can't bring myself to turn it off yet, but it's a huge waste of money, and I don't have any money to waste.  I'm giving myself  'til the end of summer ...

Just a tiny piece of all the heart-breaking details that need to be taken care of when someone passes away.

It's been almost 2 years already, and it's still hard to accept that he's gone sometimes.  I still have those moments when I turn around and expect to see him standing there with that ever-present smile on his face.  A smile that now only exists in photographs.

And sometimes, when Colin is sleeping, I'll sit and watch the airplanes taking off from John Wayne airport.  It helps me remember all the wonderful trips Damien & I had taken together.  And in some way, that brings me a little bit of peace. 

And I'd like to think that when Colin and I are flying somewhere, we might just be a little bit closer to him ...



Fox Glacier, New Zealand, getting ready to climb



New Zealand - Damien with his favorite dessert, carrot cake

Keep Calm ...

"This too shall pass, just keep calm and carry on ..."

This statement has become my motto, a daily mantra of sorts.  Lately, I've been having to repeat it over and over again to maintain my sanity.  These past few days have been hard, and I'm not exactly sure why.  It's been a trail of never-ending confusion, stress, and worry, sadness and frustration, with some anxiety to top it all off.  Could it be lack of sleep?  The endless attention that my 3 year old all of a sudden requires and the whining/crying/falling apart that follows when he doesn't get what he wants?  The flood of memories brought about by old photos?  The fact that, as much as I try to ignore it, that Father's Day is tomorrow?  The every day reality of having to go it on my own, without my partner to stand by me, help me, and hold me up?  The lack of control that I feel over my life right now?

I've just felt out of sorts this past week ... and just hoping that this, too, shall pass.

This picture of Damien was from the 4th of July, 2009.  It always amazed me that he could smile and truly be happy, no matter what.  At this point, he had to wear the oxygen 24/7, and had a difficult time getting around.  But he was happy to have his family & friends - just to be with us.  I try to draw strength from that ... he has taught me a lot.

Just breathe ...

My absent mind ...

There are still times when I feel like I've lost my mind ... literally - where did it go?  Part of it comes from having a 3 year old, but I think most of it comes from the loss of my partner in life.  There are still many times when I need him, and instinctively reach out for that which is no longer there ...
Last Monday, after having a rough morning with the toddler who woke up far too early for his (and my) own good, I managed to mindlessly slice off a good chunk of my pinkie finger with a mandolin.  It was lunch time, and there I was with Colin sitting at the counter while I made him a sandwich.  Then he said he really wanted some cucumber too, so out came the evil mandolin.  I sat there slicing away, staring out the kitchen window, tired already and wishing I wasn't so alone in this - then bam, the burning pain of the cut.  It bled like crazy, but I just grabbed some gauze and wrapping and figured a nice tight wrap would do the trick - which it did, for a while.  So later that afternoon, as Colin woke from his nap, I thought I had better check on the cut, because it was really throbbing.  The instant I removed the wrap, it started bleeding again - a lot!  And at that very moment, for just one split second, my instinct was to call Damien.  He would come home and watch the baby while I went to urgent care ... he would take care of everything ...

Was it from the pain in my finger, or in my heart, that caused this temporary mind lapse?  This still happens from time to time.  It's weird.  It's sad.  But it also goes to show how much he is still with me ... in my mind and heart.  He made a profound impact on my life.  And despite the outcome, I wouldn't change any of it.  I only wish we had more time together, all of us, as a family. 

My finger is doing ok, healing slowly.  My mom came over to take care of Colin while I went to the doctor.  And after all of that, he decided that he didn't want the cucumbers after all.