Month: January 2022

From the very first second that I woke up the morning Kenny had his cardiac arrest in the bed next to me “Why?” ran through my head constantly. Why did this happen to him? Why did this happen to us? Why can’t he just be okay? A hundred different questions of why. I got no answer to any of those why’s that morning.

Those why’s continued all that day and into the next when he died in the ICU with all of us standing around him, holding his hands as he drew his last breath. The why’s continued to haunt me and our children every day.

It’s hard to find any type of gratitude when a tragedy occurs. But, as I tell all the people who come to me for healing sessions, there is always something good to be found in the worst of all situations. Sometimes, you just have to dig very deep to extract it.

As the months have rolled by like a blur, those little bits of gratitude have made themselves known to me. It was hard to see that gratitude in the middle of the storm surrounding Kenny’s death but it is there.

I told our daughter Kaitlin one day when the temperature outside was especially cold, “I bet you never thought you’d hear me say this but I’m glad Dad doesn’t have to work in this cold weather.” She was surprised to hear me say it, but she agreed that it was true. As Kenny got older the harsh cold of winter and searing heat of summer was so hard on him. He said many times “I’m the one that chose this life.” And he was right, he had chosen the life of a carpenter. Working a job indoors would have never made him happy.

I also said that I was thankful Kenny didn’t have his cardiac arrest while he as driving, especially while pulling his work trailer. That would have been a whole other set of problems that would have made things exponentially worse for me. We could have been sued by anyone else involved in the accident. I wouldn’t be able to blame the other people involved, but it would have made things so much worse. He also would have very likely died right then and there.

I’m also grateful that Kenny didn’t have his cardiac arrest while he was on a job. If the homeowner wasn’t home they would have come home to find him unconscious, but more likely, already dead. Had Kenny had the cardiac arrest on a job, he would have been dead before our children and I could have gotten there, especially our son Gage, who lives in Colorado. Gage would not have been able to see his father while he was still alive and he would have lived with that regret the rest of his life. Thankfully, Gage was able to fly in the same day Kenny went to the hospital and got to spend almost a whole day with his dad, even if he was unconscious.

I also think of how Kenny’s body would have been in even worse condition as he got older than 58 years old. The job he did was a hard one and it took a real toll on him physically. I honestly don’t know how he did it all those years. He knew plenty of older carpenters whose bodies were completely wrecked from long years of this type of work and he wasn’t looking forward to that happening as he got older. He doesn’t have to worry about that now. And neither do I. His body was restored to a state of perfection the instant he died. He actually told me that while I was channeling his soul right before he died. He told me “I am restored”. That brought me a small sense of comfort in the horror that we were living through at the time.

It snowed here here the last two weekends. As a construction family, Kenny and I didn’t like snow. Construction is a weather driven business and if the weather’s bad you can’t work. If you can’t work, you don’t make any money. I’m glad Kenny wasn’t here to have to stress about the snow. I cleared all the snow from the sidewalk and the car myself yesterday and it really took its toll on me physically. I spent all day today resting from a sore body. It gave me a whole new appreciation of how hard Kenny worked every day and I felt a little of how his body felt all the time after working so hard, which he did without complaint to take care of his family.

As time continues to go by there will be more things to be grateful for in the tragedy of Kenny’s death. I guess this is part of the grieving process, that as the days, weeks, months, and eventually years roll by, you start to see things in a different light. I believe the pain will always be there, but it will be lessened over time. And, I believe that more things to be grateful for will be shown to us. As the old saying goes, “Things could have been much worse”…..and they certainly could have been. And because they weren’t, I am eternally grateful.

After my husband died, the lost and lonely feelings were unbearable. I didn’t know what to do with myself. During the week I kept my grandson while my daughter and her husband worked. But, on the weekends, I had to leave the house before madness set in.

Kenny had his cardiac arrest in this house, in his sleep, lying next to me in our bed. Even though I was able to bring him back with the CPR I frantically performed on him, he died a day and a half later. As far as I’m concerned, he died in this house.

This house holds such a heavy, sad energy for me that I can’t shake off. It depresses me to be here. Kenny is everywhere in this house. I see him in every piece of furniture, every piece of art hanging on the wall, every dish in the cabinet. There’s nothing he hasn’t touched or used here.

I can’t sit in this house on the weekends and stare at these walls that have his name written all over them. I have to step away from here for my own mental health. I adopted a habit of walking around stores most Saturday’s and Sunday’s. I’m not really shopping, I’m just wasting time because I don’t want to go home. I walk slowly up and down the aisles, looking at everything and nothing all at the same time.

I run my hand over the material of the blankets and pillows as I pass by them. I like the soft minky blankets and velvet pillows the best. I don’t touch the rough ones. I wonder why I can never find turquoise velvet throw pillows anywhere. That was something I complained to Kenny about a lot over the last few years.

I look at all the different coffee mugs and wonder if Kenny would like using one of them instead of the Year of the Rabbit one I bought him years ago. He needed a coffee mug with a large handle so he could fit his overly large fingers through it.

I pick up different pieces of cookware and laugh to myself because Kenny would ask me why I was looking at them since I don’t really like to cook. He’d probably roll his eyes as he said it. He was right though. I don’t really like to cook that much.

I look at the men’s T-shirts to see if they carry his size. He had broad shoulders, a big chest and big arms, and most stores didn’t have any that would fit him. If I do find a shirt in his size I look to see if it has printing on the front or the back. He never liked T-shirts with printed fronts.

I walk by the men’s shoes to see if they have any size 12 extra wide’s like he wore. Usually they don’t. If they do, they’re usually neon colored ones for the basketball court and that’s not shoes he would have ever worn.

I know that a lot of people who’ve lost their spouse do this very same thing. They walk aimlessly around stores because they don’t know what else to do. A good friend of mine told me he used to go walk around the mall a lot after his marriage ended. Like me, he did this as a distraction. Even though he lost his spouse through divorce, and not through death like I did, his loneliness was still very palpable and I felt his pain so much when he was telling me this.

In talking to another friend of mine I told her of my habit of walking around stores on the weekends. She told me a story of someone she knew who had lost their partner and how they did the same thing. A woman walked up to her in a store and said “You’ve lost your partner, haven’t you”. The other woman was shocked and replied that yes she had, and asked her how she knew. The woman said “I could tell. You’re doing the wandering”.

The Wandering.

Yes, that’s exactly what it is. The Wandering.

When my friend told me this story it gave a name and a face to this unwelcome routine. The name sounds like some sad novel about a lonely, homeless soul. And really, that’s what I feel like myself most days.

I wonder how long it will feel this way. I wonder if it will ever get less lonely. I wonder if I’ll stop feeling lost and feel found instead. How long does it take for all this to subside? How long before The Wandering goes away and never returns? I don’t know the answers to these questions and I’m not sure anyone else does either. All I do know is that I wish I never met The Wandering. I wouldn’t wish for anyone else to meet it either.

For now though, The Wandering is my weekend companion. There will come a day that I won’t need it anymore. When that finally happens, I hope I’ll recognize the ones who are doing it themselves so I can send them prayers for healing of their grief. My eyes will meet theirs and I’ll silently tell them “I know exactly what you’re feeling. Just know that The Wandering won’t be with you forever.”

I watched the cartoon movie “Up” with my grandson recently. It’s an endearing story about Carl and Ellie, who met each other in childhood. Carl was a shy boy who was mesmerized by the much more outgoing Ellie. In a blanket fort in Carls room, Ellie shared with him her My Adventure Book scrapbook. Inside the book were pictures of a famous explorer and the far away lands he had been to. On one of the pages Ellie wrote “Stuff I’m Going To Do”. She explained to Carl that the blank pages of her scrapbook were waiting to be filled with all the exciting adventures she was going to go on one day.

The next scene shows Carl and Ellie getting married. They were blissfully happy together and as the images in the movie roll by it’s obvious how much they loved one another. They planned to do many grand things together in the life ahead of them and saved money in a big glass jar in anticipation of the day that would come to fruition. As so often happens, things come up, plans get derailed and money put away for future dreams has to be spent on other things. Eventually, Carl and Ellie’s plans get pushed to a dark corner and forgotten.

As they grew older, Carl and Ellie slowed down but they were still very much in love, just as much as they were on their wedding day. Carl decided to finally buy the tickets for him and Ellie to visit that far-away land they had both dreamed of visiting since their childhood. Before he could surprise her with the tickets though, Ellie fell ill. She never made it on their adventure. Carl was broken-hearted because the great love of his life was now gone and they would never get to make that trip together. He decided to make the trip himself in Ellie’s honor.

After his own adventure he sat down to look through Ellie’s scrapbook. He was filled with sadness that Ellie never got to go on that adventure she had been dreaming of for so long. When he got to the page that said “Stuff I’m Going To Do”, he touched the page with deep regret as tears welled up in his eyes. You can feel the pain that’s shown on Carl’s face. I can imagine that Carl felt like he had failed Ellie in never going on that adventure that they’d planned on so many years ago.

As Carl is about to close the book, he’s surprised to see that the pages are filled with pictures of him and Ellie beyond that page she had written on. There’s a picture of them at their wedding, both of them with big smiles on the faces. There’s one of them dancing, celebrating a birthday, riding in a car together, sitting under their favorite tree together, and many others. On the last page Ellie wrote a little note to Carl that said “Thanks for the adventure-now go have a new one!” It’s in this moment that Carl realizes that his and Ellie’s life together was the adventure. They didn’t need a trip to a far-away land to make their life complete.

I cried when I watched this scene in the movie because it’s the story of Kenny’s and my life together. We had big plans when we were just starting out. There were so many things we wanted to do that never happened. Something always got in the way and prevented those things from being realized. The house we wanted to build together never happened and that bothered Kenny a lot. He could have built the whole thing himself with the skills he perfected over a 40 year career as a master carpenter.

The only vacation we ever took as a family was to Disney World in 2004. We wanted to take our children so many other places over the years but the money was never there to do so. There were also places that Kenny and I wanted to go in the last few years since becoming empty nester’s. That didn’t happen either.

We wanted to find some kind of business we could do together that would be more financially lucrative for us and easier on Kenny than carpentry had been. We never figured out what that business was and so it never happened, just like the other things we had wanted to do.

We both beat ourselves up over the years for the things that didn’t materialize for us. Many times, we felt like failures. It’s hard to see other people have the things you so desperately want but not be able to have them yourself. It was hard for me to watch Kenny carry those feelings of his perceived unworthiness because he didn’t have the things he wanted for us that others did have.

In watching the movie about Carl and Ellie with my grandson, I realized that mine and Kenny’s life together WAS our adventure. We didn’t have the custom built home like we wanted but we did always have a roof over all four of our heads. We didn’t have all the extravagant vacations like we wanted but we made our own fun with our children. We never found that perfect lucrative business to do together but we still managed to get by on what we did make at our jobs. Life didn’t go as we had planned it to all those years ago, but the life that we did have together was a happy one.

Kenny gave me his own “Thanks for the adventure-now go have a new one!” after his death. The outpouring of raw and extreme grief brought about the best writing I’ve done in my entire life. That in turn brought new opportunities to my door that will fulfill one of my lifelong dreams, and for that, I am eternally grateful to him. In death, Kenny is still looking out for me, just as he had done every day of our life together.

What I want Kenny to know is that even though we didn’t have the life we planned, ours was a life well lived. It was a life filled with love, happiness, laughter and joy. It’s a life I wouldn’t trade for all the riches, custom built houses or fancy vacations in all the world for. It only took me watching a cartoon movie with a 4 year old to realize that the adventures Kenny and I had planned on so long ago did in fact come true but in another, much better form. Thank you for the beautiful memories, Kenny. I’ll see you on the other side…….after I’ve lived the new adventures that lie in front of me, gifted by the great love of my life who’s gone on ahead.

After my husband died, I searched the internet for information on the stages of grief. There are about five to seven different stages, depending on which which website you’re reading. Shock, denial, guilt, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance are the ones most people are familiar with. I wanted to read about these steps so I’d know what I’d be facing in the aftermath of my husband’s death. I wanted to be prepared in the best way that I could for the roller coaster of emotions that was coming for me.

In reading about them, I thought that you go through the stages in order. That was logical to me and I assumed that this was the “rule” of going through the stages of grief. That didn’t happen, at least not to me. I have jumped all over these stages, so much so that I feel like the steel ball inside a pinball machine. I’m being slammed up against all the different bumpers, back and forth, and there’s no controlling it. Some days I’m still in shock; some days it still doesn’t seem real. Some days I’m mad as hell that he died and some days I feel terrible guilt for not being able to ultimately save him. Every day I feel some level of depression. The stage of acceptance seems so far off in the distance that it leaves me wondering if it will ever show up. For now, that stage seems unattainable.

There’s one aspect of grief that people don’t really talk about. It’s jealousy, that horrible little green-eyed monster that people who are grieving either don’t want anyone to know they’re experiencing, or they completely deny it exists for them because they’re embarrassed that they feel it. You can also call it resentment or envy. It doesn’t really matter which one because they’re all pretty much the same thing.

Well, let me tell you this……it DOES exist when you’re going through the grief process. It took me a while to admit to anyone else that I was having feelings of jealousy towards other people whose spouses were still alive. I was (still am) ashamed of having those feelings and I feel guilty as hell for feeling them. Maybe writing about it and putting it out there for everyone to read will help alleviate some of that guilt. Maybe it won’t. I don’t really know.

I took me a long while to be able to hit the like button on social media posts of people celebrating an anniversary or pictures of them and their spouses. Any kind of picture or post that showed them in any state of happiness, I just could not like. It was just too painful for me. Why did they get to have their spouse still when mine had died? It just was not fair.

When I would see couples out in public together, I could not be happy for them. Again, I felt the same jealousy mentioned above. Sometimes I wanted to run up to these people and scream at them “Don’t take anything for granted! Cherish every single second with the one you love because it could all be gone tomorrow!” Of course, I didn’t do that but the look on my face probably gave my feelings away.

I also felt some pretty strong resentment towards people who are horrible human beings but yet THEY get to keep on living while my husband, who was a really good man, did not. It’s like the old saying “Only the good die young” is true. Months back someone told me that they thought the reason God took the good ones early but allowed those people who weren’t so good to keep on living was to give them extra time to become a good person and get things right. I guess it’s a plausible explanation, but it sure doesn’t make me feel any better.

I just said above what a lot of people going through the grieving process won’t say. I would bet the farm that nearly every person who has lost their spouse feels the very same feelings, even if they won’t say it. That’s okay, I said it for you. They really should acknowledge them though because in doing so it will help them heal.

I’ve sat with these feelings of jealousy, resentment and envy for three months now. I’ve mostly kept them to myself as I don’t want (or need) any judgement from others for having such shameful feelings rolling around inside me. I’ve written about them in the journal I take with me on Sundays when I sit in the back pew of a church. That journal is for my eyes only for now as it’s an outpouring of all the emotions I feel from losing my husband. The anger, guilt, and depression is all in there in the pages of that journal, scribbled down in my handwriting that isn’t always so legible. Writing about all of this is what is keeping me sane and is helping me to process these stages of grief……and tame the green-eyed monster known as jealousy.