Love and Loss

 Being honest about the question "how are you?" Is hard. Most of the time the asker is only asking because it's what you do when you see greet someone. Our responses are automatic and in some variation of - "I'm good, and you?" It's a response trained from childhood. My 3 year old nephew already knows the answer- replying "I'm good" when he's asked. My 6 year old niece likes to excitedly answer "I'm doing great!" And while there is nothing wrong with teaching these things to children, I can't help but wonder if we aren't doing them a disservice.  As someone who has spent a bunch of time in a kindergarten classroom, I know that we teach children about emotions. It's an important part of development for them to understand that a frown means sad and a smile means happy. But while we teach them this on one hand, we teach them not to acknowledge their own feelings with the other.  My husband used to check in with me...

 Dear alden,  Today I went for my mri. I've been having headaches. Constant headaches that meds don't seem to help. I'm a puzzle for my doctor. So he said it's time for me to have an mri.  I'm clostrophobic. I'm sure you knew that.  They had to put me in a head cage for the scan. I was nervous. The tech suggested closing my eyes, and not opening them. So I did. And I let my mind wonder. You know what made the time (about 20 min) seem to fly by? Memories of you. Truly. My mind kept going back to memories of you. I watched you propose to me. So excited that the ring came in, and wanting to show me. You pulled me into you and leaned down to say in my ear - "Alicia Dempsey, will you marry me?" I saw that scene...that happy scene a few times while I was in that tube. I saw you asking me what my comfort food was, and then making it to perfection for me...because you wanted me to be happy. I remember all the times you made it for me. Even learning the exact t...

 Dear Alden,  I spent the day in Morton yesterday. Morton is both hard and peaceful for me. Hard, because as many memories as our main home has, Morton has more. It's where we fell in love. It's where you snuggled me for the first time. Where you bore your soul to me because you saw a future for us. It's where we spent our honeymoon, and danced naked in the rain late one night. There are a million memories that were made there. Countless fireside talks and meals cooked. Just so many memories were made here.  When I was talking to the neighbor yesterday about the view of the trees it made me remember the last photo you took there. You were working at the table. I was not there, it was demo day for the bathroom. But you looked up from your laptop and looked out the window. The trees were still brown, as it wasn't quite spring. But you snapped a photo to send to me. Your message was just "I love this view." I knew you did. You loved the peace that looking at the ...

  My dear husband, I woke up this morning in tears, calling out your name. Even in my dreams, I miss you....I miss us. When I awoke, I realized that I have so many questions for you. So many things I wish you could answer.... Who was there to greet you when you passed? Was it your grandfather that you were so close to? Did you turn back to see me at any point when you were leaving? Did you watch as I tried to save you? Were you the reason I didn't panic? Were you there, giving me a hug while I did the unimaginable to the person I loved? Helping me do everything I could so that I wouldn't regret not doing more? What have you been doing these last 6 months? I know that learning continues, so I would imagine you are learning new things all the time. Have you met my family? My aunt you never knew, and my grandparents from both of my sides? You knew my uncle, you and he got along great. I'm sure you two have had many conversations now.  Is it terrible that I wonder if you miss m...

 As you walk into your bedroom you start to get into your nightly routine. Nightstand lamp is on, so you can turn out the rest of the lights. You slip out of your clothes and into the big t-shirt you like to wear to bed. You hear the water on in the adjoining bathroom. Your husband steps out and smiles at you while brushing his teeth. You can't stop the smile from playing across your face. He's a goof. He makes is way over to you, only to tease you that you haven't made your way into the bathroom yet for your bathroom rituals before bed. Brushing teeth, washing face and adding lotion. You had read about proper skin care and had a whole step by step routine down. You were determined that you'd have beautiful skin someday. You had started to see good results with your complexion, and you're hoping that isn't just a fluke.  After your time in the bathroom, you rejoin your husband who is now in bed. As you get ready to turn put the light- using a switch that still n...

 Gosh this sucks. It sucks to go into a specialists office and have them go over your emergency contact info. "Your primary contact is your husband- Alden Lavin, with your dad as 2nd. Correct?" Guess who didn't change that...as long as my dad is on there too, I don't want to start to cry right here in the office. Yes, my husband is my primary contact. My husband. I miss having a husband...being a wifey. Knowing I always had someone in my corner. Having him hold my hand through the hard stuff.  This thing that I'm doing now...it isn't really living. I know that. I long for questions like the 16 year old one, so I can imagine a time when I could have loved him for longer. My favorite times are when I sit in my back yard and can zone out...close my eyes and be back in his arms again. No one seems to really understand just how much I miss that...his arms. They made me feel small and loved and cared for, and safe, and so many other things.  I try. I try to live my ...

 When someone you love passes away suddenly and unexpectedly, it's an odd feeling. Perhaps one even shared by those who lost someone to a long illness or knew the passing was forthcoming. I can only speak to the former. The feeling I refer to is their gone-ness. You look around and their things, the space they occupied. Their room, perhaps. You look at their decorations on the wall (or lack thereof), where they slept, their shoes, their clothes. It's like they could just walk into a room and resume their life. But it is like they were erased. Their existence is no longer on this plain. And you know...you know it is just stuff. You know they are not their things. You know they were so much more than that half-eaten sandwich in the fridge or the unfinished project in the garage. But this is exactly why it is so hard to part with their belongings. You are thrust into this place...this odd existence where they aren't coming home. They aren't going to walk back into the room...