Something Different

Different is how the old time wids described their lives to me when I was newly widowed. I hated different then. Couldn't stand it. But now, 2 & 1/2 years later my feelings have changed. Different is good. Different forces you to get out of your comfort zone. Different helps you to see there are other things, people out there besides that which you surround yourself with. I gravitate towards different now. I have a different home. I work in a different job than I've ever had. I dress differently than I used to. My hair is now different. I notice men that are different from the kind of man Ted was. Which I think is good for me. I don't want to be with someone who will remind me of him. I met Ted a long time ago and shortly after I met him, I met another guy who became my friend. But this guy reminded me so much of Ted it was scary. Even down to the way he looked. I think that is why when Ted & I broke up I began dating my friend. I do not want to be laying in bed with someone only to look at their face and see my wonderful, loving husband. And have the grief hit me and knock me down. I do not know how to do this thing called dating. I am finding I am no good at it. I am too self conscious about the way I look, the way I dress, the things I say, to begin to be comfortable. How is this done? How do you get to that place where conversations flow, you have things in common, you can eat messy pizza in front of him, he thinks you look good dressed up or down, you make each other laugh, you want to be there for each other. I am nowhere near ready for marriage. I am perfectly content just seeing who is out there, having a nice time. But it would be nice to have a connection. On an emotional level. I suppose if it is meant to be it will happen. Like Ted. In the meantime I will just ride the grief waves as they come and try to enjoy this different life of mine.

Was fine till I sat with you

Was fine all day. No grief bursts in awhile. No real deep sadness. The day was productive. But right around 6pm I got the desire to go to the cemetery. I haven't been in a week or so and just felt the need to go. So I went. And sat on my bench. And just began to cry. I don't know where these tears came from but they just poured. As I looked at the headstone, the name, dates, I just cried harder. Then I recalled a memory of him sitting at the computer and talking and suddenly there was that disbelief. How could he be dead? He was just here. Talking. Eating. Living. Breathing. Doing. How is he dead? I almost hate when this happens because it forces my mind to go back to the day he died and in a flash relive those moments so I will catch up to the present. I miss him. The ache in my heart is so physical. I love him. As I cried I asked him to please let me see him. So I looked around, scanning the trees in the distance. For a shape. An outline. A light. Anything. I just want to sit with him in real life. I remember the last few auctions we went to. I was sitting next to him and he was so pale and tired from the doctors and hospital. But still so strong. I remember laying my head on his shoulder and how good that felt. It was something I rarely did, I guess because of my independent, self sufficient nature. I wish I had done it more often. It would feel so good to lay my head on his shoulder tonight.

Mr. Sandman bring me a dream

And bring me a dream he did! I was hoping to see Ted on Tuesday when I had surgery and was put under anesthesia. I actually prayed for it to happen. Instead I got a sweet beautiful dream early that morning before I went to the hospital. For some reason he and I were laying on the grass just outside my door. We were kissing and then I was touching his face. It was the kind of dream after I woke up I could still feel his beard on the palm of my hand. He was asking me some personal things. I remember laughing. Then I told him I missed him. He said "I know". I asked him if he liked heaven. He said "Oh yes. So much. And you will too!" There was a sound of excitement in his voice I had never heard before. He had a glow in his eyes. But oh how sweet it was to spend time with him. Now on to other dreams..... I felt very loved after the surgery, many people called to see how I was, the friend I am kind of sort of dating called me before I went in. That was nice. And I got a message from someone I least expected to get one from. Which made me feel so very good. Why is it we tend to fall for people that don't want us? Took Ted 6 years to realize I was the best thing for his life and exactly what he needed. I know I had some lessons to learn in those 6 years as well but it's still a hard thing to swallow. Rejection. But it's all good. Tuesday was a good day.

33

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do Two can be as bad as one It's the loneliest number since the number one No is the saddest experience you'll ever know Yes, it's the saddest experience you'll ever know `Cause one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do One is the loneliest number, worse than two One is the loneliest, number one is the loneliest Number one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do One is the loneliest, one is the loneliest He would sing this to me sometimes. Believe me he was not musically talented. I would laugh and kiss his face. We liked our number 3's though. He was 32 & I was 30 when we got together the second time around. He was 36 & I was 34 when we had our son. He was born at 3:51pm. Once our oldest moved out it was just the 3 of us. He gave me 3 roses one time. Which I cut up once when I got mad at him and he replaced on our wedding day. I guess it's only fitting I have a procedure done tomorrow on what marks the 33rd month of his passing. I was at work today and saw a picture of Pooh and Piglet holding hands. Pooh says "If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever". Immediately his face came to my mind and I started to cry. He will be in my heart forever and eternity.

Labor Day

I wasn't able to go to the cemetery until yesterday. Finally. I used to be so good at keeping his grave neat and tidy and changing his flowers for the seasons. It made me feel like I was still taking care of him. Which was all I have known for so long. But since my job has changed and my hours are longer and my commitment has deepened, I seem to have less time to devote to other important things in my life. So when I got there I noticed a big beautiful American flag had been placed on his grave. I looked around and there were similar ones placed on other graves. The caretaker had done it. He is a very nice man and I have spoke with him many times. So the first reaction I have is pure guilt. That I had not thought to come and put and a flag on my own husbands grave. Shame on me. Then I had a feeling of gratitude. That someone had thought to do this. As I sat on the bench with him beneath my feet, I looked at that flag and let my thoughts wander. He was the hardest working "laborer" I knew. And still know to this day. That man would have done whatever it took for his family to have what we needed and wanted. He labored from 5am until 10pm. He would come home from work and be so exhausted and want nothing more than to lay down. Instead he would go into the garage and work on whatever side mechanic job he had going at the time. His poor feet would get so callused from his work boots. I made sure he had good cushioned insoles but sometimes it just didn't matter. Work boots are work boots. I spent a lot of time rubbing lotion on his feet. Spent a lot of time giving him back massages. Walking on his back to crack it. He loved his job too. Was so proud of the tooling he would build. Intricate, detailed designs he would just put together like it was nothing. All with only eyesight in one eye! He labored at car auctions and was so good at knowing which cars to buy. Very rarely did he lose money. Hundreds of times I had to push, pull or follow him home in a vehicle. If it was drivable I would follow behind him and he would be swerving on the road as he checked everything out. The cars didn't sit in our drive long. He sold them pretty quick. He labored at the junk yard. He knew just what items would sell good on Ebay so if he had to go get a part for himself he was always on the look out for things he could sell. He was the hardest working man I know. Happy Labor Day honey!

A stranger

I am so needing to feel close to Ted tonight. Missing him, thinking of him. Came across some pictures I took of our home not long after he died. Each room just the way it was when he was alive. There was the living room. The couch he sat on as we ate that night. The front door the paramedics came through. The floor they laid him on where they cut his shirt off. My chair I was sitting in that night. The chair he was sitting in when he died. It is like looking at a strangers house tonight. I feel emotionless when I look at it. I guess I should be glad. I look at the one of him laying in the casket. His orange, grease stained shirt he wore so much. His face I caressed a thousand times. His strong arms. His ears... Same thing. Emotionless. I need him. It is lonely tonight. Too quiet. Health issues are weighing me down. I want him here to be my shoulder to lean on. To tell me it will be alright. To tell me I am making the right decision. Many friends yet I never seem to have one at the moment I need one. Just to listen. Everyone is asleep as I should be. What do you do when your mind just won't shut off? Write. I think of when we first met. He asked me if I had any potentials. I said What? He said potential boyfriends. He was funny. He drove a big blue Ford van named Big Blue. His hair was long and always uncombed. He reminded me of Hulk Hogan. He had the most beautiful smile and laugh. I am such a better person just from knowing him and having him in my life. I think he died knowing he was loved unconditionally, faithfully, eternally by me. What more could anyone ask for?

Sometimes It Takes Another...

To remind us of everything we have and how life really is sweet and that God does provide for all of our needs. Went to my parents church this morning to surprise them. I was the one surprised because they weren't there. I haven't felt very spiritual lately. Have really been slipping. Farther and farther away. They had a guest preacher today and his message was simple. God does provide. He then went on to tell how he just lost his son a few weeks ago. It was his second son to die. They died within a few months of each other. They were in their 40's. I lost my husband but I can't imagine the heartbreak of losing a child. No matter what the age. The funerals wiped out every bit of savings he had. Then he suddenly had money trickling in. $500 from a widow at his church, $1200 collected by his church family, $2200 collected from his family down south. He had enough to be able to pay his taxes and insurance on his home. God always comes through. Just when we think we are at the very end, something happens. I requested prayer for a friend who recently got the gift of life. I'm so happy for him but at the same time it's sad that one person had to die so another could live. Makes me think of Christ. And the sacrifice He made for us. I want to get back to that spirit filled faith I used to have. I think though, when things happen in our life such as sickness, death, financial worries, depression, it can make us become jaded. Start thinking "Why bother". Then sometimes it just takes another to remind us of just how rich in love, family, friends, health we truly are.