Isn't it Ironic?

I was very much looking forward to writing today's post.  I knew what the topic was going to be for this last day of May and I have to admit that I have been thinking and reflecting on my thoughts as to what I was actually going to put down for a few days now.  However, that plan was interrupted...

Today, Brilliant arrived!  I knew that it would be arriving any day now and I was extremely excited for it's arrival.  So, when I saw the FedEx tag hanging on my door, I was both happy (that it was here) and sad (that I actually missed the delivery).  However, at just about the time I reached my front steps, a neighbor from about 4 houses down came over and told me that he had my delivery.  Now, this may sound like a nice gesture, however, Brilliant is both huge (55.5 in. x 42 in. and 40 pounds) and expensive.  I was a bit upset that it was left with this neighbor because it was supposed to be directly delivered to my home.  However, this neighbor and I walked the package down the street and up to my apartment.

I was sooo excited, but I didn't want to open it up until my son was asleep.  I didn't want to take any chances of having anything happen to this artwork.  So, I had to wait a few hours until it was bedtime.  I kid you not, as soon as his little peepers were shut, I ran to my package and opened it up as if it were Christmas!

It is really gorgeous.  I haven't gotten the full effect yet because I haven't taken it out of the box.  I haven't taken it out of the box because one of the corners is damaged!  It is framed in a recess mounting (no wooden frame around it) and the top right corner is cracked.  I contacted the sender right away and he was very upset as well and is going to work with me.  I also contacted FedEx and filed a claim.  I don't know when the damage occurred, but it may just work out that leaving it with my neighbor might give me a more solid case.  So, I spent this night contacting the sender and contacting FedEx and just being so disappointed.

The irony... I bought "Brilliant" because when I look at it, I see my life put back together again.  It makes me feel as if all of the pieces that once seemed to be scattered all found there way back home.  So isn't it ironic that a piece that I found to be so sentimental in representing my one life came to me broken?  I can literally see the broken pieces of the frame.  But, they are still in tact and the actual photograph, the core, has not been broken or damaged either.  Hmmmm.......

One Life

This weekend while I was in my hometown visiting my parents, I stopped by to visit my best friend.  I have known her forever.  She has been there for me in so many ways, not just this past year, but over the past 20 years that I have known her.  I love her and respect her and always look forward to chatting with her.

We talked about many things, but one thing that she asked me is if I look at my life as "old" and "new."  She was surprised when I quickly responded that I do view my life that way.  I refer to my memories and reflections of the past as my "old life" and everything else as my "new life" quite frequently on this blog.  Today, I had a different thought.

I was in my old neighborhood today.  I went to the doctor and then I walked around afterwards.  I had forgotten how nice that neighborhood was and I really enjoyed walking through it.  Obviously, it brought back memories, not only of my husband, but of our dogs too because I had walked them soo much around this neighborhood in the three years that we lived there.

I had some extra time before I had to be back (my babysitter was with my son today) and so I decided to go to the nearby park, get some ice cream, and sit on a bench.  As I sat on the bench I thought back to the conversation that I had with my friend about splitting my life between old and new.

Not too long ago, in my post Brilliant I wrote about how to me, this piece of art makes me feel as if I have put all of the pieces of my life back together again.  ALL the pieces.  When I wrote that, I truly meant that and believed that.  So, as I sat on that bench today, I thought about all of the pieces of my life.  My life.  I am just one and I have just one life to live and it is mine, all of it.  There is no old or new.  All of my past experiences have played apart of who I am today and who I will be tomorrow.  So in many ways, my past is still very much alive in me.

My life has changed in so many ways.  But there is one constant factor, me.  I will no longer refer to my life as "old" or "new."  I have worked so hard to pick up all of the pieces (the good, the bad, and the ugly) to help me find myself and to move on.  I couldn't have done it without all of the pieces.  My new life needs the wisdom and knowledge (that can only be gained through experiences) of my old life.  I am becoming more comfortable baring my scars because they are a part of me.  I am becoming more comfortable being proud that they did not break me.  I am a stronger, smarter, and more confident woman now and I will no longer distinguish and label pieces of my life.  They all belong to the same one life, mine.  

My Amazing

This weekend, I drove out to see my parents since I had an extra day off of school for Memorial Day.  This drive is, at best, an 8 hour drive.  My son is so good throughout all 8, 9, 10+ hours that we have endured on these trips that we have taken quite regularly in this past year.  However, his time is spent watching DVDs, looking at books, playing with toys, eating, or napping.  We have started to have more discussions... I mean we talk a bit more about animal sounds and colors and shapes and we look for "diggers" along the roadsides, lol.  My point is that during these drives, I have a lot of time to think!

On Saturday morning, when we left, my thoughts were taken by memories of my dog.  It is impossible to not think about my husband since he was so intertwined in the memories and times spent with our dog(s).  It is nice to think back on fond memories.  It is also painful too.  My mind started to wonder and I teetered very close to the question that I have honestly not gone to throughout everything that has happened to me in this past year... "Why me?"  I almost went there.  Almost.

What stopped me?  I have to honestly say, my faith.  I say that not aligning myself with any particular religion, although I would say that I am a Christian.  (I grew up Catholic, but I cannot really call myself a Catholic.)  I believe that my husband (and dog) are both at peace now.  I believe that I have not been left here alone, but rather have been taken care of in these most difficult of times.  I believe that despite how my marriage ended up, that I did in fact marry the man I was supposed to marry.  I had so many happy memories to prove that.  I also have an amazing son to prove that as well.  I am a blessed person.  

Amazing... this is what I also thought about on my drive.  I have mentioned several times that I am looking for amazing and that I am optimistic in that something amazing is waiting for me (and my son).  What I realized is that amazing was staring at me, right in the back of my head.  Literally.  My amazing son.

I have accepted that I cannot change what has happened in our lives.  I have had to accept that this is in fact, now our lives.  Having said that, I have to admit that I have an amazing relationship with my son.  There is a bond that surfaced between us because of what has happened to us.  Even though he is so young and doesn't understand, he still knows that things are different.  He knows that it's just me, that it's just the two of us.  We are an absolute team and it's amazing!

I can't say that being a single mom has been overly difficult.  (This goes without saying the great loss we both endure with the absence of my husband.)  On a typical day, I wake up before my son and take a shower.  By the time I am done, he has either crawled out of bed or I have to go in and wake him.  Most of the time, he wakes up in a good mood and even if he's not in a good mood, he is still so easy to get out of whatever mood he is in.  I change him and then off to the kitchen for breakfast.  My son does not watch too much t.v. but he does in the morning.  I do use it as a babysitter because I do have to get ready for work.  Sometimes he does play on his own, but Elmo, Dora, and Mickey have been great helps too.  Then off to work/school we go.  We always hold hands down the stairs and out to the car.  On most days, he carries my lunch bag for me.  We talk about the weather, the sun in our eyes as we walk out of our house, or the garbage truck that is on our street.  On our drive to school, we pass by a construction company, so we always see cement trucks and on a good day, we will see diggers.  He  screams and cheers every time that we do!  Nowadays, he is also teasing me with his pacifier, which he keeps in his pocket everyday to use only for naps.  He knows I don't like that thing and that he shouldn't have it, really at all, so he like to pop it in and out and laugh.  And so I can't help but to laugh too.  When we get to school, we either walk hand in hand or I will carry him into school.  I give him a quick peck on the forehead and leave.  He's good.  He let's me go without crying.  He just does his flirty thing so that his teacher will come over and greet him with a hug, lol.  After work, sometimes I run errands like go the doctor, start laundry, go grocery shopping, or running, it depends.  Somedays I pick him up right away.  Either way, we go home, make dinner and eat, play (playground, ride bike/scooter, play sports, build castles, play dough, jump on the bed (oh yes he does and I do too), or our latest is making funny faces at one another and this can last a good twenty minutes, between all the giggles) and then it's bath time and bed time at about 7:30.  I do sit in his room with him until he falls asleep.  It's just something that I started doing last year and I found it to be a comfort for both of us.  However, if it's a night he cannot sleep, he gets 45 minutes and I'm gone, lol.  But, once he's asleep, it's my time to do dishes, mop, clean, pay bills, work, paint, blog, etc., etc., etc... same thing everyone else does.  On weekends I try to do one big thing with him like go the zoo, aquarium, Manhattan, play date, or Sesame Street (now that it's spring/summer).  The other day is mostly doing maintenance things that I can't do during the week and squeezing in time for the park or playground or both.  

My days are not atypical.  I just truly enjoy them.  Despite not going to sleep before 11:00 (ever these days), I have lots of energy.  There are days during the week that I go the gym, sometimes go out for dinner, and even had a real date (lol... hopefully I will be ready to get back out there again, again soon).  But I think its all in the attitude.  I don't ever feel like I have to do something and that makes such a big difference.  I do it because I want to.  So I don't complain about all the things I have to do because I know I don't have to do anything.  I also don't complain because this is my life.  There were choices that were made for me, but I have made my own choices to (like to stay in NYC and raise my son without any family support nearby).  I don't want to complain about such things because this is my life and I am truly grateful for it!  My son definitely has his days and his moments, but generally speaking, he is a really good kid.  He makes my job so much easier.  He makes me laugh consistently on a daily basis and he has a smile that melts my heart through and through.  

The hardest part, as I have said many, many times, is not being able to share all of the wonderful moments.  But I am fortunate enough to have those precious moments with my son and even more fortunate to recognize and appreciate the small things that add up to a whole lotta happiness.  My son is my amazing! 

Man's Best Friend

I was planning on taking a deep breath in this new post for tonight and begin my journey into year two with a new energy and a smile.  However, today my dog had to be put down.  This was the dog that had been living with my in-laws for the past year, the one that had cancer.  I did not find out until after it happened, so I wasn't there.  It really hasn't sank in quite yet, but I have been looking at pictures tonight which have stirred up memories.  

I had mentioned several times that I used to have two dogs.  (The other lives with my parents now.)  Argyle, the one that just passed, was "the golden child."  Our other dog was sweet and lovable, but a handful too.  Argyle was one of those rare dogs, one that doesn't come along that often.  He was a border collie and with that came both the intelligence and intensity of a border collie.  He was very smart and his facial expressions were almost human like.  He also was very agile!  He loved, loved to run and we could never tire him out.  His energy was boundless.  He was also a big border collie.  We always laughed about that and nicknamed him "Gooney Bird." 

Argyle also loved kids, although he wasn't so thrilled when he got one of his own, lol.  I should say that he loved other people's kids.  My son was only a baby when he last lived with us.  Argyle liked older kids, the ones that could throw a ball or frisbee to him or kick a soccer ball to him.  When we lived in Virginia, we lived in the midst of kid central.  I kid you not, the neighborhood kids loved Argyle so much, they used to come and knock on our door and ask if Argyle could come out and play.  We would let him out and everyone had a blast!  

My husband and I got Argyle in 2001.  We didn't have our son until 2009.  In many ways, for so many years, our dogs were our kids.  They were with us throughout all of our moves.  They were with us when we spent many holidays alone when we lived in Virginia.  We took them when we went camping and when we went on vacations to the beach house in the Outer Banks.  We were... a family.  For so long, it was just the four of us.  It is hard to believe that that family of four that I knew for so many years of my life... I have lost half of that family.  

I entitled this post "Man's Best Friend" because it is very fitting to Argyle.  While he was "our" dog, he really was my husband's.  They had this weird "E.T." connection.  Argyle was very in tuned with my husband's feelings.  He could tell if something was off, if he was anxious, angry, or sad.  Honestly, my husband hid his feelings so well, I used to turn to Argyle and try to see if I could read my husband's feelings through him.  I've heard that dog's can have that sense, but it really was amazing to actually witness it.  

A couple of years ago, we did find a lump near his left elbow.  We took him to the vet and were told it was a fatty deposit, like he had in a few other places.  However, last winter, we did notice that it was growing.  We didn't take him in for a check up because last winter was also the time that things started to fall apart in our marriage and in our lives.  The plan was for Argyle to move into the new apartment with my husband.  When that never happened, Argyle ended up staying at my in-laws and I just didn't have the heart to ask for him back.  

When Argyle left me in April of last year, his lump was about the size of a walnut, maybe a bit bigger.  In the course of only a few months, in grew to the size of a softball.  During the course of the past year, I didn't get to see much of him, but every time I did, I could see the change in size of what we had learned was a cancerous tumor.  It was inoperable.  I found out today that his tumor ruptured and that was the cause for having to put him down.  

I remember when the movie Marley and Me came out.  I watched it and I cried through the whole movie because I knew how it was going to end.  I couldn't imagine at that time losing either of my dogs because it seemed so devastating.  But, here I am... almost exactly a year to the day that my husband passed away.  

It is somewhat ironic that Argyle's health deteriorated just as my husband's did during the same time last year.  This past year, Argyle's health continued to deteriorate at a rapid speed.  In some ways, I feel as if they belonged together.  They are not alone and they are both running around at the speed of light tumor free, cancer free, depression free.  I hope they were able to find one another.  :')

He had some ups!

This is actually one of my favorites... this is him!

He looks humiliated doesn't he?  He was in his teenage years.

He loved this chair.  He loved watching people sitting in this chair.

RIP Argyle, you were an amazing companion!

A Visit

One year ago from this day was my husband's funeral.  I do not want to walk down the road of reliving details from that day.  However, one thing that I did do on this day was that I gave the eulogy.  Preparing for it was extremely difficult.  What do you say when it is your final words?  How do you honor a life in only a few minutes?  How do you stand up in front of a group a people, no matter if they are family and friends, and speak about your husband at his funeral?

It was something that I felt I absolutely both needed and wanted to do.  And I did it.  I got choked up a few times, but recomposed myself and made it through.  I believe it was my desire to say these words for and to my husband more than any other reason that made it possible for me to get through it.  At the time, I was just grateful that I made it through it.  Looking back on it now, I am so happy that I was able to share my thoughts through my words with all of the people that had loved and cared about my husband.  Especially in the manner in which he died, I believe there were so many unsettled feelings and questions.  I had wanted to honor him and his memory by speaking words that were honest and genuine.

That night I received a visit.  Over the course of the past year, I believe that I had a few visits.  I have had many dreams, but these "visits" which also occurred to me during my sleep feel very, very different.  I have not had one in quite a long time, but on the night of the funeral, I believe to the very core of my being, that I had a visit.

I was at the bottom of a hill with my son and my husband's best friend from high school.  I am not sure what my son was doing, but he had the full attention of me and this friend.  We were all at peace and were able to enjoy the moment that we were in.  Then I saw him.  Up on the hill stood my husband.  He was wearing jeans and a light blue sweater.  I knew this outfit very well!  He stood at the top and kept his distance, not coming down any closer to us.  When his friend saw him, in his typical way, he waved and waved like a big dork, and was all smiles.  I looked up at him and could feel my smile shoot out from within, I beamed.  When my husband saw us and our reactions, he gave us a little head nod.  It seemed as if he took one last good look at us and as he turned to walk back up the hill I could see him wipe a tear from his eye.

That was my visit.  What this meant to me was that my husband wanted to check in and see if our son and I were okay, that we were taken care of.  This friend, who does not live close enough to us to have a daily presence in our lives,  I believe is someone that my husband truly believed in as a genuine, kind, good man.  I think he just represented all the people who were there, are there, and will continue to be there in our lives to support and love my son and myself.  This visit was so simple, no words were said, yet is said so much.  It was perfect and I am thankful for my husband for giving that to me.

One Year

On the one year anniversary of my husband's death, I spent the entire day alone with my son.  My son and I spent the day at the park.  I did not want to start any traditions for this day with my son.  I wanted to make it as simple as possible.  I wanted it to be a day that appreciated the simplest pleasures in life, and it was.

I don't know if it was the release of emotions for the past two weeks, pouring out my heart on this blog over the past few days, or a spiritual presence, but I felt as if I a blanket of peace had been laid upon me that day.  I still felt the hurt and sadness, but I also felt a certain quiet that seemed to slow things down and it took the edge off a bit.

My son was an absolute sweetheart on Thursday.  He is still so young and doesn't understand, but it was as if he somehow knew the significance of this day.  He had hugs for me all day long, hugs that were just random and hugs that I didn't even have to ask for.  In some ways it was bittersweet because he was so happy that day.  He had smiles all day long and laughed and laughed.  It was hard to not to become effected by this mood of his and he completely lifted my spirits.

I say I was alone on this day, but there was an out pour of love and warm thoughts that were sent our way on Thursday.  Whether it was a phone call, a text message, or a bouquet of fruits, I knew that my son and I were in other's thoughts and prayers and that we really were not alone.  <3

Although I did not start a tradition on this day with my son.  I did start one of my own.  I bought a very nice leather bound journal.  I decided that each year, I would write to my husband as if I were talking to him.  I felt that this might be a positive release for me and I also felt that years from now, when my son is older this might be a piece that will be meaningful to him.  It may answer some questions that he may have, it may help him to understand, it may bring him peace, or even a smile brought upon by a memory.  I am not sure, but this is something that I do want to do each year.

I feel as though my writing today is not very eloquent and focused.  These past few days have exhausted me mentally and today is the first day in a few that I actually feel like I have some energy.  So this is where I will end for tonight.

Year one.  The fastest and slowest year of my life.

Another Kind of Cancer

On May 17, 2011, my husband lost his long battle with depression.  Like a cancer, my husband's illness consumed him.  It's progression was like any other illness except that it was his mind that was effected. Although his body was perfectly healthy, in just a few short months, his illness changed him physically.  He lost weight.  He aged.  He was not himself.  He acted in ways and spoke in ways that were not like him.  The illness completely took over and in the last couple of months, I believe that all we saw were pieces of the real him that came in and out.  My beautiful husband...

This was the day that I had feared for the past thirteen years.  This was the day that caused me to think and speak and act in ways so that I would never have to live it.  This was the day that I had entrusted to pure faith and hoped that it would never arrive.  This was the day that a father, a husband, a son, a brother, and a friend was lost.  This was the day that my husband took his own life.

For the past year, I have kept this story very close to me.  It is a story in which I do believe the whole story needs to be told.  When people have asked me how my husband died, I have answered by telling them that he had been sick, which is absolutely true.  However, it is more complicated than that.  My fear in telling people that my husband died by suicide is that he will be defined by this one act.  As unfathomable and as powerful and as heartbreaking as this one act was, there was a man who had lived a life of 35 years before this final act.  That is why I feel that I need to tell more.  I feel the need to share his life... He had a wonderful life, a life full of experiences that added to his uniqueness and character.  He was a good man, he was a generous person, he was kind and caring, he was dedicated and loyal, he was smart and witty.  He had also been a wonderful and loving husband and father.  He was such a wonderful father.  He lit up my son just as much as my son lit up his world.  To watch them together was my bliss.  They were my family, my everything.

I am not bitter.  I am not angry.  I am deeply saddened.  More than anything, I am aware of how blessed I have been.  This is all because I could look at him and see him for the true man that he was without the sickness, and that man was remarkable.