My Husband, The Comedian

I was going through some FB posts the other day, and I came across some of Mike's posts. It was amazing to read what he had written. It just like  having him back with me. Just the way he talked, I had almost forgotten. As bad of a rap that Facebook and social media get, these are the times that I thank god for having this database of memories. I could just imagine his crazy ass typing these posts and it made me laugh....and eventually cry.

Happy 3rd Anniversary

Birthdays, holidays, Thursday afternoons, they all suck without you. But none are quite as hard as today. Because, my love, today is the day you made me Mrs Mike Rodriguez

You made me feel like the most important, beautiful, sexy, smartest girl in the world. I would give everything I have just to hear your voice one more time. I wouldn’t even mind listening you you complain about spending money on an anniversary dinner. Love you to the moon and back old man. Happy 3rd Anniversary.

Esas Piernas

The other day I was working, and I was wearing one of those outfits where you know you look damn good.  It's a black dress, with a flower pattern that accentuates all my best features. So there I am walking around like my shit don't stink, and I catch a conversation about my legs. It was two "men" and I use that term lightly for them. They said in Spanish essentially that my legs resemble fat tree trunks. Out of all of the things in the world to talk to about, these guys decided to talk about my legs in my awesome dress. Not just about my legs, but that they resemble fat tree trunks. Which really what makes a tree trunk fat? Is there like a BMI chart for trees to decide which ones are skinny and which ones are fat?

I could have said something. I could have stopped and told them off, I could have done anything except for what I did which was walk away. I walked away while two grown men, one old enough to be my father, discussed my legs. My legs. These legs that have done me pretty well for the last 28 years.

These legs waitressed 50 hours plus while 9 months pregnant to provide for my unborn baby, because I had no one else.
These legs went to school after working a full day to make something of myself.
These legs attracted the most amazing man in the world, and even helped convince him to marry me.
These legs give my baby girl someplace to lay her head when she wants to cuddle.
These legs have worked countless hours to provide for my family.
These legs held me up for 3 straight weeks, with no food or rest while I watched him die.
These legs got me out of bed even when I didn't want to after he was gone.
These legs run 6-10 miles a week on the treadmill to keep me healthy.
These legs keep me going when I want to give up.
These legs don't give a shit what you have to say about me or my body.
These legs will wear whatever the fuck I want. Short shorts, bathing suits, dresses.

So to the the two douchebags who made me feel like shit about myself (and my legs) for about 5 hours....
You my friends would be fucking lucky to be anywhere near my FAT tree trunk legs. Quite frankly, it's obvious that you have very little mental capacity to talk about anything worth a damn.  So check your damn self, and stay away from me and my INCREDIBLE, IMPRESSIVE, WONDERFUL fat tree trunk legs.

*mic drop

Prince Charming

Maybe it's me being a natural romantic, but I dreamed of Mike since I was a little girl. As a girl, the first story you're introduced to is "Cinderella". Prince Charming saving her from the evil family. As I got older, the qualities of my Prince Charming changed but when I met Mike I knew.

He was the first person in the world to protect me. He loved me, he loved my baby girl, he respected me, he challenged me, he made me laugh, he opened doors, and folded laundry. He was perfect. Now, in addition to being a romantic, I'm also a realist. Mike had many faults, as we all do, but he was perfect for me. I'm not writing this because he's dead now, if he were still alive- I would say the same thing. Our friends and family knew it, we balanced each other out. He was my Prince Charming, saved me from many things- myself included. 

So now that he's gone, one of my biggest fears being a 28 year old widow is this...can you have more than one Prince Charming? Or did the universe give me him for 8 years and that's it? That's all I get? I'm now doomed to die alone with 5 cats??

My only dating experience is Mike, which was a whirlwind, I didn't even know we were dating for the first year. Besides that on my dating resume, I have my high school sweetheart, which was a disaster from the beginning. Not only do I have a lack of experience, when the heck am I gonna find time to date? No man gets to meet Liv until we've been dating for at least a year. The most I'm without her is one night a week, if that, soooo when are the Prince and I gonna rendezvous? 

Second issue, where am I gonna meet said man? A bar? Eh not my style. Online dating? Too many creepers, that I don't wanna expose Liv to. So now we're down to work, the grocery store, and the gym. The chances of me having the balls to walk up to a guy I find attractive, slim to none. 

Ok so now I've met this guy and a whole host of problems come into play. I've been asked out several times since Mike died, I've gone on a couple dates, I've been hit on in bars and such...the minute they hear you have a kid and dead husband, they're outta there. OR they stick around and basically just try in get your pants. 

The overall point to this post? I'm truly starting to believe that you get one shot at happiness, one Prince Charming, one soul mate and when they're gone, they're gone. 

Granted I'm not looking for husband #2, but when you're a single 28 year old- there's this pressure to be in a relationship. To have a boyfriend, even if you have a dead husband. The struggle is real folks.

Patton Oswalt

Patton Oswalt lost his wife around the same time that I lost Mike. He also has a daughter the same age as Olivia. Last week, news broke that he got engaged (congrats!) and of course the world has an opinion about it. Does everyone have an opinion because he's famous and engaged after being a widower for a little over a year? Yeah absolutely. But as a widow myself- everyone has an opinion about your love life when you are a widower. 

Another blogger wrote about Patton Oswalt's internet trolls, and she made some amazing points. Some of my favorite from her article:

"You aren’t entitled to an opinion,” she writes, “You don’t get to comment on the choices of a widower while you sit happily next to your own living spouse. You didn’t have to stand and watch your mundane morning turn into your absolute worst nightmare.”

As Roman so beautifully puts it: “[Widows and widowers] know intimately that the price of love is pain. So if you see a widow or widower overcome that knowledge and choose to open their heart to that pain once again, instead of judging, you should be celebrating their bravery and fortitude. That much courage deserves a freaking parade.”

"And another thing. The person who comes after cannot and will not replace the one we lost. To imply that is insulting to the widow, it’s insulting to the new love and it’s insulting to the love who was lost. Earlier I said that I was happy to see Patton Oswalt’s heart had expanded. I used that word intentionally. I say expanded because thats what widowed hearts do. They expand. One love isn’t moved out to make room for someone new. An addition is built. Just like my love for my daughter was not diminished by the birth of my son, so too, the love widows can have for someone new does not diminish the love of the one lost. The expansion of the heart is part of the grieving process."

I wish I could high five this woman, to say she hits the nail on the head is an understatement. I haven't written in my blog as much as I like recently because I have been using my spare time to try and figure stuff out. 

My best friend is a guy. He didn't know Mike, we met last year, his friend is married to my friend. He came into my life while I was trying to figure out how to be "Lindsay" not "Mike's wife" or "Mike's widow" or  a "single mom" just trying to figure out how to be me.  He makes me laugh, we have fun together,  Liv loves him, my friends like him. We started to experience backlash from my friend, who originally introduced us. 

Long story short- I lost her. She became toxic, she was so angry with me for spending time with someone other than her, and none the less it being a man. She sat across from me and said "How could you celebrate Mike's 1 year death anniversary and have him standing next to you?" "How could you introduce a new man into Liv's life so early after losing her dad?" She made it her goal to do everything possible to make sure him and I didn't spend time together, literally obsessing over when he was at my house and where he slept when he was here.

At the end of the day, I'm 28 years old, I'm single, and it's my business. I have to answer to no one. Just because my husband died, why does it all the sudden give everyone the right to weigh in on when I should start dating (which is funny because him and I aren't dating) or quite simply who I hang out with. Right now, I just want to finish school and focus on Liv and work on rebuilding myself. I understand that our relationship is unconventional, but right now it's what I need.

Then there's the opposite of my friend, the people who think I should be married and pregnant by now. I can count on two hands how many people told me at Mike's FUNERAL, that I would move on and get married again. Yeah, I probably will...but I don't want to hear that at his funeral. When that time comes I'm not going to be replacing Mike. Like Erica Roman says, my heart will expand, I'm not replacing one husband with another.

This New Life

There are days when I love my new life. New friends, new experiences, finishing school, working back in the restaurant, the ability to do what I want when I want, being able to sleep in the middle of the bed, and spend money on stuff without consulting anyone. I can eat out every night if I want, I can go to the gym twice in one day, I can drink Bloody Mary's for breakfast, and flirt with boys. I can travel, come home as late as I want (assuming Liv is taken care of), I can wear short skirts, and chop my hair off (not that I would). I have my whole life ahead of me, and it's exciting and fresh and challenging.

There's other days where I miss the old me. I miss my old life. I miss being a wife. I miss working a million hours, studying at 2 am, feeding a family of 4 from the crockpot, and clipping coupons. I miss the sink being full of dishes, and laundry being backed up for weeks. Most of all I miss him. I miss being able to roll over and hold him, I miss being able to pick up the phone and complain about some crazy event, I miss covering him with a blanket when he falls asleep on the couch, I even miss the snoring.  I miss getting the "Good Morning Beautiful" text in the morning, I miss him complaining, I miss him bitching about my spending, I miss knowing that someone out there has my back no matter what. Not just because I'm his wife, but because he loves me and believes in me. He protected me, he respected me, he loved me.

I miss being the other half to something. That's one of the worst parts of being a widow. Being alone. I've never felt so alone in my entire life. It's me. That's it. No one to have my back, or consult, or call. A solicitor called the other day, he was offering us lower cable prices, my first instinct was to say "I have to talk to my husband and get back to you." Little does he know, there is no husband to talk to. Just me, deciding if I want to switch my cable or not.  Even changing the thermostat is a big deal for me. What do I set it to? When is cool enough outside for me to turn the AC off? Do I open the windows and turn the house fan on?

There's a lot of decisions that Mike made for me. As I made some for him. We were a team. That's what I miss the most today. Being a team. Now it's just me, sitting in a freezing house in the middle of the summer, in the middle of my bed, wishing I had my best friend back.

365 days later

Dear Michael,
365 days ago, I couldn't even walk into our house. I told myself if I could make it a year without you- I could make it. Well I did it. And even without you, it has been an amazing year. The Cubs won the World Series sucka! I've watched Olivia grow into the most amazing 2nd grader, and basically your clone. I watched Moppsie do her thing on the track, bought crap with her at the annual "crap fair", and even got tatted up with her. I've found the greatest sushi restaurant with my mom and eaten at every restaurant in the tristate area with her. I drank my way through Wheeling with Amy and The Grand Mahrajaja. I've watched Kelly and Timmy buy their first home. I've watched our nephew, Michael, wrestle like a boss. I've drank waaaay too many beers with the midget (Sara) and Charlie and Kenneth and Kimberly pretty much everyone. I've visited Rob and the girl TWICE! I tore up West Palm Beach with Jacqui and Mark and I've done a lot of amazing shit in the last year, and even though everyday I think "man I wish Mike was here to see this" I know because of you, I have this life with these badass people. (Even though I'm sure you were up there shaking your head at my nonsense a couple times) Thank you baby, for making me the happiest, proudest wife out there. I love you for eternity, can't wait to see what you bring me in the next year. ❤️

Green Beer

That's morning I woke up and I miss my husband. I miss him every day every minute of every day but for some reason today I woke up and I missed him more than usual. I spent the weekend celebrating St. Patrick's Day with some good friends of mine and acting like a normal 28-year-old woman. For some reason the Monday aftermath has caused me to really miss him.  I feel guilty sometimes realizing how wonderful my life it is without him. I understand that when he was here life was difficult. Mike had health concerns, we had two children, one of which was a rebellious teenager, I was working 45 hours a week, he was working 60 hours a week, I was a full-time nursing student. 

To say it was hard would be an understatement, we were so bogged down by the day to day operations of our lives- that we barely saw each other. However, no matter how shitty it got, how crazy it got, at the end of the day I knew I could come home and lay my head down next to him and feel safe. And because of that it, it didn't matter how much bullshit I had to put up with throughout the day, because with him I could conquer the world. 

When Mike died I didn't know what my life was going to bring. The old me died the day he did. I saw the rest of my life as a sentence. A prison sentence, 60 years hard time without the man you love. I knew I had to go on and be happy for my daughter, be strong for everyone around me, and most importantly for myself. When I did finally start going out and enjoying what the world had to offer, the feeling of guilty was unbelieveable. Who the fuck did I think I was laughing and enjoying myself?? Mike's dead and I'm over here having fun? I think it was the West Palm Beach trip that really put things into perspective for me...I'm 28 fucking years old, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I have chosen a great career path, I deserve to be fucking happy. It's not a prison sentence this life I was given, it's a gift. A gift from Mike for giving me 8 great years together, and teaching me how to survive on my own. If Mike was standing right next to me, he would tell me to have fun and be happy! If this experience with him has taught me anything- it's that life is too short. So my plan is to drink the green beer, have 2 corned beef sandwiches, laugh, have fun, enjoy my amazing friends and most of all be HAPPY!

"It"

I feel like I've said this a million times on this blog, but here it is again- I have an amazing group of friends. They're all different, they're all hilarious, and they all would drop everything to stop and help me. And they have. They are all different too. Some are just wild and crazy and some are more conservative and laid back. 

It seems like after living through Mike dying and having these people beside me, has just strengthened my friendships across the board. When Mike was sick and in the hospital, people who didn't even know each other became friends. Friends of mine are now close to Mike's brothers and sisters, and we've become a pretty cool group. 

I think back when I met all of them, I knew in the back of my head that the person had "it". For most of them, I can even think of the moment when it hit me. "It" being the coolness factor that would make this person part of my life for a long time. My best friend and I met while working at a clinic together. She had been working there for a couple months, I was there for a year or too. We were at an outside party and we were trying to find a bottle opener- out of nowhere she busts a flip flop with a bottle opener in the sole. BOOM. That was "it". Friends for life. 

My best friend for 10 years, and the reason Mike and I met, met while I worked at a restaurant. Like all good friendships, we hated each other at first. Then one day, we started talking about a crazy lady that worked there. I said something funny, she retorted and BOOM. Friends. 

The Star Squad

Since the summer, I have someone new in my life. Same situation with him, I met him at a Fourth of July party, he's friends with my bestie's (the one with the sandal) husband. From my birthday, to the Cubs World Series crazyness, his birthday, we have become really good friends pretty quickly.  The other day, we were talking about when we first met and what our first impressions of each other were. And I remember the moment when I realized he had "it". We actually got paired up to bags partners, and quite frankly I wasn't in the mood to deal with any douchebagness. That was my first impression, douchebag.....sorry buddy! Plus one has to remember that it was the first real big holiday after losing Mike. I wasn't having a great day to begin with, add in playing a game I'm not the greatest at- I was cranky. But once I started playing and talking to him, I knew this kid had something special. 

Cubs Win!!

Here we are 7 months later and he's just about my best friend. Now, here's the other part- he's a guy. SOOOOO pretty much everyone and their mother has asked me if we're dating or banging. Granted it's a valid question, he's a guy, I'm a girl, we're both good looking and young. So what I have said to most everyone who asks- he's my friend, he makes me happy, and I like spending time with him. Period, end of story. For most my life, my friends have been guys. It wasn't until I met Mike that I started having more girl friends. 

And.....I'm not gonna lie, having a dude around has been nice. If I need help with stuff around the house, he does it for me. I can get his guy opinion about things going on in the world. Olivia is absolutely in love with him, she talks about him all the time, loves his dog and she enjoys him being around. 

The other good part of having him in my life, he didn't know Mike. As much as I love all of my friends,  I think some of them still see me as Mike's other half. I don't blame them, and I get it. I'm used to being the other half of Mike & Lindsay. What I love the most about my new friend is that he sees me as just Lindsay. Not Lindsay, Mike's widow. He's not duty bound to take care of me or spend time with me- he does it because I'm the shit. After living through the death of my best friend, husband, lover this past year- I'm ecstatic to have someone see me as me. Someone to spend time with, laugh with, enjoy the world with. I could really give two shits if he's a guy, girl or llama. ♡

I love you

I remember it like it was yesterday....I was sitting in my car in the Wheeling Walmart parking lot- counting my cash to see if I had enough for what I needed at the store. I was not in a good place in my life. I single mom, with a baby, trying to get an education and fight my way out of poverty. While having an affair with a man who was waaaay too old for me and technically married. Fucked up? Slightly. But I knew there was something about him, I couldn't resist. I checked my email, because that's how Mike and I communicated with each other (text messages cost too much). And I read this email from him telling me to listen to a REO Speedwagon song, called "Like You Do" "It's about this girl I know and how I feel about her" He wrote. 

For those of you who don't know the song, it's basically this guy talking about all the women he's encountered in his life. Everything from hookers, to church women to couples in love. The hook to the song is him saying " But I've never seen a woman. Who makes me feel, like you do" 

When I read this- I was slightly confused. So I called him. "Roddie (his nickname), who is this song for??" Secretly I was hoping it was about me but ya know being a girl who's life was completely jacked up at the time- I had my doubts.

"Who do you think?" He said, "Linny....I love you." 

That was the first time I had ever heard him say those 3 precious words. I love you. From then until now, we've said it to each other probably a million times. 

We could be in a major knock down drag out fight and I could end the whole thing by walking up to him, kissing him and saying "I love you". To which he would throw his hands up and say "Lucy! (He thought I was like Lucille Ball)You make me frickin crazy! But I love you too"

The last text message I got from Mike was him saying "I love you." For no reason, other than it being a Monday and him wanted to tell me he was thinking about me. 

A couple days after Mike's stroke, I was in his hospital room early in the morning with him. We had made the decision to go ahead with the brain surgery that would hopefully improve his condition. There was a possibility that it wouldn't work, or we that would loose him that day. I started having a conversation with him in my head as the nurse went about giving him more medication and doing her duties. He was completely out of it, not able to communicate or move. I just sat there and talked in my head about what a whirlwind romance we had, how lucky I was to have him in my life, how sexy he was even in the stupid hospital gown. How I couldn't ask for a better best friend, or father for my child. I started to feel stupid, just sitting there in silence, and not saying anything. Having this conversation in my head, like all of the sudden he had the ability to read my thoughts because he was in a coma. The only thing I could think to say out loud (no matter how cliche) was "I love you boo". 

"I love you" a raspy whisper escaped him. 

The nurse spun around, "Did you hear that?" She said, "That was him wasn't it? There's no way." She started checking monitors and checking his neuro functioning. 

The tears flowed down my face, and I shook my head and said "Yeah it was him" 

I clung onto his hand as hard as I possibly because deep down I knew that would be the last time I would hear him say those three precious words from him ever. From the Wheeling Walmart Parking Lot to here- we had lived a lifetime together. 

That moment, no matter how tragic and unbelievably sad it was, has come to be one of my favorite Mike Moments. Because it speaks so much to who he was. Only my Michael would defy the odds, by fighting through medication, a blood clot in his swelling brain, and achieve the medically impossible to muster out 3 magical words to me that I needed from him more than anything in the world.  That's who he was, an amazing fighter but an even bigger lover. 

Florida Weekend

I just came home from the most amazing trip to Florida. My best friend surprised me and booked a trip to West Palm Beach for her and I. It was awesome. She used to live there so she had the inside track on all of the greatest spots to hit up and go to. In addition, one of our other friends was there kicking off her honeymoon so we all got a chance to be together. I love to travel. I love the airport, the people, the different places, different foods. I love it. Mike hated it. I surprised him on his 50th birthday with a trip to Puerto Rico, and he was miserable pretty much the entire time. For me-it's about the journey not the destination. Although for this trip, it was amazing leaving cold Chicago in the middle of February and sitting on a beach. But something changed for me this trip, I got to be me. As time goes on, I'm not Mike's wife anymore, I'm Lindsay. I get to take weekend trips with my friends, and have drinks on the beach when I want. I'm not saying that I wasn't beyond happy being Mike's wife- I was and I always am. What I am saying is that this tragedy has given me a new perspective on who I am. I spent so much time focusing on Mike and the kids, and taking care of everyone and everything- I never got to be me. I was 19 when I got pregnant, by 23 Mike and were living together and I was running a household. There was no time for me to focus on who I am, shit there wasn't time for me to exercise on the daily. I've discovered that I love to travel, I like to visit different weird places, I like to laugh and joke, I like to people watch at restaurants, I'm pretty much down to do whatever/whenever, and I like being me. That's a BFD for me to say, I like being me. For so many fricking years, I felt inadequate, ugly, fat. Even with Mike, my self confidence was in the shitter. I felt like everyone else was better than me because they didn't have an alcoholic abusive father growing up, they weren't overweight, they looked so put together no matter what they wore, they finished college, they didn't have a baby as young as I did. The girls that are now my best friends, are the girls I wished to be friends with and envied in high school. And here's the great part- as much as I love them- they're not better than me. They have their struggles, ups and downs, and problems just like I did. Nobody is fucking perfect, we're all just trying to be happy and live great lives. The more I get out in the world, the more I discover who I am and what I want from life. Mike dying sucked the life out of me, and now I as I rebuild I get to write my own story and life according to me- not according to my struggles.

I love these broads