My Husband's Birthday

Today is my husband's birthday.
I have no words to describe how much I love and miss him.

What I will do is share the last picture Mike and I took together. It was one of the early mornings in the hospital, where I would sit in the recliner next to him and hold his hand, put on talk radio for him or some Netflix documentary to pass the time until a doctor showed up. I was tired, emotionally drained, and praying for something to make the nightmare end. My face was a constant shade of red from crying, I was living on tobacco and caffeine and I was a straight up hot mess.

Through all the pain meds, limited brain capacity and impaired mobility he had he would wait for me to start to doze off and push my hand down and put his hand on top of mine. After 7 or 8 times of him doing this I finally got frustrated and said, "Michael, would you knock it off, I'm here to take care of you"
A single tear fell down his cheek, and he pushed my hand down even harder and once again covered my hand. I tried to move my hand from beneath his grip but he clenched his teeth and pushed down harder. He knew in that moment I needed his strength, because I didn't have any left. Finally I gave in and let my husband hold my hand for the last time.

If there's one piece of advice I can give to everyone after what we have been through its this: recognize what's important in life, who we spend it with. We live in a society where we have to have big houses, dream cars, designer labels and give off the perception that everything in our lives is perfect. When in the end it doesn't matter. I would give up every material object I have to have 40 more seconds with Mike. I would take back the fights about whatever crazy shirt he was wearing out (for fear of what people would think of us), because now all I have left is the stupid shirts. I would spend more time fishing or going for ice cream or doing things that make him happy because that's all I ever wanted was for him to be happy. I would post even more crazy sappy love things on FB to him because it made him feel loved, even when our friends and family complained about it :)

Mike and I have a once in a lifetime relationship and I am so proud everyday to be his wife. Even when we were fighting like cats and dogs I could walk up to him and say "I love you" and he would kiss me and say the same. We were incredibly lucky to have found each other, and even more lucky to have the circle of people that we do around us. Thank you to all of you for allowing me to share my feelings about this day, and being by Olivia and my side from the beginning of this nightmare. I am so grateful and lucky to have found my soul mate but also to have the group of people I do to hold my hand, now that Mike is gone, even when I don't think I need it. 

The Look

Four weeks into being a widow and I have made some distinct observations about the world. One of them being what I have termed, "The Look".
When someone you know who hasn't seen you since the funeral or before this mess started, and they look at you like have the saddest story know to mankind. Which immediately followed by, "How are you doing???" With a head tilt or a sad smile.
It's heartwarming to know that people genuinely care, and definitely want to know that you as a widow are doing ok.
On the other hand, it sucks. Not that it's this person's fault, but it's the universe for giving you this terrible hand of cards to live. The reality is, the whole fucking situation sucks. There's nothing anyone can do or say.
While describing "the look" to my friend, he said "well what do you expect people to do??"
My response, "bring him back"
Because that's all I really want. Is him back. Back to our crazy 50 hour work week, 2 kids, a cat, a dog, dinners, packed lunches, laundry up to asshole, life. Where no matter how crazy it got, or how burnt out we were, at the end of the day we would lay next to each other and know that we were a hell of a lot better off than the rest of the world because we had each other. I would literally give up everything I have to give to get 45 more seconds of him here, next to me in our bed.
Obviously, bringing him back is not an option.
I do have a friend who has experienced quite a bit of loss in her life, and everytime i see her she says the same thing....
"How are you?" she asks.
"I'm fine." I reply, my standard answer
"No you're not, and you're never going to be and that's ok." She always replies.

At first I was a little disheartened to know that I would never be ok, but she's right. I'm never going to be OK. I will be different, I will be happy, I will be successful. But I will always always have a chunk of my heart missing.

The New Title

Today I drove through my neighborhood eight times. I don't want to go home. I don't want to go anywhere. I keep saying all I want is to wake up and this nightmare be over. The emotions are uncontrollable. Sad, Angry, Happy, Relieved, Overwhelmed, Driven to get organized. I've been playing hostess, nurse, wife, mother, daughter, sister, Power of Attorney and a whole slew of titles the last three weeks and now I had a new one, widow.

On April 11th, my life changed forever. Sitting behind the steering wheel, parked outside my house I relive each call, text, breath, move I made that day. Everything was status quo, work, school, dinner being made...except my husband didn't show up after work. I shot him a text and called a few times with no answer and then this overwhelming feeling hit me- something was wrong. At this point he was only about 15 minutes late from work, but he hadn't called like he always did on his way home from work. I pushed the feeling aside, continued to make dinner, did homework with my little one, tried to watch some random show on the TV. 60 minutes late now. Continued to call and watch the clock. 120 minutes late...now I was in action mode. I called my best friend, my mom and threw around the idea of going to his office to check up on him. Called his best friend to confirm that I was crazy and he would be home soon. Not long after, I finally listened to my gut and was on my way to his office.

Flash forward an hour or two and I was staring at my husband in an ER bed, unable to speak, unable to move his left side and suffering from a major stroke. I knew the minute I had found him on the floor. I was only a year away from graduating from nursing school, and I knew the signs and symptoms. Doctors and nurses came in and out, CT scan after CT scan and I sat there knowing that our lives were never going to be the same. Blow after blow of bad news and all I wanted to do was run. Run out of the room, run out of the hospital, and run to my bed where he would be fine sleeping next to me (by now it was 1 am) getting ready for another day of work and routine. I look at my best friend, who has been working all day and now sitting in a very uncomfortable ER room with me, watching this whole thing unfold
"You should go home" I say for the 8th time in the last half hour
"Shut up" she replies.

The scene plays over and over in my head like a movie. The engine of a school bus brings me back to reality and here I am, sitting outside OUR driveway, looking at OUR house, wondering how OUR lives are going to go one even though there really is no more OUR. Just me and this title of widow.