Becoming me . Again.

My husband left this world on September 25, 2012. This was the last day of my life. For the past 3 years I have struggled daily with memories, guilt, remorse, anger, confusion and loneliness. Finally, I have been able to let go of MOST of these feelings. I was the best I could have been at that time with what I knew and had. I cannot apologize for loving someone as much as I did and still do. No, my life with my husband was not perfect. Here we were two people brought back together after 18 years apart. Still silly, able to make each other laugh. He made my heart flutter and I gave him chills with my smile and lower lip bite. First love was still there, it had never totally left. We kept that thought and I believe this is what kept us together. This grief thing is one twisted bitch.

Some of our friends have branded me as “The model of what a Good Spouse does”. Oh please, no titles. I was his wife. I am not a model of anything. Nuh, uh.  Not me. I believe, FOR ME, you can get through what you have to. Some of it can sit on the side until you are ready to go through it, but it never goes away. Trust me, it multiplies until you deal with it. I DID WHAT NEEDED TO BE DONE. That is it. Could I have done better? Of course. Would I do it again? Yes, no question. I immersed myself into taking care of anything my husband needed. I never thought of it as a sacrifice or a “job”, it was what needed to be done. Was it easy, um… no. But that didn’t matter to me. Not at that time. Still doesn’t.

I cannot believe it has been 3 years. 1095 days. I have had to learn how to live my life over again. It’s like this- I knew it was 48 steps to the kitchen, 18 to my bathroom. I had 11 minutes from the time I hung the formula for his feeding tube until it was empty. A 15 minute shower became a luxury. I ignored my body telling me to CHILL OUT. How dare I take time off when this man needed so much from me!! 16.4 miles to work….leaving at odd hours to avoid traffic. Aide left at 5. Came at 11. Weekends were an extension of the week. 45 minutes to go to supermarket, bank and Walgreens.  Anytime I had the nerve to vocalize how desperately tired I was, I was wracked with guilt. I clearly remember just wanting a few minutes to sleep and smacking myself awake knowing that I needed to spend as much time as I could with Pete. I still see his eyes with tears in them when he looked at me and knew how exhausted I was. I would smile and do something silly…dance, sing. Whatever. It didn’t matter. This is what I did, not everyone can.

3 years. I go past the palm trees in my yard and I remember they were eye height to me. Now I am staring up at them, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.  36 months. It makes me look back and see how much has happened over this time. How in the HELL did I get here? I still cry on a near daily basis. It is a different cry from last year. Different from the gut wrenching first year. It is almost a new grieving. I know it is time for me to be me again. The face that everyone has been seeing is a façade. Putting on a smile every day when inside all I wanted was to do is curl up in a ball and cry…mourning for me. I cannot do that anymore. It has taken me 3 years to learn how to be me again. Three years to become me again.

I will miss Pete for the rest of my fucking life. That is a fact. I will grieve for my loss until…… I don’t know how long. I will undoubtedly experience days of horrible sadness. Birthdays, Anniversaries and Holidays will continue to pass. I want to live again. I can no longer just “survive”. Pete fell in love with the clever, quick witted, sometimes hysterically funny, compassionate, justice seeking, child advocate, family loving, green eyed beauty from Brentwood. He loved the energy I put into everything. He admired the enthusiasm. He GOT me. How am I honoring his memory by disguising myself? This man, whose energy and spirit envelops me, would want me to be Stephanie. He sees my struggles. I have had some very comforting “visits” from my husband. Each one brings a significant meaning or “message” for ME. I would never expect anyone to understand them. He does not want this for me.

 I believe people are brought into my life at the exact moment they are supposed to. In my mind, this epiphany is happening at the exact moment it is supposed to. I was not in a place before now where this was an option. I have been through hell. Truly.  Honest to God, I look over the past 3 years and I am completely speechless. BefuddIed. I have experienced every emotion and the bruises are gone.  I have doubted my existence and questioned my actions long enough. I will not do this anymore. I had to learn to give myself permission to release these feelings.

I would never advise anyone else other than this, if your grief incapacitates you to the point you cannot get out of bed, eat or function- a professional may need to be seen.  I am not ashamed to admit that I have sought professional guidance. One of the best things I have done for ME. Grief is as individual as the person we mourn. There is no one size answer. When it is time to “get it” you will. Grief is part of a life lesson.

Three years ago today, my husband Pete went to Heaven. Today I grieve and celebrate. Not just for him. For me too. Today I resume being the person I have always been. A bit older and wiser but the person he fell in love with all those years ago. Taking the steps back into my life. Deep breath, it's time. For me.