This past Sunday, marked that it has been 4 years since Dale has left us. There is a part of me that cannot believe that it has been that long already. Yet, there is another part of me that feels as if it has already been a lifetime ago. It seems so long since I have heard his voice or have seen his smile. So long. However, May 17 is not the day that I would wish away. What I came to realize that very first year is that it is the day before that is the worst. May 16. That was the very last day and for that, I cannot help but to carry an especially heavy heart on that day.
I am now on my 5th year of being a widow. I'm no longer a rookie or a newbie. I am a seasoned veteran. I have been removed far enough from that initial shock and wound to where I no longer feel defined by being a widow as I once have.
Looking back on that first year, it seems surreal. It took time to digest the reality of what had happened. My head was swimming with thoughts and questions... trying to make sense of it all. Fortunately for me, I had my son. I had to get up and out of bed every day because there was someone who needed me. I realized that the best thing that I could possibly do for my son was to be healthy myself and that first year, that is what I did. I focused on myself. I was broken and lost. Bit by bit, I started to find some old and some new pieces of me and put myself back together again. My 20 month year old son needed to be fed, bathed, given attention to, and loved. He was not denied a single one of those needs while I fully admit, I put a strong priority on myself. I feel no shame nor guilt in that because making myself better made me a better mom... A healthy and happy mom and I was able to accomplish and take care of both of our needs (without sacrificing his) because of that.
The first anniversary was very hard. Everything was a countdown. The memories and events were so fresh in my head that I relived the hell from the previous year all over again. As soon as May 1st hit, it was like everything else stopped. I dreaded May 17 and wished that I could just wake up and find that it was May 18. I would have sacrificed a day out of each year so that I wouldn't have to relive the 17th... until the 16th came. That is when I realized that it was his last day that was the hardest to get over. So many questions... Was it planned? Did he know? What did he wear? Do you bother to take a shower that day? What did he eat? Did he eat? Stupid irrelevant questions that just overtook my mind. The worst and the one that I have diverted my attention from every time it has come to mind are those last moments. Trying to imagine what he was feeling. Trying to understand what he was thinking. Those thoughts are tough enough now 4 years later and I still push them away. Four years ago, I couldn't go there at all. I was afraid to fall into their pit.
The second year was about feeling alive. It was about rediscovery and experiencing life as I wanted to. As I wanted. It took a great deal of acceptance... of myself and of my past to begin the process of letting go in order to truly start to move on. It was with acceptance and ownership that I was able to take control of my life. With a growing confidence I began to trust my gut and began to develop a keener sense of what felt right, of what was right... for me.
When the second anniversary approached, I did my best to carry on. Life didn't stop with the beginning of May. It only did for those two dreadful days. I also tried not to relive all of the events that occurred prior to his death. It didn't help. It just made me feel awful. There are certain memories that you cherish and treasure. There are others that are better left to let go, as best as you can. And that's okay.
The third year was about feeling beautiful. I had worked so hard to become a person that I liked, a person that I was proud to be... and I wanted my exterior to compliment my interior. I was back in the world of dating by then. A world which was completely foreign to me and how you physically present and represent yourself is important. I know that it was important to me when I met men as well. It's not shallow. It's... reality. So for me, I started with my physique. I tried p90x and felt fantastic when I finished. My body felt great and I was super proud of myself for completing the 90 day workout plan (even though it took me a bit longer, lol). I began to pay more attention to things like my hair and even went on a shopping spree at Sephora because I was in desperate need of learning how to do makeup! It was fun! The best part... I didn't do this mini-makeover for anyone else but me. I chose the color hair I wanted, the clothes that I felt my best in, the makeup that made me feel beautiful, and worked out for the figure that I wanted. When you make choices in that way, for yourself, and not to impress some guy or to try and be someone other than yourself, it works. It is another way of finding yourself. When you are the person that you want to be both on the inside and the outside (imperfections included and accepted) then you are whole. This is the year that I met John.
I had been dating John for 6 months when the 3rd anniversary approached. It was extremely difficult. Because I had someone in my life and was moving on in the most difficult and intimate of ways, I felt as if I were saying goodbye all over again. I had felt a tremendous amount of guilt... guilt for moving on, guilt for being happy, and guilt for being alive and having the chance to do all of that. I cried more on the third year date than I did on the second. The day after the anniversary date, I woke up and I felt as if a weight had been lifted. It was a new day. It was sunny and peaceful and with a deep breath, I took it all in, every bit of it.
This past year, my fourth, had its ups and downs and for that it was mentally exhausting. My relationship with John developed. He became a constant in both my life and in my son's. This past November, we moved in together. I continued my goodbyes by moving out of the apartment that I shared with Dale. I let go many of my material things that I had collected and accumulated over the years with Dale. I had to pick and choose what to save for my son and what to save for myself. It was a very difficult process. I had many dreams during this time. Dreams that helped me feel more at ease and well as dreams that freaked me out. In the end, once the move was complete, the dreams stopped and my mind found peace once again.
This past weekend marked the 4th year without Dale. Unlike all the rest, it wasn't just a quiet day spend alone with my son. I live with someone now. My parents were also in visiting this weekend and staying with us. There was no time or place to escape and as someone who appreciates and sometimes craves that alone time, I struggled without it. Life went on as normally as it possible could this past weekend. For the first time in 4 years, it didn't stop. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. I guess that is how it should be. Never forgotten, but it shouldn't be a day that I wish away. May 17, 2011... that is the day on the death certificate. That day will never come again. I may very well see 50 or more May 17ths in my lifetime. That is 50 days! Fifty days is entirely too may to wish away. You realize how precious time is when you experience a great loss. Especially when just a mere 50 seconds of seeing that person again would be more than priceless.
Year 5... Who knows what this year will bring, I am just happy to be a part of it.
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