76 days

Today was the loveliest spring day, 81 degrees and sunny. Today was just the type of day that would make Patrick ask, are you sure you have to work today, 5 minutes later - are you sure? 10 minutes later - really, you have to work?
He loved to live his life to the fullest, trying to squeeze every minute out. He would often ask me on a day like today if we could take a bike ride during my lunch hour. Since I work basically from home, and rarely take a lunch hour, I would usually willingly oblige, with the clear direction that I needed to back in an hour. He would always try to push the envelope, stretching that time until I would make him turn back towards home. So many times I was frustrated and would think, "Doesn't he know how much work I have to do?" Now, even though I have infinitely more work to do, what I wouldn't give to push the envelope on a lunch hour with him.

I went to court on Monday to be named the head of his estate. I do so well every day, and then the stupidest thing will set me off. Sitting in court and hearing his name preceeded by the "estate of" was all it took. Big, hot tears pouring out of my eyes. Couldn't help it.

Now that I have the proper documents it is time to start moving things into his estate. I can't help feeling that I am violating him somehow by doing things like closing his bank account. He had that account before he had me, who am I to close it. It almost feels to me like I am wiping his presence from the earth, and I hate it! I know these are things that must be done, and I will do them and try not to look back.

I had another dream last night, he was wandering around the house talking to me, and I was thinking in my dream, "Thank God, he is not dead." The dreams make me wake up so empty, but will I be even emptier still when I don't have them anymore?

74 days down,,,a lifetime to go

Today was a beautiful day, the blossoms are in full bloom and I took a drive with my sister and mother-in-law and took pictures of the kids with the brilliant spring colors. It was a day to truly appreciate, and I tried to do just that. I try to relish in every sight and smell, I know all too well that life is just too short. The kids just loved running down the trails in the park picking me the hugest bouquet of dandelions. All in all, today was a good day.

Today was also the last day of Sunday School, and i have to say that I couldn't be more glad! I love churh, I love MY church, but I have to say that I feel different there now. The pews are full of children with both parents, and it is hard for me to sit there...one parent. It is just a painful reminder of what should have been in my life. The funniest thing is that Patrick didn't even go to church with us, but I guess there was always the possiblility that he could have when he wanted to. Now there is no chance of that, or anything else. I have never been so lonely in my life...ever.

I long to just be held by Patrick, to feel his strong arms holding me, safe and comfortable. I dream about him almost every night, we are having a normal conversation, talking about normal things. Sometimes in my dream, I turn to him and say, "You know you are dead, right?" Creepy right. But the thing that is always constant in the dreams is that he is warm and soft, not like the last time I was able to touch him and hold his hand. I miss him so badly, it hurts. I love the dreams because I am close to him, I hate the waking up, because I wake up alone, again.

I loathe the lonely nights, and weekends, and find myself looking forward to Monday, when I can start the 100mph pace that are my days, falling into bed at the end of the day exhausted. Tomorrow, day 75.

7 weeks, 3 days ago

My life changed forever...
I knew Patrick for 18 years. This year we would have celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary. We have 2 beautiful children who turn 7 and 5 years old this year.

Patrick died on March 4, 2009, a sudden, tragic, senseless death. Someday when I can talk about it, I will.

So many people tell me how strong I am. I want to scream, "I am not strong, can't you people see I am trying to survive here!" I think I have switched into mother protecting her cubs mode, and cannot switch out.

The days and weeks surrounding Patrick's death have been surreal. How do you plan a funeral 2 days after your best friend dies? You think to yourself, how long is this torture going to continue as you sit in the funeral directors office, picking prayer cards, and casket liners. What f-ing difference does it make, do you realize my husband just died! In the end, his service was lovely and moving, and as my children and I walked behind his casket through the church, I was proud to have been his wife, proud to be holding his childrens' hands.

I think Patrick would have been mortified that I dressed him in his best suit, sprayed my favorite cologne on his lapels, and set him out for everyone to gawk at. I would have probably had him cremated, but because of the way he died, I needed to see him, to touch him, to tell him I hoped as he died he knew he was loved, to tell him how sorry I am that he died alone, to tell him that if I knew he was dying, I would have been there to hold him as his heart beat for the last time, to feel his last breath against my face, to hold him as his life left his body, because that is what he deserved. He did not deserve to die alone, on a cold, hard floor, waiting for someone to come and help him.

I live with that picture in my mind every single day, my vibrant, handsome, genius husband waiting for help, all alone. I try to push the picture out of my mind, and replace it with memoires that belong there, us riding a motorcycle around in Rome, walking the streets of Vegas at 4AM, riding roller coasters with our children. That is the Patrick I should be remembering, every minute of the day.

How exactly does one become a widow at 40? Widows are older women who had a whole lifetime of memories with their husbands, not the small handful I am left with. I ache for him that he will not see his children grow up to be the wonderful adults I know they will be. I ache for my children that they will live their whole lives without their father. I ache for me that I was robbed of a husband at 40 years old, that I did not get to grow old with the man that I loved. Mostly, I just ache.

Patrick, you are missed, every minute of every day.

Return from the dead

It has been almost a month since I last posted, typical. That is a testament to my attention span. My kids are lucky they are so loud, or I would have forgotten them long ago.
Last month we had my daughters first real birthday party. I invited all the kids in her K4 class. We ended up with about 11 girls and one very out of place little boy. As it was a dress-up party and every single girl picked a princess dress to wear, I think the boy was overwhelmed by all of the estrogen floating around in the room.
The party was lovely. Lots of little girls dressed up in beautiful princess dresses, complete with make up, tiaras, and magic wands. They had a tea party with little tea cakes, and a ball afterwards where they shook their groove things. All in all, a good fiesta, except for the hostss, for lack of better words a Bi@#$. She was not friendly and did not appear to enjoy the children. Seriously, when you were contemplating starting a business lady, what in god's name made you choose children's parties, when it appears that you do not like children? Gee, I get motion sickness...perhaps I should become a flight attendant. I have allergies, perhaps I should become a gardener. I mean really lady, get over yourself. Anyway, we had enough mothers there that we used her as a glorified server.
Did you ever notice that when you are with a group of children, that one of them always has to have an attitude? There is a little girl in her class (let's call her Veruca) that was upset that my daughter (the birthday girl) had the white dress, and she didn't, and the dress she had was definitely NOT a princess dress, and I WANT TO GO CHANGE RIGHT NOW. When we wouldn't let her change 5 times, she pouted in the corner and wouldn't talk for quite a while. She continued to have a pint size 'tude the whole party. Now we went to this little girl's pary and her mother was kind enough to include my one and a half year old son. When he looked as if he would even think about acting up, I removed him before he disrupted her party. My daugter has picked this girl as her best friend at school.
A few weeks ago, my daughter had a first haircut. Just a trim, she has gorgeous brown curls cascading halfway down her back. The woman that cut her hair (who also did not appear to care for children, what is with these people?) put in french braids and sprayed glitter in her hair. She wore the braids to school the next day. When my sis-in-law picked up my girl from school she remarked about how beatiful my daughters braids were. Veruca then proceded to ask my sis "Isn't my hair prettier than (my daugthers)? My sis said "Actually no Veruca, I think (my daughter's) hair is MUCH prettier than yours. I knew there was a reason I love my sis-in-law so much.

Letter to my Doodlebug on her fourth birthday

Yesterday you turned 4 years old. It seems like only yesterday, you were a little baby, and now you are a real person. You have such deep thoughts and feelings, I often stare at you in wonder. The other day, you sat straight up from a nap on the couch, clutched your chest and said,"I think all the blood has pumped from my heart, and now it is empty." I mean come on, how old are you?

You really enjoy books, although you really have no interest in learning to read. You also love the outdoors, bugs and frogs. When we take you to our quarry, you love to play with tadpoles and fireflies.

You are an incredibly kind soul and everybody loves you. You melt your grandmother with one word, and a batting of your long eyelashes. You love to water the flowers with her, and will spend an hour filling your watering can from the rainbarrel, and watering in her garden. She has so many flowers, and you patiently water every single one.

You are wonderful to your little brother (most of the time). You always want to make sure if you have a snack, little bro has one too. You share your toys with him, even when you don't want to. You hug and kiss him, and always want him around. He worships you like a rock star.

We have a very special relationship, you and I, we always have. We couln't be more different. At preschool, you have lots of friends, I was shy. You are beautiful and outgoing, I was a funny-looking kid. You have an infectous laugh, a laugh from your belly. I was a nervous little girl. Yet I see myself in you, your big brown eyes, and dark hair, like me. We are never as happy without each other, as we are when we are together. I hope we will always be this way, you and I, becuase I cannot imagine life without you.


Happy 4th Birthday, my doodlebug,
Love, Mom

Rockin' Mama

Last Sunday hubby and I went to see my fave band, Nine Inch Nails. Not only do I actually love their music, they sounded great, but Trent Reznor is looking mighty fine these days. We had a really good time, despite the fact that we were so far back we had to check out the video screens if we wanted to actually see what anyone looked like. From where we were sitting the band looked like Fisher Price characters. Nevertheless, the stage show was phenomenal. They had a screen that would periodically come down with individual LED lights and a video screen behind them, awesome.

It was interesting to see the mix of people at the show. Goth youngsters, mainstream professionals (like ourselves), and pre-pubescents with mom or dad. How embarassing must it be to go to a concert with your mom? I try to think of those feelings when interacting with older kids. We once went to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert and my stepson wanted to see the band too. He was about 14 at the time. Too young in my opinion to go by himself, so we bought a ticket for him and my brother, who was 18 at the time. We all went to the venue together, but did not sit together. I hope that was more gentle on his psyche than sitting with dad and stepmonster.

I once heard an interview with Trent Reznor where he said it would be time for him to stop playing music when parents came to see him play. Hang up the guitar Trent, your worst nightmare has come true!!

Life as I know it has ceased to exist

Last Saturday, something happened that is bound to set off a chain of events, so awful, so horrific, that I cannot speak it aloud...My four-year old went to a (gulp) birthday party. Now before you say, so what, people...She is 4!! To make it even worse, this friend with said birthday party is from her day care. DAY CARE!! You can imagine, since this month she will turn four, she is dreaming up the most magical birthday party with unicorns drinking from golden troughs. Should I stick to my original plan, which is to have a family only birthday party, or put together a party with her friends? Ponies for everyone!