Leaving Memorials

Jeff's photography, from his Facebook

This week I began to think about what to do with Jeff’s Facebook account. I have access to it, we always shared passwords with each other and I can access most of his online accounts, so I have a few options. I can leave it active, as it is now, I can delete it entirely, or I can ask Facebook to memorialize it. That will lock it down, frozen in time, a memorial to the thoughts and images he shared. I had always considered that the best option, but I’ve been resisting it for a while, it would be another way of acknowledging that he's really gone, and in my heart I still don't want to do that.

It also occurs to me that by memorializing Jeff's account it will probably cause the relationship status on my own account to change. Now I'm not entirely sure about this, it might still read the same, but it made me wonder if it might be time to change that status over to read "widowed."  That's a label I've been resisting, it sounds so permanent and final. I don't feel like a widow, I still feel married, I'm just married to a man who seems to have always left the room before I came in. I know that there's no need to make any changes to the way I label myself on something as relatively insignificant as Facebook, in fact there's no need to display any relationship status at all. Still, I'm thinking that maybe this is another step on my journey of healing. I'm rebuilding my life, and perhaps taking ownership of the term "widow," even if it is only a mental acknowledgement of my new identity,  is a small step in continuing to work on accepting that Jeff has died, and my life is not as it was.

In preparation for changing over the account I went back through Jeff's timeline and read through his status updates. In the process I found myself reliving a lot of little moments of the past few years. He didn’t update his status often, so each post is extra special to me. Each was an insight into what he was doing, what he was thinking, into which technologies he’d stumbled across and found so cool he just had to share them with everyone. I could feel his enthusiasm in each update. I could feel his optimism and his hope for the future. I could remember every time he told me about something that he’d just found, and how excited he was about new ideas and innovation. Reading through that was much harder than I would have imagined, It made my grief feel very fresh again.  I cried not just for my own loss, but because the world will never know what he could have made of his plans, and what he might have created. It’s not fair. He should have had forty more years to pursue his dreams.

Even though it's hard to look back at things that prompt memories I don't want to hide from them. Remembering him and talking about him is important to me. But there are times that all of the memories do become too difficult, the pain is too much to bear and I have to step back and find a way to distract myself and try to bring my mood back up. My challenge this year is to curb my instinct to use comfort foods to do that. A little treat is fine, a never ending stream of high fat, carb laden food is not. At least, it's not for me, the temporary happiness I gain from that 1400 calorie pint of ice cream never seems to make up for the way I feel after I eat it, and the fifteen pounds that have joined me in the past couple of months are proof that I need to find a better way to comfort myself. I need to spend less time thinking about cookies as a mood lifter, and more time losing myself in books, in hobbies, in music, in idle, silly daydreams.

75 days have come and gone, but I'm still breathing. It's an ongoing battle, but I'm holding on.

cross posted from Kything NaturesZen

7 Days

It has almost been a full week. On one hand time seemed to stop, on the other I don't know how this much has already passed. I feel like I was just sitting there with him. I can close my eyes and feeling his arms around me, and snuggling against him.

I looked through so many pictures. The ones I've kept on my phone, the ones that I had saved. And videos, too, little short clips we sent each other. I wonder how long it takes before I can look at any of it and smile instead of falling apart. I wonder when the time comes that I will find an appetite, instead of trying to eat something every day only because I know I'm supposed to. How long before I stop feeling physically awful.

Today I pick up the memorial package, the guestbook, the remembrance cards, the urn, although I have not yet received his ashes, the urn will be his proxy at the memorial. I have two days to try to prepare myself for that as much as I can.

I keep telling everyone I'm doing okay, I'm hanging in there. Am I? I'm not even sure.

A Love Story

I had never dated much in my life. I didn't have friends who were inclined to fix me up, I was overweight, insecure, and far too shy to consider putting myself into the dating pool. I dated briefly in college, and a few times afterwards, but for the most part I spent my twenties and thirties on my own. I was mostly content with my life. I had a nice apartment, I worked with good people, I had my little pastimes to keep me busy. I often thought about how I wished I could share my life with someone, but I was just too afraid of trying to get out to meet people. When online dating services began to advertise heavily I'm not sure why I thought I'd give it a try, but I signed up, just for giggles. I didn't really expect much.

I didn't get contacted often, and I was a bit hesitant to try to initiate contact with anyone, so in the first couple months I exchanged emails with only a couple of people. I had one date with a very nice guy, but we just didn't seem to hit it off, and it didn't seem worthwhile to continue to pay for a service when I wasn't meeting anyone. I decided to let my subscription run out. It was kind of a fun experiment, but it didn't seem too promising. Before it was ready to expire I changed my profile a few more times, and I remember the last header I wrote: "Maiden seeks Knight, shining armor optional." Yes, a bit cheesy, but I wanted to make sure my profile was as goofy as I was so there would be no surprises later. Shortly after that I got an email from Jeff.

It took me a couple days to respond to him because at the time I was busy with the terribly important business of cleaning my living room to make way for a new sofa, but as soon as we started emailing we just seemed to hit it off. He didn't just write a few lines, he sent long thoughtful letters, he talked about his outlook on life and things he wanted to do. He was both fascinating and a little intimidating, he seemed far more spiritual, focused, and self confident than me. But, on the other hand, I remember one of the emails, after we’d compared some of our personality quirks, he commented that “We have the same bad habits!”

I loved exchanging emails, but it seemed right to move onto talking on the phone after about a week. I loved his voice, I always loved his voice. We talked often, then after two weeks we decided to meet at a local bookstore in the coffee shop.

When I got there I found this guy sitting at the table with a small vase of flowers. I hadn't expected flowers, I thought it was really sweet. Apparently he’d told the girl working at the counter that this was a first date, and he was a little nervous about meeting me, so she was watching with amusement while we sat there and talked. And we talked, we talked for at least three hours before we moved out of the coffee shop and into the bookstore to wander around. The afternoon meeting turned into an early dinner, then we each drove to a nearby park and strolled around till evening. I remember standing by my car, playing with my keys as we wound up the date. I was still nervous, I wasn't sure how I felt, I was a little afraid it wouldn't work out and I'd hurt, or maybe I was afraid it would work out and I had no idea if I could handle that.. but even with all my anxiety I knew I wanted to see him again.

Fortunately I didn't let all the doubts get the best of me and we kept talking, and kept meeting, and found more in common every time we talked. It was a month later when he went off to a convention for a few days, and I had a sudden realization that I was in love with him, head over heels, and I couldn't wait for him to get back. I kept leaving him little voice mails, and pinned his picture up in my cubicle. I think I amused my coworkers, who kept up with my romance and heartily approved of Jeff.

We moved along quickly, I suppose, compared to some couples. We’d met in person for the first time on July 10, and we were engaged on my birthday in November. We got married the following June. It was perfect. On the anniversary of our first date, a few weeks after our wedding, we decided to recreate our first date. The clerk at the bookstore was still there, and recognized Jeff. She was delighted to hear that we'd just gotten married, and thought it was so romantic.

All of my time with him was like that. I fell in love with him every day, and we were still learning about each other and finding new things that we loved in common. I don't think we went more than a few hours without saying "I love you!" and meaning it from the bottom of our hearts. He was my knight in shining armor, my soul mate, the partner I'd waited for my entire life. I know I am still speaking from a place of deep grief, but I honestly can't imagine ever sharing my life with anyone again. I will never be that comfortable with another person.

For the first few days I was wishing that I had dozed off and fallen into a nightmare, that none of it had really happened, and if I just wished hard enough I'd wake up and all would be well. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I was just fortunate enough to have my dream come true for eight beautiful years. I hope he felt the same way.