Relearning Happiness

I lost concept of time, since becoming a widow.

It’s foggy looking back.

It’ll be a year September 3rd. It still doesn’t feel real.

But here I am.. On the brink of a new beginning, rebuilding my life. Reflecting, gently, of how I’ve coped and looking forward to what’s to come.

Grief has become the shadow that follows close to me. Relearning happiness as grief tags along.

A slow dance of ups and downs. It dips me into flashbacks engraved in my mind.

I became captive to the memories and more when I realized some were slowly fading. I hadn’t heard him laugh in so long.

The life I once had, before he took my hand and rest it on his cheek that night. I’ll never forget the feeling of pure love from his eyes as he looked into mine. I didn’t need words for me to understand for what was about to come.

So, what have I been doing since that day. I honestly can say.. It’s fuzzy…

But I do know I’ve been trying my best.

Relearning happiness.

I fell into a dark place. Avoiding family and friends and places we frequented. I struggled to come to the surface. Put on a front for my child, but when alone, completely succumb to griefs’ dance.

I can honestly say it’s hold on me hasn’t become easier over time, I’ve become use to it.

I will never be the same person I was before. I grieve that loss too.

Maybe I hold on the tightest when it’s time to let go.

I’m painfully aware it’s not possible to push grief away,

sleep it away, smoke it away,

drink it away, work it away, or date it away.

It still moves with me.

Day by day, I’m learning how to move forward with it.

Healing where someday my scars become art.

A new perspective on life and how quickly it can all change.

I choose to find joy in simple pleasures.

I choose to be gentle with myself, as grief sways me.

As new beginnings slowly come for me, I can’t deny it’s triggering.

Looking for a new home without you by my side stings, but making steps towards a new life is exciting.

Rebuilding my career, leaving behind what we once built together brings anger, but I remind myself it is an opportunity.

Each day is a new day, I will continue relearning my happiness, and optimistic of what’s to come.

I spent what has felt like a long time in the darkness. Never thinking it would end..

But knowing the halfway empty to knowing the halfway full..

You’d be proud, I’m finding my light once again.

I miss you.

Why is it so hard for me to let go of 2021?

There’s something about New Years Eve this year that makes myself wonder. How could I be ever be resistant for the count down to a new year. I see many struggling just begging for the new year to come! Yet, I sit here mourning it trying to hang on to every second of what’s left of 2021. -But why?

2021 as for many of us, it has been a rough year, but my question stems from the end of 2020 into 2021..

Here we go:

2020 Kris was re diagnosed with Brain Cancer. Covid starts taking a toll on our family run business. The business was fortunately still somewhat standing, but Kris and I had many conversations as to what to do with it.

Kris had beaten cancer before and d*mnit he was going to do it again!

We both would be back working in no time.

We had been in business for over 6 years. Beat all odds and loved what we did, but it was starting to get hard and the pressure of our personal responsibilities (time off for chemo) and covid shut-down damage.. we were forced to close our 2nd location and on the verge of business bankruptcy.

I wasn’t ready to let it all go under. Kris loved what he did and I just deep down wondered if we gave up completely on the business would he lose his since of purpose and fighting spirit.

A carrot at the end of the chemo and radiation, I guess.

We also created a work environment we loved and there would be a lot of guilt, and let down, a pressure we put on ourselves. A job that gave me a sense of purpose for myself and I wasn’t ready to give that up.

Winter 2020 Kris was finishing up chemo and radiation but developed a blood clot and needed surgery. I was clenching onto hope, desperately wanting to wake up from this nightmare, but for the following act would be many more disappointments. I was served a court custody battle.

This battle began in Early Covid 2020 and lead into majority of 2021. One of the court days the judge enforced my son mandatory visitation travel in the height of covid to Hawaii. Of course, I was terrified! My business was failing, because I couldn’t even work on clients because we were shut down for fear of covid. I couldn’t accompany my husband at the hospital during chemo because of covid. But I have to put my son on a plane to travel to another state in covid. When there’s travel restrictions and not to mention the state with the most restrictions. Nothing was making sense of this covid situation, I didn't want my son or my husband to be at risk. There were no answers.

What was I suppose to do or not do?

The time came, I dropped my son off at the airport for his visitation to Hawaii, and as soon as Kris and I got into the car, Kris had a massive seizure. The universe made it where my son wasn’t suppose to see or be there for those hard days in the hospital. It’s still hard to show any appreciation of result that began with so much grief and pain. My mother intuition screaming inside and having to succumb to what’s present was pure torture. My heart with many concerns pulled in different directions.

I was left with only to focus on what’s in front of me.

This was the point of 2021, I felt like a dung beetle rolled up my world in a dung ball. A dung ball that reached the top of the hill, teetering.

Cancer became “stable”. We would have a great days and then for a brief moment something would make me question. I’d brush it off as radiation side effects.

Once walking in a parking garage, I could hear his shoe slightly drag. As subtle and odd as it was for me to notice. It was different. He drug his right heel. I knew something was wrong.

And away it went.. my world, as flying dung, sh*t, ball, catching speed, faster, and faster, downhill for the rest of 2021.

Kris’s words became slower and his right side became weaker.

The day came when Kris and I had been absent at work for quite a while. Our one business location that reopened was still trying without us physically working while we were trying to figure out his health.

We made the decision to sell our home.

Our beautiful home. It was our dream home that we found and fixed it up. We knew if his health continued to decline and our business continued to function the way it was, along with the lawyer fees, something had to change. We worked hard for that house. It was an amazing house with many memories. The question of what if he got better and we sold it for no reason constantly entertained my thoughts.. but the pressure from all angles was suffocating. Work was already on a thin balancing act. We knew it was for the best.

The day we got an offer on the house we were excited and sad it was becoming a reality. During conversation, Kris started to not communicate well. His words were jumbled. I tried to stall the sale so he could recover. See if words would become easier, maybe a medication fix? I just needed time for us to be able to make a decision! But time came to where I couldn’t stall any longer.

I was left wondering questions what would he say and I hope I did what he wanted me to do.

The feeling of making important decisions felt so alone without his input.

From then on, Kris could only answer by nodding yes or no.

Coming up with ways to word some questions as a, yes or no, became harder.

Each night, I cried fearing he’d be worse than the day before. Could this all just be a radiation side effects? Would he slowly return to himself? Or is this what life is now?

I held onto hope.

Within a few weeks, Kris drastically changed. When my son returned, he could visually see the effects in Kris’s health. He struggled with Kris not being able to play like he once did. He also questioned why Kris all of a sudden couldn’t talk as he did before he left. At first he’d shy away from him, but later I’d find my son reading him stories and Kris would smile.

Moving out

Walking out of my front door for the last time, I cried the most gut wrenching cry. A little because of material value; worked hard for it!

I was also leaving my neighborhood animal friends!

-You see, since my dog had passed away, I had decided to feed the crows.

I always felt bad because my dog stomped on a crow and killed it a year prior. So when I didn’t have any large animals to stomp them to death, I decided to pay my respects and buy the crows remorse with some nuts.

I didn’t realize how much the neighborhood animal gang had helped me through. There were many days I’d sit outside feeding the crows, squirrels, bunnies and birds, talking to them. I would sit out there asking the clouds and animals for answers…

The crows always accepted my offerings, but never gave me shiny things in return. So.. I think they still had feelings about the dog situation. Which is ok, I understood. I got more out of the bunnies peeking through the hedges for me and crows soaring down when they saw me come outside.

But! What I was most upset about was everything I knew of my life, was drastically changing, and fast! I wanted to hold onto control of anything!

I couldn’t catch a breath, and at that moment, locking the door one last time, I looked down and I see

a crow feather. It was a sign. Or… maybe they did want to give me a token before I left.

Either way, I knew I was on the right path.

We got an apartment close to work and my sons school.

Kris didn’t look sick. He just couldn’t talk or walk anymore much longer after we moved in.

And then it happened.

The moment rushed over me as I paused and I realized, Kris verbally stopped saying, “I love you”.

Only one can truly endure what it is like watching someone slip away into a human shell before their eyes.. It became harder to find hope. His once strong, athletic, legs that peddled him through those missionaries day were now a fraction of what they once were. His strong arms that he’d pick me up and throw me over his shoulder were now a memory I replayed in my head. His personality overly medicated, and his sparkle in his eyes became dull.

He was dissolving before my eyes.

I would question the professionals, if cancer wasn’t growing then what is wrong with him?

The nurse knew my name, knew my number, and there would be days I’d call more than once. I was that patient advocate. But I didn’t care if I got on their nerves! I was always kind, yet, I gladly advocated for him; We needed answers. Kris always gave the best medical attention to his clients. He deserved only the best care. I was going to figure this out.

What was worse is that Kris was brilliant in the medical field! He couldn’t talk anymore but I knew, he knew, what was wrong with him…he just needed confirmation of what it was. and Looking back, even if he could have verbalized it to me, would I have accepted it?

No, because I knew deep down and I didn’t accept it then. I wanted it to be a problem that could be fixed.

The dung ball sh*t was rolling down hot for its grand finale and there it was, cancer growing. The confirmation I know Kris was waiting for. He wanted to know he did everything he possibly could. He was tired and we exhausted all of our options for cancer treatments.

That night at the apartment, Kris pushed away his medications.

I knew.

We had already had this conversation so many times when he could speak, I didn’t need the verbal.

I already knew his wishes. I was so angry! I once again had to succumb to a plan out of my control.

I did the only thing I could control. I supported him and loved him.

He stopped the medication and for a few days he became more like himself.. I didn’t know how long we had. I could see his glow returned. He smiled. He even laughed, and played with the kids.

Then one night he grabbed my hand and held it to his face. He looked at me with so much love, a tear fell from his eye, and he smiled. I kissed him and laid on his lap and we both fell asleep.

As I slept, I dreamt for the first time in a long time. The dream was a memory of the very first time I told him, “I love you” and he told me, “I love you”.

When I awoke, I knew.

-Sept 3rd, 2021

So, why is it hard for me to let go —I couldn’t let go of 2021 because the thought of someday remembering him longer than I knew him, breaks me. In 2021, I never had the time to process the pain. I kept trying to control something! As much as I felt backed into a corner, I just kept swinging and moving to the next.
Writing this has helped give myself closure and grace to a world that rolled fast. I found my voice when I needed it. I learned to let go what I couldn’t control and put trust into the universe. The year ending doesn’t mean I can’t take the good memories in between all the hard ones with me. I know this is just one step of my grieving journey. One I know will never go away, but I can control how I will move forward.

I’m grateful for the time, the lessons, the love I was able to have, and the ability to still see love in life. I even have crows that visit my balcony. (I wonder if they’re the same ones! )

I accept all that is good for me in what’s to come in the new year. I don’t think that dung ball sh*t has much momentum left to roll into 2022, so here I go!

“Want to hear a weird story?”

If you’ve read my blog you know since my husbands passing I like to cry at grocery store check outs. When the cashier states normal conversations like, “Rotisserie Chicken is the best..” I like to reply by bursting into tears. It makes things awkward and I leave the cashier wondering if I’m ok.

It’s become a thing now that I have to mentally prep myself before going in.- As if going in the grocery store isn’t already a thing to mentally prep for. Anyways, after going down the aisles of either resisting to pick up things my deceased husband would’ve enjoyed. Suppressing the thoughts of dinner I would’ve made for him and putting things back I had subconsciously put in the cart for him back on the shelf; I stroll up to the conveyer belt.

I place my groceries with a big exhale and give one last mental conversation.

“I will not cry here..today.” I prepped myself.

She scans my groceries. I’m doing great! I’m focused.

Hyping myself up..'“ I’m not f*ckin losing it, yes!”. Then…

the cashier starts to cough*.

She says to me, “want to hear a weird story?”

me: “Sure!” (In my head saying: please don’t say you have covid) as she scans.

cashier: My sister died yesterday..

(Mental thoughts: Did I hear her right?… -that’s horrible; please, don’t say it was covid.)

me: “Excuse me?.. I didn’t hear you.”

cashier: “Ya, my sister died yesterday. She was eating a piece of chocolate, choked on it and died.”

-OK! Of course, my first thought is she had to be joking. What the !? I scan her facial cues and I see it..

Someone trying to hold it together in a check out line.

A heart full of sadness.

Grief.

The feeling I know a version of. The sense of the world spiraling around as you process. Living while trying to make sense of life. The feeling that just wants to make you shout and let everyone know.. you’re hurting and just want everything to stop.

So, I did what I said I wouldn’t…

I cried.

and then she cried.

I hugged the cashier and told her it’s ok to cry at the check out line. We exchanged a few moments about grief and I left.

I’m allowed to cry. I won’t deny my pain.

Beauty can come from suffering.

I still haven’t made it through a check out line without crying! D*mnit …

Funny how that worked out.. Ya it was a weird story but I’m grateful she felt she could share it with me. I’m glad I was the person she could cry with at the check out line.

:)

I’ve become the Grieving Grinch with a Merry B*tchmas.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

-Well, it’s like as if your husband who’s also your best friend got sick suddenly and died; it’s like that.

insert: awkward sarcastic laugh. Humor helps my grief.

-Honestly, I just don’t know what to say anymore when people say that phrase. It’s kind, people expressing compassion, but it has become a common statement people say to me when they find out about my husband’s death.

To which most days, I counter with the go to response,

“Ya, just taking it one day at a time.” -Which is true.

… but as we all know there’s always one person that makes things interesting.

And this person who I don’t know very well to begin with decided to elaborate. Out loud. To me.

Her improv in the Hallway-

I title, My Imaginary Widow Life.

Staring: Random neighbor in my apartment complex.

“I would be crying all the time.. I don’t think I’d be able to survive without my husband. You’re so young. and.. oh.. Dating would be awful. I know someone who their wife died. You seem like you’re doing ok. ”

End scene.

I wasn’t up for her role play anymore and thankfully I arrived at my door.

I sarcastically chuckled “ya” with a shrug. I believe she was trying to be supportive with her honesty, but it wasn’t the best pep talk to say the least. In my head…. I’m saying, “but you haven’t seen me at a grocery check out line! that’s where I really shine.” ;)

What grieving is like to me:

I don’t cry all the time.

I can survive without my husband, yet I miss him terribly and some days are harder than others.

I consciously have to stop myself from picking up the things in the grocery store that he usually wanted or putting things back on the shelf.

I feel normal one minute then angry at the little things next.

I tearfully smile when I hear his guitar being played by his daughter.

I socialize but it feels like awkward small talk.

Friends disappear and some old friends reappear.

Listen to his song playlist and choreograph dances in my head. Or wonder why that song resonated with him?

I laugh some days or cry and scream into the pillow others.

I accomplish something new but lay in bed wearing his shirt just to feel a hug and his support.

Taking a day at a time. Each day is different.

And YES! the thought of dating again, uh ya, It terrifies me. Stating the obvious was not needed to be mentioned. I have horrible crazy online dating stories, before I met Kris. Dating in general can suck.. Talk about Post Traumatic Stress Dating. Totally a feeling of it’s own just thinking about it. But come on, why’d she bring that up! I’m just floating through the “grieving stages” .

..Yes, I’m angry he’s gone, but I’ll settle myself with the many memories I have.

I’ll always cherish that chapter with him.

Ever since Mariah Carrey officially declared the holiday season with the musical note of her Christmas song this year, It’s been a slap in the face - missing a loved one’s, kind of mood.

If you lost a loved one we all can agree, Holiday season can SUCK. suuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkkksss

The family gatherings, living far away from family and missing a loved one. It’s next level kind of grief. It hits different. I feel like I took 3 steps backwards into grieving.

Everything holiday that pops up becomes a reminder of not having him here for it. I just want to punch Santa. (Sorry Santa..)

It’s the songs, the commercials, it’s your loved one’s favorite pie you make every year - its everywhere.

Even the damn Elf ! because you remember your husband had your back and would move it for you if you forgot.. now when the stupid thing doesn’t move you result to “the cat must of touched it”.. and you feel all emotions at once wanting the throw it, laugh at it, and cry. -Which we all already want to do, but even more now. *Visions of myself yeeting the elf into the garbage disposal.

These days, while in the pick up line of school, I’m hoping no one looks in my direction. I’m constantly wiping the tears away getting it together. But Hey, on the positive, I don’t have to figure out a gift for him this year. Ha!

I’m fortunate that I have a great family and I will be seeing them soon, but I greedily want more… I want him back too! Since the rainy season in Washington State and another holiday approaching I’ve become

A Grieving Grinch with a Merry B*tchmas. As if you couldn’t already tell from my ranting..

I sit here on my couch totally eating a pint of cheesecake ice cream..

jealous of your FB and instagram posts…I scroll through..

you..

.. Kissing under the mistletoe.. pffttt.

All of the adorable family Christmas photos

with your matching pajamas….

While I take a Family photo in front of his grave. The only thing matching over here is the therapy with my kid. - cheese!

Pulling out the Christmas ornaments can remind me of a lot of memories. Some memories of us staying up too late drinking egg nog while building like elves.

sigh, My only Grieving Grinch B*chmas Wish is that you all are good to each other, genuinely love yourself and each other and take in those moments.

I do actually love seeing your Christmas pictures, treasure those moments.. Thanks for reading my rant it does make it easier. I can switch back. I’m appreciative of the memories I hold and cherish. It’s tender still and the holiday is such a family time and I’ll admit I’m a bit jealous.

I guess I share to say

Keep making memories, and think before you speak.

Be easy on people while out and about. We all may be having a moment of a grinchy b*tchmas.

I’ll be over here avoiding my neighbors and the awkward small talk.

Probably, fussing with the cat eating the tree and blaming her for things. I’ll still be embracing moments with my family… and maybe a little bit cussing at the Elf to make myself feel better.
I promise my Grinchy heart isn’t getting small. I’m Grieving and feels good just to B*tch.

Love and Hugs, Danielle

Happy Birthday. I can’t promise there won’t be crying at the check out though.

They say time heals and the pain will go away, but here comes another memory moment that rips into me. Today is Kris’s birthday and would’ve been 48 years young.

Kris was a guy that never turned down food.

:Pause: because this is where Kris would interject jokingly saying, “is that a fat joke?”

He was more of a doughnut guy than a cake guy, which always worked out for me, yum! but Mint Chocolate chip Ice Cream Cake was always the birthday request. My mom sent a candle for Kris’s cake last year, called the Magical Cake Candle. I was having difficulty lighting it for some reason. The suspense of how long it was taking me to light the candle had my anxiety going. I had already balanced the perfect amount of time I had set in my head for the ice cream cake you could cut into, but now it was beginning to teeter to the ice cream soup side. Kris leaned in closer, getting ready for his wish and probably adjusting since he had been patiently waiting so long. A blast of fire erupted from the candle, unfolding and revolving as it jolted into its high pitch Birthday song.

We laughed at the horror of the blaze almost taking off what was left of Kris’s eyebrows since chemo.

We followed up his day with a surprise birthday party thrown for him by our work family. We all showered him with food, laughter and love.

Today, I can’t help but wonder what he wished for that day as he blew what would be his last candle out.

Neither of us knew of course what was about to come.

That was the last time life seemed somewhat normal, yet, everything was set to change.

We truly loved and lived.

Kris had a history with Brain Cancer before I met him. When I met Kris he was in remission. He was honest about the possibility it could return. One thing that credit can be given to cancer, and that is, it gives you a haunting reminder. Do things with love. Kris gave everything his all. He knew life could be taken away anytime and he fought hard for it.

I’ll answer my own question, since I know he loved his life and would have only wished for more time.

Kris was always grateful for what he felt he was already given extra time.

His inspiration, determination, humor and strength was infectious.

Kris had a comedic way with coping when it did return. He would make jokes about death where we’d all say, Kris ! in that tone of disapproval and laughing at the same time.

I even have a picture of him holding two thumbs up on the plot he picked out at the cemetery when the possibly seemed more possible.

When Kris was re-diagnosed. I started to look at things differently when faced with reality of life. I started to question existence, purpose, life, death. Questions I never thought I’d be questioning until I’m older. In denial I would say it would never happen to us.

I remember I would get agitated anytime he would bring up the possibility of it returning. I understood he only wanted things to be easier for me in preparation. Yet, I wonder at times if preparing for possibly made it become the reality. Still, I was never truly prepared for the darkness, but we at least took advance of our time we had.

But it never was enough now.

During his battle and my own along side him, I started to take notice of being present in the moment while out. What I came across became a fun habit of searching.

I didn’t know I was doing it until Kris acknowledged my habit.

He said, “I love how you get excited when you find the beauty in something.” After holding a tiny scratch piece of paper I found convincing him it’s in the shape of a heart.

I was subconsciously desperately looking for joy after he was re-diagnosed.

What other choice do you have when the world you know and created together all starts to spiral and fall apart.

I was out on a walk and stumbled across a rock that looked like the shape of a heart. I was thrilled when I picked it up. Every once a while, while I was feeling a little consumed with the world. I would end up finding a tiny scratch paper or rock in the shape of a heart. I would even find joy in feathers I’d find, especially crow feathers. So began my collection of “my little sh!t treasures…” or “my trash treasures”.

My son made me a little heart one day at school and I of course proudly added it to the collection. My little treasures have their own special spot that makes me smile.- I’m not going to end up on My Hoader Life, -just yet.. -kidding, but what I found is keeping my eyes open while in the moment I found special signs for me. A feather, interesting rock, a piece of paper that looked like a heart. It made me feel not so alone.

We each have a story.

I’ve decided today, I want to tell my story about the good times, sucky times, and emotional times. I want to openly joke about what stupid things people say when they don’t know what to say to someone grieving.

How about laughing with me at the real encounter I had that I like to replay in my head at night.

It goes like this:

Grocery Cashier at checkout says, “Rotisserie Chicken is the best,”

to which I reply, “ya, my husband and I like it… he’s dead now.” Follow up with tears.

:End scene

(Seriously! As if going to the grocery store isn’t hard enough. Now I have to add another step to my mental pep talk mantra before going into the store.

Mask, Phone, Keys, List, don’t buy a bunch of produce that you let rot, DON’T OVERSHARE, and DO NOT CRY AT THE CHECK OUT. -I’ve cried a total of 4 separate grocery store checkouts. I’m running out of stores to go to. I’m about to just start asking if the cashier will take my health insurance for therapy.

Through the darkness I found my light through writing, watercolor, faith, dark humor, children’s books, self help books, and being able to laugh at myself.. (while I’m sure you can tell I’m still on the waiting list to see a therapist in-person. -I’m sure there’s more people like me. Making the best and I’ll share what works for me)

My pain is where my art was created in hopes a gift can be found in the light of it. I’ll share my own experiences as a caregiver, business owner, now grieving widow, and single mom continuing on.

I wanted somewhere where we don’t need to pretend everything is ok, and share embarrassing and vulnerable moments with grief and life. Embrace that there’s more people that are like me. Each going through the grief club that no one wanted to be a part of.

I hope this makes someone chuckle, pull out a paintbrush, find their own creative outlet, love on their loved ones, remember their loved ones, support their spouse, or write a blog because why not. -Life is short.

Happy Birthday Kris, thanks for being my inspiration and continuing to teach me things about life, myself, and how I want to live. I really do miss you. xo Dani