Happy 5th Angel Day

Five years ago, Brian's heart beat for the last time. I thought mine did too.

This past weekend, I watched a movie called "The Fault In Our Stars"...about a girl with cancer who loves a boy with cancer...and he dies. I cried almost the entire movie.

I felt every single emotion I ever had when Brian died...all over again. Pain. Fear. Overwhelming sadness. Lonliness. Aloneness. Questions without answers. The void.

Why did I watch this movie? Why?!?! I wish someone had told me not to.

I've been dating someone for a little while now, and I've pretty much moved in with him. Paul came home from work and found me blubbering like a fool on the couch, realized what I was watching, sat down with me, and hugged me through my wave of sad.

Five years ago, I lost my love, the one whom my soul loved. I never, in a million lifetimes, thought I would be so lucky again with a love such as that. I am happy to say that I have found that again...with Paul.

I'm not sure I deserve him, or his love, but I am most certain Brian would approve. And I will do everything I can everyday to let him know how much I love and appreciate him.

Brian is with me...ALWAYS. And now, Paul is with me too.

I am doubly blessed on this 5th Angel Day.

Happy Anniversary #6

I'm dating again.

I'm with a man who loves me. The same feeling I had only once before is the same feeling I get with Paul.

I've dated since Brian died. I had a steady boyfriend for a year. But I never had this feeling with any of them. I never felt like THIS.

I've been given a second chance. I didn't think this would happen again for me.

There will always be a piece of my heart which belongs to Brian. He was a part of me. He taught me to love. And now, because of him, I can love again.

I will always love Brian. Now, six years later, I'm in love with Paul. And it's wonderful.

I think Brian would approve.

Unstuck

This is how you get unstuck.

You reach.

Not so you can walk away from the husband you loved, but so you can live the life that is yours...the one that includes the sad loss of your husband, but is not arrested by it.

The one that eventually leads you to a place in which you not only grieve him, but also feel lucky to have had the privilege of loving him. That place of true healing is a fierce place.

It’s a giant place. It’s a place of monstrous beauty and endless dark and glimmering light. And you have to work really, really, really hard to get there, but you can do it.

I'm a woman who can travel that far. I know it. My ability to get there is evident in the life I've lead everyday since he died.

Year Four

As I mark the fourth anniversary of my husband's death this Monday (6 October) it always brings up so many emotions about what our future may have been. People have asked me over the years if I have “gotten over” his death.  I will never get over the loss, but I have reconciled myself to it.

That said, you probably wonder if I have been able to move forward with my life and how it’s even possible to do so? The simple answer is YES! I did find hope for my future and I did move forward with my life. Was it easy? Absolutely not. I took one day at a time, which turned into weeks, months, and now years.

Each year on the anniversary of his death, I do something meaningful (to me) to honor his death. This year, I want to honor his memory by making a donation in his name to an organization he loved. 

And I encourage you to do the same. 

His favorite charity was the Marine Corps Toys for Tots program. Contact your local representative, or log on to www.toysfortots.org and click on "in memory/in tribute" and donate in memory of Brian. 

Even in death, Brian has taught me so much. I’ve recently realized that he taught me something that most people do not know: to love deeply, honestly, and openly.

You'll need my address for TfT:

3240 W Sunset Ave  Eagleville, PA 19403

And my email:

kgo92278@gmail.com

What I've learned

If I've learned anything from life, it's that sometimes the darkest times can bring me to the brightest places. I've learned that the most toxic people can teach me the most important lessons; that my most painful struggles can grant me the most necessary growth; and that the most heartbreaking losses of friendship and love can make room for the most wonderful people. 

I've learned that what seems like a curse in the moment can actually be a blessing, and that what seems like the end of the road is actually just the discovery that I am meant to travel down a different path. 

I've learned that no matter how difficult things seem, there is always hope. And I've learned that no matter how powerless I feel or how horrible things seem, I can't give up. I have to keep going. 

Even when it's scary. Even when all of my strength seems gone. I have to keep picking myself up and move forward, because whatever I'm battling in the moment, it will pass, and I will make it through.  

I've made it this far. I can make it through whatever comes next. 

Letting go

To let go isn't to forget, not to think about, or ignore. It doesn't leave feelings of anger, jealously, or regret. Letting go isn't winning, and it isn't losing. It's not about pride, and it's not about how you appear, and it's not obsessing or dwelling on the past.

Letting go isn't blocking memories or thinking sad thoughts, and doesn't leave emptiness, hurt, or sadness. It's not giving in or giving up. Letting go isn't about loss and it's not defeat.

To let go is to cherish memories, and overcome and move on. It's having an open mind and confidence in the future. Letting go is accepting. It's learning and experiencing and growing. To let go is to be thankful for experiences that made you laugh, made you cry, and made you grow.

It's about all that you have, all that you had, and all that you will soon again. Letting go is having the courage to accept change, and the strength to keep moving. Letting go is growing up. It's realizing that the heart can sometimes be the most potent remedy.

To let go is to open a door, and to clear a path, and to set you free.

It's been three years

Three years ago, I said goodbye.

Three years ago, I lost my best friend, my love, my heart, my husband.

Three years ago, I said "I love you, Brian" for the last time.

Three years later, the burden of grief has been lifted. There are still days when I am incredibly, indescribably, sad.

But as the song goes, I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. It's not all rainbows and unicorns...I don't think it'll ever be that way for me again, because first love is blinding.

I have more sunny days, and sometimes I catch glimpses of what my life used to be when I'm off guard, or like now, when it's 4:30 AM and I've been awake for the last two hours.

I can smile at once was. I don't, for one second, regret the very short time I had with Brian. Perhaps it wasn't long enough, but it was enough.

Enough to teach me patience.

Enough to teach me kindness like I've never known before.

Enough to show me what humility, and courage, and strength looks like.

Enough to show me what love does and is and can be.

If I take away anything at all from the last three years, it will be that I loved him with everything that was in me.  And I will be forever grateful for having the chance to love and be loved.

Because Brian WAS love.