You deserved more

On the eve of your 8th Angel Day...

Most of the time, I can deal with your death. I can hold back the tears and accept that you’re gone.

I force myself to believe the cliche words that get thrown around, about how only the good die young and how God takes His favorites first. About how it was your time and how everything happens for a reason.

But sometimes, that silver linings attitude fades away and all I can feel is anger. Hurt. Betrayal.

I’m sorry that I can’t be strong all the time. That there are days when I question my faith. Days when I hate the world and every person inside of it. Days when I’m bitter about the way life turned out.

I’m sorry that I can’t walk around with unflinching hope when I know how shitty this world is. I’m sorry I’m not perfect. I’m sorry I carry so much anger inside.

I’m pissed, because you left your family behind. You left people who still needed your love, your voice, your hugs, your kisses. People who cared about you more than they cared about themselves. People who would do anything to have one more minute with you.

I’m pissed, because I keep seeing these shitty people running around without a care in the world, living for decades longer than you had the chance to. Because the goodness in your heart should have earned you more days, months, years.

I’m pissed, because you deserved better. You deserved to celebrate more milestones. You deserved to see the people around you grow up. You deserved to grow old yourself and pass away peacefully in your sleep after ninety years of living your best life.

I’m pissed, because it’s not fair. That sounds whiny to say, childish, but it’s the truth. What happened to you wasn’t fair. What happened to your family wasn’t fair. Nothing about your death was fair.

I miss you. And I hate that I miss you, because I shouldn’t have to. I should be able to call you up. I should be able to send you texts. I should be able to see you face-to-face anytime I want.

You should still be here, right now, sending me texts to ask how I’ve been doing. You should still be here, right now, giving me a reason to laugh instead of cry. You should still be here, right now, alive and well.

No matter how many cliches are thrown at me about how only the good die young, no matter how many of those sayings I choose to believe to find some semblance of comfort, I will always believe that your death was bullshit.

I will always believe that there was some sort of mistake, that you didn’t deserve it. 

I will always believe that you deserved so much more.

Time is a liar

Why am I looking for you again?

Did my brain not get the memo: husband dead, not coming back.

I used to believe that all possibilities existed at once. Not anymore.

Time is real now. And reality never repeats itself.

A sad thought, really.

Time never meant anything to me. There was no reason to care about gray hair or wrinkles, your life experience and my lack of it. When our spirits intertwined, so too did our past, our present, our future. Our relationship was on an even keel.

But now? Now that I no longer feel you with me, I realize that time does exist. It is not the changing of seasons, another birthday,  or even the ticking of the clock, that proves it for me.

It is the loss of your spirit that was once a part of mine. I always felt that loved ones who died were still a part of me, made me who I am. But really, I was never intertwined with their spirit like I was with yours. I never really felt the loss that made me believe time was real.

And now that time is real and it will never repeat, my feelings of loss increases.

I thought I was a part of your past, your youth, your spirit, and you were a part of mine.

But that isn't true, is it. It never was true. I lost something I thought was eternal.

What do I do with this? Am I even thinking straight?

It's been seven years since I said goodbye, and it feels like yesterday.

Time is not a gentle healer.

Sand and stardust

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you.  Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you.  Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and me.

I miss you.

The hollow

Yesterday,  I looked at a picture of us, and I missed the way your arms felt around me. I missed the way your breath tickled my neck when you hugged me from behind.

Today, I realized I don't miss you as much as I used to. You are simply a face in all of my good memories. You are a happy thought.

Tomorrow, I will rise from my bed in love with another man. I love him because you taught me how.

I have reclaimed the hollow that you left behind.

7

8/28/2016

We would have been married 7 years today.  And I'm like eh, it's just another day. It's not special anymore. You were the reason it was special.

So, today, while I'm at home with my new man and his kiddos who live in my heart, I'll remember that you loved me and we were married for awhile and it was grand.

I'll always love you, Brian Singer. And I'll take the love you showed me how to do, and give it to Paul.

Because he loves me too.

Finally

I hired a lawyer almost three years ago trying to get Brian's death to be classified as service-connected. I spent weeks gathering his medical records from the Marine Corps and from the various hospitals and doctors he saw during the course of his cancer treatments. I filled out millions of forms and fielded hundreds of phone calls. I replied to thousands of emails from the lawyer and other veteran-related agencies. I answered questions. I asked questions.

I questioned the questions.

Two weeks ago, I was at work when my cell phone rang. I couldn't answer it, so it went to voicemail. My first thought was...what more can they possibly want from me? I kept working. It's another message wanting something else from me. Whatever. It can wait.

Nope. I couldn't wait anymore. I listened to the message. The lawyer's assistant,  Nichole, said she needed me to call her back as soon as possible. We had won his case and we needed to go over the details and she needed my checking account information and she needed to verify this and that.....

Wait. What?

We. Won. His. Case.

The VA has awarded him service-connected death. His death was caused by cancer. His cancer was service-related. 

It's been almost six years since he died.

Finally they admit the truth. Finally it's been recognized. Finally his death was not in vain.

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.