My Pocket

Thursday afternoon I was exhausted. I hadn't slept well and all I wanted to do was lie in the cool of the basement and take a nap. I propped up my feet onto Nick's lap, put my head on a pillow, and just glanced at the TV, thinking I would soon be asleep. I had only turned the TV on, and there was Oprah. I haven't watched Oprah in a long time, but this story caught my attention quickly. A woman dying of breast cancer, made a plethora of video and audio tapes addressing her daughter, Peyton. Life lessons, love stories, smiles, and tears are all shared on these keepsakes. Oprah had Peyton, and Peyton's father (the woman's widower) on the show. They were a beautiful family. As Peyton's father was being interviewed, he cried and spoke of a hole that will never be filled in his life because of the tragic loss of his first wife. Oprah then asked his current wife, how that made her feel. She was poised and confident when she said, "Any woman wants to be their husband's everything, but it would be foolish to believe that his past life didn't exist." She explained that everything her husband went through made him into the kind of man she wanted to spend her life with.

When it comes to the father/husband, I can relate to so much of what he knows and how death of a spouse molds you into a different person, however I disagree that Dan left a "hole"in my life when he relinquished this Earth. Of course in the beginning, it felt like not only a hole was missing, but that half of me was gone. In time, I changed my thinking. I realized that if I ever had a hole missing from my life, it was before I met Dan. When he came into my life, that hole was filled with everything I needed for a strong foundation and future.

Now he is gone, but not from me. He is no longer physically here, but I know he still looks after me. My mom said it perfectly the other day, "True love is when you want the absolute best for the other person." Dan still wants the best from me and he is celebrating me from his seat on the edge of the clouds.

Is Dan missing from my life? Sure. But I imagine the hole I would have, had he never been a part of my life, and I am thankful every day for the time we were blessed to share together.

When Dan was welcomed into Heaven, his new life began. And, as much as it wasn't planned, and for as much as I wished it weren't so, mine did too. Even though mine is without wings, yet not without sorrow, I have chosen to live it with courage. I have reopened my heart and welcomed the world and all it has to offer, instead of shutting it out and growing cold.

This winding road has lead me to new faith, new friends, new hope, and new love. I will never replace the love my husband and I shared, however there is no "hole I am trying to fill".

I think of the piece inside that is missing Dan as a pocket. In this pocket, I place daily smiles. I put memories in the pocket. I fill it some days with hugs from children and smiles from strangers. What I know is that my pocket will never be empty. I keep all of you in my pocket, and that pocket rests on my heart.

Fill your pockets, my friends. Live life positively, but aggressively, it is only ours for a short while.

Angel Runner

Dear Angel Runner,

On April 24, 2010 you ran a half marathon with me in Nashville Tennessee. It was the race we had signed up to do together, when your soul was still here on Earth. It was the first for both of us. I've never felt so close to an angel as I did along that run, on that day. As I've continued to run, I've continued to feel your presence.

A little over a year later on April 30, 2011, we ran our 4th half marathon together in Ocean City, Maryland.

I have to admit that my mind was racing as my feet were whisking the pavement. I wasn't focused on the fact that I run to remember or that I run because your Earthly body cannot. It was more in the back of my mind. I thought about my training, I thought about the beautiful landscape I was running through, I listened to music and worked on my drum beat breathing.

Running up the bridge to get to Assateague Island, I struggled. I remember speaking to you and telling you that I could really use the help of your wings. There was a wind that graced my back, but I felt like I was running in place. When I got to the bottom, I felt deflated, tired, and confused. Confused as to why I choose to do this to my body. My spirit was broken. As I slowed my pace to a walk, I heard a woman's voice. "I've been following you for 12 miles now, you are not going to stop this close to the end, let's go." We ran together the rest of the mile. We talked about the wild horses and I remember laughing when she said, "I can almost smell the beer." When we reached the finish line, she sprinted ahead and finished hard. I saw her after receiving our medals and we hugged. I never got her name.

I was disappointed in myself that it was that easy for me to want to give up after coming so far. I thought about how, that wasn't your spirit running in me. I thought, where were you?

When I woke from a much needed nap, I started to put my things into my bag. I touched my iPod and it came on. Journey was playing. I just started to laugh. You were there the whole time. You didn't give me wings, because you always wanted me to "do it myself." You always wanted me to be proud of my accomplishments. Then, I thought about the woman. She was an angel in human form, and now, I see that was no coincidence.

I started running to finish the race that we began together. I ran to remember, sometimes I ran to forget. I run now for me. For everything I am because of you, and for everything I will become. I run for the future that wasn't meant to be and the future that will transpire.

Continue to be my Angel-Runner. Continue to watch over us as this race called life streams by.

Hebrews 12:1~ Wherefore seeing we are also compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.

Love,
Bib Number 594

Family

One week ago today, was the first Monday of Spring Break. When I went to sleep on Sunday night, I was so excited about sleeping in that I was having trouble falling asleep. Instead of awaking around noon as I had hoped, my eyes opened around 6:00. I knew I didn't have to get up, so I smiled and hunkered down further in the covers. The light had just begun to fill the room. It was that early morning light that looks more like the sun going down, than when it is rising. That primordial light creeps into the room and casts a blue shade onto everything in it's path. A memory flooded me.

There were so many early mornings, especially on weekends, that I would wake right around this time. I would look at my sleeping husband and notice that the blue cast made his brown Italian skin darker than normal. Then I would sit up ever so slightly to peek at the boys. It never failed that they would be sharing a bed sleeping as yin and yang. I would lay down again, smiling. My eyes would sweep over all of the imperfections of our house, and still, I would be smiling. The thought that constantly ran through my head was, "I love my family."

I would be fidgety enough at this point where Dan would have awakened and I would tell him, "I love our family." He would give a grin. That grin said to me a few things: 1. I'd like you to shhhhhh, because I am sleeping, 2. I think it's funny that you consider the dogs we rescued our sons, and 3. I love our family, too. It was mornings like this that led to our wedding song being "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5.

Even though the family dynamic has changed, Dan will always be a part of it. This past Monday, I continued to think of how much I love my family. My mother and step father are the two most supportive people I know. They back my every decision with love. They comfort me when I need to be a child again, because the world is too cruel. They look at me with pride in their eyes. My father and step mother share in that support. I am still daddy's little girl, and if I hurt, so does he. My sister...I could spend hours on dictionary.com to find a word that encompasses all that she is to me, but when I put my mind to it, all I come up with is everything. She is everything to me. Ryan is the best brother-in-law in the world, and his entire family has taken me in, as if I were blood related. Lilly owns my heart. My friends are extensions of my family, and I pray I treat them that way, so that they always know it. Easter Sunday was spent at Heidi and Billy's and again, I am treated by their family, as one of their own. And now there is Nick.

One week later, and early this morning, I dropped Nick off at the repair shop to pick up his car. We went to get coffee and then parted ways. I had a stupid grin on my face the whole way home. There are so many things about that man that make me smile, I don't even think he knows. I thought about last night and how he and his father spent the holiday with me and Merediths/Lyons/McDonels. I flashed back to a text I received from Gretchen, Heidi's sister. She told me that it was amazing to witness Dan with us, shining down on me last night at dinner. I can only believe that is Dan's way of telling me and others that he is proud of me, and that he shines in my happiness.

It is an amazing feeling to be happy again.

I think the future will always be a scary concept to me. I know all too well, that I can't control any of my plan, or the plan of others. I can only pray. I pray that there will come a time when I wake in the blue light, every morning. I will sit up and (hopefully) look over at a man who accepted the broken parts of a widow, and knew how much more love she had to give. Then my glance will turn to the boys, but as I slowly raise up, I will also be listening down the hallway for little sounds made by baby sons or daughters. I will remember my past, and everything that has made me the person I am. I will whole heartily and without taking one second for granted, cherish the present. I will thank the Lord for my many blessings and continue to say..."I love my family."

"If the family were a container, it would be a nest, and enduring nest, loosely woven, expansive and open. If the family were a fruit, it would be an orange, a circle of sections, held together, but separable-each segment distinct. If the family were a boat, it would be a canoe that makes no progress unless everyone paddles. If the family were a sport, it would be baseball: a long, slow, nonviolent game that is never over until the last out. If the family were a building, it would be an old but solid structure that contains human history, and appeals to those who see the carved moldings under all the plaster, the wide plank floors under the linoleum, the possibilities." ~ Letty Cottin Pogrebin

The Dreams Continue

Why are most of the dreams I have about Dan not ones that I'd like to remember? I had a dream the other night (again) that Dan came back. I am constantly trying to convince him to get to a doctor and he never wants to listen to me. We were at a party and all he wanted to do was spend time with his friends. He was annoyed with me and annoyed that I kept telling him that there was something wrong with his heart. He laughed at me and said, "Yes, clairvoyant Tiffin...I'm sure I'm going to die soon, sure." I started to cry and he told me that I always made a scene to get attention. I woke up, confused and angry. Dan- If you are going to come to me in a dream, will you at least try to be a little nice?

I don't understand why we have to fight in my dreams. Are these issues that I feel were never resolved with us? There was no "closure"to our relationship and I wonder if subconsciously I am trying to "work out" problems and find answers to questions I consciously know I won't have answered until the day I am called Home.

If I had these answers, would it make me less panicky when Nick walks out of the door? Less anxious when my loved ones don't respond right away to a phone call or text? Would I still have the timorous feeling when someone talks about a gym or running on a treadmill?

I never thought I would do many of the things that I've done since Dan has died. For example, I just KNEW I would be alone, lonely, unable to be loved, and unable to love. As I type, Nick is laying by side. He probably thinks he is still watching TV, but he has dozed off. As I look at him, my heart fills with warmth and the butterflies have a party in my stomach. I can't believe I have found another best friend in a man.

That being said, maybe one day my tremulous way of thinking will be proven wrong as well. There is so much happiness in my life right now (my precious Lilly who I love so much it hurts, my new nephew to be, Roman, the laughs I can only have with my sister, the fact that I am going to be a Godmother, spring break 3 days away, wet kisses from my boys, and yes, the cutie pie that is next to me right now) that when these "episodes" of panic and fear happen, I feel like I momentarily take two steps back.

On a funny "dream note" I had a dream the other night that I was part of a math club and I took it very seriously. If you know me, you are cracking up right now.

Daffodils

Last year around this time I remember posting an angry blog, something about "stupid daffodils" and the fact that Mother Nature could be so insensitive to my broken heart. How was this beautiful daffodil sprouting from the dirt when my life was so impenetrable by the sun? I distinctly remember a night when I took out the trash. I rolled the trashcan over one of the daffodils and it felt good. I then proceeded to stomp, crush, kick, and tear the rest of the innocent flowers from the still cold ground. I cried the angriest tears a human cry. Afterwards, I came inside and fell on my knees. I was covered in dirt and tears and I was alone. I kept telling myself...you will always be alone, this is it, you will always feel like this, why is everything just "continuing" to exist when you so badly want it to cease completely?

I am thankful my life did not cease. I am thankful that during those times of pure despair, I was never really alone at all.

Recently those same flowers have found their way to the surface again. Smiling every day at the sun that begins to hit them in the wee hours of the morning. I began to notice them sprouting one day as Nick and I were walking out of the house. I, for a split second, remembered the anger, hurt, and fear that came with the newness of Spring last year. Then as fast as it came on, it was gone. Left in my heart and on my face, was a smile. Had Nick turned around and seen the cheesy smile on my face, he'd probably wonder if I was hittin' the sauce that morning! But, for those short minutes I felt an overwhelming sense of pride about how far I've come down this winding road. And as I hurried to catch up with him, and grabbed around his arm, I felt ready for whatever the future has to offer.

Because those daffodils are growing haphazardly in the, "flower bed" (and I use that term extremely lightly) I am going to dig them up tomorrow. I will make a bouquet and take them to the cemetery. Dan and I spent long hours and days working in the yard every spring and fall making it pretty, but you would never guess it now. I let my apathy for anything beautiful and anything that required energy to push me deeper into my shell, last year. My shell has since cracked and the coldness has lifted off of me like fog over a bay. I want to take to Dan some of the resplendent fruits of his labor. I am going to tell him that everything bright and beautiful will always remind me of his smile. I will lay the flowers over his name as I tell him (even though he already knows) that I am okay. Not just okay, but good.

A light exists in spring

not present on the year

at any other period

~Emily Dickinson

Heavy

I have written before of my anxieties and fear of abandonment by my loved ones since the passing of Dan. Some days are better than others. Some days my thoughts are not consumed by the possible losses my soul might endure. Other days, the thoughts of mischance lay heavily on my heart.

Last Friday, I turned on the Today Show as I was getting ready for work. The news was teeming with coverage of the Earthquake in Japan. When word of tragedy enters my brain these days, it's different than before. I truly believe that I can feel other's pain. I laid my hand on my heart. I do this often now, and am not sure if it is because I physically feel the pain in my heart, or, because I know how vital the heart is to life.

I say a silent prayer. It starts as a general prayer for those affected. This prayer makes me feel as small as a grain of sand on the bottom of the vast ocean. My thoughts shift to the pain I know of first hand. I think of the widows, especially the young ones. I think about how they woke up on a Friday morning, with plans of the weekend dancing in their head. They rolled over and touched the shoulder of their husband, never imagining it was last time they would see them alive. My mind swirls. I think of the young widowers, then parent-less children, fearful mothers, daughters, fathers, sons. How can nature: strong, powerful, untimorous, incredibly beautiful, also be so cruel and unmerciful? How do you comfort the ones catastrophe has been afflicted upon?

Keep praying Tiffin. Remember that YOU ARE as small as that grain of sand. You will never know the answer to "why" as long as you walk this earth. These people have a plan, just like you. It might not be the plan they saw for themselves, but there will be light on their road, just like there was on yours. Pray that they see the beauty in that light, sooner than later.

Calamity such as this, adds to the weight on my chest. When will I be able to not fear for the lives of the ones I love? Will there be a day when I only enjoy the love, and not have thoughts of loss in the back of mind?

Like the wild creatures of the world, I have learned to greatly appreciate the survival of the day. I would like also, to come into the peace of not taxing my life with the forethought of grief.

A New Chapter

Yesterday my last surviving Grandparent, my Mother's Mother passed away. Stella Lawson Phelps lived a good long life.

It was raining yesterday. It was raining when I woke up in the morning, and it was raining when I got the news of her passing. This seems to be a pattern for loss in my life. The night Dan was brought Home, the rain was puddling everywhere my eyes darted. I hated the rain for the longest time. Every time I saw the ominous sky I would curse God and my existence here. And when the sun decided to come out, I would curse it too, catechizing its reasoning for my torture.

I don't remember the exact day that I stopped hating the rain, and I don't remember the exact day that I stopped hating the sun when it rose, what I do know, is that I look at both of these phenomena as blessings from a Creator that will one day give me all the answers I seek.

The rain drops that fell yesterday were the happy tears of my Grandmother's friends, family, and her beloved husband, my Grandad, greeting her as she entered the pearly gates. I spoke to my Grandma on Friday. She was not alert, but I believe she heard what I was saying. I told her to hug Dan for me. Really, I told her to give him a HUGE hug (because that always made him uncomfortable and I think it's funny). I also told her to go ahead and call him by the wrong name, because she always did. In between the tears that streamed down my face, I smiled, and prayed for my Grandma's peace. The whole room was crying, not sobbing, but soft tears of goodbye. I looked at my sister in this solemn moment and couldn't contain my laughter. She was wiping her precious tears off of her face (with the cheapest toilet paper know to man), and had some stuck to her face. I am not talking about a little toilet paper, Jaime had actually paper-mached her cheek, and I couldn't stop the giggles. Straight out of the movie, "Steel Magnolias" Jaime and I smiled and said, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." And this remains true.

My favorite emotion is laughter, that being said, I am invariably trying to guide myself toward happiness. This past December, I literally stumbled into my new found happiness.

I met a tall drink of water by the name of Nick Smith, and the best part about us is that we became instant friends. I wasn't looking for anyone, and frankly, didn't know if it was possible. I am so happy we took a chance on each other. I knew that it would take a strong man to be with a widow. "Ghosts of Husbands Past" has to be an uncomfortable, and even concerning way to start a relationship, but he did. He accepts me for who I once was, he likes me for who I am, and respects who I strive to be. I appreciate his acceptance, am intrigued by his mind, warmed by his soul, and never take one of our many laughs together for granted. (I also happen to love his crooked little smile)

Every little step on this journey has been new and scary. This particular step is scary in a fun way.

Before I changed my relationship status on Facebook today, I wondered what my widowed friends would think, Dan's friends, my friends. I then remembered all the support I've gotten over the past year and longer. There is no one that is of importance in my life, that wants to see anything but my happiness. And for that, I thank you.

This is the beginning of a new set of chapters. A new story, a different path off the same winding road. Continue to walk with me friends, now in the light, since it is because of you that I shine.