Our Desperate Wish for Fairness

Human beings want so desperately to believe in fair that they’re willing to sacrifice the feelings of others to avoid that conflict. For as many stories of people who have survived through personal disaster, whose faces cover NY Times Bestsellers and whose stories are known across many countries, or who have exposed themselves even to just their friends the heartache they have known….I would guess that there exists thousands of others whose experience has hurt them beyond repair.

Human beings want so desperately for those around them to be strong, to not show their suffering, to not break down in despair that we drive those who are hurting to experience that pain alone: on the floor of their living room or fetal under a bedroom comforter.

When a child struggles in school through a shattered home life, physical or emotional or mental disabilities, we recognize that difference but wish so badly for them to be the exception. To rise up and perform to the level of children without those barriers in their way because we want hope that Life balances itself out if you try hard enough.

When a widow sits out at dinner, still in shock with the vast chasm of aloneness and longing for her soulmate staring her daily in the eyes, those that pulled her out of the house for a meal feel the need to enlighten her: “You’re young! You’ll find someone else. You’ll have a family and you’ll be happy again.” We want hope that someone else will take care of her and we can be relieved of that position if she just opens herself to the chance for disappointment and heartbreak again.

...As if she doesn’t realize her age. As if that is what she is worried about. As if her husband could ever be replaced by logging onto a dating site and picking the first attractive face she sees in order to fill a box on the bookshelf labeled “husband”. As if gathering the pieces of a heart that will never be whole again is an easy task.

When you share the universe’s decision to not grant you fertility, people want to tell you about their coworker’s friend – the one that went through 3 rounds of IVF or 2 miscarriages, or had cancer in her 20’s – she adopted! She has a beautiful happy family. See? You can be happy!

When someone shares the devastation of receiving a life-altering diagnosis – Parkinson’s, cancer, ALS – many times those surrounding them want to rush in to assure them that “we’re going to kick ___’s butt”, “treatment options exist” and “new medications are being discovered daily.”

Let. Them. Grieve.

Realize that the widow will always wonder how beautiful her life with her first husband would have been. He will always be her first choice.

Realize that the mother will never have another first-born child or may never have another daughter. She may have an oldest surviving child or she may have future pregnancies but the miscarriage or the stillborn baby or the child that died decades before his/her time cannot be replaced. Cannot be forgotten.

Realize that the beautiful family brought together through adoption may be parents making the best of a devastating situation. They can love their children that are not their genetic makeup but they may still shed tears for losing the chance to experience what a pregnancy feels like physically and emotionally. They may wonder what color eyes their son or daughter would have had when their unique set of genes came together. They may imagine how short or how tall, how creative or how quirky or how proficient at sports would have been produced when the two of them made another life. They may wonder what beautiful being they could have made if Life had dealt them different cards.

Realize that regardless of the outcome, the diagnosis that was just received is devastating. Their friends, their neighbors, the asshole at work that complains about everything: why do they have their health still?

What did I do to step in this pile of Life’s shit?

You, friend, your role is not to help this person fix or figure out or plan for anything. Your role is to sit silently. Your role is not to imagine what you would want to hear but to listen to the one that is affected by Life’s cruel twist. This is not a time to put on “big girl panties” or to “be strong” or “one day it will get better”. You don’t know that: whether you’re 20 or 70. Your life’s experience may have shown you that people can survive loss, that some have the support and resolve to continue and to play the cruel and biased game of Life with the most recent hand dealt.

Your life’s experience may not have shown you the family that lived forever in poverty after the loss of their breadwinner. Your life's experience may not have shown you the couple that couldn't afford to adopt and loses the chance at Christmas with grandchildren in old age, whose holidays are alone, and whose name dies when they do. Your life’s experience may not have shown you the widow/widower who passed away a year after their partner, their heart broken and their health shattered when they lost their other half. Your life’s experience may not have enlightened you to the soldier that survived the tour but silenced the nightmares 6 weeks or 2 years or 30 years later. The experience, the pain, the support, the personality, the resolve: all of these may be different for you than that person sitting before you.

Life does not give everyone the same chances, the same happy endings, the same opportunities. It gives them different struggles, different paths, different frequencies and intensities of pain. Life kills children and geniuses, homeless and wealthy, it maims and destroys those with the tenderest or the cruelest hearts either at random or sometimes, it would seem all toward 1 person or family. We cannot expect everyone to embrace the loss of that beautiful human being they relied on in a positive way. Death and suffering are realities but they are not something to expect our friends to “embrace” any more than murder or rape or genocide are horrifying experiences for some human beings.

Your friend, your loved one, your acquaintance, they will experience this episode of Life being ridiculously unfair in their own way. It is not for you to tell them that someone else you know found happiness, that another person has gone through this or worse and thrived. Because they haven’t. No one on the planet has entered the current struggle exactly the same. Each human being has an emotional body burden in essence, and their relationship with others and their relationship with themselves is not the same as the face in that book or move or on that blog who shares their story about surviving through personal disaster. It is not for you to tell them that it will get better. Only they can learn if that will be their future.

You Don't Ever Really Stop Wanting It

I will say there are some things you don’t get used to and things you never stop wishing for, even if your head knows better.

It was almost 10 years to the week before Ryan died after getting cut open for the second time and an 8 hour surgery which tied together 3 years of incessant pain that a doctor told me I wouldn’t have the same chances others would get to have a family.

It was a different type of grief and I didn't even realize it. Everyone around me was relieved. Understandably so they were glad that the 3am drives to the ER because motrin wasn't strong enough to keep me asleep through the pain. When I would get sent home, never getting past the triage nurse. When I lay fetal on a hallway floor because I couldn't even sit in a chair. Treating what a nurse later told me when she looked at my chart was probably the equivalent of being in labor with 800 mg of motrin. For 3 years. They were relieved but what they didn't know was for every time we went to the ER there were 10 other nights where I would hyperventilate to wear myself out so I could pass out until morning and take the next 800mg. They were glad to not see me get up in the middle of the school day to throw up in the girl's bathroom and then come back to my chair - classmates not worried because they knew for me that was "normal". They were glad that after 3 years of no answers I was "fixed". I couldn't understand why it wasn't a relief. I didn't feel fixed, I just felt different. The physical pain was simply replaced with some different pain. 

It wasn’t ok when I was 16 and it’s still not ok now. Ryan was the first man I was ever willing to take a chance at suffering for. Seeing a negative pregnancy test month after month and when that “+” finally showed up not being excited but being terrified if it would last long enough. Miscarrying. Over and over. Or getting further but having a premie too young to never make it out of the NICU. I made him that promise that I would try and I let myself believe that it was something I could actually have. I loved this beautifully sacrificial and compassionate man so much I could only imagine how wonderful it could be to make him a father. Being the one to give Ryan one of his just 5 bucket list dreams was in some ways selfish. He was my other half…so in making him happy I was by default satisfying myself.

You don’t get used to watching everyone else get their happily ever after: a person that loves them unconditionally and enough time to do the same for them and others. I’m tired of being robbed of things something so basic. Or being robbed of a love I worked so hard to support. Who I tried to save. It’s still hard sometimes to hold someone else’s baby, even though my head has had almost 11 years to try and negotiate with my heart. It's still hard to watch someone else’s husband put their arm around their wife’s waist or even just rest their hand tenderly on their girlfriend’s leg. 

You don’t ever really stop wanting it. You just try to.

Dear EMS Spouse

No worries. Hidden demons.

Dear EMS Spouse:

Don’t worry. It will never happen to you.

1/4/2015 (09:31) I don’t know if I tell you this enough, but your (sic) the love of my life and I know “what I got myself into.” I am lucky enough to have an amazing girlfriend and a future wife that challenges me to be a better man

Good to know sweetie. P.S. I’m thinking Nolan’s counterpart can be Elyse Alexandra

What’s that from?

Isn’t from anything I just like both names. I always wished I’d been an ‘Alex’

I like those names as well

1/12/2015 (10:05) I want to make a big deal out of you. Your (sic) an amazing person and I want you to feel special

1/13/2015 (11:59) [Phone call] “So…I have to let you go…”

1/13/2015 (13:02) AOSTF --- 29 y/o Male. GSW, right temple. DOS.

Don’t worry. It will never happen to you. He’s excited about his newborn son. He told you not to worry. It’s just that his sleep schedule is messed up. It’s nights. He’s just “tired”. Always tired.

I’ve spoken with 3 other spouses so far: 2 widows. It's the same story. Neither saw it coming. The third doesn’t believe it will happen to her. The other two perhaps saw the warning signs…perhaps they stopped buying the liter and half bottles of liquor because they noticed while he didn’t drink every day, on those really bad days that bottle would get drained if it was available. They stopped making it available. They were trying to protect him from himself. They wanted him to sleep but there was a fine line between getting buzzed enough to pass out and going too far.

Perhaps they didn’t put locks on the gun cases. They appreciated his honesty and they thought protecting their home and their children was important. Perhaps they refused to acknowledge that he could ever turn it on himself. He was a good medic. He was brilliant in the back of the truck. He loved me. Loved his kids. Locking the guns would be admitting he wasn’t in control. 

No. Locking the guns would be a failsafe for the bad days; days when the demons had a leg up on the hero you loved.

He hit his highs and he hit his lows. This went on for years; there was always a light at the end of the tunnel... When he hit the lows you knew you we were on the way back up when he resolved to stop sleeping so much. When he got up and decided to eat better: no more fast food – he was going to take lunch to work. He wrote out his workout plan once more: time to hit the gym – start boxing, hit the weights again. He did all this two weeks before that awful call came in. He was on his way back out of the darkness before that tipping point came.

The everyday stuff will always be there. History of a fucked up family life: the narcissist father. Maybe one of the kids gets sick. Or the car starts making a funny noise. Maybe he’s trying to go back to school but it’s not turning out the way it was supposed to. Holidays hit or money gets tight. Someone unexpectedly dies. You fight over something stupid. When they’re operating at 90% of their stress capacity, there is little room left to hit that tipping point. Work could do it. Personal life could do it. Family could do it.

But don’t worry, Spouse, it will never happen to you. You’re different. He's different. He’s the life of the party. He always has a joke to tell. He’s the goober. The terrible jokes -- those beautiful blue eyes and that fantastic smile. He lays next to you at night and looks you in the eyes and softly just says “Hey” while he brushes your hair back and everything feels perfect. You plan your honeymoon and you’re sure you’ve found a way out of this god-awful system. EMS is draining him. You’ve promised to support him or you’re going to leave for somewhere better – there’s greener grass elsewhere. You’re sure you’ll be safe, if only he can hold on until the end of the year. He makes it 13 days.

Don’t worry EMS Spouse – losing him to suicide – it will never happen to you. You’re never hoping but always ready for the LODD call. The moment where you realize your support can no longer overcome his pain? That happens to the other women. Not you.

Sincerely,

The woman it happened to

Saved for the babies yet to be.

Midnight Music: You Should Be Here

Everything's just not alright, yah except for one thing it's screwed up everything.

You should be here...

Standing with your arms around me here
You should be here...

You can say it's just one of those things, but

You should be here... 

You know if I had just one wish, it'd be that you didn't have to miss this. 

You should be here... 

I'd be in a better place too if only I could just see your face...

...It's not been a good year

Because you should be here...

Midnight Music: Prayer for the Road

I used to tuck notes into lunch leftovers that I'd prep for Ryan, stick them in his pockets, and leave post-its on his dash and steering wheel. Not a lot - just random surprises. And every time I got off the phone with him, the last thing I'd always say was "I love you. Be safe."

I came across the new video about a month after Ryan died. Tears poured out of my eyes as I watched it over and over. Listening again, 10 months after I first saw it. Still hurts.

Wordless Wednesday: Follow Your Brain

The Holidays: Why are they so hard?

Oh the holidays.

A time to enjoy (or tolerate) family. A time to appreciate and be thankful for our past year, to plan for and anticipate the upcoming year. Most of what I’ve seen posted relates to “How to get through” but I was so surprised by the “Why”. It seems obvious but what really is it that’s so “tough” about the holidays?

There will be a lot of remembering this holiday season. It will be hard to give thanks. It will be impossible to feel joy that I have no husband sharing Christmas with me. There will be a flood of uncertainty for the upcoming year. All of the hope and excitement and planning of a year ago was stripped away in an instant from both Ryan and I. Our happily ever after shattered. It’s not stuck, it’s not choosing to not “move on” for there are so many things I would choose to release myself from and have tried to work through but it feels like I can’t.

Months ago I sat on the bathroom floor of a bar at 4:30pm crying to a bartender who’d come in to check on me “I just want to forget; I don’t want to forget him, I just want to forget everything else.”

Having a bad day isn’t necessary choosing to wallow or neglecting to put my “big girl panties on”. It’s not having the energy to wake up and piece together your heart. It’s hating a person that you no longer recognize – feeling incompetent, absent-minded, hypersensitive, over-vigilant, broken, angry, terrified – but having no clue what to do about it or being too tired to do anything anyways. 

This holiday will place so many losses under the microscope for me. The first being all of the details of the day and the months following losing Ryan. Secondary losses will also be felt: to most others these are not obvious but occur as a result of the death of a loved one in varying degrees. There are so many secondary losses for widows.

They are the loss of future experiences and firsts with Ryan: Thailand, First Anniversary, First son and daughter (whom we'd each chosen a name), school graduations ceremonies that he will not be in the crowd for.

They are the loss of friends and family who walked away out of discomfort and/or disinterest. I hate the question of “do you have a support system?” because it makes me feel so worthless. The ones I do have are amazing. But I think I can only count them on a single hand. Maybe that’s my fault?

Secondary losses are just the huge reduction in physical contact and companionship as the one that was always there no matter what was removed instantaneously. It’s going from 100% to 0% in an hour. And for every day forward to come home to 0%.

They are the loss of financial security.

They are the loss of stability: of knowing what will happen to the home, who my emergency contact is, who will help when the dogs are sick or I am.

They are the loss of confidence.

They are the loss of identity and self.

How do I explain I still love unconditionally someone that is no longer here? How do I explain it’s ok that I do? That I always will. That I was all his until the moment that he died and that you don’t stop loving a person just because they aren’t present. Can you no longer love a mom or a parent if they’ve died? How do I explain I am a widow that has no marriage certificate? That commitment was there but time was simply not on my side. I thought I had all the time in the world... How do I explain that some days I’m terrified of moving forward? Especially for the comments that will accompany any of my choices from here on out, regardless of whether I asked for the opinion of another or not.

Who do I care for when the one I would have cared for an entire lifetime is no longer here to receive that love? Who cares for me? Who cares when I’m sick, tired, successful, disappointed, accomplished? What will happen when my mind attacks me or my whole body aches following a particularly difficult day – the screaming/crying/wailing where every muscle in my body constricts to try and force out the pain. Who is even left to care for me then? Ryan did all of that but he is not here and his absence leaves a void that is so remarkably obvious to me, especially during the holidays because it brings so many families and loved ones together but I feel like I stand off to the side, an outcast to all those around me, alone in a room full of people.

For those entering the holidays for the first (or 10th) time, within the holidays  is woven a pain – either dull or searing – which reminds them of a person that should be present but is not in this world. I don’t know what traditions to keep and which to skip. I don’t know how to appear normal on the outside while still searching for peace on the inside.

I will spend the holidays loving someone that is not here to physically reciprocate.

I will spend the holidays remembering our past Thanksgiving and past Christmases and past New Years.

I will remember the Thanksgiving that we told my parents we would be getting married. That he told them how much he loved me and he promised to take care of me. I will remember leaving the airport from Virginia and having my father say to him “She’s yours. Take good care of her” not realizing I would be his forever but only physically for another 52 days.

I will feel the anger and the frustration for not having more time to be his.

I will remember the Christmas that Ryan sat in the snow with me on the bunny slopes as my ass hurt from falling and I threw a pity party: “If I get back up then I’ll just fall again and I don’t want to hurt!” He sat there loving me and teasing and goading me until I stood back up and kept going, even though he should have been enjoying himself on the more difficult and more exciting routes as a seasoned snowboarder.

I will thank him for being so compassionate to me.

I will remember the New Year’s Eve that we ran 15 or 16 calls in 12 hours. I will remember picking up one intoxicated person after another and capping the night with an emotionally difficult call. I will remember how thankful I was that Ryan was the one in back with me for that. I will remember how skilled he was and how much I learned from him.

I will contemplate whether medicine is still a career I wish to pursue.

I will remember the wedding band I never got to see but I know would have been beautiful because he cared so much that it was. It didn’t matter, Sweetheart. I was marrying you for the incredible man you were not because you proved anything through gifting an object.  I have remembered so many promises made to you that I won’t be able to keep beginning with your birthday present and continuing through so many others this year alone. So many memories in 2015 and for decades to come that we weren’t given the time to make.

I will realize that at no point years into the future do I ever want more than a plain and simple band. No diamonds. No fluff. I want money to be spent on memories. Items and things are just nonsense that brings no joy.

I will watch every time I go out in public this month, the fathers taking their children to the stores to pick out gifts. It will burn. The explosion of couples out this entire month - holding hands, kissing, getting handsy and keeping each other warm - it all leaves a trace of sorrow as do the growing number and size of the pregnant moms seemingly everywhere I turn. Happily ever after moments are those you worked long and hard for but that you were able to see come to pass. I stand at the end of a long year missing some of my biggest happily ever afters. I put in the work, time, energy, disappointment, frustration, sacrifice for years and am still left empty-handed. Literally no one to lace their fingers through mine.

I hear the music in the store which I do enjoy but sometimes run across painful lyrics I never noticed before. I hear the radio and television ads about how to show love through gifts and miss the opportunity to find those perfect items for him. Maybe expensive and maybe not. Maybe just what would remind him that I know him and his personality through-and-through and that I was attentive to his needs and wants. That I love him. The commercialism of the holidays is so frustratingly obvious when no gift will bring any joy that could replace the pain of loss this year especially.

I am alone but I am not single by choice. I made the sacrifices, loved deeply, allowed myself to be hurt and at the end of the day it didn’t matter because it couldn’t keep him here. I am not single by choice so I cannot relate to the rantings of those that are but have been clustered with them because “married”/”coupled” or “single” seem to be the only labels that matter this time of year.

I thought I might fight to try the silver lining but am not sure if I can. I went with a friend this weekend to drop off gifts for kids. It was meant to be helpful and was not meant to garner recognition though the staff were very thankful. Unexpectedly it felt so empty. Perhaps better than binge-drinking Guinness on yet another anniversary but it still could not overcome the pain of this whole month so far. I do fear especially this year that the pain will far exceed the happiness that I can search for. Any happiness will come with a price: a battle to stay positive, to find the light and to embrace the opportunity. It will be exhausting to not break down, to not retreat into darkness or to share positivity. I think I’ve started this month too tired to perhaps just wander aimlessly through the month. Because grieving through the holidays doesn't happen on a single day; it began before Thanksgiving even started and will proceed incessantly from 1 commercialized holiday to the next through Christmas, New Years, and frustratingly all the way through to the middle of February.