Alone...

Something happened today. Today was my 5 year old daughters first cheerleading competition. My mom came for the performance, but she had to leave before the awards. Before and after the performance, there I sat alone. For as much support from family and friends I have in my life, I was alone. I looked around at other parents and families, and I really realized, I am alone. 

It's not like this idea hasn’t hit me before in the last 10 months, but today, it really sank in some. 11 years ago I married my husband, planning to spend the rest of our lives together and now I sit here alone. I was with my husband my entire adult life until now, and now, in a room literally full with thousands of people, I look around and realize I’ve never felt more alone that I did today. 

Again, I have lots of support, especially from my parents, but ultimately I’m really in this alone. I am a single parent with three kids. I wake up alone. I cook our meals alone. I pack lunches and do homework alone. I take my kids to school and activities alone. Uh, I do bedtimes, alone. God I wish I had some support on that one. At night, I watch TV alone. Then I go to bed, Alone. (Well other than the nights I find my daughter in my bed when I get there).

It is really hard work to be a single parent. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but man is it hard. I constantly think of all the things my husband is missing out on. Watching my oldest son play basketball I think of how much he's improved since my husband last saw him play and how proud he’d be of him. Seeing my middle son do an amazing drawings I think of how much he would have loved to see that artist talent develop in his youngest son. I tear up seeing a father in the stands holding a bouquet of flowers for their daughter after her perfect performance. My husband never go to do that for her. 

I wonder, Am I going to be enough for my children on my own, as their sole parent. I worry that I'm going to screw something up and they’re going to grow up without “daddy issues” and be completely messed up people. I mean there’s three of them and one of me, odds are I’m going to screw up with one of them, right?!

Completely exhausted the other night on our drive home I raised my voice at them, something I’ve tried very hard to be more conscious of this past year. All three kids began to cry. They’re so lost in their own grief and I worry constantly that I’m not doing enough for them, to make sure they’re ok. God knows I'm not ok and I know how to articulate my feelings. My oldest son asked me “are you missing dad today too?” and all I can muster up to say is “I always miss dad”, he says “me too”. I'm hurting bad, but so are they. 

I don't know how to do this alone. This was not the plan. God knows, I'm trying my best. I think they know that too. But man, today, I really wish he was here with me so I didn't so this alone.

1 year ago, our life changed

1 year ago, our life changed. 1 year ago, I sat in a waiting room, waiting on news that my husband colonoscopy was over. This was our last step to confirm the IBS diagnosis he had been given for the last 2 years of his pain. 1 year ago, I sat alone, the last person in the waiting room...

The nurse came back to get me and bring me back. I cracked a joke and she didn't laugh. Red Flag #1. She explained he was still kinda out, so wouldn't really understand much while he comes out of anesthesia. We arrived at the room and I went over to say hi. He was clearly still out of it. As the Doctor approached me, the nurse appeared behind me with a chair for me to sit in and a box of tissues. Red Flag #2.

The doctor explain to me that they had found a growth, and weren't able to get even a pediatric scope last it. He took some to biopsy but he said "It doesn't look good". Shock. I sat there in shock. Tears rolling down my face. Unsure how to tell Jaime when he woke up. I texted my parents briefly who were watching my kids for me, not even sure what to say. I just told them they found a growth and said it wasn't good. Jaime started to come around. He saw me crying and asked me what was wrong. I just smiled. The doctor reexplained to him everything he had said to me. Jaime replied "So its Cancer?" The doctor solemnly said "Well I cant say for sure without the biopsy, but in my experience, yes, its most certainly Cancer" Jaime said "I knew it." Doctor explained the process from here. He would come tomorrow for a CT scan, more blood work and we'd go from there.  He would need surgery to remove it ASAP (which never happened as he was too advanced) and they put him off work for a month.

None of the news that came from there was good. A week after the CT scan we had a surgeon explaining to us his cancer had spread to his liver and possibly his lungs. There wasn't anything she could do for us and we'd have to wait for a call from Oncology.

Here we are a year later. I sit here without him. Mourning him for 7 months. Really, mourning him for a year now. I still cant believe this is where we are. October 15th will forever be the awful day changed the course of our lives forever.

The Business of Grieving, pt 3.

The hardest lesson of all I think I learned at Camp Widow was that this Journey I'm now on, this grieving that I'm doing, is all to help me to let go of the future I thought I'd have with Jaime, and accept that I no longer know what the future holds for me. And that that is ok. I don't have to have a plan, yet. I can see now I've been very much living a stage of "Now what?"

In marriage we promise "In sickness and in health, Till Death do us part" ... well I loved Jaime in sickness and in health and I loved him until death parted us. But now what? I can't just shut off the love we shared, the commitment we made. There will always be a clear line that divides my life in a period of time I can refer to as before Jaime died and since Jaime died. I have changed, I will never be the same person I was before this line was drawn. But I can grow from this experience and drawn from it to make myself a better version of who I was.

Often times people on the outside are looking at people who are grieving and looking for an end to their grief. They want you to feel better and get over it. The hard truth is, I will never get over losing my husband. It's an unfair and cruel reality I live with. Yes my life will go on and I know I will feel joy again, but I will always miss him and the future we should have had together and with our children. 

There is so much judgement and criticism put on every aspect of a widows life. When did someone decide we need to be perfect at the most difficult time of our life.  I know now it is not a representation of my love for him if I don't live up to other peoples standards of how I should be grieving or moving on with my life. What I want for the future and what you want from me don't have to match. You live in the Ocean of my life, and I live in my fishbowl. And only those living in my fishbowl with me get an opinion on how I lead my life and how I grieve. I've come to realize all I can do is what I feel is best for me and my children, regardless of outside influences and opinions.  

I want to leave my post today with a quote from a post a fellow widower from Camp Widow made upon his return from camp. Something that stuck with me and really is how I was feeling but wasn't quite able to word the same as he was able to. "A huge part of my learning this weekend is that I realize that there is no end to our partnership. My grief for my loss of {wife} is a continuation of my love for her. Like any relationship, love changes and in this analogy, so will and so has my grief."

The Business of Grieving, pt. 2

"Why does the word widow bring so much shame?" a question posed by one of the presenters at Camp Widow this past weekend. It really struck me. Yes, why does it. I think perhaps its because the honesty of our situations make so many feel uncomfortable. It brings to life a reality in which they don't want to fathom is possible, especially those of us who are younger. We dont want to think it possible to lose our husbands and wives so young. They aren't sure the right reaction, they aren't sure what to say. They also often say stupid things in an attempt to say the right thing. We've heard it all, and we've seen it all as well. Peoples facial expressions are almost comedic while they try to find the right way to react. But its not what you say to me in response that matters, its that you care enough to listen.

I want to share my husband story, I want to be honest with my journey. I am often asked how I'm doing, how the kids are doing, and I have to gauge how honest to be depending on the person I'm speaking with. Often times, I don't feel like the person wants to to hear the truth, in which case I say I'm fine. Sometimes I am fine, other times I'm having a really rough day, but I'm trying to be strong for my kids. It's also not easy to make others feel uncomfortable, or see them visibly want to change the topic or walk away from the discussion.

But if I'm being honest, I'm getting to the point where I almost don't care. I want to be strong enough to tell it like it is. If it makes you feel uncomfortable, so what, that's on you not me. I'm telling my truth, and living my authentic life. The truth is, I am a widow. I will always be a widow. It is now part of my story. Whether or not some day I meet someone else, Jaime will always be my husband.

So be warned, I no longer want to feel shame. Countless men and women shared their stories with me this weekend, and it changed my life. It brought me hope, and light, and lifted me up. Other's stories inspired me, and I in turn will inspire someone else. A great lesson I took away from Camp Widow is that You get hope from others, but you also give hope to others. If you ask me how I am, I will probably be honest with you. I will talk about my husband, I will share his story. I will relate stories you tell to things he has done. I will keep his memory alive any time I can. I will tell you how this journey has changed me. I will offer hope where I can. I feel no more shame!

The Business of Grieving, pt.1.

Grieving sure is a funny thing. People often describe grieving like waves in the ocean. Some moments are calmer, others are big huge tsunamis of emotions. This month in particular was more difficult for me. September marked 6 months since my husband passed. Again, some days were good, then the quiet of reality would hit and I was highly emotional, crying over nothing.

But then something magical happened to me this weekend. I attended Camp Widow in Toronto, ON. Camp Widow is by their own description "a unique and incredible experience. Over a weekend this program provides both practical tools and relevant resources for widowed persons rebuilding their lives in the aftermath of the death of a spouse or partner. But the most important thing that Camp Widow® provides to the widowed people who attend is an in-person community of others who are making their way through widowhood one day at a time. Campers come from all over the country, and around the world, to meet other widowed men and women face-to-face, and to experience the camaraderie that this event creates."

Attending something like this is highly unlike me. I'm a very shy person by nature and I have never traveled alone before. That in itself was very freeing. In my search for help in grieving I came across Soaring Spirits, the organization which puts on Camp Widow. I thought it sounded like a great place to finally talk to others who maybe understand how I'm feeling. There isn't much for grief groups here where I'm from. I only personally know one other widow my age, and none with children. So I took a leap of faith and decided to attend. Thankfully with support from my parents who would take care of my children, I went to Toronto for 3 days to attend and what a life changing decision it was.

There was just something about sitting in a group with others who actually want to hear your story and share theirs too. There's no worry about making someone feel uncomfortable talking about your love one, we've all lost our person. We cried, we laughed, we hugged, and most importantly we made new friends. As someone who is still new to this, I found so much comfort in hearing from others who are further in the process than I am. This experience brought a lot of Hope for my futureand brought me a new perspective on my life moving forward. I now understand that I can have Hope again and Hope elevates you.

Losing my husband has sent me on a new Journey of self discovery. At this transition time in my life, I don't know what I'm going to do in the future, but I can proudly say I am stepping into this time with courage and strength, in part thanks to Camp Widow, its hosts, presenters and fellow campers. I cant thank them enough for how they have helped me.

Going to share a few more lessons I took away from camp soon.

Long Live Love,
Sophie

Grief is such a funny thing....

Oh Grief. Grief is such a funny thing. I know they say no two people grieve the same way, but now I get it. There is not proper way to grieve.

One thing I've learned lately is there's a lot of pressure that comes from grieving. I worry that people think I'm not grieving the way I should be. Some days are really hard, and some of them are not so hard. Some days I smile and laugh and have a good time with the kids and friends. Other days I cry a lot and I just want to lay on the couch and watch tv to distract myself.

But when people ask how I am, I always say good or fine. Sometimes I wonder what response they expect me to say. Are the judging me by the answer I give? Do they think I'm doing too ok for someone who just lost their husband of 10 years? Or do they realize I cant just tell them how Im truly doing? What if I just broke down crying in that moment. What would they say? Would they regret asking or stand there unsure of what to say. Especially when asked in front of the kids. Obviously I'm going to say good. I don't need the kids thinking otherwise.

Don't get me wrong, the kids do see me cry. I want them to know that feeling upset about things is ok, I want them to think "its ok if I cry sometimes, mom does too". I just don't want them to think its a daily all day thing. I also don't say that because I want people to stop asking me how I am. I so appreciate everyones support, concern and prayers. Truly. I just don't know what to do with it.

I hear people saying how strong I am, and I dont know if I am, but I'm not sure how else I'm supposed to be. I have three children who need me to keep it together and take care of them. I don't feel like I'm a strong person. I feel like I'm doing what you're supposed to do when you lose your spouse but you have young children to take care of. I have to be this way.

I'm heartbroken, but I am choosing to wake up every day thankful and happy. We used to rely on each other. When one of us was struggling, the other could pick up the slack. Now I need to be the best parent I can be because now they only have me.

Big life changes...

It's been a long time since I blogged. Writing has always been fun and a form of therapy for me. Sometimes I need to take breaks for my own mental health though. This past year and half has been absolutely the hardest of my life. We went through a lot which I don't care to get into right now here, but it all culminated with my husband being diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in October 2015.

We weren't given a good prognosis and decided to take a road less traveled, Naturopathic Medicine. It gave him the best quality of life we could have asked for and we spent the best 4.5 months together imaginable. Sadly on March 4th 2016 at 11:42 pm Jaime peacefully passed away. I am thankful now hes not in pain anymore, but my heart is broken and lost without him.

These have been the hardest 5 months of my life, and the last 2 weeks have been especially difficult without him. I never imagined I'd be a 32 year old Widow with three young children. The children are adjusting the best they can. We have lots of family and friends support so its helping us get through, as well as counselling.

I have a busy few weeks ahead where I plan to organize my life some more. I have lots of estate things I need to deal with. I have also really dropped the ball around home while taking care of him. I need to declutter a lot from our home, as well as safely pack up some of Jaime's belongings for the kids in the future.

I'm also taking some time off work to focus on the kids and trying to heal and grieve from everything. I'm hoping to start baking more again as its something I absolutely love to do and haven't done in quite a while.

I'm hoping I can use this place as a safe place to process and heal from the loss of my partner. I hope what I share along the way might also help others in difficult positions of their lives.