Carry on Castle: Living with Grief

I don't really know what happened. Well I know what happened, it's just hard to explain I guess. Baby Girl got punched by grief today and got punched hard.  It has been several months since grief has hit her so hard "You know what, she is doing really well lately" I've been telling everyone who asks.  Really well, shes been going to sleep overs, shes been leaving mommy more, her anxiety is less, she hasn't had a "grief tantrum" in months. She is just doing really well.  Then today happened. It's Sunday, we were going to church, we were going to make it to church today.  There is a lot of grief rolled up in church, it's complicated and for another blog. In the before we rarely missed a Sunday, in the After it's a pretty great feat if I make it there once a month. My friend from a neighboring church was going to be there today and I said I would sit with her, after we were going out to lunch. We were going to make it to church today. &q

We just got back from a trip to see some of our best friends.  All kinds of significant nothing happened and I'm still trying to sort it out in my head. I guess thats one reason why I blog to get everything out of my head, usually I would talk it over with Dan but he's not here. We meet these friends while Dan and I were going to college in Idaho, it's an eight hour drive from our hometown, an eight hour drive  from where we live now. In college we drove back regularly to see our parents, probably once a month or so. After college we drove to Idaho regularly to see our friends, probably twice a year or so. So we've driven this road a lot, Dan and I together, and then with Baby Girl. I am used to the drive. But it was always Dan and I, it was never just I. We went back to see friends about six months after Dan died, we had a bit of a memorial for him there. I took my sister with me because I was in no state to drive alone. We spread some ashes in Idaho. I loved that t

Mint. Dan hated mint. I love mint. He hated it so much that he wouldn’t kiss me if I had eaten anything with mint. He hated mint so much that he would use children’s fruity toothpaste. Mint mochas are one of my favorites, and he hated them. But it wouldn’t stop him from bringing me one home from starbucks when I was having a hard day. It didn’t stop him from making me a homemade one and bringing it to me as I cuddled our daughter on the couch. I haven’t had a mint mocha since he died. They don’t appeal to me anymore. Eggs. Dan loved eggs. He would eat eggs every single morning.  If we ran out of eggs it was a travesty in our house. We bought chickens for the soul purpose of him being able to have fresh eggs. I remember when I was pregnant and had terrible morning sickness and was very sensitive to smells. One day he made eggs just like he always did, except all of a sudden I couldn’t stand the smell and I started yelling at him “get that out of here. I am going to throw up get those

I'm having a garage sale this weekend.  Last time I had a garage sale we were doing a fundraiser for our adoption. We did six fundraiser garage sales over the course of two summers. They were massive, it was a huge undertaking.  I'm good at that sort of thing, putting event type things together, organizing, We were adopting a baby, Dan and I, were, we never finished the adoption, Dan died instead. No more husband, no more baby. Just me and our Baby Girl. Since Dan has died I've gotten rid of a lot of things, our things, his things, sentimental things, junk things.  I took them all to goodwill. People told me I should sell them, have a giant garage sale, make some money, and I refused, "I can't sell Dan's things, I just can't" making them disappear is one thing, but watching as people pick them over and try to bargain with you, I just couldn't do it. It hurt too much. So it just all went away, I don't know how much,  a lot.  Then we moved into

I'm still here and you're not here I'm having dinner with our family and you're not here I'm celebrating your dad's birthday and you're not here I'm taking family pictures and you're not here We made it through the princess stage and you're not here I'm preparing for the big puberty talk and you're not here I'm driving for eight hours and you're not here All our friends are having babies and you're not here I went to the Dr. and you're not here I got a job and you're not here We moved and you're not here I am adulting all over the place and you're not here Baby Girl likes to sing and you're not here Baby Girl gave a "sermon" and you're not here I'm getting up every single morning and you're not here We're barely making it to church and you're not here I'm looking at old pictures of us and you're not here I'm tell ye

Today's the 11th. Did you get your free slurpee? I didn't. All the 11th means to me is that tomorrow is the 12th. I don't even have to wait until I wake up in the morning, I only have to wait until 12:01 am. That's the time, the official Time of Death on Dan's death certificate. 12:01 am January 12, 2015. Two and a half years in just a couple hours from now. I've been having a rough month, This two and a half year thing has been really getting to me, like it's some kind of milestone, it's not. Like something is supposed to switch and my grief will be gone, just a smile and a nod at good memories. You know like it was supposed to happen after the first year. I think thats what I told myself, I think thats how I made it. Just hang on, just wait it out. Just survive for the first year and then you will feel better. Just give yourself a whole year to grieve and then...then...I don't really know what exactly was supposed to happen then but it didn't

"Little things meant a lot to you guys, didn't they?" My therapists asks. Ya, ya they do, I mean did I guess, did to us, still do to me. There's a list of little things I haven't dealt with yet. Little things, that to some people are no big deal, but to me they mean everything.  I told my therapist, I could do it, if I had to, I could accomplish these little things. Maybe they would help me "move on". Maybe they would help me accept that he's actually really dead, that he's not coming back. She said there was no hurry. I still wear my wedding ring. I wear his too, I put it on the night he died. I could take it off, I could put it in a box and not wear it anymore. I could make myself do it. Then maybe every time I looked at my hand I would realize that I'm not technically married anymore. Dan picked that wedding ring out all by himself, It is stunning. He always told me he would upgrade it for me when we could afford it. I told him not to

It's been two and a half years since the worst night of my life. Two and a half years since I watched my perfectly healthy husband die in an instant. Two and a half years since I called 911 pleading for help. Two and a half years since I begged God to fix him. Technically it hasn't been two and a half years yet, it's been two years, five months, two weeks, and five ish days.  I could give you a more exact count if I could remember what today's date is. He died on January 12, 2015.  July 12 is coming up, that will be two and a half years. I told my therapist, "It's been two and a half years and I still feel like shit" She wrote something down on her note pad. I always wonder what she writes down, what she deems important and what she thinks is just me yammering. Dan was a therapist, he had a mug of cartoon characters in a therapists office. The client is laying on the sofa. You can see the back of the therapists head and his note book. it says "F*&am