Star Date with Steve

I don't really expect anyone to believe this, but this is exactly what happened this evening. I was mowing grass and thinking about Steve, when I sensed him saying to me, "Meet me outside tonight to look at the stars." (In case I haven't mentioned this before, Steve was an amateur astronomer and viewing stars was a passion of his.) I responded, "Ok, it's a date." That was probably around 8:00. By the time the kids were in bed, my studies were done, and I was ready for bed, it was around 10:30. I got my binoculars (gift from Steve for stargazing), and checked out my computer software that tells me exactly what stars are out and where they are so that I would know what to look for. By the time I actually went outside it was around 11:00. I looked around for awhile, thinking of Steve of course, and wondering what I was supposed to be seeing or if I was just supposed to be there. I put the binoculars down and looked up and around. Just as I turned to the west, I saw a huge falling star (meteor, as Steve would say!). It was the most amazing, beutiful thing I have seen in a long time! That is what Steve wanted me to see and share with him. I immediately burst into tears, but they were good tears. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

Hugs

When I went to bed last night, I thought through the day and realized that I had received eight big hugs--not the small little casual hugs, but eight big, tight, hugging-you-and-I-mean-it kind of hugs. I also thought about just how good that felt. The hugs were from various people and for various reasons, but in each hug was the communication that that person really cared about me and wanted me to know it. At least for me, those hugs conveyed powerful communication that can't really be expressed in words. I felt so good!

Sharing Music

Steve was amazingly talented. One of his passions was music. He could play any intrument he picked up, but his preference was guitar. He was amazing, I am told. Because he had had a stroke four years ago (before I met him), he had lost his ability to make music. It was heartbreaking for him. When I met him, I knew he used to play, but it was something he was never able to share with me. He had a lot of recording equipment and had recorded his own music. He had several 4-track tapes that he told me he would let me hear "one day." "One day" never came. We just never got around to getting out all that equipment. After his death, I gave those tapes to his cousin who knows all about all that equipment. Just today, he finished two of the songs, and I was able to hear Steve sing and play for the first time. It was an amazing experience. These were songs that Steve wrote. He played all the music and recorded all the vocals. Every sound that is heard is Steve. As I listened, I realized that in a way, he had written those songs for me across time. I truly felt Steve was there with me, as I listened, and that he was so glad to be able to share those songs with me. Hearing his voice like that was an amazing experience. I can't wait to see him again.

Riding the Wave

Today feels like I came out the other side of a wave of sadness. I've heard grief described as waves, and it really does seem like that. This experience very much reminds me of the waves of the ocean. The grief tends to ebb and flow in much the same way. Some waves are stronger than others. Although there is always an empty place in my heart, there are times when the ocean is calm and other times when the wave has me feeling like my feet have been washed out from under me and I just barely hang on as I ride the intense wave of sadness and pain. I have just experienced one of the stronger waves this past week...eight days to be exact...and finally, today, the wave subsided. I feel calm and at peace.

Backwards

For all the forward movement I felt I had taken, today it seems I have gone nowhere but backwards. It is almost as if I am starting over with this pain. How can that be??? Maybe I have had too much time today to think about it... maybe I'm just simply exhausted...maybe tomorrow will be better. Instead of staying up and missing him more and dwelling on it more, I'm going to take a Tylenol PM and try to get a good night's sleep. I hope tomorrow brings new hope with the new day.....

Conversation with my son

This post may sound strange, and if I weren't going through this pain of grief, I might be thinking that there is just something wrong with this conversation if I heard it from someone else. However, in this stage of my life and with what my kids and I have just lost, it was so comforting to me. For background, I took my kids for their first visit to the cemetery the other day. It was a beautiful day, and they were ready (mentally) to go. We had a great time, just the three of us. I showed them Steve's grave and they watched me put flowers there. Then we wandered through the old section. It is a very small, out-of-the-way, old cemetery. It is absolutely beautiful and peaceful. Anyway, my kids really liked walking around, and they each found a grave of someone they were curious about. For my son it was a Civil War soldier. So...a few days later, I was driving with my son and we passed a cemetery. After a few moments of thought, he said, "Mom, when you die, you want to be buried in the cemetery where Steve is, don't you? And you want to be buried by Steve?" I answered, "Yes, I do...right next to Steve." Then he said, "Don't worry Mom. I'll make sure that happens." (He's only 11, by the way.) Then he said, "Mom, when I die, I want to be buried next to the Civil War guy." I said, "Ok. I'll remember that for you. You can remember for me and I can remember for you." Then the conversation was over. It was one of the most beautiful conversations I can remember having with him. I'll treasure it forever.

Beautiful Day

Not only was today beautiful, but so was Easter. I had dreaded it, but it turned out to be a great day. I did fine through the church service...only a few tears...spent the main part of the day with my family and then went to Steve's sister's house. I went late, but I still went, and that was a big step. Steve has a brother with Downs Syndrome, and he and Steve were extremely close. When I got there Easter evening, he rushed to me and gave me a huge hug! It was wonderful! He and his parents left shortly after I got there, but I did get to see everyone a little. After everyone left, Steve's sister and I sat and talked for about an hour. It was a great talk--a lot about Steve, wondering why, wishing we had had more time, etc. etc., probably the same thing everyone goes through after losing someone unexpectedly. Today also was a beautiful day. It was seven weeks ago today that he died. I went to the cemetery today and took flowers and made it as pretty as is possible when it is still fresh dirt. It is such a quiet, peaceful place, and I love to go there. It was hard at first, but I'm getting ok with it. I have a routine--I sit on a blanket in the same spot each time and write in my journal. It is good. Quote I received today from a friend: There may always be a place within you that's empty, a wound that never heals. Value it. It's God's way of sustaining your connection to the man who was so significant in your life. I love that!

Easter Morning

It is a beautiful morning where I live. I'm so glad it is Easter...I love Easter and realizing all Jesus did for me. It is a bittersweet morning, though. I would have been going to a beautiful Easter service with Steve today. Then we probably would have gone to my parents' house for a dinner and egg hunt. Later we would have gone to his sister's house for a big family get together. I am thinking of going to his sister's later today anyway. They have invited me. Steve's family has actually been so supportive...they have embraced me and they treat me as if we had actually gotten far enough along that we did marry. His sister gave me a necklace just before the funeral service, and on the box she wrote, "To my sister by soul" (since we couldn't be sisters-in-law. I thought that was beautiful. If I go to her house today, it will be the first time to go to a family get-together without Steve. I don't know if I can do that without crying. I want to go, and I will try to go. I don't want to put a damper on their gathering by crying, but on the other hand, I imagine the day will be tough for them anyway. It will also be their first gathering since he passed. This will be one of the "firsts" I have to do eventually. The first time to do anything is so hard, but after that it gets easier. The first time I went to the cemetery was horrible, but since then it has become a good place to just sit, think, and journal. There have been many "firsts" and I have survived. I suppose I will survie this as well........I never thought I'd be a "blogger," but I am really enjoying this outlet! I just send it out to cyberspace and let it go! It feels good.

This is Me

Welcome to my blog :) My name is Jodi, and I am 41. My current household includes two children and several pets. The last two years of my life have been filled with a unique combination of much joy and intense sorrow. It would take too much time to go into the details, but I plan to use this blog as an outlet, so to speak. I know that I need to move forward, hence the title of my blog. My most recent source of incredible pain is that six weeks ago, the man I dreamed of marrying (and who dreamed of someday marrying me) died suddenly of cardiac arrest....while I was with him. The pain is still very raw, so I do a lot of crying, but I know that I have to go on. I have good days and bad...today was actually a good day, but two days ago (Tuesday) was one of my worst days ever and I have no idea why. I suppose that is normal. Grief is new to me, so I am learning as I go. To be honest, my blog won't be the most "fun" to follow, so feel free to drop out. I won't mind at all. I am looking forward to being able to express openly my feelings to people who don't know me and most likely never will. In a strange way, that feels safe. For now, that is all.