Minor Change to the Blog

I've taken my last name off my blogger profile, so those who find the blog by doing a Google search of my first and last name might not be able to find it that way for much longer.  That is sort of the hope, as I'm trying to keep my blog world and my dating world separate, at least until I start dating one person seriously and feel comfortable sharing this.  Right now, a Google search of my first and last name pulls this site up for the first several links, and that is a cause of concern for me in terms of dating.  I want to be in control of how much I share, and I don't want someone to search my name and then show up to a first date knowing that I'm new at dating, that I'm blogging about that, etc.  Obviously, I'm not going to lie or hide things, but I also don't want someone to essentially read my diary before we even meet!

Though I don't regret blogging, and I plan to keep writing, it might present some interesting situations in the dating realm....we'll see if this step helps.  Sorry for the inconvenience to my readers, but the protection it provides for my privacy and future are worth the trade-off!

Kidding Around

One of the biggest decisions one ever makes in life is whether to have children.  Obviously, sometimes it happens without planning and choice, and sometimes it doesn't work for those who make the decision and give it their best effort (which has to be frustrating but kind of fun to keep trying!).  I'm sure people have wondered where Brian and I were on that issue, and how that has had a role in my grieving.

We were that couple -- which I think is getting more and more common these days -- that always said, "Maybe someday, but not right now."  We hadn't really had any serious talks about when "someday" would be.  It just seemed like every day, week, month, and year wasn't the right time yet.  We always had things going on, things to do, places to go, wine to drink, trips to take, etc.  It wasn't an option that had been foreclosed in our minds, but neither was it anywhere near the forefront of our thoughts.  We were, you could say, perpetually living in year one of the "five year plan."

Only once in my life was I sad, rather than relieved, to get that very private monthly signal that life could continue as normal -- the first time it happened after Brian died, it was like he died all over again.  I have to admit, I was hoping against hope that my birth control would suddenly fail me for the first time in...well, I don't want to say how long exactly, but a lot of years.  I wanted some miracle little red-headed baby boy, some living legacy to remind me of him, some way to experience a living, breathing embodiment of him and to feel like I could still hold him and have a life with him in a way.  I felt angry and cheated that he never really got to make the decision whether or not to have kids; his life was taken before we made our final decision.

On the other hand, pregnancy is (I'm told) an incredibly difficult thing, and it's not as though raising a child is a cakewalk either.  It certainly would have been incredibly challenging to go through that all by myself, when my emotions were already barely under control and when I could barely manage to get through life the way it was.  I actually wonder, if I had somehow been with child, if I could have carried it to term successfully.  I suspect not, and that would have been absolutely devastating.  If I had, I'm sure there would be emotional and psychological difficulties beyond those faced by all parents, or even all single parents -- I'm afraid I would have relied on the baby too much for my own emotional needs instead of parenting the way I should have.  There's also no doubt that pregnancy and a child would have drastically altered the course of my life, and I wouldn't be in Austin, Texas writing this right now.  

The craziest thought I ever had about this was something that, weirdly enough, I thought about at the hospital right after I found out Brian's fate.  I seriously considered asking the doctor if it was possible to harvest some sperm of his so that I could keep that option alive.  However, I didn't.  I was embarrassed about it, I felt weird even thinking that way, and most of all, I didn't want to ask and then be told that it was not a possibility for some reason.  I couldn't handle any more disappointment or closed doors at that time.  I just thought, "Well, if it's meant to be, this will be the month the pill fails me."  And it was not meant to be.  I guess I see that now.

I have to say, although I was devastated to realize the last chance I had for carrying Brian's child was gone, I'm glad there was no little "accidental miracle" in my womb now.  If I sit and think about the opportunity Brian lost, and the world lost, by his not passing on his genes to future world inhabitants, I still do feel sadness, anger, a sense of betrayal by fate/God, and even a twinge of regret or second-guessing.  Yet, my feelings the other way are stronger now.  It took a while to feel that way, but now I can say that it worked out better to have that crushing disappointment at the time.  If I had Brian's child, I'd probably still be practicing law in Iowa, probably living in a house that was meant to be purchased by a young family from Kansas.  I wouldn't have met a lot of the people that fate intended me to meet, and I wouldn't have followed my gut and my heart to try out a new place and a new career -- things I really needed for my own personal growth.

Grieving provides a lot of lessons about how Life's plans (capitalization is intentional there) and an individual's plans are often at odds.  Sometimes it is a really big and bitter pill to swallow and it takes several attempts.  Sometimes the aftertaste is terrible, and you're pissed off that you had to take that goddamn pill to begin with, and you still have terrible flashbacks and memories of trying to get it down.  But it's better to deal with it that way than to sweep the pills under the rug.

Not having children with Brian was a bitter, difficult truth.  It was life snatching away an opportunity from the both of us, as well as our families and those hypothetical gingers we might have created.  Now, however, I realize it was the way things had to be, and it was a blessing that I have the freedom to find the next path I need to take.

The Social Network

For all the criticism of the self-absorbed, oversharing, time-wasting Facebook generation of which I am a fringe member, it has been a godsend to me.  There are arguments that technology is killing real life, that everyone should "unplug" and just enjoy life more without being attached at the hand to a gadget.  That one can't be a "friend" if you've not spoken face-to-face, or at least by phone, in the last [insert arbitrary time period].  I used to think that way.  Not anymore.

I got on Facebook a little late in the game for someone my age, around April 2009.  Fun anecdote: I don't know if there's a way to find out exactly when I joined, so I thought about who my first Facebook friends would have been, and I knew Hart and Wilson were right up there, so I used the "See Friendship" feature to see when I electronically "confirmed" these best friends to the world.  Turns out Wilson gets the nod for first friend -- if anyone else thinks they have this beat, let me know!  He beat Hart by three whole months.  Hmm.  He's usually the later of the two to everything.

Anyway, I initially joined Facebook for work-related reasons (dorky, right?) and tried to limit it to people who were currently and actively friends of mine in real life.  I wasn't interested in reconnecting with anyone, web-stalking people I just met, meeting new people via Facebook -- who does that?, I thought. Losers -- only people who can't make friends the normal way.  My friend list was small but mighty, and I was fighting to keep it that way.  Until January 17, 2010.

Starting that day, there were scores of people coming through the house every day for a week, stopping by to offer support, food, wine, grocery and toiletry items, etc.  Beyond there, there were phone calls and texts coming in at all hours.  Online, I was inundated with people sending friend requests, tagging photos recent and old, sharing memories, etc.  I decided to accept all friend requests so I could share information with people, and so they'd have a way to offer their condolences.  I was so encouraged by the outpouring of support I received.  It really carried me through the darkest hours and days of my life.  I was overwhelmed to see how much love we had in our life, and all at once.  The sheer number of people and how to keep everyone up to date with information about arrangements, family traveling from afar, the weather, the wonderful tribute gathering Smitty planned in Muscatine, etc. was overwhelming.  Technology -- Facebook and otherwise -- really helped out with that.

First, it allowed people to reach out at all hours of the night without ringing a doorbell or scaring everyone in the house awake with one of those terrifying middle-of-the-night phone calls.  It was through texts, e-mails, and Facebook messages that I could talk to my friends and family in the middle of the night without waking anyone up.  A conversation doesn't have to be in real time to be meaningful and helpful.  Just seeing that, "I'm thinking about you.  Call me anytime." text at 3 am from a friend whose sorrow and concern for me was keeping her awake at that hour made me feel so loved and supported.  Facebook and texting were great ways to find out who else was sleepless and who I could call without feeling bad, or who I could at least write back and forth with a little.  

Second, I could communicate to everyone at once on Facebook.  People were genuinely concerned for me, and I wanted to tell everyone I was doing alright, what was going on, and, when I needed to, I could ask for help on Facebook.  And I have done that.  I think I used Facebook to ask people to send me pictures for the photo boards and slideshow we had at the visitations and service.  I know I used it to link to his obituary and share details about the services.  What an amazing tool it was to get that information out quickly.  I later used Facebook to plead for help with chores that involved power tools, and I was again amazed at how quickly volunteers stood up to help me fix the gate, hang curtains, paint the walls, pack, etc.  Facebook was a lifesaver in terms of me getting that help.  I have a hard time asking for help -- I never like to put anyone on the spot -- so this was a nice, sort of blanket approach so no one had to choose between saying "yes" out of a feeling of obligation and saying "no" to a widow who is crying in frustration on the other end of the phone because she just can't get the curtain rods hung herself.  I got some extra moral support at the finish line of my first road race after Brian's death after putting out a last-minute Facebook plea when I started to panic. 

Third, Facebook has changed the definition of friendship to me.  There are a handful of people from my past who I've reconnected with through Facebook and who have shown support through wall posts, "likes," and -- most importantly -- Facebook messaging.  I appreciate all the "thinking of you" messages I've gotten, and continue to get, of course.  What's interesting, though, is that two kinds of conversations stick out.  First, there are conversations with "real life" friends where texting/e-mail/FB messaging has been a supplement to our "real life" friendship -- we use it to express sentiments that are sometimes difficult to find the words for in the midst of a light phone call or even face-to-face.   Second, and more surprising, is that I've actually had a lot of profound, uplifting written conversations with people who aren't my "real life" friends at all.  I would say most of that is attributable to this blog, another technological godsend in my grieving process.  I'm certainly not trying to toot my own horn, but I've had a lot of faces from the past reach out and contact me (again, usually through Facebook) to say that reading my blog has made a difference in their lives -- be it helping them with grief issues of their own, knowing how to help grieving people, helping them put things into perspective or to keep an optimistic attitude, etc.  I can't tell you how awe-inspiring and humbling that is to me.  What's also amazing is that people have opened up to me about their own issues and painful experiences, and that has paved the way for some really life-changing conversations.  I'm also just amazed at how a select few people have been unwavering in their support, even if that support is "just" Facebook messages.  It really makes me want to be a better friend and a better person, and to take the extra time to show love to those who need it.   
By the standard definitions, some of these people would not be considered "friends," but "acquaintances."  I consider some of them to be among my best friends, for they have shown true friendship in my darkest time, and we have relied on each other.

Also, I actually became one of those "losers" who makes friends on Facebook.  As in, a stranger who is now a legitimate friend of mine.  Okay, so it's only happened once.  But it was one of the best things that has happened to me since Brian died.  My friend Kristen is my first true "Facebook friend" in that we met on Facebook.  We had an intriguing mix of three mutual friends (Hart, Wilson, and a cousin in Texas), she lived in Austin, I was new in town, so I thought, "What the heck?  I'll just send this girl a message."  We've had some of the best conversations of my life, and actually the vast majority of them have been "real life" conversations -- face-to-face time on patios is kind of our thing.  I also have "blog friends" now -- I follow some blogs and use that medium to connect with people, some of whom I've never met -- who write about things I can relate to (some grief- and loss-related, some not).  On a related note, I've been exchanging e-mails with another 30-year-old, widowed Austinite and I hope to meet her in person soon.  She reached out to me after somehow finding this blog and following it for a while.  Perhaps she'll be the first of my "blog friends" to cross over in my "real world."

Finally, technology has inspired me to keep going.  Between this blog and my status updates, I knew people were and are rooting for me as I adjust to a new life on my own.  I knew people were watching and wondering about holidays, road races, home improvements, dating, etc.  Sometimes knowing I had people reading this blog and actually looking to it for advice was the only thing that would get me to write more, which has been a great healing tool.  Again, I am not trying to brag, and I know my readership stats are not all that high (and frankly, I'm not sure I want them to be!), but I can see the traffic to this blog and I know complete strangers all around the world are reading this.  Again, I am humbled and amazed that what I have to say resonates with others to the extent that it's worth their time to read about my life.  When I see that someone has come across this site by doing a Google search of "young widow re-entering the dating world" or "which hand does a widow wear a ring on?", I know I'm hitting other people who have questions and are seeking input.  I'm not saying I have all the answers -- heck, I'm just trying to find the answers for myself -- but I know from being on the end of similar Google searches that it helps to just know you're not alone, and it also is nice to hear how others in that same boat have handled various emotions and situations.  Seeing that I was getting some of that kind of traffic made me feel some obligation to keep sharing what I've been through and what I'm learning now.  The great thing is, in doing this, I'm healing myself.  A thousand thanks to my friends Kristine and Bobby for suggesting that I start a blog "to keep us up to date on what you're doing this summer in Austin."  What a gift they have given me with that suggestion.
 
I guess I'm glad to be one of those laptop-addicted losers.  I'm a little better adjusted for it.  Thanks, Mark Zuckerberg.

Diamonds....A Girl's Best Friend?

As some of you might remember, I had our wedding rings altered so that they fight my right hand -- I wear my rings on my ring finger, and Brian's on my thumb.  Since I've done that, I've worn them pretty much every day.  I can't decide whether or not to wear them on dates.  On the one hand, I wear them all the time and I don't want to change that part of my routine and who I am just because of a date.  That would feel dishonest, like I was taking off a piece of my personality and hiding it away in the jewelry box.  On the other hand, I do get plenty of questions and comments about my rings ("Are you married?," "What do your rings mean?," etc.) and I don't necessarily want to have one more (kind of flashy) way to bring this topic to the table. 

Another thing I have to consider is that a lot of men might not be comfortable discussing this, or that they will associate me wearing the rings with me not being ready to move on.  One of the books I've read about widowhood specifically advises against wearing rings of any kind, especially diamond wedding rings.  That book also mentioned that men don't want to feel like they're competing with "the ghost of husband past."  Am I supposed to keep this in mind to make sure both parties are at ease, or do I forge ahead and just say "good riddance" to any guy who thinks it's too much to compete with, or that my situation would present issues too complex to be bothered with?

Finally, one more question -- how do I deal with this on my online dating profile?  I don't have any indication of my marital status or my circumstances in my profile as it is now.  Is that okay?...........You know what? Yes, yes it is.  I just decided that after writing and reflecting for a while.  I don't need to put everything out there for any match to see; that's something that can be discussed later in the process.  I'm sure at least half the men in my age range have a divorce in their background and they don't write all about that in their profiles.  (Though if someone has kids and doesn't mention them, I'd really question their parenting and priorities....)  I guess I had just let my self-doubt creep up too much there.

Now, having established that it's okay (and not deceitful) to not include this information on my profile, should I include it anyway?  Perhaps that would do two things: 1) weed out any guys for whom my past would cause an issue; and 2) get that information out there so the questioning later isn't so difficult.  The latter is a bit of an attorney's trick -- you elicit the "smoking gun" or the damning testimony from your own client on the stand so that the other attorney doesn't use it to destroy your client on cross-examination.  Maybe if I had that information on my profile, I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not to have that conversation -- and how to word things, how much to share, how much to talk about Brian and my past after that point -- on every first date.  Then it could be more like friends conversing, with that common understanding in the background instead of on the table next to the entrees.  Keep in mind that if I do put that on my profile, it seems more likely that a potential date will have stumbled upon this blog as a result of some light pre-date Googling (and you know that happens).  That brings its own set of issues... 

I'm going to do a little internet searching for articles/chat boards/blog posts on this topic, but I'm also going to do something a little unusual for me and ask you for your input.  Readers, help!  Any thoughts/input?  I would love your feedback in helping me navigate these waters.

Another Perspective on Widowed Dating...

I happened to come across a blog post written by a widow that discusses dating and remarriage as a widow, and thought the commentary on this was very insightful.  I particularly liked the recognition that people on the outside judge widows for moving on without realizing that the grieving continues even though life moves on, and that includes one's love life.  The two are not mutually exclusive, and I want to stress that to those in my life who are reading my blog (and those I don't know who are reading it as well!).  Just because I'm going to start dating again doesn't mean I won't still miss Brian, that I won't still break down and cry at times, that I will have "finished" grieving and all my complicated emotions will dissipate and that I'll no longer have unanswered questions.  I'll still be the same person, grief and all.  It's just that I'm looking for a friend and companion to be by my side during the rest of my life's journey.

For more on this topic, see: http://freshwidow.blogspot.com/

The Dating Game

Well, I'm ready to start dating again....or for the first time, I guess.  Yikes.  I've been thinking a lot about how to go about this, whether to blog about it, how much to share online, etc....and I don't know that I'll make the right decisions every step of the way.  In fact, I probably won't.  I've never gone through this before, so it's silly to think I'll do everything right the first time I try.

For those readers who don't know, I started dating my husband when we were teenagers -- I had just turned 15; he, 17.  He died a little over a year ago, when he had just turned 31 and I had just turned 29.  In the past year, I've sold my house, moved a thousand miles away to Austin, and I'm starting an new career (entering the field of real estate after practicing law for five years in Iowa).  I'm just getting settled in this new life, and thinking I'm ready to add someone to it.

In the interest of honesty, I am currently casually dating someone now who I met through a mutual friend.  He doesn't live in Austin, though, and for the time being it is not looking like it is going to become serious anytime soon.   We have agreed that we are both free to see other people and that is something I plan to do.  I don't plan to air all -- or even most! -- of the details of my dating life, but I guess I wanted to let you know I have put my toe in the water already.  I'll call this fellow "Antonio."  It's been nice dating him because it has given me just a little bit of experience without any pressure to get serious.  In addition to Antonio, I have been on exactly one date.  I thought it went very well, but he hasn't contacted me about a second date, so who knows?   

What is interesting is that I just don't know what I'm getting into -- I don't want to make every first date about Brian, but it's hard to talk about about my life to this point without doing that.  I have to choose words carefully to avoid getting into that area.  It's not that I want to hide my past or lie -- in fact, the problem is that I'm usually too open and I share too much, and then I realize I'm on the tightrope where one more sentence will give me away, and that's what we'll have to talk about.  (By the way, this probably means I talk too much; maybe I should work on being a better listener and asking more questions!)  I am just tired of dealing with the awkward pause, silence, and then the quiet, stammering apology for my loss.  Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying people are reacting inappropriately; I'm just saying that I'm tired of having that weird conversation and then thinking about whether that information is going to be rolling around the back of my companion's mind the whole rest of the evening.

On top of pulling out an elephant and sticking it in the middle of the room, there's also an information disparity that will naturally occur.  Knowing what happened with Brian pretty much sums up my whole romantic history, so once someone knows that, there isn't much else out there that's unknown in that department.  At the same time, it's not considered okay to ask about exes or past relationships, so it's not like I have the ability to know an equal amount about someone else's past without being really nosy and inappropriate.  That's too bad, because I'm naturally curious about that and I think one's relationship history is somewhat telling on whether they are good relationship material.

I know, I know....I'm griping.  Suffice it to say, I am aware that dating will be different for me than it will be for the average single gal.  On top of those differences, I'm sort of ill-equipped even for "normal" dating because I've literally never been in that scene.  I don't know the rules -- is it okay to go dutch?  How do we go about sharing a messy appetizer?  What do I wear?  What if I don't like him - how do I decline another date?  Who calls whom, and after how long?  What if he shows up in a truck with a "Peeing Calvin" sticker....do I have to get in, or can I feign sudden illness?

Nevertheless, I'm putting fear aside and I'm ready to give this thing a shot.  I've signed up for an online dating service.  Of course, that brought some worries of its own for a small-town Iowa girl -- is it safe?  Will they know my last name?  How many dates until I give them my phone number and full name?  What if a crazy slips through?  It seems a lot of people my age don't go on dates, per se, preferring instead to meet people through friends.  Yet I don't want to contaminate my friend pool if I date someone and it doesn't work out.  I like having some people as friends, especially when they are key members of my "gang."  I really love my friends and my life right now, and I don't think I want to mess any of that up by mixing romance in at this point.

Finally, what will be interesting is the process of figuring out what I want in a partner -- I haven't thought about that in so long.  I just know what I had, and that I loved him.  I loved the whole package of Brian -- he was a perfect fit for me as a person, and now I'm being asked to think about what specific "qualities" are most important.  That's hard to say, as I'm not used to compartmentalizing physical and personality traits that way.  I think it will be daunting, but kind of cool, to figure out what kind of person suits me now.

First, though, I have to find someone to go on another first date with...and then figure out what to wear!

   

Nesting

I have been spending a lot of time getting settled in to my new place.  I'm really trying to be organized here.  For one thing, I have to be.  Though I have great storage and a big apartment, I still have much less space than I did at the house.  Also, it is organized differently -- no garage, storage room, separate bar room, one less bedroom and bathroom, etc.  The other part, though, is that I really want to be more organized and neat.  I have to admit, we let things get cluttered and disorganized too much at the old house.

In an effort to be more organized, I'm making sure that while I unpack, I find not just a place for everything, but the best place for everything!  So this process is taking some time, as you might imagine.  So far, I'm impressed though -- my shoes, purses, jewelry, clothes, and my entire kitchen and laundry room/utility area are very well organized, as are my medicine cupboard and the cats' things.  My furniture is all in place and I even have a lot of things up on the walls.  In fact, I have more things framed and hung than we ever did at the house, and am finishing up on this fun task. 

I am making an effort to be more proactive about organization and keeping clutter down, as I don't think we were very good at that in our married life in Iowa.  I know there were things we were going to hang on the wall but just "never got around to it."  Well, no more!  I am not going to keep letting that kind of thing slide; I need to take more pride in my home and my surroundings, even if it is a rental unit for the first time in over five years.  I think this is one of the few areas where I can look back and say that Brian was lacking -- he was not very handy, nor did he particularly enjoy the house tasks on everyone's "honey-do" list.  When things didn't get hung up, or we never got around to picking out new window treatments, I never protested and I never pushed the issue.  I wish I had, or I wish I had just done some of those things myself.  It turns out I don't need him to hang something using drywall screws; I did that on my own down here.  It turns out I don't need him to rearrange furniture; I've done that by myself as well.  It's kind of nice to know that and prove that to myself, but I wish I'd known it sooner.

One of the things I've done -- and by far, this is the "manliest" job, though installing some dryer vent tubing comes in a close second -- is to hang chicken wire around the perimeter of my balcony so the cats can go outside without any danger of them stepping or falling between the railings.  I decided to do this before I had even allowed them onto the balcony, but one incident confirmed that this would be necessary and not just a nice precaution.  I was hanging up a large photo frame jewelry box and in the midst of my distraction, Picaboo and Mittons took advantage of a slightly askew screen by popping it out of place and hopping through the window onto the balcony!  When I saw this, they were doing fine exploring and were very timid; I thought that perhaps they could be trusted.  Very soon, however, Picaboo walked between the railings onto the neighbor's attached balcony and started exploring that!  I got the others inside and finally was able to lure Picaboo back with treats after she was two balconies away. 

Clearly, the chicken wire was required.  I went to Home Depot, bought a few rolls and some plastic zip ties.  I had to unroll and straighten out the chicken wire, then attach it to my metal railings with the zip ties.  I cut the wire where there are large wooden beams on the patio, so it doesn't look bad just rolled over that beam.  I also had to make cuts for the different corners of the patio.  It was very time consuming, using tin snips to cut so many little pieces of wire, then securing the wire into place with zip ties every couple of feet, then trimming the excess plastic zip tie.  My hands were certainly sore!  The hardest part was when I would run out of fencing and would have to overlap pieces of chicken wire.  Then I'd have to use wire pieces or the ends of the fencing itself or plastic ties to intertwine or attach the segments of fence.  I felt like a ranch hand!  And I definitely had sore hands!

Nevertheless, my balcony (which is approximately 20 ft long, mind you!) is lined with chicken wire up to the top of the hand railing and basically makes the perfect outdoor haven for my cats.  Now I can go in and out freely (my recycling is out there) without worrying that one of them will run out, and we can all sit outside and enjoy nature together.  My balcony faces the limbs of some fantastic old trees that line the back of the property, and there is an abundance of bird and squirrel activity just a few feet away from the balcony railing.  The cats are loving it!  They spend a good chunk of time outside and pretty much have free reign to go in and out.

I realized as I built this cat playground (which took me several hours, with the Home Depot trips and all the wire-cutting!) that I'm really working hard to make this place my home.  I'm "nesting."  Not for a baby, but for my new life.  Maybe soon there will be someone to join me in it...but that's a topic for another post!

100th Post

I just noticed that my most recent post was my 99th post.  Upon realizing that I was about to write my 100th post, I decided to go back and re-read everything I've written....and, wow, I've come a long way.  It's interesting to look back at some of the highs and lows I've experienced and shared.

In looking back, certain posts stand out.  Some highlight specific events -- holidays, races, etc. -- and some contain the most heavy and profound messages I've come to know as truth in my life.  I was going to do a sort of "Top Ten" list, but I had a hard time narrowing it down and it seemed trite to cut out a good post from this list just to reach an arbitrary number.

For those newer readers, this list could be treated as a sort of "condensed" version of what I've gone through since last spring.  For those who've read every post, perhaps one or two of these will be posts you remember and would like to re-visit.

1.  May 12, 2010 -- "On Running and Grief"  (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/05/on-running-and-grief.html)
2.  May 16, 2010 -- "Moving" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/05/moving.html)
3. May 20, 2010 -- "Hi, I'm Wendy and I'm a widow."  (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/05/hi-im-wendy-and-im-widow.html)
4.  June 2, 2010 -- "More About Running" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/06/more-about-running.html)
5.  June 16, 2010 -- "Brian at Bonnaroo" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/06/brian-at-bonnaroo.html)
6. June 30, 2010 -- "Happy Anniversary!  Or....Unhappy Anniversary?"  (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/06/happy-anniversary-orunhappy-anniversary.html) -- along with a P.S. to this post, which is at: http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/06/ps-regarding-last-post.html
7.  July 18, 2010 -- "Six Month Checkup" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/07/6-month-checkup.html)
8.  July 29, 2010 -- "Self-Inflicted Punishment?"  (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/07/self-inflicted-punishment.html)
9.  July 29, 2010 -- "Cleaning the Wound" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/07/cleaning-wound.html)
10.  August 26, 2010 -- "Making a Mark" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-mark.html)
11.  August 30, 2010 -- "Dream a Little Dream of Me" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/08/dream-little-dream-of-me.html)
12.  September 2, 2010 -- "Happy Thought for the Day" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/09/happy-thought-for-day.html)
13.  September 2, 2010 -- "Beautiful Tribute" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/09/beautiful-tribute.html)
14.  September 17, 2010 -- "Cleaning Out the Closet" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/09/cleaning-out-closet.html)
15.  November 10, 2010 -- "Run for Your Life" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/11/run-for-your-life.html)
16.  November 19, 2010 -- "How Do I Love Thee?  Let Me Count the Ways..." (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/11/how-do-i-love-thee-let-me-count-ways.html)
17.  December 6, 2010 -- "The Music Man"  (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/12/music-man.html)
18.  December 24, 2010 -- "Stop the Insanity!"  (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2010/12/stop-insanity.html)
19.  January 29, 2011 -- "Attitude Adjustment" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2011/01/attitude-adjustment.html)
20.  February 9, 2011 -- "Rambling Thoughts" (http://wendyrebuilding.blogspot.com/2011/02/rambling-thoughts.html)

Rambling thoughts...

I am going through another round of depression, of sadness, of disbelief about Brian's death.  I still, even more than a year later, don't get it -- why?!  Why did this happen to him?  I look at pictures of his big, broad smile; the twinkle in his eye; his red hair and strong nose...and I just can't believe what happened to that person.  I can't believe he's no longer here with us.  I can't believe I won't see him again. 


I feel guilty that last January 17, I didn't realize that something was seriously wrong until it was too late, and I wonder if calling 911 sooner would have made a difference.  (The medical examiner thought it probably wouldn't have.)  Is it my fault?  I can't bear to think about it, yet I can't escape those doubts and that crushing guilt.  I know hindsight is 20/20, but I still hate myself for not asking more questions about how he was feeling, for not doing a Google search of symptoms, for not insisting that we go to the hospital.  I've never confessed these feelings to anyone, and it's eating me up inside.  I'm frustrated that he didn't realize something was wrong, that he didn't tell me that it was.  We thought he had a chest cold or pneumonia; it was a pulmonary embolism.  Now, I am a hypochondriac, especially when anyone else is concerned.  When Mittons got a urinary tract infection, I watched her like a hawk, afraid that she -- like Brian -- had a problem far worse than her symptoms or demeanor would suggest, like kidney failure.  I worry all the time that one of the cats will die under my watch, just like Brian did.  Every time I am sick, I at least entertain the possibility that I am dying.  The crazy thing is, I don't care if I do -- I'm not suicidal by any means, but I also don't care if I do die, because I will be with Brian again.

I just watched the DVD photo slideshow that we put together for Brian's visitations and service again -- a lifetime compressed into pictures for the duration of three songs.  There are so many precious memories and good times and happy faces in those several minutes, but it's not enough -- it doesn't reflect the unique tenor of his voice, the way his arms felt around me, the idiosyncratic expressions of his face in the course of any conversation, especially those in which he doubted what he was being told by the person on the other side of an argument (I saw that best when he would talk to Hart), his posture, his scent.  Photos aren't enough for me.  I just miss Brian immensely, still.


I know grief works in cycles, and I'm feeling that intense sadness and loneliness right now, combined with guilt.  So I'm at a pretty low point.  I would just give anything to spend another night with him, to just have 24 more hours.  I recently dreamed that I was somewhere, and I had just seen Brian walk away, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs, "BRIAN!!!  COME BACK!!!"....over and over, I made this plea; I knew even in the dream that it was futile, but I had to try.  I had to try.  It's probably residual guilt for not praying hard enough on the day he died, between the time the paramedics came and the time we got the terrible news.  I know that day that I was trying to keep it all together, that I was fearful (and I think I pretty much knew) of the news to come, and that I was already going into a state of shock.  It's a blur, but I know I didn't pray as hard as I could have, and I will always -- ALWAYS -- feel guilty about that.  Believe me, it's not because I didn't want him to live.  I don't know if it's because I didn't know how serious the situation was, or because I knew exactly how serious it was.   

In any event, I've done a lot of thinking about religion, destiny, and spiritual matters this year.  It's a pretty personal thing to put out there for the world to see, but I will say that some of my views have changed.  Also, I'm still investigating the possibilities to determine what exactly to believe. 

I've heard people say, "Don't put a question mark where God has placed a period."  I got this advice from people in the aftermath of Brian's death, written in cards; I've heard it at grief counseling groups; I also drove past a truck with this on a bumper sticker the other day.  It makes sense, pragmatically -- I can either live the life I have, or I can spend all my time and energy thinking about things that were not meant to be.  Clearly, one is more productive and healthy, and will lead me to a better life.  However, it's still hard to do.  I think it's even harder when the period that "God" has placed in your life follows the sentence, "I am taking away the love of your life, the best thing to ever happen to you, the source of your happiness, and the person with whom you always wanted and intended to build a future and grow old."  Wow....talk about pulling the rug out from under me, God. 

I know a lot of this seems like things that have come up before, or that I perhaps should be "over" feeling.  Well, I guess I'm just now realizing as well that grief -- that scary, looming dark soul-sucker that will forever be in my life -- can and will rear its ugly head at some of the most unexpected times and places.  I was starting to feel really good about where I was and then -- bam! -- I can't stop crying today.

This is probably one of the least composed and logical posts I've had in a long time, but it is reflective of how I'm feeling and what's going through my head at the moment.  I haven't posted anything or done any writing in a long time simply because I didn't know where to start.  Perhaps by getting out some of these bad thoughts and by letting the tears flow heavily for a day or two, I'll be able to get my focus and optimism back.  Hence, the rambling blog post.  Probably not fun for my readers, but I hope it helps me.

On the Road (Race) Again

I've signed up for the Austin Half Marathon, which is Sunday, February 20.  I've really enjoyed hitting the trails and getting those training runs in -- during months when I might not do any running at all in Iowa, I've been going out for 10 miles at a time.  This will be my earliest road race of the year, ever.  In Iowa, I was never even ready for the Drake Relays Half Marathon in April.  Now, I'll have done one -- and maybe even two -- half marathons by that time of year. 

It's encouraging that Austin will be a better place for me as a runner, and to think that I will be able to just take better care of my body down here.