Lunch and a Lecture

I feel like I just got in trouble.  Correction,  I feel as if I just got in trouble for something I didn't do.  I have written about the arbitrary timeline that people place on grief before.  However,  I never thought that somebody would look me right in the face and tell me that others could be offended or hurt if I didn't respect the one year period.

I do want to clarify a couple of things.  First of all, I am past the one year mark.  (I almost said finish line,  because that's the impression I got from today's lecture. ) I am, however, dating Robbie, who experienced his loss only nine months prior to the "words of warning". We are seriously dating.  We have not run away to Las Vegas.

When a widow even starts to date a widower, two entire families and countless other friends are affected. The couple has to choose how to balance getting to know each other and possibly letting a relationship grow with being mindful of the fact that a mother, father, sister, brother and a child are gone.  The remaining children, siblings and parents can't ever find someone that will allow a new start.  That kind of relationship can't be replaced. I like how this clip explains it - substitute your own relationship for the word Dad:

The Dead Dads Club


Discussions about how to respect, love, understand and ease the way for everybody have been a habit for Robbie and me since the beginning.  While we want all family members on both sides to be happy for us, we want them to know that we respect what they have lost.  We also want them to know that we hold our own memories sacred, and both of us completely comprehend that we were happy with another person for thirty years or so.  We are not trying to replace the ones that were lost.  That's impossible.

So we listened to the lecturer, remaining politely silent while knowing inside that we are definitely trying our utmost to respect everybody and live up to our responsibilities.  The only part where we missed the mark was on the one-year period of mourning.  Robbie later asked these questions: "What am I supposed to do for that year?  Go home to the empty house? Not talk to another woman? Not go on a date?  Be sad night after night?"

If he doesn't do those things,  will he get in trouble?  Will I get in trouble if I'm involved? Would we not be "received" in polite society? Will our daughters never be presented?  Will our sons never be invited to join the country club? Last century, perhaps, or the one before. We are not concerned with rules or silly consequences.  We are concerned that all of our family members that suffered irreplaceable loss are given the time they need to understand that we haven't forgotten anybody; nor are we trying to replace them. We've made up our own rules, with love, responsibility and understanding as the guidelines.  To answer the lecturer: it will probably take that long, but not because it's a magic number of days or months.  It may take that long because we hold so many of you dear and love you as much or more than we care for ourselves. The lecturer is one of the dearest and most deeply affected.  We want to do the right thing, timeline or not.  We love you all.

A strange path to a very happy place 3/17/14

Very happy?  How?  I've been on my own for 10 months and had to do more "stuff", and endure more than the normal share of hardships. Hidden away from the world, with only a relative or very good friend on the phone or with me, I've broken down so many times that I started to think I was broken.  I started to think that my outward brave face and strong attitude was holding me back because I didn't give myself an appropriate amount of "sulking around in public" time.  Well, sorry, people, I'm not going to pout for all of you.  I know for a fact that some people thought it was strange how quickly I went back to work last year, and how I've just carried on........as if nothing at all happened. I'd like to see how those people react in the face of a tragedy. (Obviously though, I do not wish tragedy on anyone.)  I think many of them would then realize that going back to work and seeing people and sharing stories-sad, funny, or happy-can be healing and comforting.

I did pour feelings out through my writing, though.  The first few pieces I wrote after Scott died, I sobbed the whole way through writing.  Some later pieces, I pounded the keys of the computer unreasonably hard, because I was very angry about the subject.  I also had to let some sit and take their time - as well as completely delete some and not publish others.  I became obsessed with tracking my page views.  This blog engine has a stats page for me, on which I can see how many views each post has, how many views today, last month, and all time for the blog.  I can also see the referring website, the country you are in, and which browsers have been used.  Not in a personal way, just numbers accumulation.  I quickly became obsessed with my 'numbers'.  I've been known to check my page counts at dinner, in the airport, at school and while shopping.  In trying to 'boost' my numbers, I shared links to my blog in a lot of places.  I just never realized that somebody in one of those places would go back and read every one of them.  Not only read every one of them, but then contact me, end up talking with me, and later on want to meet me.

At this point, I have to apologize for my earlier post that ranted against the lady that told me to "meet someone online".  Kind of.  That was still somewhat insensitive of her.  If we still wore black for a "period of mourning", it might not have happened.  But never mind the online love lady, I want to talk about this person  that found a link to my writing I posted in a grief support forum. This person sent me a private message almost two months ago on the forum, saying they admired the job I was doing as a mom and a teacher after my loss.  They had experienced loss, also, and we started messaging back and forth and talking about different things.  I suppose you've figured out by now that it's a 'he'.  Where did this come from?  I didn't ask for this, or go looking for this, or sign up or join or advertise.....it found me.  From my writing.  Whoa.

We progressed to talking on the phone.  I'm two months behind on my recorded TV shows.  It's very scary when you don't know someone at all, but then you're talking and sharing experiences, and you feel you start to know them.  And then he got the nerve (I know for a fact that it was just as scary for him...) to ask if we could meet.  My answer?  "Not yet, I'll think about it.".  I mean, what is a girl supposed to say?  Then I went to Mardi Gras.  There will be a chapter in the book that tells what happened at Mardi Gras to make my decision clearer. (I dream about making these writings into a book that may help others who travel this path. Everyone can dream, right?) The week after Mardi Gras, he asked again to meet.  I said yes.  We worked out a plan for him to come visit me in Texas.  It was exciting, but I experienced a nervousness that beat out any performance nerves.  I felt I knew him, after two months of talking.....and I was comfortable enough to tell him on the phone: "Well, I know you're not an ax-murderer, so yes, I will invite you!"

Without throwing details to the world in my writing (because there is another person involved in this story....) I would like to say, with all respect to everything that has happened in the past year, that this weekend was like a fairy tale or a Hallmark channel movie.  It started with flowers and ended with a good-bye kiss. I didn't even check my blog stats one time.  I'm happy at the moment, in spite of the strange path.  I hope you can be happy for me, too. I'll be careful, I promise.