Blur

There is a near constant fluctuation between my two worlds. More and more I feel like my life with Andie is vanishing and I’m grasping at things to hold onto, while also trying to be present and in the moment with my current life and appreciate it for all the good there is, but the lines keep getting blurred.

I recently changed several framed pictures on the walls. I took out a wedding photo and some of Andie and me with the twins when they were infants, and replaced them with the new pictures I recently had done of me and the girls together. My mom cried when she first noticed that the old pictures were gone. I cried then too because it’s all still so remarkably sad. But I justify it to myself by trying to believe that even if he were still alive I would’ve changed photos from when they were infants to more current ones. This doesn’t assuage the pain too much though.

This weekend I gave our dog away. The one I bought Andie for our one year wedding anniversary. I just was not able to keep up with the demands of an active dog anymore, and wanted him to be in a good home where he would get the attention he deserved. It was so hard to think of letting go of our first “baby”. So many memories returned that reminded me how innocent and naïve I was about life. How I never thought our dog would outlive my husband. How I never really thought our lives would be anything but mundane and normal. We would have a dog, a couple of kids, build a house, and be happy. I was reminded of the time when Andie’s best friend’s daughter was caught drinking out of the dog dish in our backyard, I think she was less than 2 years old then… I am saddened because I essentially don’t have contact with these friends anymore due to a minor conflict we had on the one year anniversary of Andie’s death. And though I apologized for my overly emotional behavior, (which I would’ve thought would be forgiven given the heightened emotional state of that day), and though I tried several times after that to reach out to them, I barely have contact with this couple. I hear from the husband through text messages on holidays, but the wife has not spoken to me since she emailed me the day after and said she was too upset to discuss the issue. That was 9 months ago. The dog is gone. The friends are gone. There is not one part of my life that has not been touched by his death and irrevocably changed because of it.

So I let go of our dog and wished him well to a better place, trying to believe that Andie is in a better place too. Hoping that it is true for both of them. And later in the day I had a wonderful afternoon at the river with this man who has become so special to me. We went to the homeowner’s park on the river where I have membership because of the land Andie and I bought together. Where we dreamed of building a home to raise our family. The dreams of Andie and I building our home there and raising our family are gone, to be replaced now with new dreams and new plans…I will build a home there by myself now. And I have to raise our children in a different way than I expected, creating a new idea of what family is...


My boyfriend and I had a picnic, and walked along the river and fished, and spent some quality time together. It was peaceful, and calm, and happy.  As we were walking to the car he made a comment about the river park being a place where some great memories could be made together... “picture memories” were the actual words he used. I smiled at the thought of he and I creating new memories together.
 
The juxtaposition of all these old memories fading away and new ones being made to replace them seems surreal. It’s like two watercolors mixing…the lines blur and they seep into each other becoming a different color altogether. Changing the original state of both irrevocably.

That is how it feels for me now. The old and the new being mixed together, the lines blurring, and in doing so irrevocably changing what has been...and what will be.

feel better...

The weight of this week is bearing down on me. I am irritable and lack patience with the girls today because I am stressed and worried about all the things I need to accomplish this week. I try to remain calm with them but am appalled at my own behavior and how quickly I get angry at them for minor things. How many times can you tell a toddler "no" before they finally get it?

I have come to the realization recently that I can't do this alone anymore, and do it well. I don't want to do this alone anymore. I don't want to be a single parent. I'm tired of it. I don't want the girls to be raised in a single parent household. I cannot be a good mother to them without help, as hard as that is for me to admit. I need a co-parent, a partner, a support system that doesn't come and go a couple of nights a week. I need someone who will have my back and be there to emotionally support me, so that I can be healthy enough to emotionally support my children. It's not fair to them that I am tired and overwhelmed most of the time because they end up bearing the brunt of it. This, I am not okay with. Paradoxically, I find myself behaving in some of the ways that I used to get angry with Andie for when he lost his patience. Funny how that happens isn't it? I guess when you are left to take on the role of both parents you step right into those shoes...no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Because you don't know any other way to do it, really.

I just want to feel better.
About my life.
About my parenting.
About my future and theirs.
About myself.


"Just Feel Better" by Aerosmith and Santana

she said i feel stranded
and i can't tell anymore
if i'm coming or i'm going
it's not how i planned it
i got a key to the door
but it just won't open

i know i know i know
part of me says let it go
that life happens for a reason
i don't i don't i don't
because it never worked before
but this time
this time
i'm gonna try anything to just feel better

tell me what to do
you know i can't see through the haze around me
and i'd do anything to just feel better
i can't find my way
god i need a change
and i'd do anything to just feel better
any little thing to just feel better

she said i need you to hold me
i'm a little far from the shore
and i'm afraid of sinking
you're the only one who knows me
and who doesn't ignore that my soul i weeping

i know i know i know
part of me says let it go
everything must have its season
'round and 'round it goes
every day's the one before
but this time
this time
i'm gonna try anything to just feel better


tell me what to do
you know i can't see through the haze around me
and i'd do anything to just feel better
i can't find my way
god i need a change
and i'd do anything to just feel better
any little thing to just feel better

i'm tired of holding on
to all the things i leave behind
it's really getting old yeah
i think i need a little help this time

i'm gonna try anything to just feel better

tell me what to do
you know i can't see through the haze around me
and i'd do anything to just feel better
i can't find my way
god i need a change
and i'd do anything to just feel better
any little thing to just feel better

ugly side

Looking back at some recent interactions I have had with those close to me I realize now how emotionally guarded I must have been my whole life. I didn’t really understand how much I have kept people at a distance. And continue to keep others at a distance…until now. Now I see me for what I am: vulnerable, terrified of getting hurt, afraid to show weakness.


It is hard for me to accept that sometimes “good things” just happen…I’ve always felt like the kind of person who draws in the “bad things happen to good people” vibe from the universe so I always have my guard up. I’m in a constant state of hyperawareness, overanalyzing, planning my escape route. Waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop, and never wanting someone else to get the best of me. It takes me a long time to trust someone and even those who are in my closest inner circle rarely get a glimpse of how I truly feel. I’m a born skeptic, constantly thinking about the “what if’s”. I find myself pushing the limits to see how far I can go, sure that when I cross the limit and someone finally gives up on me, I can stand back and place the blame on them for not being able to take all that I dish out. Not always giving due credit for what they did do and how long they did endure.

Ridiculously immature of me. I see now the ugly side of me. The martyr, the “woe is me”, the “can’t I catch a break” whiny side. I wonder how difficult Andie must have found it to be in this constant sparring match of wits with me. Always trying to stay one step ahead and continually reassure me. Sometimes feeling as though he could never win…in truth, cause he couldn’t. I never let him. I see now that when I thought he was giving up on me, he was really just refusing to engage in a losing battle. Knowing I’d always come around somehow. I want to tell him how sorry I am. That I didn’t realize how difficult I was being. That if he were still here I’d start letting him win every now and then. Recently, I have begun to embrace the idea of sharing my honest feelings and have been surprised by how freeing it is to allow someone to see through you. To the real you. And I like it.

The grief process is funny; it’s not always about the grief. More often it turns out to be about you and your underlying issues. It continually challenges us to reevaluate who we are and face things we were never forced to face before, and in doing so we have a new perspective on who we once were. We see ourselves through a vastly different lense. It’s not always fun, and it’s definitely not always pretty.

I realize now how unfair it is to keep people at a distance.
I want to let them in.
I want to be able to share myself on a genuine level.
I just have to start letting go of the fear…

Perfection

People close to me think I’m a perfectionist. I used to think that too, but what I’ve realized is that I’m just afraid of not living up to the expectations of others. It’s not an intrinsically driven thing in me that wants things to be “perfect” or “just so”. It’s that I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Once you do something well once, then people come to expect that from you again. You’ve set the bar, so how do you then dip below it?

My issue is I just can’t let people down, I must rise to the expectations of others…so I am driven to get good grades, to succeed, to have a nice house, to look put together and stay trim, to be good at my career, to be a good mom, to be financially savvy, to be a good listener, blah, blah, blah. All in an effort to make those who matter to me proud. I want to achieve so that I may appear “good enough” in the eyes of others…this probably definitely goes back to my own insecurities and issues with self-worth. I don’t want to be a failure. Andie’s opinion was of course the most important one. I wanted him to be proud of me on every level. Now that he’s gone I find myself not caring so much. Not worrying as much about whether or not I’m measuring up to the invisible bar I’ve set for myself because the judge is no longer around to give me a pass or fail. I’m beginning to be okay with things just being “good enough”.

Andie thought I was perfect…he told me so a thousand times. In fact there was rarely a day that passed in which he did not give me some loving compliment that built me up and sustained me; that reassured me that I was actually “good enough”. Yep, the majority of the time we were one of those couples that would make you gag if you knew how in love we were. We hid it pretty well in public, but in the privacy of our own home we were sickeningly in love and into each other.

He was always telling me I was beautiful, sexy, smart, a great wife, a great mom, I made a good dinner that night, he appreciated me and all the things I took care of around the house, I was the love of his life, I made him laugh, I was his whole world, I was awesome cause I got his favorite snack at the store, I was cool cause I never told him he couldn’t go hunting or fishing, or any number of other things he loved about me. I was just perfect.

I used to tell him that I hated when he told me I was perfect because it’s not true and it set me up for failure; as there is no way I could ever live up to being perfect and I didn’t want him to put me on that kind of pedestal. Being perfect is simply unrealistic and too much pressure. And he would always say, “Well, you’re perfect to me.” I remember arguing with him one day about not being perfect and I asked him if there was anything about me that irritated him. Nope, not a thing. There has to be at least one thing I do that you don’t like, or wish I would change, or that you don’t think is perfect. He thought for a moment and came up with 2 things.

1. I can’t sing. (A very valid and indisputable accusation)
2. I never replaced the empty toilet paper roll; I just stacked a new roll on top of the empty roll.

Honestly, the only thing he ever complained about in our entire marriage is that I never put a new roll of toilet paper back on the holder…and he also didn’t like the way I loaded the dishwasher. But those are honestly the only two things I remember him ever even commenting about. (I’m sure there were more things he didn’t like, he was just too sweet to tell me). I think I subconsciously wouldn’t put the toilet paper back on the roll just so that there would be something “imperfect” about me. To prove that he would love me anyway, even if there were imperfections.

Ironically, now I find myself replacing the empty toilet paper roll. Yes, ridiculously I do it now that he’s gone. As if that will honor him in some absurd way. Oh, wouldn’t he be so proud to be honored with a fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder!

And aren’t I just the perfect little wife now…(cue eye rolling)

I love you...

Excerpts from “I Love You” - by Sarah McLachlan

and I forgot
to tell you
I love you
and the night's
too long
and cold here
without you
I grieve in my condition
for I cannot find the words to say I need you so

The night Andie died, I didn’t tell him I loved him before we went to bed. We said that to each other every night. I’m not sure why we didn’t that night; perhaps because we were on vacation and out of our routine, nevertheless, I didn’t say it. And he didn’t say it to me either.

Then when the chaos started and I knew the situation was serious, I kept telling him that I needed him. That the girls needed him. That he had to stay alive because I could not do this without him. But I still did not say that I loved him.

It’s strange how in the middle of chaos and trauma you can have moments of clarity- a stillness within when thoughts seem to flow calmly and rationally, and the world around you fades away. I remember a moment like this when I had an almost subconscious fleeting thought that if I acknowledged that this might be the last time I said I loved him, then that would make it true. So I didn’t say it. It was like I was afraid to jinx myself. That if I actually uttered the words, “I love you, don’t leave me” then I was accepting my fate. That if I said it, then that meant that I believed the very thing I could not make myself believe.

I even had a brief thought about the next day, when I thought it was all going to be okay and he was stable, how I was going to tell him how much he scared me. Admonish him not to ever do that to me again. I was going to tell him that I had been afraid he was going to die. I was going to tell him then how much I loved him.

I was going to tell him then…

Ahem, ahem...here comes the soapbox

I’m in my angry phase again. I feel like there is no good or valid reason that Andie had to die. It could have been prevented a thousand ways.

Allow me to step onto my soapbox for a moment. Heart disease is one of the number one causes of death in America; it is largely because of our terrible diets and lack of exercise. After talking with the coroner about his death I learned that what killed him was a combination of genetic factors (predisposition for high cholesterol and heart disease) combined with a poor diet and lifestyle factors that only contributed to more high cholesterol and heart disease. His official cause of death was not even a heart attack. It was severe blockage of his coronary arteries (a condition called atherosclerosis) that led to his heart not being able to get blood and oxygen as needed. Basically, the coronary artery became blocked over time due to cholesterol and eventually it closed up completely- and he died. Because he ate like crap for most of his life! At only 34!

My concern is that people don’t take their health, diets, and exercise seriously enough. Especially when we’re young and think stuff like this only happens to older people. It only takes small changes to make a big impact. One small change we can all make is to eat less sugar-refined sugar, fructose, high fructose corn syrup, all forms of it!

Here is something I found while looking into this issue. It’s from www.healingdaily.com. Not the most “medical” sight, but I liked the simple list they put together about the dangers of sugar. I’ve put asterisks by the conditions that Andie had; all things that contributed to his death according to the coroner. He ate a diet high in processed foods and sugar until he started dieting about 10 months before he died. I believe with all my heart that if he had made lifestyle changes a lot earlier if it would’ve been a different outcome.

Sugar can suppress the immune system.
Sugar can upset the body's mineral balance.
Sugar can contribute to hyperactivity, anxiety, depression, concentration difficulties, and crankiness in children.
***Sugar can produce a significant rise in triglycerides.
Sugar can cause drowsiness and decreased activity in children.
***Sugar can reduce helpful high density cholesterol (HDLs).
***Sugar can promote an elevation of harmful cholesterol (LDLs).
Sugar can cause hypoglycemia.
Sugar contributes to a weakened defense against bacterial infection.
Sugar can cause kidney damage.
***Sugar can increase the risk of coronary heart disease.
Sugar may lead to chromium deficiency.
Sugar can cause copper deficiency.
Sugar interferes with absorption of calcium and magnesium.
Sugar can increase fasting levels of blood glucose.
Sugar can promote tooth decay.
***Sugar can produce an acidic stomach.
Sugar can raise adrenaline levels in children.
Sugar can lead to periodontal disease.
Sugar can speed the aging process, causing wrinkles and grey hair.
***Sugar can increase total cholesterol.
***Sugar can contribute to weight gain and obesity.
High intake of sugar increases the risk of Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis.
Sugar can contribute to diabetes.
Sugar can contribute to osteoporosis.
Sugar can cause a decrease in insulin sensitivity.
Sugar leads to decreased glucose tolerance.
***Sugar can cause cardiovascular disease.
***Sugar can increase systolic blood pressure.
Sugar causes food allergies.
Sugar can cause free radical formation in the bloodstream.
Sugar can cause toxemia during pregnancy.
Sugar can contribute to eczema in children.
Sugar can overstress the pancreas, causing damage.
***Sugar can cause atherosclerosis.
Sugar can compromise the lining of the capillaries.
Sugar can cause liver cells to divide, increasing the size of the liver.
***Sugar can increase the amount of fat in the liver.
Sugar can increase kidney size and produce pathological changes in the kidney.
Sugar can cause depression.
Sugar can increase the body's fluid retention.
Sugar can cause hormonal imbalance.
***Sugar can cause hypertension.
Sugar can cause headaches, including migraines.
Sugar can cause an increase in delta, alpha and theta brain waves, which can alter the mind's ability to think clearly.
Sugar can increase blood platelet adhesiveness which increases risk of blood clots and strokes.
Sugar can increase insulin responses in those consuming high-sugar diets compared to low sugar diets.
Sugar increases bacterial fermentation in the colon.

If this doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will. Decreasing the amount of sugar we take in is a very small step towards bettering our health. People look at me like I’m crazy around here when I say I don’t drink sweet tea. In Texas that’s almost like saying you don’t believe in God. And I also don’t allow my children to drink it- yes, there are parents who start their kids on sweet tea in Texas when they are still drinking out of sippy cups! I find it appalling. It is my job as a parent to make responsible, healthy food choices for my children while I still can. They will have all their adult lives to make unhealthy decisions on their own.

So when I don’t want my kids having tea, soda, or ice cream, or any number of other treats…don’t look at me like I’m a bad mom who deprives her children of life’s simple pleasures. Acknowledge the good choice I’m making for them while they’re young- they don’t’ know the difference now anyway. I’m not opposed to an occasional treat-I promise, I do l let them eat cake on their birthday!

They already have risk factors genetically speaking, given what happened to their father. I can’t control that, but what I can control is what they put in their sweet little mouths! And what I put in mine for that matter. It’s a struggle to make all the right food choices, but I’m doing my best to be a responsible parent.

So I’m starting my new year’s resolution now- less sugar for us all in the Simmons house! Think about your own diet and lifestyle and consider a small change you could make for the better- Push yourself to do it! Consider it a gift to those you love to better your own health.

We often say we’d die for the ones we love, instead why don’t we choose to really live for them…

(Stepping down from the soapbox now)

A picture is worth a thousand words...

When we were first dating one of the nicest gifts Andie got me was a really nice camera- the Canon Rebel (before they had the digital version). I loved that camera and did some of my best work on it. I thought I lost it once when I accidentally packed it when we were moving. After months passed and we couldn't find it he went out and bought me another one for my birthday. He knew how much that camera meant to me and how heartbroken I was to not have it. Ironically, we unpacked and found the old camera about a week after he bought the new one!

Andie was always proud of my photography. It was just a hobby I enjoyed, but he encouraged me to display some of my work in our home and always wanted me to try to sell my photos. I never thought I was good enough but he always did. When we'd see photography for sale for hundreds of dollars he'd always say, "You could do that. Your stuff is way better than this." His encouragement and admiration of me is one of the things I treasure and miss the most.

When they came out with the digital version of my Canon Rebel I drooled over it. Pined for it. Longed for it. But I never thought we could afford it, or should afford it, rather. I was always the one holding the purse strings saying we should put more into retirement or savings- not spend it on extravagant things we didn't really need. He wanted me to have the big expensive camera and tried to convince me to get it for years, but I always put it off because it was so expensive.

The weekend Andie died was Father's Day weekend. I had bought him a new lightweight digital camera as a gift. We had both been wanting a new camera for a while that was small enough to throw in my purse, so I splurged. I planned to give it to him Friday night when we arrived at our vacation destination so he could use it all weekend. Thursday afternoon he ran errands and came home with my "late" Mother's Day present; you guessed it- a new camera! We laughed and couldn't believe we both bought each other cameras. He felt bad that he never got me a Mother's Day present and said he wanted me to have it for our vacation.

When he bought this new camera he told me he had considered getting me the digital version of my really good camera. The Canon Rebel EOS...the only problem was the digital version starts at around $600 and goes up from there. He said he was sure I would be upset if he spent that much money, but that he would go back and get it if I really wanted it. Well, being practical I told him we shouldn't spend that much money on a camera and I would keep the small lightweight one he bought.

So we kept the practical camera. The one we could both use. Point and shoot- so easy. The problem is...I hate this camera. I thought I would like it because it's very compact and lightweight but it takes way too long between when you press the button and when the picture takes. My kids move so quick that I can never get a good shot. Something that would never happen with my Canon Rebel. I'm sure my vehemence towards this camera is only magnified by the fact that he gave it to me a day before he died- it's got bad juju in my mind.

He was often trying to buy me nice gifts, but hesitant because he knew I'd be mad about how much they cost. I should've let him buy me nice gifts more often. I'd have those things to treasure now. Another thing to add to my list of regrets...

So today I bought myself the digital Canon Rebel.
In honor of him.
In honor of his admiration for my photography skills.
In honor of the fact that it's only money- we can't take it with us when we die.
I bought the camera because he wanted me to have it. Because I wanted to have it.

Because photos are the only lasting thing we have after someone is gone, the only thing that can preserve a moment after our own memory fades, the only accurate historical representation of a life. I want to capture the moments that matter with my children- I don't want to be cursing the camera because it didn't shoot quick enough and the moment passed.
My children are changing so fast these days and I feel like I can't keep up. I want to always remember these moments of joy, laughter, and love with them.

I want to capture these moments and hold them close and never let them go...

Blah!

Ugh... I was gonna surrender. I had every intention of giving it a valiant effort. The problem is... I can't. I'm a fighter. I don't give up and I don't give in.

I can't give in to this grief thing yet. I want to, or at least I think I do. I know I need to. But for some reason I just can't. I am stubbornly NOT accepting that this really is it. This sleep- deprivation, doing-it-all-alone, never-having-a-break life is what I'm stuck with.

To make a long story short, the girls have been extremely fussy, obstinate, and not sleeping through the night for the past 5 days- which makes for a mommy that is extremely fussy, obstinate, and not sleeping through the night. Not a good combo.

It is so draining to not have the other half of my tag team. There is no hope of passing the buck when he gets home from work in a few hours, or when he gets home from the ranch in a day or two...this is just a never ending reality with no end in sight and no reprieve to look forward to- I will do this alone for the rest of my life. At times it feels so hopeless.

I know I should be blogging about all the things for which I am grateful, instead of complaining about my lot in life. The truth is it all seems so cliche- of course I'm grateful for my children, family, friends, great support system, awesome job, blah, blah, blah.

What I'm not grateful for is like the elephant in the room. The big looming issue glaring me in the face. I'm not thankful, in fact, I'm quite bitter about so much. I think what hurts the most these days is that it didn't have to be this way. If medical intervention had proceeded as it should have when we sought it, then he would be sitting here with me; lamenting the crazy holiday schedule coming up, wondering what demons have possessed our children in the past five days and looking up how to perform exorcisms on the internet, and happily refilling my wine glass. From a box, no less.
Yep, it's gotten that bad. I'm actually drinking wine from a box.

Sigh. Is it too early in the season to say, "Bah humbug"?

Prayer rations...

Does God ration answered prayers?

Did he answer too many prayers for us in the couple of years before Andie died when we prayed every night that I would make it through the pregnancy, that the girls and I would be healthy?

I’m the one with a congenital heart condition that made carrying a baby extremely dangerous, and when we found out I would be carrying two babies- we held our breath and prayed. Carrying multiples automatically makes you a high-risk pregnancy, but carrying multiples with a precarious heart condition-well, that’s as risky as it gets. We took a calculated risk getting pregnant and breathed a sigh of relief when there were no adverse complications for the girls or me. When Andie’s mom was diagnosed with cancer we prayed daily for her to be healed, for her life to be spared, and the cancer to go away. And it did.

We thought it was miraculous that all our prayers were answered in the 18 months before he died. Leaving me wondering now…was it not miraculous, but just God keeping score? Marking hash marks on some big chalkboard in the sky.

Did we use up all our prayers and that’s why the last prayers I prayed while sitting in that ambulance, begging for him to stay alive, went unanswered? Did God not answer me because I used up my allotment and it was someone else’s turn to get the good fortune?

It should have been me that died; I was the one that the odds were against…

The color of a widow...

Black is the color of mourning but I’ve come to believe gray is the color of a widow. The widow’s world is overshadowed by guilt, regret, doubt, uncertainty, and gloominess once the actual mourning has subsided and we begin to “move on” and establish a new normal. So to me, gray is most appropriate shade.

Guilt and regret are the most salient emotions for me these days…there are a thousand decisions along the way that if I’d made differently might have resulted in a different outcome for Andie.

As I was walking with the girls the other day on the familiar route that Andie and I used to jog together a memory ran through my mind like a jumpy movie reel- fleeting snippets passing through my consciousness. A few weeks before he died he had complained that he got short of breath when we were running. This was one such occasion, and he had to slow down and quit running. He told me to go on ahead without him and finish the run- he would walk home behind me. I remember turning to him and saying, “Oh yeah right, with my luck you’ll have a heart attack and drop dead and there will be no one here to save you, and I’ll just be waiting for you at home. I’m not leaving you.” So we walked the rest of the way home together.

The irony of that situation is that I didn’t leave him, and when he did “drop dead” from heart problems I was lying right beside him in bed. I stayed by his side until he passed from this world, and despite the fact that I was right there with him I still couldn’t save him. So it didn’t matter after all, except that it gives me peace to know that he was not alone in those last moments and that I was there the whole time.

I have a lot of guilt over not being able to do more to save him-not acting quicker, wishing I hadn’t gone into panic mode, not knowing what to do. I regret making the flippant comment that “with my luck” he would drop dead. I regret that I didn’t make him go see a cardiologist after he couldn’t finish our normal run. I regret that we went on vacation and were miles from the nearest hospital when he died. There is guilt that in an effort to lessen his anxiety about his chest pain, I tried to act as if it was just something minor instead of being honest with how scared I was. I regret that we chose to have his doctor look at him on Monday when we returned from vacation instead of going right in on Friday morning. There is guilt that perhaps I didn’t tell him enough how much I loved him or how much he meant to me. There is guilt about all the fights and things said in the heat of the moment over the years that were hurtful. I regret that this past year of having twins was one of the most difficult years in our marriage and I didn't have more patience with him.

My guilt colors my world. There is a dense fog over my perceptions. It makes me second guess all the decisions I’ve made and will have to make. What if I do it wrong again, what consequences will I have to suffer the next time around?

Guilt: the color of a widow and regret it’s close cousin...tandem shades of gray.