Here it goes...

Tomorrow I have a video interview (my first!) at 10am.

With a college admissions coordinator in Israel.
I hopefully will find out if I have been accepted into a summer college programme.

Before I go off on premature plans, or more information, I will say this.


I am scared.
Terrified.
Anxious.
Filled with trepidation.

I am also hopeful.
Hopeful I have friends near and far who can help me with logistics.
Hopeful I might get in.
Hopeful I might begin to find the "me" that was given to "we" when I married.
Hopeful this might be a good change for who I am and have been.
Hopeful this might let me start walking again. Looking forward.
Hopeful I may again remember passions, and desire for learning.
Hopeful I could survive (short term) without my cats, my only Companions left.

Hopeful I can adapt to the potential change, the new-ness, the shuffle of my routine.

Hopeful I might make new friends.
Hopeful I may even meet another (young) widow.

Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers tomorrow morning, if you would.

I am hopeful if everything can come together, this might be what I truly need to find life, and begin to see where my own will go.

I have not been able to think about my future for 4 years. It is daunting, but I am growing to see it can empower me.

Down the Rabbit Hole I Go!

Brave (2)

I tried to fall back asleep this morning. No go.

It's one week til Wash's memorial.
I'm not doing well.

There are so many things going on all at the same time. I feel I am coming untethered.

I am terrified of trying to write something about him with that level of finality. I was not afford the luxury of denial like others around him were.
This is, certain.
Final.

It breaks what is left of my heart.



The cats keep me company in the bed most nights. Either Aelphie takes her place by my feet, or Leto comes over and sleeps on top of me. The tend to switch off.
I wake up everyday with this sense of "wrong". Something is off. Not as it should be.

I remember how we used to fall asleep together. How we would cuddle. How some nights it would be me holding him until he fell asleep, and a long long time ago, he used to hold me.
I remember the first winter we had together; he was working night-shift and in school. We hardly ever saw each other during the week. Except for 30 minutes in the mornings when he would come home from work, waking me up to the smell of coffee, which he'd always bring me a fresh cup.
He'd climb into bed and for 30 minutes the world did not exist. It was just us. Our time.
I miss the spot I'd kiss behind his ear, right above his neck.
I miss his smell. I miss that so much.
I miss his comfort.

I've had people, strangers and friends tell me how "brave" I've been. I thank them, but I don't understand it at all.
Is it really "brave" when there is only one direction to go? One way to move?
I have to go on, because what else can I really do? I don't see other choices, options.


I am happy to have friends coming in to help me say "goodbye" to him.
I know that lives don't stop. Well, only mine, and to a literal degree, him.

I miss the normalcy.
I miss Family Tuesday Dinners. Those started long before Wash, and it was the one day a week I knew I could see someone who knew my name, who would hug me, where I could just be me.
Those stopped.
I can understand. It's painful. Too busy. Out of town.

I am left though, with this feeling of being attached to nothing. I feel this greater distance with my own family than I have ever known.
Quite like a balloon. I had been tied for so many years, able to float out a bit, and now, un-cut, I am loose. I am going higher and farther than ever before. Than I ever imagined there to be.
The problem though, is the inevitable.
Balloons don't stay up forever. We all know.
Eventually, they pop. They burst, high and in a different place.

More and more I keep wondering why I am still here, in this place. What besides him was keeping me here?

I wonder if this is temporary, or if I have lost hope for Arizona?


I am scared for another reason. Well, many. I've been scared a long time, it's just easier to ignore the fears when there is someone else who needs comfort.


I wish I had known how few choices I would have had, before.
This will by my first Hannukah alone. My parents leave again the day after Wash's service.
At this point, I no longer even see a point in putting up my yearly little tree. I love the lights, but, it feels like I already know I'll be alone at the end of the month.

This is part of it. Everyone moves on. It's been almost 3 months! I mean, sure, he was my husband and the person I was intending to spend my life with, have children with, move with, be happy with, and my best friend. But, no, yeah, under 3 months is fine. Move on. Do we just stop saying his name next year?
I really am upset no one gave me this time-table for "acceptable" grief ahead of time.
I'm still back in the days of Judith Martin, apparently.
I'm guessing since this 'new' timeline for grief is something I'm really not familiar with; being of the impression I could go at my own emotional speed, could someone send me a link?

That last part was a bit sarcastic.

I cried myself to sleep this morning trying so hard to remember if I held him til he fell asleep that Saturday night. I cannot remember. I know I was with him, I was next to him, but I can't even remember if I held him.

I am scared of next week. I'm scared of who might show up. I'm scared my anger towards some people and how they acted towards Wash will not have passed fully if I see them. I'm scared that I cannot yet say that,
"I forgive you for hurting him so much while he was dying."
I was hurt too, to be sure. In a heinous and vicious way. But, people have hated me for a long time. I'm kind of used to it.
I know what was done to him, though.
I know exactly how many nights he cried himself to sleep over this.
I know how many tears, how much pain, and worse, how he could not even understand it. Part of that was the cancer, but a bigger part was just the shock and the pain of who it was coming from.

So much pain and sadness.

How do I say good-bye to my best friend?
The person I loved heart, body, mind, past and future.
I wish, I wish I knew.

Where's Mousey?

You don't scare me.

I woke up yesterday at 9am. I worked, really worked, the whole day.

I watched my husband forget when he was, where he was, and parts of who he was.

I regularly stay awake for 20 hour shifts out of a 24 hour day.

I am watching my 27 year old husband die, and die from a disease that takes away who he is, what he loves, and his memories before it begins to take away his physical being. Which it has started.

So, you, Mr Debt Collector?

When you call at 8:23am, after I've been asleep for perhaps 3 hours?

No, I'm not compassionate this morning. I'm not kind. Cancer is not kind.

I'm going to honestly tell you, you will get nothing.

We have no money. We have no income.

Wash will never ever be able to work again in his life to pay off his medical debt.

We owe the State, the Hospital, and the Federal Government well over $1,000,000.00 already for his care. Really, we hit $750,000.00 before he was even discharged from the hospital. It might be close to 2 million dollars now from his years of care and treatment.

I'm 25. My credit is already trashed. I did not graduate before my husband became terminally ill.

I got to see that $1 million dollars of care cannot put a broken person back to "whole".

I saw a 8cm tumor take over my husband.

Mr Debt Collector? You don't scare me one little bit.

I can pay you in tears or perhaps blood.

But money? What's money to Cancer?

You are far, far, far less scary to look in the face than a diagnosis of Glioblastoma Multiforme.