A year in review

It has been a little over a year since my 38 year old strong and healthy spouse of 8 years died tragically. I spent the first few months in a fog on the couch, I don’t believe I changed my clothes the first month and the only things that kept me sane, was the soup deliveries from those people who knew what they could do for me (and to you I am eternally grateful for without you I would probably have not eaten) and to the outpouring of support, which of course I could not reply to or even read in some cases. I do appreciate every one of those texts, emails, social media messages, cards and calls. I truly was being carried on all their wings cus I surely could not have survived without it all. Even though I could not reply, it was received and filled my spirit to know so many people were there for me and loved us.

I am pretty sure I was in shock those months, I know thru experience that PTSD can impact family members that see their loved ones in the ICU. The nightmares of the reality still haunt me and I doubt they will leave me anytime soon. I know our gran daughter still thinks of him and gets emotional about her Papa Mike. I also lost my fear of dying, I still may fear the pain. No clue if there is anything after death but there have been what we can call signs. The night before his body died, his spirit or soul died and he sent a vision to a mutual friend the next morning when I saw Mike on the day his body died, I could tell He wasn’t there anymore.  I just wanted to shut down. I am pretty sure I am still shut down and just going thru the motions. The smile I wear is just hiding the pain I feel.

In the 4^th month I ran away to Thailand, I was trying to run as far as I could alone but my 2 best friends wouldn’t let me go alone so 6 of us ended up enjoying 2 weeks in Chiang Mai, Thailand. (Different post) It doesn’t get easier. Crying daily doesn’t stop, even when you are across the globe. I did feel an incredible sense of closeness, so much so that I will return again for a longer stay.

Directly upon my return the next few months I spent trying to sort thru all our stuff, what is trash, what I could sell, what I would donate and what few items that meant something, I would keep. I knew I had a firm move date of June 2017 to depart our beach apartment of 7 years, on the street that he fell skate boarding.  Memories filled every inch of that apartment. The garage took us 3 months to sort thru. My husband was a collector as an artist and saw so many things, I would have seen as trash, as potential art. Plus he had a ton of tools. Eventually all I had was an empty kitchen, sold the appliances, empty walls and everything I was keeping ready to move. I had 1 friend who came weekly and helped me get thru the packing. Honestly without her, I don’t think it would have gotten done in the manner it did.

*** This person that I mention above is a gal whom I met after spending a year going down to Manchester Square every 2 weeks providing food and supplies for both the people and their pets with a group of friends. You can say we adopted this group of homeless.  This person was mentioned in the 2nd persons message from Mike that I got a few weeks ago, referred to as  an Angel.

During this time was when I started to get mad that he died.  Leaving me with the “mess” to deal with. I was so angry that he left me alone. I am still so angry that he left me alone. He was supposed to be with me till we grew old. We joked about how we would be when we got old.  My husband Mike was a real special type of person. He spent 9 years in prison, disconnecting from family and friends and abandoned by those created a callous on his heart. He did not attach to anyone easily. We spent 8 years together hardly a night apart. I have to say here that I was warned. I was told my a numerologist that he and I would be so connected, we would exclude the world. We spent a lot of hours together over the years, I have never felt more connected with anyone, he was incredibly easy to love. It wasn’t perfect and we struggled like everyone else, but the cores of our souls melted together like it was meant to be, it was. 

Move day was pretty difficult as you can imagine. I had no crew, almost everyone flaked. We actually put a call into “my Angels” NA friends and those fucking addicts showed up and helped me move, gawd love em. Being of service is how my truck got loaded. The 7 hour drive pulling my car driving a giant Penske was pretty emotional and stressful. It was me, the puppy Spike and my bonus kid 2. Bonus kid 1 was riding up with her sister the next day. I think I silently cried for 100’s of miles quietly as I drove away from my home, with no return address.

My summer on the farm in Utah was filled with high temperatures, beautiful red mountains, camping, chicken watching, Dr Gundry reading, dancing under the full moon, backyard fires, dogs chasing goats, garden harvesting family time. I enjoyed every minute of it.  The stress of the bills had been crushing me for so long, it was nice to be able to take a breath. Mike, my husband, and I had already built our escape plan to try a new way of living, nomadic, organic farms, relocate ourselves into a more sustainable situation. (Different post)

During the summer visit on the farm, I spent 10 days in Germany for a friends Bachelor party (Different post)

After summer I left the farm, my in-laws, my dog  Spike and bonus kids behind and went back to LA. Being away from friends has been the hardest part. Not that I am a socialite but I certainly have a core group of friends that I miss not being able to see and bands I love to watch perform locally. I spent the fall between my mothers house on a gated horse ranch and the beach I call home Hermosa. I basically have been couch surfing since I left the farm, oh how I miss my bed there. Every few days a different house. That is an interesting experience that I enjoy very much.

The bonus kids and I met back up to spend 2 weeks in Japan the first part of November (Different post)

I am currently in Texas spending time between my son and his family’s place and my brother and his family’s place. Working at the home office and meeting the coworkers I have remotely been working with the past year.

My 1 way flight is mid January from Southern California. I am still crying daily. I cannot even think about him, see his picture, or have any memory with him or us in it, as it will result in a flood of tears, even as I type this paragraph.

I have no idea what I am doing or where I am going, I am just going. I guess I will figure it out once I get there. My husband taught me 2, no 3 things. 1. Live everyday like its your birthday, and he sure did, he savored life and everything in it. 2. Don’t worry so much, he pretty much never worried about anything, he just had a way with the universe that floated him. 3. Be Present, we only have today, you are not promised any time. If you wanna travel the world or whatever it is, do it. stop putting it off. Just do it cus death is going to win no matter what.