Who's that 20-something girl in the photo that's staring back at me!?!

Hey Babe!

It’s been a busy weekend.  I’ve been on a roll with organizing and setting up the house.  I just feel like it’s time to complete this life we started. Fulfill the plans and dreams we wanted for ourselves and each other.  I’ve bought some new furniture pieces and have been assembling furniture all week since I decided to purchase them online (which we never do when buying furniture, but it’s a new age!  Trying something new out in my new reality!!) Somehow, I feel like writing the end to this chapter will help me look forward to all the new possibilities and opportunities that lay ahead of me. I’m trying to find the closure and acceptance I need to say, “I’m finally done and ready for the next challenge that lays ahead of me.”  As I’m looking back and going through this life, I’m reminded of how I want to continue living without abandon and regrets, but to be prepared if I drop dead tomorrow.  So, I've been putting my affair in order.  I don't plan on dying anytime soon, but I want to make sure that nobody has to go through the business aspect of my death without a clue as to where to start.  At least if you were here, you would have some idea.  But right now, it's just me--so I have to start letting people know where things are!  I even wrote the password to my phone and computer and put it in the safe deposit box with a letter of my last wishes.  (I know, you're probably thinking, "you're over the top right now SY!!"  I may be 'over the top,' but better safe than sorry!!)

Today, I spent the evening putting together my craft room.  This was the project I was working on when you passed. I finally found the energy and strength to start working on it last weekend.  The craft room became the junk room where my family just threw things in while they were here. It also became the room where they put all things related to your death in.  The sympathy flowers that I couldn’t bare to see or stop from screaming whenever I saw them were hidden in the craft room. (I know people meant well when they sent the flowers, I mean I did the same thing also.  But when my sister and cousin brought the flowers into our room, all I could do was scream at the top of my lungs to tell them to take it away. Who wants to see flowers that says, “I’m sorry your husband died!”  Not me!! So, the flowers were hidden in the craft room and it took days before I could even look at the card to see who sent them.) Your popcorn maker was in the way, so they threw it in there. All the incense and candles from your Buddhist blessing was thrown in there.  The stack of sympathy cards were stored in there. The extra memorial booklets and items from your memorial service were thrown in there. Before it became the junk room, shortly after you passed, I would go into the room and stare at the walls that you just painted for me. Looking at the last thing you ever did for me.  Reminding myself that this was going to be the last thing that you will ever do for me. Then it became the junk room with all things pertaining to your death, so I started to avoid the room. But over time, I started obsessing over it. Everyday, I found myself opening the door and turning on the lights to stare at everything in the room since they were screaming “Your husband died.  Get a clue!” It still took me another three or so months before I could get the clue, but once I did. I started removing the things that related to your death, so it could go back to being just my work in progress craft room again. Only then was I able to start putting it together. Last weekend, LH came and put up the peg board and I started to organize. Today, I put up poster and pictures and started decorating.  I came across an envelope of pictures from my 20’s. There were photos from my travel, from before you came into my life, and when we first started dating. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was just a decade and a half ago. Looking at the photos, I was reminded of how fiercely independent I used to be. How I never needed a man for anything. I was my own person and I marched to whatever tune I wanted. I realize, I didn’t know who that girl was anymore in the photos!!  I mean, I can’t even change my own light bulbs for god’s sake right now!?! I can’t even buy the right light bulbs to match the ones in the house. I needed help to put up my pegboard, which turns out only required 5 screws to be drilled into the wall. I lost it and just started crying--I cried because I missed you and the girl in the photo. I realized they were both gone; only I was left, and I don’t even know who I am anymore. Talk about a rude awakening.

So, now my mission is to find that fiercely independent girl again.  I need to get reacquainted with her again--just like I’m doing with the girl that used to be fearless.  I have to find these parts of me that existed before you did. ‘Cause that’s the girl that is going to get me through this tragedy.  She is the only person that can pick me up and carry me through this nightmare.

Okay babe, I love you so much and I know you’re dying to hear about MIL-DIL day, but it’s getting late and I’m tired.  You will just have to wait...

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