My Journey to Widowhood

A Woman on a Mission

I realize that even if Michael had chosen to get a heart transplant or RVAD, our date of expiration is set by God. He may have had a better quality of life while he was here, but it would not have changed the date and time of his passing. I just feel like if he had chosen to receive treatment, I wouldn't have felt like he given up so soon, when Logan and I desperately wanted him here with us.

I have regrets. I have too many regrets to list. I wish that I had pushed him harder to receive the treatment that I wanted him to have. I wish that I had given him more of my time when we were home together instead of worrying about the things that didn't matter, like housework and yardwork. I wish that I had taken in every word he spoke and spent more time side by side with him in the evenings. I wish that I had called in to work when he was having a hard day and just laid with him. Heck, I wish that I had quit my job and spent every second of the day with him.

The one thing that I do know is this. He never had to doubt my love for him or the way I felt about him. He didn't always want to hear it or talk about love, but I did, and I made sure that he knew exactly how I felt. He knew that he could count on me until the very last breath he took. In a room full of people, he could always look to me to be his comfort, and that was exactly what he did.

I can't turn back time, but I can do better moving forward. My Chapter 2 will be a different story than the first. I feel that I have learned the hard way what love and marriage both mean. I have grown as a person, learned some hard lessons, and felt some really deep pain. I am proud of myself, and on the days I wake up smiling, it feels like I have sunshine in my soul. I also have those days where I wake up only to realize that it wasn't a dream, he is gone. I never knew that a heart could break so many times in one lifetime.

I believe that one of these days I will look back on my life and smile at the 17 years that I had to love him, but right now I just feel 17 years wasn't nearly enough. 

I look at people like my parents who celebrate 30, 40, 50 years together and it makes me sad for myself. I won't ever have that, and they don't really realize just how fortunate they truly are. I lost my spouse at the age of 44, with a lifetime of love to go. 

His choice was exactly that. His choice. He knew the outcome. He knew the parts of mine and Logan's life that he would miss out on. He knew how bad I wanted him here for every single minute of it all.

Several widows have asked me if writing helps. I can say that yes, it has 100% helped me. Not only do I get my feelings out, but I also feel like I am heard. My life is not perfect, and I am not afraid to share the details of my imperfect life or marriage. It doesn't change the love Michael and I shared. We all have our own story to tell, each one unique. These stories are our testimony, and we never know who they may help that is on a similar journey.

I have been told on several occasions that watching the way that I was with my husband, watching my strength and compassion, and seeing me navigate my stages of grief is inspiring. I didn't do anything special by taking care of Michael or by grieving him. With great love comes great compassion, and with deep love comes deep grief. I am the wife to a husband with wings. I joined a club that many women will join in their lifetime, but none of us want to be a member of. I am only one of the 12 million widows in the United States.

I also get those people who pity my grief, those who think I should be "over it". OVER IT, Y'ALL. I didn't just lose my husband. I lost my best friend. My companion. The only person in this life who truly knew me. The future that we planned. My dreams. My son's dad. I lost myself because now after the trauma that I have experienced, I am someone new. I am independent, more assertive, and I take everything in. I will never be the me that I was before his death. Part of me died that day with him. I am no longer the wife of a living husband who rushes home each day in hopes of having family time. I am a woman on a mission to heal and build a new future for myself and my son. And it will be beautiful.

I will make sure that my Michael is remembered. We talk about him openly in our home, at family get togethers, and I speak of him often on social media. He was a good man, not perfect by any means, but he was a really good man. His life meant something. Logan smiles when people say, "You look so much like your dad", or "You act just like your dad". Those things are important for him to hear, and help him to keep his dads memory alive.

I think back now of that hospital parking lot where I spent part of my days while others went in to see Michael and give me a break. I see me standing there facing the building. I see the door that I walked through the first thing every morning. I see the wing where his room was located. I see my sister standing beside me holding me up. I see me walking our son in to say his goodbye. I see me standing on the hot pavement, tears streaming down my face. I see me walking through that doorway one final time, this time as a widow.

I also see a strong woman who didn't yet know the strength she held. One who showed kindness and wore a smile, even when she was screaming and crying on the inside. I see a woman who loved from the depths of her heart and always will. I see a woman who without fail or complaint, made sure that her husband lived out his days comfortably and happy- even on the days that he didn't want to smile.

I see me standing there, in an image that my mind cannot erase. I see the day that my world changed. I see the day that I changed. It has been 2 1/2 years since I stood in that parking lot, and I will always remember who I stood there for. He was kind. He was smart. He was funny. He was patient. He was respectful. He was strong. He was my comfort. He was my husband, and he loved me.

People ask when the grieving stops, or why people grieve for so long, and the truth is, you grieve as long as you love. The only advice that I can give is this: find someone who understands that your love for your deceased spouse does not diminish your feelings for them. Find someone who understands when you can't get out of bed or manage a smile. Find someone who will bring you flowers on your sad days or sit with you when you cry. Find someone who will sit with you in your sadness, your hand in theirs, and do their best to understand. Because that love for your spouse will last for the rest of your life.

I don't know what my future holds, but I know exactly who holds my future, and with His guidance, I will embark on this journey with a strength that I never knew existed. While the pain of Michael's absence will forever reside in my heart, I have learned to embrace life's precious moments with a newfound appreciation.

I thank my God every time I remember you. Philippians 1:3