What comes next.

So what comes next?

What do you do when your husband dies?  What happens then?

You plan a funeral.  You find something to wear.  You small talk and accept hugs from virtual strangers and try not to feel weird.

You find places for the 15 plants you didn’t ask for and didn’t want. 

You start the thank you cards.  “The family of….thanks you for your kind expression of sympathy.”

You stay up too late and drug yourself heavily in order to not go crazy in the middle of the night.

You internet shop.  And buy.  And then wonder what you did when it starts arriving.

The regrets begin about the time the cake is gone.  Regret the cremation.  Regret the ceremony and wish for something a little bit different.  Regret time wasted and time gone.

You leave town for a little bit.

Later on, you start writing because you can’t stand the thought of the “support group”.  You find a new place to live because you can’t stand the thought of one more winter in the house that you shared together.  You buy things for your children in excess because, if they can’t have their father, they must have every Duplo/Thomas the train/dollhouse piece ever invented.

You eat out like it’s your job.

You get every minor illness known to man. 

And by “you”, I mean me.  Because who does this?  Who endures?  Who gets to put on a brave face and gets to be “strong”?  That would be me.

So what comes next now that one year has passed?  Do we start a new set of milestones?  One year ago I:

-laughed out loud?

-celebrated a holiday alone?

-consoled a very sad child?

-quit drugging myself to sleep?

I don’t know.  What comes next in this second year?  Is this the part where I feel okay with it?  Is this the part where I move on?  Or will it cease to occupy a vast majority of my thoughts and move to the minority?

Will I make better decisions this year?  Take better care of myself?  Not be skeeved by strangers and their intrusion of my personal space?

What comes next after a funeral director hands you your husband’s wedding band in a baggie?

*****************************************************************************************************

Thank you to everyone who read my story.  And even more thanks to those that commented.  It means more than you can imagine.  This outlet is very helpful to me.  After writing the story, I slept soundly and had a pretty good day.  I felt loved and taken care of by my friends.  So thank you, interweb, for holding me up in prayer and blessings for today.

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7 thoughts on “What comes next.

  1. This year we shall search out the greatest vehicle for frosting or simply stop betraying the spoon. I love you lots and not an hour passed today you were not on my mind. I hope this year is an easier one for so many reasons. If nothing else I selfishly hope I get to give you another hug this year. Love you guys. Lots.

  2. I don’t even know how I found your site…maybe through Jennsylvania…either way, I have sat captivated by your memories ever since I started reading. What beautiful, honest, things you write. It is so obvious that you loved him with all of your heart, and I am so sorry for your loss. I hope expressing these feelings and memories you have makes a difference in your healing process. Be proud that your children will be able to look back on these entries someday and read the story of their Father’s passing, as they were too young to know at the time. They will be thankful to know what happened.

    May this year be a new beginning for you. Best wishes.

  3. I am thinking about you a lot these days, Jenn (I’m from DSD). This account is so honest. I hope it helps you to write it the way that it helps other people to read it.

  4. Whatever happens this year, it will be okay. And I (and everyone else who reads you) will be here to behind you and next to you, even if not in person. We love you, Jenn, and E and A and your boys. You’ve touched so many of us, and I hope that it has helped you to spill your guts. Keep breathing in and out and living as much as you can stand it.

  5. Jen, I knew you in my St. John days but have not kept up with your life. I am not sure how I stumbled on your blog but after just reading one entry, I am so impressed by your honesty and ability to convey what is inside. I remember your oldest daughter and the love and light in her. I am sure that your little one is just as precious. I pray for the three of you and plan to read and learn more about your journey.
    Blessings,
    Linda A

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