Four Months, Four Years

Four months ago, I said goodbye to my husband. For nearly a year, he dealt with disability from the stroke he had during surgery and the treatments associated with cancer. His 35 years of living cut short, way too soon, I believe. It seems to me that time has passed very quickly. So much has happened in four short months. The kids are finished with school. Tristan and Melayna continue to do well in karate. We've been to Denver Comic Con, a Lindsey Stirling concert, hiking, Itz with Grandpa and Grandma, and so much more. I have remained ever so busy with kickboxing, Zumba, gym workouts, and more. Life is moving on without him. We are adjusting to the change. And that's how its going to be. Adjustments and moving on. It hurts, though. Last week, I had a day where I was in complete despair. I lost count of how many times I broke down and cried. I even cried on the treadmill during my lunch break. Fortunately, I had a few friends at work to help me through my day. I have my good days and my bad days. For the most part, the good ones outweigh the bad ones and this is definitely a good thing. On my bad days, I sometimes feel like giving up, where I would want to crawl in my covers and ignore the day away. My heart is heavy and hurts with a pain that at times seems so unbearable.

Today, however, not only marks four months since his passing, but four years since we officially married. It is our anniversary today. Last year, he plotted with a friend and had her surprise me at work with 10 roses (one for each year we had been together) and a ribbon with each year we've been married. He also had her playing "My Best Friend" by Tim McGraw as I came to my desk. (http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=9aGkwbnWaIo).

Despite his limitations, he still managed to make sure our anniversary was special and memorable. I'm sure something he wanted to make sure he did as he wasn't the most romantic person in previous years. It was a very sweet and sincere gesture. Something I truly appreciated.

Little did I know that it would be the last anniversary he and I would celebrate together. I am jealous of couples who have been together for so many years. Decades of companionship and love. Something I fear I won't ever get to experience again. I am hopeful, but I still worry. Will I be in my seventies and all alone? Or will someone steal the broken pieces of my heart and slowly help me put them back together? I digress.

My mind is an intricate web of various thoughts and memories, spun in a chaotic pattern of worries, what-ifs, should of's, and could of's. I dwell on the past, as well as the future. Sometimes I think that I should have pushed Scott to fight harder and I feel guilty for not having done so. Then I realize his prognosis was grim to begin with and no matter how much he fought, he was doomed to succumb to the cancer. I wonder if the choices I have made so far are the right ones. Am I doing right by honoring his memory? Am I providing the kids with the best I can? Am I being selfish in my personal relationships? How am I going to juggle work life, family life, social life, etc.? Can I do it all, especially by myself?It is painfully scary to think that the raising of my children now fall squarely on my shoulders.

So many things in my mind. Always racing. Constantly thinking, contemplating. I suffer at night with sleepless nights. I suffer during the day from exhaustion and my tendency to be so easily distracted. However, most days I put on a smile and hope that the pain can be masked by my dimples and ear-to-ear grin. I think only those who know me well can see through my facade.

What keeps me going? Well, first off, knowing that I need to be there for my kids is my primary motivation to put one foot in front of the other. They need me. They need stability, predictability. They need me to be their mother.

Second, my desire to find happiness and fulfillment in life is a secondary motivation. I am only 32 years old. If I am one of the lucky ones, I have at least another 40 years to live life. I plan to grow old and see my children get married and start families of their own. If I am really lucky, I'll even get to see my great grandchildren. That's my hope. Quite frankly, I hope that it will be by someone's side. This means a lifestyle change is necessary. I need to become a healthier person if I am to ensure a longer life to see my children grow up and perhaps their children also grow up.

How do I cope?
I cry.
I write.
I think.
I rely on friends.
I distract myself.
My biggest coping mechanism, however, is exercise.
If I am stressed, I run or walk. If I am frustrated, I punch and kick harder in kickboxing. If I am sad, I shake my booty with all I got in Zumba. And soon, I will pedal a bike and shed my tears.

Each pound of fat I shed represents the stress and frustration I have been feeling. It represents the pain and sorrow I feel.

Each new muscle I find, sore and tender from the previous day's workout, represents the hope and determination I have to better myself and be the example my children need.

Some days I really don't know how I do it. But I do. I guess that's what's important. I guess that is what matters. Right? As long as I truly do not give up, then I can get through all this.

Happy Anniversary, Scott Hooper
I wish you were here to celebrate it with me.

I miss you so much. 

I am thankful for our friends and family who have helped me through these past four months; otherwise, I don't think I'd cope this well without them.
You left us way too soon and you are missed by so many.

Love,
Mary