Dating after...

What it’s like dating after losing you...

It has been three years...

Some people may think it has been plenty of time to mourn, and readjust... but for me? It hasn’t been long enough. I still see you. I still close my eyes and I still feel your energy, your passion, your smile... I feel you as if you were standing right here in front of me.

I still yearn for your touch your kiss and I try to drown it out in every way I can possibly think of. I have tried the Tinder app, POF app, the bar hookups, the late night call hookups. I have tried them all and every time I do I hate myself during and after. I find myself crawling out of whatever  bed I happen to find myself in. I never fall asleep, I just wait for the opportunity to get up and sneak out the door. I climb into my car sitting behind the wheel and I cry. I cry the long journey back to my home, and back to my own bed where I will lie there alone.. In the bed we shared together. I cry because it’s not you I was with, not you that I kissed, not you that I touched… It wasn’t you. The only person I have ever wanted and the only person I want still.

I tried a relationship with your brother. Thinking it was a great way to move on with someone so different from you but also very much connected to you. Instead everything that was different about him that I tried to embrace, I just couldn’t. Those differences just became blindingly painful. I had to call it off after a short spell, it wasn’t fair to him and certainly wasn’t fair to me.

Then I tried stepping way back. Let’s just try the old fashioned way. Let’s date. Like date date, not some random hookup from a random stranger. Let’s let the bond set in first. Learn to appreciate the person for who THEY are. Take it slow...

Last night I went on one of those dates. While I was getting ready I waited for butterflies to set in... nothing... instead I kept seeing your face. The way you looked at me and the way you made me feel in that movie theater where we first kissed. The way you captivated my very essence. Those eyes, looking at me with wanting, and full of your playfulness, your charm. The way your lips curved into that smile baring your supremely white perfect teeth. Your scent opening up my senses and I just wanted to absorb all of you.. take you all in and be with you in every way that was possible... Then you asked to kiss me. Yes! I want you to kiss me! I would run away with you right then and there if I could. That passion and the way you cast your spell on me.

That’s what I thought about before my date. He was pleasant. We had wonderful conversations. He opened the car door for me the way that you always did. Therein lies the problem; I thought about you when he opened the door... just like you.

We got home rather late. He walked me to the door respectfully. He kissed me but not in a passionate way; just a peck on the lips. No pressure for more. No expectations.

We said our goodnight, and I crawled into that big lonely bed… I pulled the blankets up close to me, up over my shoulders snuggled down into my pillow, closed my eyes and continued my memory, of you and me, the first time we kissed. Not thinking about the date I just had with this pleasant gentleman. Not thinking about anything really except you… and that is where I wanted to stay… in my memory of you.

This morning I woke up lonelier than I have been in a long while. I missed your arms. I missed your smell... I missed the way I would rest my hand upon your chest in the mornings, over your heart... to feel your heart beat... to feel each breath with the raise and decline of your chest... and I cried... I cried because you’re it for me. I want you and only you now and forever and you left me... what am I supposed to do with that? How am I ever to date anyone when you are all I long for...

My One and Only

It’s been so long since I have wrote a blog entry, since then a lot has changed... I moved clear across the country, in an attempt to pull myself out of the tomb I found myself in, waiting for my husband to come home... It was a sound decision. I am now living in his home state, a place we spent visiting often throughout the years. I’m doing much better now. After a brief attempt at taking my own life, I got help.

I know in my last entry I said I wanted to love again, I thought I did. I thought I loved the last person I tried having a relationship with, now I realize I never really did. I was just searching for a feeling, a feeling to help remind me I’m alive. Now I don’t need that in my life, nor do I want it. Truth be told, no one could ever love me the way that my Brian did... No one! Nor could I love them that way either...

Brian made me feel as though I were the only woman in the world. The way he would look at me with such love, such admiration, and adoration. Who loves someone so much that they will watch them for hours, waiting in line, just to see them work? I find myself drifting off getting lost in his eyes as though he were here in front of me... kissing me, touching me, loving me. I honestly wouldn’t even welcome anyone to even try, because they would never compare. I’m in love with my husband, every single day until the day I die—he is my one and only, forever.

How do I live without him?

What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life when you have experienced one of the greatest loves of all time? It was a love that you don't think is possible in real life. It's the love that you see on television or read in books... It's not something you truly think can actually happen in real life. From the first moment he walked in the door of my work place and the warmth that came over my body. The moment our lips first touched in the most passionate and sweetest kiss that no fireworks could even begin to describe. Everything about our love was beautiful, in such very unconventional way. We were not normal by any means and that is okay. It was okay, it was a love that was unconditional. Nothing and no one could come between us. Now worlds apart I still feel as though nothing can come between us. I refuse to allow it. I still love him with everything that I am and all that I ever will be. He is my every essence, my every breath he just is... my love...

Now back to the question of how am I supposed to live life without him?

I am trying to figure that out myself right now, and I have so many lingering open questions with so many different paths to follow--so which one do I follow?

I tried having a relationship once. I was unsure about it at first. Actually I probably spent more time fighting against it than anything else. Scared of losing my attachment to my husband. I didn't want to love again. Yet, I did find myself loving him. It was unexpected. It was a connection built surrounding my husband, so no one thought it would really work--because in the end it was always about my Brian. Maybe they were right. Surprisingly, it was not on my end though. Surprisingly it was not me and my obsession and love for my husband that I was the one that closed him out, it was him. He couldn't handle the love I have for my husband and so he closed me out. The one person I thought could love me and the love I had for my husband because of our connection...

In the end, it's okay. It hurt for awhile, it still kind of does, but nothing compared to the loss of my beloved Brian... I learned a lot about myself in this time. I learned what I want in my life and for my future. I am not closed anymore to the idea and notion of moving on and learning to live without my husband. I discovered that I want to live and love again but not with someone who wants to deny my life and my love with my past and with this great amazing man. I want someone to love me enough to welcome the love I carry for my husband with me always. I want someone strong enough to love the darkness and the pain of the loss of my heart and soul. I want someone that while I am missing him on our wedding anniversary, will bring me home flowers, kiss me on the cheek and say, these are from Brian. I want someone to love me enough and respect my past marriage and the man that sculpted me into the person I am, that on his birthday will bake a cake with me, and set off a balloon in his memory. I want someone that will hang his ornament on the Christmas tree with me. I want someone that on his angelversary will hold my hand and stare over the ocean with me in silence while I remember that moment and I say goodbye to him all over again.

I want someone to love me enough that knowing that my heart and soul are with Brian that they will love him too. They will honor him, and cherish him forever with me. Being thankful that they were the one that I chose to love after such a great and powerful love--they would be honored, not resentful. For how could I live on and love again after such an amazing man with such a powerful love that pulls us together from worlds apart? It's with strength--true strength to live on and to love again... It will take another strong soul to be able to truly love me the only way I will accept to be loved again.

Who knows... maybe this is a fantasy and it will never be able to happen. I just know I will not accept any less. To love me is to love all of me, my past, my darkness, my light, my husband--who surrounds me. I want to love him till the end of my days and all eternity--but I want to love you too. Whoever you may be, even if you exist out there in the world. Either way, I will live again--for him, for me, and for my future...

The Car

I remember the first day that Brian had gotten his PT Cruiser. He was so elated with excitement and somehow I was the first person he decided to stop by and show off his new possession. I was working at Verizon and he had me come outside to look at the new car. At this time we were still just friends. I mean, we have always been more than just friends. It was his "dream" car. It was something about how it felt pre 1950's to him, and he had an old soul.

I was working at Verizon and he brought me out to check out the entire car. Lifting the hatch even letting me listen to the factory stereo that really had decent base to it. 

He took such immaculate care of his vehicle. He always took his Sunday's to wash and detail his car so it would always remain glimmering. 

The first time Brian ever told me he loved me was on this car. Yes, you did read that right. We had gone to Casper that night for my Verizon training, and to purchase him a wardrobe, since he would be starting work with me that following Monday in training. It was a 5 hour round trip so we didn't get back until pretty late. I will be sure to keep this PG 13, but basically we were driving home and he had pulled over behind Walmart and got me out of the car and in a fit of passion he said "Kristie, I love you." I was in such shock that I had accidently broke the necklace he was wearing that day from around his neck. This necklace had meant a lot to him because it was from his children, the last thing they had gotten him. I felt so bad for years I wanted to fix the necklace but to him it not only represented his children, but also a moment we shared together, so he would never allow me to fix it.

Now back to the story... 

I am sure you are all wondering if I said it back that day--I did not. I didn't quite know how to process this. I didn't know where we stood. I was still dealing with the horror of my soon to be ex-husband. We had never even discussed commitment at this point. He was just exiting a relationship. We had been friends for two years, yes there was always the "benefits" but I also knew, we both knew, that there was always something more there--just neither of us ever wanted to explore that road before. I think we were afraid of ruining the relationship we had and ultimately losing one another and that scared us both. 

It took me several weeks to process what he had said to me. He of course back tracked it and kept apologizing. Later he admitted that he had loved me for a long time but he didn't feel that was the time or place to finally share his emotions. I, on the other hand, could not disagree more. It was perfect. In the moonlight just the two of us, and yes on a hood of a car, but it was a moment of raw emotion and passion. It was a moment that two bodies became one and control was not in the air. It could not have been more perfect to me. 

We did not commit to a "relationship" for several months later, however we both were obviously madly in love with one another. I remember telling a few of my friends that "I think I am in love with him", and how they would laugh at me and say "you are the last one to figure that one out". They were all convinced that in the course of our 2 year friendship that we were both in love with each other but too blind to see it. I am convinced they were right. Yes I did tell him I loved him, and of course it was in another moment of passion this time not on the hood of a car, but in his apartment. 

This car meant a lot to the both of us. He told me he loved me for the first time in a special time and place. We had a lot of history with this car. Many trips, and hauling children around. It was our family vehicle most of our relationship. 

Until the day he sold it...

I never wanted him to sell the car. In fact I tried convincing him that we should not sell the car. But, once Brian makes up his mind, there is no talking him out of it. 

Why did he sell the car?

We had been engaged for two years before he sold the car. I was a bit stubborn. He had proposed to me in the most beautiful way, that will lead to another story. However, because my ex-husband was so emotionally abusive, I could not help but be hesitant for the wedding. My ex used to always tell me that we would not have gotten married if it hadn't been for me. He would always say he "never proposed", which was true. We had discussed my parents displeasure for us living together, and how they were old fashioned. It was discussed that we "more than likely" would get married one day, so why not make my parents happy, as well as giving his grandfather, who was dying at the time, a chance to be at our wedding. I was 18, I had no business getting married so young. He would use this against me so often that I told Brian he had to prove to me, that he wanted to marry me. I didn't care how. I just wanted him to take initiative. If he wanted to go to the court house he had to be the one to say, "gather up the kids and lets go" or he would have to find a way to raise the money to make a wedding happen. I truly did not care. I just wanted to never experience being told it was all me and why we got married. 

After two years, he decided to prove he wanted to marry me by putting a FOR SALE sign in the window and parking it on Main St. I thought no one would buy it, actually kind of hoped no one would buy it. It was parked for one day when we got the phone call that a lady wanted to buy his beloved PT Cruiser. I was surprised, and sad at the same time. I would tell him that the car meant a lot to me because that was when he told me he loved me was on that car. He said "It's just a car. Now we can get married and I can tell you everyday for the rest of our lives I love you." 

He got the car signed over and got the envelope of cash, and he handed me the entire envelope, and said "Now, plan our wedding." 

That next month we got married...

I had always planned to get the car back. I had hoped one day I could surprise him with the car. I knew I would need time and for us to come out of our financial struggles--possibly after we were both out of school. 

I never anticipated that he would pass away and leave me behind.... 

Since the moment he had died, I KNEW I had to find that car soon. I had to have it back. The car was a display of his love for me--more than once... 

I posted on Facebook searching for the car, knowing I did not have the money to buy this car. I have other responsibilities and bills, but I could not pass it up. I NEEDED to have this car. The lady who had purchased the car had passed away shortly after purchasing it from us, and through negotiations back and forth with her descendants, I finally have this car back in my possession, back where it belongs. It sat waiting for the past couple years as though waiting to come home where it belongs. It needs some work on it, from sitting for a couple years, but hopefully in time I can have this car running and purring with all the love that we shared with this car. 

I brought the car home baby... I brought it home... 

Christmas Past-Christmas Present-Christmas Future

Just days away from Christmas and as the days progress day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, I find it increasingly more difficult to endure. I can't hide the tears nearly as much. They burst from my eyes like faucets that never want to end...

Everyday I want to scream. Every single day I want to rip every single Christmas decoration and throw it out the window and never look at it again. I hold strong, I close my eyes, I hide in my room, sometimes I even start drinking just enough to go numb, not drunk, but numb enough to endure the pain.

I can't help but look back to the year before... This time last year we were happy, we were all happy. Brian was clean, he had been for several months. I was insanely happy with my job, and working extra hours to help stuff the bus for needy children of Fremont County. I shopped and donated several toys for this campaign. 

My children had all decided to sponsor other families that were struggling for Christmas. The joy on their faces when I took them shopping, and they bought not just one toy for each kid, but four toys, and very expensive toys. We had gotten to give the 5 different children from two different families the gifts, and the mothers cried, saying this was the only Christmas that their children would get. My children were happy, proud, and embraced the true Christmas Spirit.

It was the year I was doing the best financially, and was able to provide for each of my children everything on their wish list. They insisted on buying both Brian and I gifts. We were so insanely happy and full of so much love, so much spirit this holiday season...

That was the last time we would ever be a family again...

I wanted to skip the holiday, every holiday to be exact. My family is missing two huge holes. Holes we cannot fill, holes that are painful for all of us. My kids hurt for their father, and the sister they thought they had. They hurt for the family that was full of laughter and so much love. They too wanted to escape the Holidays and just run away, go somewhere, no longer be this constant reminder of the family that is broken.  

I thought about it. I thought about skipping them all. 

It was after talking to a coworker about how her family never celebrated holidays, because her father walked out on them on Christmas, and holidays became a pastime. It was her story of how now that she is an adult, she doesn't know how to "do holidays", that got me thinking. She is with her boyfriend and they are doing the family thing, and she feels awkward about the traditions and unsure of what to do.

In that moment I realized that I was doing my children a disservice. I know they want to skip the holidays as much as I do, and just run away from the pain and the reminders. Then I remembered that as parents we raise our children to one day have their own families, to become husbands, to become a wife, and mother and fathers... If I raise them escaping holidays, they will grow up and fight with their spouses over celebrating the holidays and their traditions. They will kick and scream when it comes to family gatherings and dinners... They will want to run away on vacations to avoid the holidays, while their spouses will justifiably want to spend the holidays with their families. For this reason alone I will endure every holiday and try my best to contain my pain, my resentment, for their futures... 

I only pray I find the strength for my children, to embrace new traditions, and honor my husband's memory every year, and love him as I always have and always will, in his absence and somehow he will find a way to us in spirit, to remind us that he loves us too, and we are not forgotten... And remind me of the mother I need to be for our children, and give them the life they desperately deserve... 

 

Ugly Christmas Sweater

Eight years ago, Brian and I had just met a few months prior. We had just formed our relationship, it was a friendship filled with a very high level of sexual chemistry. There is a lot to say to where we stood at this moment in time, but that is for another story at another time.

I was working at Radio Shack in the Verizon part of the store, and it was our "ugly Christmas sweater" day. I had a blast and knew I looked awful. Brian came into the store, like he always did and all he could tell me was that I looked hot. I brushed it off as being totally ridiculous! No one looks hot in an ugly Christmas sweater. He seemed to love it though, and I still to this day, do not understand why or how.

Last year he went Christmas shopping for me, he had scoured every single store trying to find an "ugly Christmas sweater". I remember opening the gift and the smile of delighted anticipation in his eyes as I pulled out the hideous sweater, and I broke out into a laugh.

"I looked everywhere for an ugly sweater. I finally found one at K-Mart. I remember the first time I saw you in the ugly Christmas sweater and I loved it. So I decided every year I am going to buy you an ugly Christmas sweater." he told me.

My heart felt so full of love and filled with nostalgic memories, and I told him that I liked that tradition idea.

It's a year later and every store I walk into there are racks and racks of Christmas sweaters. Every time I see them, I frown with deep sorrow. I realized that last year was the beginning, and the end of the Christmas sweater tradition...

Today, with tears in my eyes, I picked up an "ugly Christmas sweater" bought myself a card, and checked out at the store. This gift I will wrap and put under the tree and carry on the tradition he wanted to start for me. I purchased this gift for me, from him... Every year I will always wear the last sweater he ever gave me, but I will also be sure that under that tree will always be the sweater I know he would want me to have. The sweater that he some how would find sexy on me.

I will pray he will be there with me on Christmas morning. Holding me, loving me, and whispering into my ear; "I love you my wife, my booboo." For every year I will wrap my arms tightly around my chest as though he were there, holding tight and whispering in to the still air, hoping he will hear my silent whispers; "I love you, my husband, my heart, my forever."

Brian's Last Journal Entry

I think Brian knew he was done fighting for his life anymore. He did not intentionally kill himself, but I think he just knew, somehow, he was done. That the end was near.

Imagine how devastated I was to open up his journal after his passing and finding this last entry. I couldn't respond. I wish I had read it and could have told him to hold on. I wish I could have told him that our love was not faithless and "divorced" was something we would never be.

Then again I did not give him much faith, when out of my own rage, made him believe we could possibly be done, and throwing divorce in his face out of anger, even though I didn't actually mean the words. I cast him out, just 13 days later from the date of this letter, his own silent torment. I could not bring myself to watch as he would throw away everything we had worked so hard for, to be for nothing, on a relapse. I didn't give him enough to believe with and hold onto. I just held onto my own hope that he would see. That he would know that I would never truly turn my back on him.

I just wanted him to understand I was serious about his sobriety, but it was not MY sobriety to manage. Tough love... What a joke! Ultimatums are not the answer. Telling him to choose between me or his drugs, his family or his drugs! It's not that simple, no matter what we think we might know. We don't understand.

We should have gotten help, we should have been honest with the counselor and opened up about the battles--his with addiction, and mine being married to someone with addiction. Instead I was left with a letter, a journal entry. I was too wrapped up in my own pain to see his was destroying him. I knew he was hurting and I was too. But, I didn't have to fight against an addiction in the middle of this nightmare we found ourselves in...

Who knew that 18 days later this would be the letter that prophesied his death?

Tuesday
March 08,
2016

New beginnings and fresh starts rarely leave suicide notes detailing broken hearts. It seems behind is the only place to leave the past if a future life is intended to last. For rear view mirrors you have no need. Why ever look back once you have taken the lead. Always remember that in reverse, back is the only direction to go and who buys tickets and travels just to miss the show? Granted that no one can foretell what their new future holds. It just seems unbeneficial to those who ask to be dealt in their folds. Almost certain that new lives are only sought after old ones burn and yet still for it will always be these new lives are only sought after old ones burn yet still for it will always be these lives we wish to return. So does it matter if new beginnings are sought or forced maybe if these beginnings solely stem from faithless love divorced. Either which way fresh starts can be a blessing or a curse. I imagine that they can be both always ending with the same slow ride in the back of a hearse. With such calming realities of an equal end across the board. It seems rather difficult to justify anyone's painful memory hoard. But without the memories of left lives before how is it possible to ever feel secure with the decision to close the door. Guess I'll soon know and see, I wonder what I'll allow this next life to be.
                                                                                                                                  - Brian Wright