At 24 years old I lost my husband of 1.5 years. This is round 2 of life as a Crazy Widow.

My friend Ashley & I after running fully clothed into the Binn’s Park Fountain and having a sit…

Sometimes you need to be a kid again, but do you remember when we were kids and all you wanted to do was grow up and live out your dreams? You had an exuberant energy and you believed that you could do anything you set your mind to. You could not wait to achieve your dreams, start a family, have a home.

Somedays, I still want that, but I’m not 10 and dreaming anymore. I’m 26 and looking back and wondering how I ended up here, still trying to achieve my dreams, living in an apartment…having lost that dream of a family.

What is exciting, however, is that in a really skewed way, it is coming to fruition. I have landed another writing gig, this time on a behind the scenes tour of the brand new, all green, Pittsburgh Penguins NHL arena, and a tour of Pittsburgh. Writing opportunities are opening up, and my childhood dream of becoming a journalist, and author, is coming true. What makes me even happier, is that it’s not all about grief. Certainly my blog inspired me to continue writing, has inspired me to continue working on my memoir, but my freelance is driving me intensely. It’s not all about grief!

Even as an adult, you have dreams, and I think many of us have that child like want to create them instantaneously and without regard. Despite our obligations, there are definitely moments when we must and can do this, because really, what fun is it to actually “grow up”?

Floating down that old river boy
All my worries far behind
Floatin down that old river boy
Leave old memories way behind
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Yes the days slowly fade
All my life…I cant wait for this time
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Yes the days slowly fade
I’ve been waitin now and forever for this ride
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Ride the river in this boat ride the river
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Yesterday slowly fades
I’ve been waitin now and forever for this ride.
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Ride the river in this boat ride the river-Ride the River by Eric Clapton
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This morning on my drive to work I was doing about 67 mph on Route 283 heading into Lancaster (a 65 mph zone), and I was passed as if I was standing still. You see, I’m on a mission to become a better driver. It has come to my attention that my phone, speeding, and just having a totally ditzy attitude sometimes, has caused me to deteriorate from a “good” driver to a “bad/scary” driver. I have been luckier than my siblings when it comes to accidents and speeding tickets, but still, I could be better at this. It’s something I do quite often, something I even enjoy. So this morning, on my quest to use cruise control more often, to enjoy the view instead of being bored and annoyed by other drivers, I was being whizzed by.

Of course, you know where this is leading, to yet another grief euphemysm. Doesn’t everything in my life these days twist back to the neverending journey to handle and conquer widowhood? While cars passed me left and right, and I fearfully looked in my rearview wondering if I should speed up just to not be killed, I thought about how, over a year and a half ago, everything in my life was just this way.

Grief slowed my life to a near stop: I breathed, I existed, but I did not live; I barely moved. Life whizzed past me, and I lost many things. Now, in my attempts to purposefully slow my life (see to explain what I hope to do), everyone rushes past me again. I wonder what I will lose in the process, but in a positive light, what I shall gain.

I gained an amazing amount of insight about myself, the human spirit, relationships, and what we take for granted when I lost Kevin. Those lessons now cause me to re-evaluate the virtue of life, and my desire to lesson my material impact, and increase my psychological impact on the world. I can see myself gaining even more amazing strengths from this shift to a slower life, a life filled with less stuff and more connections, and a generally lifted, happier spirit.

What are you gaining from what you have? What’s holding you back from what you want?

Grief must take a toll on our bodies. My joints ache, I have developed anxiety, depression, high cholesterol: granted, my weight doesn’t help these matters, but most of it has accumulated since having been dealt an unhealthy dose of grief.

There are a lot of things in life that contribute to our illnesses; stress probably being number one. I have seen what stress does to people, and I have no doubt it contributes to many deaths in this country. We are overworked, financially strapped, sleep deprived, and worry about everything, people.

What can we eliminate to make our lives more fulfilling and less stressful? I believe that battling immigration, being a cancer caretaker and becoming a young widow probably took several years from my life. What is taking years from you?

Do we really need that new car, or can we repair what we have and be less financially burdened? Is that larger house necessary, or do we just have too much stuff? What toys have we neglected in hopes a new toy will bring us that old joy we used to have? Are things what makes us happy, or is it the company of others, faith, and nature?

I want to eliminate my life of the things that give me the most stress in hopes that I can gain back some of the years I lost from grief. There has to be a way to do this, without being a freak of society, and to still be able to live a normal life. We can do this.

It has always been a hard concept for me to understand that not everyone wants help. It’s quite funny that I am not good at understanding this, because in most cases, I am fiercely independent to the point of stubborn (just slightly). When it came to widowhood, and to Kevin’s illness though, receiving help wasn’t a hard pill for me to swallow. I KNEW we would not make it without the generous support of friends, family, and complete strangers. I accepted it gratefully, even if I did fail to send the thank you notes.

We are surrounded by people who seemingly need our help. Cancer battles, broken relationships, absent parents, relationship struggles, financial devastation, relatives whom are ill. There are numerous situations that surround us daily in which we wonder “How can I help?” Wondering how we can help, and offering it up is quite difficult. Many people refuse to accept help, and some see it as a complete invasion of privacy to have an outsider give them a hand.

How have you been able to help someone in need? When you needed help, did you push away, or accept gratefully?

Asking for help, and receiving help, does not make us weak. We are human by having needs. We cannot complete every task, or overcome all obstacles on our own, despite what you may think. Allowing someone into your life to help you, gives you both a sense of accomplishment. Pay it forward.

Angiosarcoma struck again, this time, with a dog. One of my dearest friends last night lost their dog to what is believed to be an angiosarcoma tumor of the heart, which occurs in dogs. When I first researched Angiosarcoma, I could only find information about it occuring in dogs.

The sad twist on this story, is that it’s the dog of Kevin’s best friend. Who has now lost two special things in his life to this disease. It certainly got me thinking last night as I was texting back and forth getting the updates on the dog…it took me back to what I recently posted about never loving so you never have to lose.

Getting attached to things on this earth is both difficult and magnificant. It is great when you have them, horrible when you no longer do. Angiosarcoma, and Cancer in general, has taken so much from so many. It does not give back anything.

We learn so many things from our lives being impacted by cancer, however. Lessons we may never have learned if not for cancer. Do I thank cancer for that? Hell no. But I am still grateful that at least I was challenged by it in my mindset, in my faith, in my belief in the human spirit, and my hope for love.

Cancer takes many lives, it ruins many things here on earth, but I hope we can continue to see the virtue that comes out of being impacted by something as horrible as it. My hope is that we do not forget to learn from these things that are so bitter.

I think about Kevin less and less. When I do conjure up his image, the thoughts of our marriage and relationship, I feel a tweak guilty for having moved forward. I feel guilt in not mourning “enough” (what is enough?), and at times feel like I have failed in honoring his memory through my reflections.

The more I continue to create my life, building a new relationship, continuing to work on my friendships with friends and family, creating a career that satisfies my goals, and working to strengthen a community affected by loss and cancer, he gets lost in all the chaos. There’s so much that I am doing, that it leaves little time for me, let alone for me to think upon him.

That’s much of the reason I haven’t spent enough time working on the memoir of our relationship. That takes a process all itself: I have to allow myself to feel all the emotions that come with his loss, his love, his life. In writing about our past, I have to then process what has happened, and it takes me to in an entirely different emotional and mental state.

People have often told me you never get “over” a loss, you just learn to live with it and incorporate it into your life. But how much are we living with it, versus suffocating it? Have I dealt with it enough that I do not think of it as often? Is it so far gone in the past that it’s hard to recall all that happened? Do I choose not to remember because sometimes, it is simply too hard? Or have I really made strides to be happy in my life, remembering to reflect on the past and all that I have worked through? I hope it’s the latter.

As we move forward from any type of grief, it’s easy to be consumed in the present and what needs to be accomplished. However, it’s very important to reflect back, even if only for short, quiet moments, to remember all that we have achieved, all that we have learned. I have learned quite a bit, to the point where I have even inspired myself with all I have been dealt. It is not necessarily survival, but a true strengthening of my spirit because of the past.

Moving forward is a good thing, a movement that honors Kevin. I would have wanted the same for him, and I know him the same for me. I never want to forget what brought me to this point, and all that I have learned from that experience.

When you are focused on your grieving process and moving forward while trying to complete daily tasks, you miss a lot of things. If you have ever grieved anything in life, you know that during that process, you miss many things that are right in front of you. Some of those are friendships, some are opportunity, and some are things that you never realize.

Today I was trying to think of friends that I could ask to help move furniture and tear up carpets for my parents, since they are getting new carpet and cannot do any lifting. The list was few. Thoughout the past few years, that list would have been long. I have always been quite fortunate to have many friends assist in my one too many moves (THANK YOU) but now? Not many are around. Some of my best male friends are nowhere to be found, and many of my married friends I have not contacted, nor have they contacted me, in months.

I wonder what I did through the grieving process to miss so much of life. Discovering the fragileness of our lives, being stuck having to face grief takes us into a time warp where we barely see what’s in front of us. I know I have missed a lot of things, and have lost a lot more.

I have two amazing girlfriends (many more, but two in particular) who just stuck through it all. I know I missed out on important things in their lives because I was too consumed in my own grief to relate to them. I know that it was the same for important events in my families’ lives, and even acknowledging their grieving of Kevin’s death.

I have said it before, and I’ll say it again, death takes so much more than the person. As I continue forward in my life, realizing what else it took along with Kevin, it creates an ache. Before it was the dreams that were lost, the goals we had as a couple, our love, him…but now it’s all the other relationships it took with it. I think now about how often I said “well, they can call me if they want to see me”, but many times the other person feels we should take the first step, to reach out for them, when we need them, on our own accord. But most times, I did not have the strength or the time or energy to bother makes those connections and still some days, I do not.

I wish it hadn’t taken so much, but I am happy for what I now have.

Isn’t there a quote somewhere about the best stories are the ones that you live? Ok, maybe I’m making that up, but most likely I just combined two quotes I know into one. Whatever it is, I have a story.

This story of long distance love, immigration battles to be together, rare cancer destroying it all. It’s a hell of a story, the kind you cannot make up. When I tell strangers about my story, I get that look of “you have to be shitting me!”. Eloquent, I know. But this story is all mine, or was all ours.

I needed a good story. I have wanted to become a journalist/writer since 8th grade when I was mentored by an amazing english teacher (you know who you are) and began writing with my best friend Jozlyn with a little book called “The Big and Small of it All”. Witty for 13 huh? It was a book of poetry containing mostly quirky, weird poetry that 13 year olds write. It included such titles as “cows”. You can just imagine! We dreamed of backpacking Europe, travelling the country together, and amazingly, for our senior trip at 18, we drove to California and back in my little Saturn and began my love affair with the great American road trip.

ANYWAYS, In high school, I was one of the senior editors for our school newspaper. Jozlyn and I again teamed up and were able to secure a personal study opposite our band/chorus days all year to work on the paper. That meant sneaking out to breakfast “meetings” to discuss the paper layout, writing opinionated articles on the things of the time, covering sports & music events. It was loads of fun, and through it, another great teacher mentored my writing.

I applied to Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois just outside of Chicago. My parents drove me there the summer before my senior year to check it out, and of course, I fell in love with the campus that sat on the shores of Lake Michigan. It was pricey, yes, SUPER PRICEY, but it was one of the top schools for journalism. For me, it was NWU or NOTHING. I applied to Penn State University, York campus, as a backup, and good thing I did, for I did not get into Northwestern. I was devastated. My SAT scoresbrought down my A/B grade average and that was that. So I went to PSU, York, which felt just like high school, and gave up my passion of writing thinking my passion was really music (I did play baritone, tuba, piano & bass guitar, so that must be it, right?).

I only began writing again in 2007. Off and on I would write some poetry in the 5 year interim, but mostly, nothing. I just gave it up. I did not have a good enough story. If I would try and come up with the great novel, it failed miserably mostly because my self-diagnosed ADD would get me off track and within 20 pages my story was done.

So I began writing freelance for AssociatedContent.com. It was a great way to get back into the journalistic style of writing that I seemed to excel at, without a huge commitment. And I even made a few bucks, even better. But still, there wasn’t a huge story. By this point, I was married, and had gone through immigration, so I certainly had much to rant about on that particular subject, but nothing more. I wasn’t well versed in much of anything. I certainly loved lots of things, but that was that. Not much passion in any story.

But now? Give me a cancer or grief topic, and man, you’d better expect fire in the words, or at least I hope it comes off that way. We all have stories, we all have life events that give us that great motivation to write or talk about the subject with a zest for justice. I am just sad that my best story, came from someone’s death. That’s life though.

Locally, Shawn Smucker is giving me the opportunity to sit on a panel called “The Art in Tragedy” at the Fireside Writer’s Conference this fall. We’ll be discussing how we write about tragedy and deal with it in words, but again, all of us sitting on this panel will be there because our tragic stories brought us back to writing.

I am glad I’m inspired by my tragedy-that instead of it shutting me down, it has given me a new voice. But it is also quite sad that my new voice, is the voice of grief, of sarcoma awareness. I just hope some good comes out of all this.

After writing my blog “Neverlove” a few days ago, that very evening I watched the movie “Ghost of Girlfriends Past”. I love Matthew McConaughey. How can you not love his greasy good looks and cheesy copout humor? But besides all that, the movie ended on the note of choosing love despite it all. Connor Mead, played by McConaughey, is talking the bride into going back to the wedding and not giving up. “Yes, I do. I’ve been in your shoes. You know what? It scared the hell out of me too. What if she hurt me? What if she left me? What if she died? It would have been the end of me. So I cut it short, before she ever could. And you know what? It was the biggest mistake I ever made. And you’re making the same mistake right now, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to sit by and watch. You’ve got to risk love Sandra! I didn’t and look at me! I’m a lonely ghost of a man. It doesn’t mean that you’re never going to get hurt, but the pain you feel will never compare to the regret that comes from walking away from love. And from someone who’s felt a lot of both trust me, regret beats pain everyday of the week and twice on Sunday. Don’t run away. Don’t do it.” (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0821640/quotes)

Well, that basically sums up exactly why I put out the blog “Neverlove”. Many people have these fears, and they are fueled for so many reasons. To put things in perspective, the timing is never ours, and fear can stop us dead, or we can be pushed forward by it, choosing to live life because we do not know the timing of our future. You cannot risk not loving.

The timing is also not ours in death. My car registration ran out this week, and I have been noticing “Donate Life” vanity plates from the State of Pennsylvania for organ donation. I really wanted to get that plate, but Brimmer’s auto had no clue what I was talking about. I’ll have to do some research. However, in the meantime, it got me thinking more about organ donation. Are you a donor? I am. Kevin was.

Kevin’s cancer however, was too much. It affected the blood vessels, meaning that when he passed, not a thing could be donated to help another life. His cancer was too invasive to risk giving his organs to another person. It makes me sad to know that not only did it ravage his body, but it destroyed the future of someone who needed a lung, a heart, a kidney, new eyes…I do not fear organ donation. If I have parts in healthy condition when I pass, I would be honored for them to go forward to give a complete life to someone who does not currently have that opportunity. What do I need my organs for when I am dead? What do I need my body for?

I promised Kevin only one thing when he died: that he would be buried next to me. It’s hard for me to imagine how to keep that promise. What if I marry again? So, I have decided to be cremated. And I’m a hypocrite. Why? Because I just gave a talk on grief and how you need to have your life wishes in WRITING, and do I have this in writing? No, not until now, and this isn’t good enough. So now I am exposed. Before cremation I want any useful organs donated. I do not want to contribute to the creation of another widow(er). If I am able to pay it forward with the donation of my organs so that another husband or wife, parent, child, grandparent can survive, then please, let me.

Please become an organ donor, pay that extra $1 on your registration renewal, and support organ donation. We have one life to live, but it is encouraging to know that with that one life, we may one day be able to save many others.

If you never love, you will never have that devastating hurt. I had an interesting conversation with a good friend this week on love and commitment. I have always failed to understand people’s fear in commitment, but there are so many reasons that develop this particular fear.

With the divorce rate in America crossing the 50% mark, there’s never a guarantee a marriage will work out, however, there’s never a guarantee that anything in life will work out and last forever. It is quite unfortunate that so many children grow up in “broken” homes, or homes where there is little said of “I love you” and encouragement and respect are void.

What about the fear of loss? Why is the fear of losing the ones you love so great that you would rather not love at all? I had never thought much of this theory, as I always followed Alfred Lord Tennyson’s quote “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Maybe I am old fashioned, a tad naive, and desperately romantic, but I prefer to have been heartbroken and devastated versus having never felt the amazing love I had with Kevin.

Sometimes I cannot imagine fear becoming so cumbersome that one allows themselves to be completely detached from love, from growing forward with another person. My theory in dating, prior to Kevin, was to naively jump in full force: love first, question second. While it did end in heartache at times, and betrayal from others, it allowed me to explore love in all its’ good and bad qualities. When I met Kevin, I was hesitant because the love first, question second philosophy had broken my spirit a bit. But he whisked away my insecurities and pushed forward loving me anyways, and in turn, I fell in love with him.

Now that I have loved and lost completely, would I do it again? Yes, yes, yes. Widowhood is horrific. Losing your love when you are at a great height of passion and fulfillment in marriage is pretty devastating. You are never prepared, nor do you want to allow yourself to be prepared for the event of widowhood.

We all enter into relationships knowing that at some point, it will end: death, their death, divorce, separation. There are multitudes of situations that will separate us from the ones we loved, or in some cases, from the ones we once loved. Fear certainly enters in when we marry or commit-will we be able to care for them when they grow old and/or sick? Will they be able to provide us with the needs we have? Will they always love me? Will I always love them? What will I do when they’re gone…?

Something makes us go forward despite these unanswered questions, but in some cases, those questions stop some from committing themselves to another life. I cannot speak for them, I can only speak for myself. Loving is worth it all. Yes, even widowhood. I do not want to have to go through that pain and agony again, but I fear I may. It is just what happens in the course of life. We all die, it is a simple truth.

Love has provided things in my life that were far more fulfilling than the intensity of the pain I felt when I lost the one I loved. It outweighed that agony because when I had it, it was immense with joy and happiness. While the pain was almost equal, nothing could take away from the life I had before that. I believe that most widows would tell you a similar story. If you ask a widow(er) if they would go through this again, to have had that chance at love with their deceased, there would be no delay in answer: it would be a resounding yes.

Let love in, I know it sounds cheesy, and cliche, but let yourself have a taste of the fruit of love. It is encompassing, and while it can be bitter, and comes with trials and struggles, hurt and pain; the passion that can be felt in love is worth all of that and more.