Unimaginable Life

I have never not been a single mom. Not for a day, an hour, or even one minute. My partner died in an accident when I was just eight weeks pregnant. We lived together, were in the midst of planning a small wedding, and had planned to have a baby. When I found out I was pregnant I waited all day to tell him the good news. When he got home from work I sat him down and told him I was with child. His smile was profound, the biggest I had seen on him yet. He looked over at me and said “I’m gonna be a dad” and jumped up with his sports fanatic zealousness that I had grown to love. We had spoken about this many times before and immediately began arguing about names, whether our child would be allowed fast food, and how many hours per day “it” would practice basketball! He did not hesitate to announce it to the world although I preferred to wait a bit.

I took a trip to see my family soon thereafter, several states away. They were all excited for the new addition and were helping me plan the wedding. I picked out a dress (an unconventional purple) and invitations. I booked the venue. I asked for my partner’s input on songs for which he replied “I don't care” and then, after I pressed him finally responded with “Love is a Battlefield”! We weren't the typical couple. We were on opposite sides of the fence on a lot of big issues. We debated often. But, in the end, we both carried the same core of integrity and had each others backs. He was the best man I’d ever known and I was proud to be planning a lifetime with him.

Then the day arrived. My bags were packed and I was heading towards the airport to get back to my life with my love. My wedding dress was neatly folded in my suitcase and all I could think about was giving him a giant hug when I saw him that afternoon. I missed him greatly after only 6 days apart. I was beyond excited.

I had left my phone in my back pack and I must not of heard it, because when I pulled it out I had 7 missed calls. (It was only 7:30am). I listened to the first voicemail and my heart sank. It was the HR person at our job (we worked at the same place) and she said that my love had been in an accident. I couldn't believe it. Thoughts and fears flooded my mind immediately. Had he been in a car accident on the way to work? Did he break any bones? I called back and got the news. A keg that he was cleaning had exploded, and he was in the hospital. I was in shock. The next minutes were consumed with worry and various phone calls. Now I was beginning to worry on a deeper scale. Could he be paralyzed? Brain injury? When I spoke to his best friend it was clear that this was far more serious than a broken bone. Finally, I got a call from the hospital. The nurse told me I needed to get there immediately, but I couldnt! I explained that I was on my way to the airport and I would be there later that afternoon. Then the doctor got on the phone. He explained to me exactly what had happened to my love. When the keg exploded, pieces of it had impacted his head and chest causing “irreversible damages” and sending him into cardiac arrest. I asked how he was and what this meant. He said plainly, without emotion, “He didn't make it”. The next hour was a blur. I remember screaming, punching the dashboard, crying hysterically. I remember my sister pulling over and crying. I remember my young nephew in the back seat freaking out and not understanding what was happening. I didn’t understand either. I couldnt understand. It had to be a horrible joke or a dream….a nightmare that I could not escape.

My sister did not want me to board the plane alone, but I had to go. I needed to be with my love. I needed to see him and hold his hand. I couldn’t get there fast enough. In the airport my tears would not stop. I was crying uncontrollably the entire wait and then the entire flight. No one spoke to me. No one asked if I needed help or even needed a tissue. A couple sat next to me on the plane and the man was blind. The woman (I assumed his wife) was reading aloud to him. They were very affectionate with each other, touching and kissing the entire fight. I just wanted the plane to crash. I wanted to die.

When we landed my friends were waiting. They had a blanket and tissues and they drove me directly to the hospital, which was still an hour away. We went inside and had to wait even longer. Then we finally went upstairs. We talked to the doctor and he asked if we had any questions. I said no, that I just wanted to see him one last time. A nurse walked us into the morgue and into a small room off to the side. I felt faint. I felt out of my body. This could not be real.

There he was, lying on the cooling board with his body covered in a white sheet. His face and hands were exposed. The first thing I noticed was one of his eyes were open. His beautiful blue eye. I got to see it one last time. I walked up to him and rubbed his eyebrow as I often did. I held his hand and I cried. I have no idea how long I stayed, but I never wanted to leave. This was it. There was blood in his teeth and he was so cold. When I left him, just 6 days before, he had held me all through the night with those perfect warm hands. This was the last time we would touch.

Fast forward five years: I am a single mother to an amazing four year old son. He is joyous, vibrant, even-keeled, extremely energetic, and has big, beautiful blue eyes just like his dad. We have been through a lot together. We have moved too many times to name across four different states and even lived abroad. We have been on many adventures and visited loved ones all over. Most important, we have survived. We have made it through the most depressing, difficult days together. We have escaped a house fire. We have made it through my exhaustion too many times to count. We have laughed, we have cried, we have danced and gone crazy. We have done it without the support of a grandmother since my mom passed a year and a half before my partner. Now we have settled into a home and plan on staying, plan on building community. This is the scariest part of all for me.

For years we have been on the go. Experiencing life, I have had one boyfriend (another long, horrible story of its own), traveling, playing, and not really making any new friends. You see, when you are a non-widow widow, it is tough to explain. The benefits of being a wife legally are non-existent when you weren't married yet. People like to ask questions, and when they discover the answers they usually walk away never to return. (A dead partner and mother!). It’s too much for most people to face. It’s too hard. It is unimaginable to most.

I get that, but I also get how hard this has been and how resilient we all are. How much help is needed and appreciated by single moms. How much friendships are needed. It’s ok to talk about grief and hardships. It’s ok for everything to not be ok. If you can laugh with me, play ball with my child, run an errand, or just sit in silence as we feel the sun on our faces…I appreciate you. We are all going to experience tragedy. We are all in this together. Please don't shut those out who have lived through grief. One day you will be there too and those who have come before will be able to stand by your side and be strong for you.

And please, if you see someone crying in an airport, hand them a tissue.

Why I Waited

I am getting ready to begin my college journey again. I am currently 34 years old and have approximately one year of college courses under my belt. I have worked in office settings and the service industry in the past, never making more than $30k annually (and that was by far the most). To the outside world, I may look like a failure. No skill set and very little formal education. Here is why, despite all of this, I am glad I waited...

Lets take an example of what I wanted to do my senior year of high school. You know, when you are "supposed" to know exactly what you want to do with the rest of your life and have it all perfectly mapped out. I, being a big dreamer (Go for your dreams! Reach for the moon!), wanted to become a famous actress. Yes, you read that correctly. In order to achieve this I thought I needed to attend a major acting school in NYC. So I applied, auditioned, and thank god did not make it. If I had, this is a possibility of what my life could look like now: First off, I would be in debt up to my ass. These acting schools are not cheap. So I'd have approximately $100k in student loans to repay. I'd have an acting degree, which basically means shit, and I'd be auditioning. Anyone who knows me knows I cannot handle rejection. I won't even attempt to tell a man, to this day, that I'm into him for fear of rejection. So, after a few auditions of being turned down I would have most likely collapsed into a pool of nothingness. Best case scenario turn out: I become a porn star to pay off my student loans. Worst case: I have a needle in my arm in some seedy NYC downtown apartment.

So a few years passed and my dreams changed. I wanted to become a psychologist with a private therapy practice. Yay. Lets take a look at this: It would take at least 7 years of college to obtain my Psy D. I wanted to, again, attend a very prestigious Buddhist school in Colorado. I actually got accepted to this one and was literally a few months away from going. If I had been able to complete the program in seven years while working full time (very unlikely for a person like me who is VERY type B) and having no family or friends around me, then I would graduate with about $170k in student loan debt. At the same time, I wouldn't have spent the time with my mother that I did and she would have died while I was in school. So most likely I would not have completed my degree and would just be in debt over my head. So I would have had to get a job with a bachelors degree in psychology...most likely social work. I would be making very little and probably hate my career with a passion. That is best case scenario.

Now, I am older and hopefully a bit wiser. I had years of making beautiful memories with my mother before she passed. I met an incredible man while waiting tables and had a wonderful, amazing son. We have traveled and been on many adventures that I couldn't have experienced if I were bogged down with debt. I sewed all of my wild oats and did what I wanted, when I wanted. Now we rent a cute little home in a great neighborhood and my son is about to start his journey into education. I have changed my mind completely about what I want to study. I know myself much better now. I know how to go through school and come out the other end debt free. I have no desire to "go out" at night or travel much anymore. I will be quite content studying at night after my son is in bed. I am ready.

I am far from failure. I just decided to take the long way around. The back country road with lots of twists and turns. I could have taken the highway and ended up in a horrible collision. Instead, I took the scenic route, and I am so glad I did.

Single Motherhood

Warning: this is a bit of a rant!

So I am a single mother. I am not referring to the kind who shares custody with the father and gets every other weekend (or every other week) to herself. I'm also not talking about the kind who has living parents close by who help out a lot. I am not putting down any role of mother here. Each unique situation has its benefits and difficulties. Would I want to be dealing with custody battles? No. Would I want to be working outside the home and missing so many moments with my child? Absolutely not. I am extremely grateful for my current situation and would not change it at this point. All that being said...I need to let off some steam.

This is hard. These have been the most challenging four years of my life. Being a stay at home mom with little to (mostly) no help has been exhausting. I am the only one and have been the only one to care for my son on a day to day basis. For those with an actively engaged partner this has to be unimaginable. I never thought I would be the sole guardian and caretaker of a child.

From birth until now I have done it all. There is no one else to wake up with him (including the 7 months he didn't sleep through the night), no one else to worry and bring him into urgent care when he got sick, no one else to read him a bedtime story or give him a bath. Every boo boo has been kissed by me. Every tear felt by me alone. I am the only one to get him breakfast and have NEVER gotten to sleep in. There is no one else to teach him how to catch a ball or learn his letters and numbers. I am his playmate, disciplinarian, nurturer, nurse, and teacher. Then there are all the household chores to be done daily with no other adult to help. I am solely responsible for cooking dinner each and every night. I have taken on roles that I never expected, putting furniture and toys together, taking out the trash every week, catching spiders and releasing them outside, and teaching him about his penis! I am responsible for all the yard work and all the grocery shopping (and I have to bring him to the store each and every time). Then I am left at the end of the night to watch a show or take a bath...the only time I get to be alone ever.

Why am I writing this? I'm not sure. Maybe because there are so many moments throughout the week where I just want to burst into tears and throw my own tantrum, but I can't. (Actually I haven't cried in over a year at least) I have to keep going day in and day out for the sake of my child. Maybe its because I am sitting here researching pre schools and feeling overwhelmed, wishing his dad were around to help with yet another tough choice. Maybe its because I miss my own mother and wish I could ask for her advice and help. Perhaps it is just to vent and release these feelings pent up inside. I don't know. All I know is I will wake up tomorrow and do it all again because I love my son and I want the best possible life for him. So high five to all the single moms out there for not giving up. You are amazing.

Roots

We left Panama early. I have decided to temporarily retire from traveling. The lessons I learned while abroad are irreplaceable. I would never take back the experience as it was beautiful and raw. It forced me to see from an entirely new perspective and guided me to my right path.

I have a young son. We both have our health and finances to take care of our needs. For this, I am eternally grateful. Now I know what we truly need: people we love and stability. Home. Routine. Consistency. It is time.

To the more romantic among you I understand your perspective completely and I have been with you my entire life. Travel! Live! Be free! I know this is entirely possible with a child too, but it is not our path. I choose to raise my child in one neighborhood, with a group of friends surrounding him. Finding a great school where he can thrive and sticking with it. I choose roots for us.

I feel I have been running for far too long. Running from my emotions, my responsibilities, intimacy, life. I feared standing still because I might actually feel deeply again. I might actually become close with people. And then, ultimately, I might lose them. Of course this was not entirely conscious. I just kept moving.

Benny has had so many different bedrooms over the course of his 4 years it is embarrassing. He has lived in 4 states and 2 countries. He has celebrated 4 birthdays in 4 different locations. I know this has made him resilient and he is a born adventurer, but I also know he needs more. From now on we will take mini adventures and shorter trips...all while having a place to call home.

Thank you all for sticking by me and not telling me I'm a nutcase. Thank you for following our adventures and allowing us space on your couches and guest beds along the way. I love you all and am very afraid to lose you. It is time to face those fears and get ever closer. I do believe some long hugs are in order :) It is time to grow roots.

Still Here

I am still here
Quietly sitting in my bed
Reviewing my life story.

I have done nothing noteworthy
I have created no fame
External power eludes me.

But I am still here.

I have been raped, beaten, shamed
Made fun of day in and out
I have been hurt most by those I dared to trust.

I have read my mother’s suicide note
over and over
wondering, “could I have done something?”.

But I am still here.

I have sat alone and wept
At the injustices of the world
Sick to my stomach wondering, “can I do something?”.

I have hoped, prayed, broken dishes,
Screamed, danced, loved, and hated…
All in one day.

But I am still here.

I have carried my wedding dress in my suitcase
While flying over the states and pregnant
Mere hours after receiving the call that my love was dead.

I have held his hand in the morgue
wondering, “why did this have to happen?”
I have kissed him for the last time.

But I am still here.

I have sat in a room with prisoners
Who have murdered, raped, stolen
And meditated by their side, without judgement.

I have cut my wrists
Started my car with the windows down and the garage door closed
I have written my letters over and over again.

But I am still here.

I have raised my son alone
Feeding him on a mountain top wondering, “how long would it take for anyone to realize it if I died?”
Not talking to another adult for days at a time.

I have reached my limit time and time and time again…

I have loved so deeply I thought my soul would burst from the rapture
I have lost my best friends forever
They are gone; never to return.

…But I am still here.

At Dusk

A drive through the New York countryside today turned into an alternate reality experience. I was transported into another world; another time. A simpler time.

There were no signs of modernity with the exception of an occasional passing car. No billboards, no gas stations, no hideous strip malls or manufactured landscaping. No fast food joints or liquor stores. Just farms and farm land for miles. Tractors dallying down the road, wild flowers as far back as the horizon, cows and sheep seemingly content, grazing upon the deep green grass. Silos surrounded by dreamlike clouds, and those picturesque giant weeping willows blowing, almost in slow motion, in the warm August breeze. It felt surreal and completely wonderful (full of wonder) at once to be driving by these scenes on a perfect summer day. Snap shots of a different way of living.

Suddenly, as if emerging out of the late-day sun, an old truck appeared in front of me. It drove lazily down the dusty road, past silos, corn fields, and barking dogs. I didn't mind the slower speed at all. I enjoyed the scenery at a more easy-going pace. I thought "this is how fast cars should drive" (Monet apparently felt the same). I noticed a hand and an arm resting out of the driver's side window. It was a slightly weathered and sun loving hand and an arm that appeared to have done many years of physical labor. I contemplated that limb for a moment. I wondered what it had been through in its years on this amazing Earth. Perhaps, I mused, it was a hand that had wiped many a tear off of saddened faces, a hand that had punched men in the face out of sheer necessity or loyalty to another, one that had held much smaller hands while crossing the street. Maybe the golden brown arm had sat through hours of little league baseball games, wrapped around the one person in the world who understood the man attached to it. A hand that dug, planted, and picked many a summer harvest. An arm who latched arms with an ailing old woman as she walked across her family's land for the final time. Definitely a hand and arm that had worked on an old truck into the late night hours.

While lost in these fantastical thoughts, an intense desire suddenly came over me. I wanted to know the man attached to this arm; this hand. I wanted to hop in his truck, go to his farm, and share some conversation over a cold brew. I longed to be held by those weathered hands and that strong arm. I wanted to feel safe and at home; to be known by this honorable person. I wanted a simpler life during a simpler time.

The hand waved for me to pass. A slow, meaningful wave. A wave filled with good intentions and chivalry. I, however, did not want to pass. I wanted to follow the man slowly driving an old truck through the countryside at dusk forever. Forever at this pace, at this exact moment. As I passed by I looked over hoping to catch a glimpse of a face, but it was blocked from my view...by the setting sun.

Little House Blue

These walls have enveloped me. Kept me safe. Surrounded by trees and moon. Warmed by fire. Protected by some sort of other-worldly Magic.

The blue house she is called. My son named her that. Our car is blue heron. Blue is a fitting color for this place. I have grieved the loss of my beloved here while carrying out child within. Then grieved the loss of my second beloved. This home has been like a womb for me. Nurturing. Giving.

I have come here to heal and now it is time to say goodbye. Farewell to a great friend. And not only for me but for the many whose lives have been shaped and changed within these wooden walls. She is like the giving tree.

Narnia we all call it. There is something about being able to stroll to the Great Bay, come across a family of deer, and listen to the Owls throwing their masquerade...all in one evening.

I will love and miss her always. Goodbye little house blue. I hope you are treated with the same kindness you have shown us all over the years.