Your concealed weapon permit is expired!!

S. got a letter in the mail today.

It was from the state, reminding him that his concealed weapon permit is about to expire.

The same concealed weapon permit I tried to have revoked on 3 different occasions.

Not only did they ignore the fact that he had bipolar, and 3 suicide attempts under his belt.. they overlooked the fact that...

He is dead. He shot himself.

Effin state.

The Crazies

Monday I was notified of some.. strange.. information.

Friday S's mom filed for executor of S.'s estate. Due to the fact that someone that murdered someone, can not be the executor of their victims estate.

Yes, blamed me for homicide.

I already have an attorney, who filed for me to be executor of his estate. I went in and filled out paperwork Tuesday AM, by Tuesday at 2pm, the judge granted me executor of his estate.

The judge didn't even blink a eye. I was shocked at how fast the decision came back. I was expecting it to drag on and have to go in front of a judge.

Being the wife, I am automatically the beneficiary on anything S. had.

But now it is written and filed with the courts.

I put together a list of his "assets".

2 fishing poles

1/2 of a jetski, since I own the other half.

1/2 of a couch, since I own the other half.

Yep. That's pretty much it. Most things have been sold and given away. I bought all new furniture when I moved.

The funny thing is, I was already investigated for homicide the day the police found S's body. It was quickly ruled suicide. The location S. was found at is very hard to get to. The police found only his foot prints, which is how they came up with no one else was involved.

If SHE took the time to read police reports, autopsy, and toxicology, SHE would know this. Has she bothered to ask for that information? No.

She thinks her son propped himself up under a tree on or about July 26th and shot himself.

He wasn't propped up under a tree. In fact I hiked to the mine he died at. There isn't a tree in sight. And he died on July 27th.

She doesn't even know what date her own son died on.

And now if anything pops up such as unclaimed funds, an unknown life insurance policy, all I have to do is show proof I am the executor of his estate.

Vengeance is a lazy form of grief. ~ Silvia Broome

Past life's

Very early on in our relationship, S. and I talked about our past life's.

Since I believe in past life's, and I believe you come to earth to learn certain things, and if you don't learn from it.. well.. You have to come back to earth and do it over again.

Basically I believe hell is earth, and you have to go to hell until you learn whatever lessons it is to learn. Once you have experienced or learned the lessons meant for you, you retire in heaven.. and can CHOOSE to come back if you want to. I believe some people are sent to experience what it's like to be an aborted baby. Or what it's like to murder someone. I believe I am supposed to experience seeing the love of my life suffer immensely for 3 years, never give up on him, and experience losing a spouse through suicide.

S. and I had the same beliefs on hell and past life's.

I have always believed in my last life, I died by lighting or a snake. = My extreme fear of both. I believe I have never been a wife or a mother. I believe I am on my last life on earth, and have always believed that I won't live past my 30's. (I see why I believe I won't live past my 30's now!!).

S. always said in his last 5 life's, he committed suicide, and had to come back to earth. He always said he that it isn't his last time on earth, he knows he will have to come back again.

I think about that daily now.

It rings so loud in my ears.

Goes to show, what we thought or believed, might actually be true.

And I might not live past my 30's.

His world

I was his whole world. Everyone always said the way he looked at me, you could see how deeply he loved me.

He IS my whole world. I love him more everyday. The pain of losing him runs so deep in my soul, that sometimes I wonder if I will live through it.

I never thought losing a spouse would be this painful.

Or maybe I never put much thought into what if S. dies?

I miss the traditions I didn't even realize were a tradition. Every Easter S. would buy me lilies, and we would plant them together. My first Easter without S. was a little bit of a shocker.

I woke up that morning, still expecting my lilies. I didn't realize we had a tradition. And I didn't realize that tradition died with S.

I realized I don't have two lilies a like. They are all different. How he knew which ones I had, is beyond me. Or maybe it was just coincidence that he never bought the same ones.

I'll never know.

When I moved to my new house, the first thing I did was dig up my lilies. They were supposed to be at home, with me. Since my home is in a different place now, so are my lilies.

I want to carry on the Easter tradition. But I find I have no freaking clue what lilies I have. So as they bloom this year, I will take pictures of them... to remember which ones I have. So I never buy the ones I already have. Just like S. did.

I am finding I want to be someone's whole world again. I want someone to be my whole world. I miss knowing that at the end of the day, I was loved so deeply, that it didn't matter how I looked, or what kind of mood I was in. I loved being married, and I miss that. I know if I get remarried, I will be a better wife. A better friend. And I will live each day as if it is my husband's last day alive. I won't let life get a hold of me. Who's turn is it to empty the dishwasher?

It's not worth the fight.

I'll never forget my first moment of gratefulness. I was at a party, about a year after S. died. We were all sitting outside, enjoying the summer weather, with cold beers in hand. At some point I realized all the woman had moved inside, and I was outside hanging with the dudes.

I went in to see what the ladies were up to, and I found them sitting around the kitchen table.

They were complaining about their husbands. He never helps around the house. We don't have sex often enough. I feel like a slave.

I quickly turned around and walked back outside to hang with the dudes.

I knew if i didn't, I was going to scream "At least your husband isn't dead!!! Try keeping up with life (dishes, laundry, etc, etc) while mourning the lose of your loved one, and have NO help at all from your husband.. because he's dead!!". I'll never forget that moment. I vowed to not let myself fall into the poor me, if I ever get remarried.

The thought of getting remarried and loving again is terrifying. Even more, what if he dies? Can I live through this again?

The answer is no. I can't. I won't survive. Maybe my past experience with losing a spouse would make it "easier" next time, as I would be more equipped. I now own a mental book called "Holy fuck, what happened!! Here's a list of things to help you through this fucked up, unfair life".

Sometimes I think it's better to not love again, then to lose again.

I am hoping as my grief carries on, and slowly dwindles, that the fears will subside.

It's a sad feeling to look at your life and think "That's it, I had true love, and lost it. I'll never experience that again".

I cannot be your friend anymore

I have been extremely sick since 2/23 with a kidney infection. I lost 10lbs with it. I have never been so sick in my life.

Besides the good side effect of losing 10lbs, I had another good side effect.

This is hard to admit, and hard to post openly, but I know I need the support for my loved ones.

Dear alcohol,

You and I were never really that good of friends. Occasionally we would meet up at parties and events. But rarely were you in my body or home.

Come 2008 (when the husband got sick), we became friends. You were my stress reliever and comfort from the sad and horrible reality I was living in.

When my husband died in 2010, we became best friends. You have been there for me every day, without fail. We would enjoy several glasses of wine, or several beers, together every day. You became my comfort, stress reliever, sleeping aid, and buffer for my grief.

Alcohol, you see, I have been on anti-depressants since the 8 month mark of my husband’s death. Because of our friendship, I have not given my medication a chance to work.

After being so sick, we have not been friends for 2 weeks now. I do not have the urge to see you anymore.

Since I have no urge to be friends with you, I think it is time we cut our ties and go our separate ways. I hope one day we can enjoy each other’s company on the weekends or at parties, but until then..

I cannot be your friend anymore.

With all due respect,

M.

PS: Please send good vibes my way, and prayers my way. I know as soon as I feel stress, overwhelmed, or deep grief I will be longing for my friendship with alcohol, but I can’t allow it back in my life.

Everyday

Everyday, I wake up, and think "Wait, what happened?".

You see, I was happily married for 7 years, to the love of my life. I never once thought "I shouldn't have gotten married".

My husband was (is) my world, and I was his world.

You see, one day in 2008, I woke up, and realized the man I married was not the man sleeping next to me. He was a person I did not know. The person that was my whole world, was gone, overnight.

After a long struggle, he was diagnosed with bipolar type 1.

For 3 long years, I watched the person I didn't know, suffer day in and day out. I quickly learned that mental pain is far worse then physical pain.

After three suicide attempts, my world collapsed at my feet. My husband shot and killed himself on 7/27/2010.

Over the 3 years of his illness, I became his nurse. His teacher. But far from his wife and friend. He pushed me away, I think not knowing any better.

When he died, I woke up and thought "Now what?". I'm no longer a nurse. I am no longer a teacher. I am no longer a wife, or friend. I am a widow.

Going from being someones nurse to them passing away, feels weird. You have your habits of taking care of your loved one. Medication, check, food, check, his mood, check. It felt like I partially lost my "Job" or my "Responsibility".

Not only did I lose my best friend, I lost my purpose in life.

I have always believed married is "Through sickness and health, until death do us part". I'll admit, I did not want to be married to this man I no longer knew. BUT (there's always a BUT or BUTT), I couldn't kick him while he was down by divorcing him. I hoped one day he would return to me, and the unknown man in my life, would disappear.

My husband over the 3 years told me time and time again, if it wasn't for me, he would have killed himself. When he did kill himself, I thought, "When did "I" become not enough to keep him alive?".

I have blamed god. I have blamed life. I have blamed him. But I have realized there is only two things responsible for this. God, and Bipolar. Not my husband. The person that died had died 3 years prior. I could not blame my husband, as he was completely out of his mind.

Sure, I have had my words with him. Screaming at him, "Are you fucking happy now??" or "Look what you have done to me, I am left to pay the consciousnesses of YOUR decision?".

I have become less angry with him, and more angry at god. I wake up every day, and ask god, "Why?". What have I done so bad as a person to deserve this life?"

Am I really a bad person? Do I deserve this lesson?

While trying to understand why I have been chosen to walk this path, I have discovered a couple of things about myself. I believe everyone is sent to earth, to learn certain lessons. I believe for whatever reason, I am supposed to experience this. And my husband was supposed to experience severe mental illness and suicide. I am starting to believe that my purpose now, is to help others. Fellow suicide survivors. Fellow widows.

But I still wake up everyday asking "God, why did you do this to me??"

Everyone said the first year is the worst. Some say the second is the worse. For me, the 3 years leading up to his death were the worst. The first year after his death was the second worst, and the second year is worse in some ways and better in some ways. I can function now. I can do the things I'm "supposed" to do. Go to work, go to the gym. But there are days that I get so overwhelmed with the life around me. Days that land me so overwhelmed I shut down.

These last couple of weeks, I am overwhelmed. I have so many things I want to do, yet no energy to do it.

I have learned being mentally tired is far worse then physically tired.

And I have learned there is no "vacation" when you are grieving.

It's always there. Always.