Homesick

My journey through grief has now lasted three years. Three years with a chunk of your heart in a place so distant, so unreachable, seems an eternity. I close my eyes and remember her smile, her laughter, and her embrace. The tangibles now are photographs, dresses in the wardrobe, and the smell of her perfume that I keep on the nightstand beside the bed. They're pale shadows of what was and reminders of the hope of what will be.

Three years on this journey since I first asked God "Why?" and I'm finally now no longer crippled. The void inside me no longer causes my chest to crumble and collapse. The ache of her absence no longer saps the entirety of my essence in an unrelenting tempest.

Finally, after three long years, I have begun to discover the true "me after we" and am able to accept that the "me after we" has value, purpose, and hope. The "me" is better for having been "we" and can finally say with confidence, "I will live." The "me" will always miss and long for the "we", but the "me" will survive.

I see storm clouds ahead of me on this road, but I see storm clouds behind me as well. I found my way through those and have faith that I'll find my way through those to come. The mountains and valleys and ravines waiting for me are not the first I've faced. I'll slip and stumble and scrape my knees, but the road stretches onward and I've resolved to walk it to its end.

The vow of "forever" is still "forever" and carries no regret. I will hold fast the heart she entrusted to me until my final breath. I'll always be homesick for where my heart is and that's okay. I will never know on this side of eternity the answer to the question of "Why?" but I'll forever carry gratitude for the time that "me" was "we."

Homesick - Mercy Me

All I Ask

Today is the thirty-first anniversary of our wedding. Even the holidays don't rival the depth and breadth of emotions this day brings. Rarely do I publicly expose my deepest yearnings, but today my mind allowed my heart its say.

All I Ask

By Jeff Hargett

I became who I am due largely to her

I found in life what some have sought in vain

But with her gone and me now incomplete

This sorrow I feel will forever remain

I will not get over it nor will I simply move on

Don't say it's time for my mourning to end

My wife was my life and shall always be so

To behave otherwise is to merely pretend

Time is powerless and has never healed all wounds

Nor is it an ointment for mending a shattered heart

There is no salve or balm that heals the soul

Certainly not one so utterly torn apart

No longer shall I apologize for grieving what I've lost

If my tears cause you discomfort just look the other way

I'm coping and adapting the very best I can

And count it a victory when I survive another day

Perhaps I should be stronger. Perhaps you think me weak

Perhaps you think my sorrow is merely one of choice

Remember, some say. Just pray, I've been told too

Why am I not permitted to give my heart a voice

I ask of you no miracles, nor state any demands

It's not a problem that I expect you to solve

Her absence is nothing you or anyone can fix

So of that obligation, consider yourself absolved

This path is mine and its length I'll walk

There isn't anything that you need to say

All I ask of you is this one simple thing

Just hold my hand while I make my way

 

Elizabeth Seckman Defying Reason

Wow. Final day of the tour. I'm tired and I'm sure the blogosphere is tired of hearing from me, but guess who we're not tired of hearing from? Our buddy, Jeff! 

Jeff, we've missed you! So, for this stop...I sent Jeff questions and commanded him to give us an update. So, let's all welcome Jeff to his very own blog and find out what he's been up to. 

(I know, I'm tricky. And Jeff was worried that this wouldn't highlight my book well enough, so here is how this ties in to my story: Defying Reason is a story about characters who understand that people matter more than things and that love and friendship always conquer all the bad in the world.)

Now, here's Jeff!!!

How has Jeff been?

I've finally started adjusting to my "new normal" widowed identity, by far my biggest ever life change event in terms of lifestyle and emotional impact. I've hit frightening dark periods several times, but I've survived them all thanks to friends, faith, family, and even Isis (my little feline goddess). Sometimes we need others to remind (or even convince) us that our lives still have value and purpose in the right here, right now.

Most of the time though I'm doing okay--or at least well enough to be convincing. I'm a better man for having undergone the struggle and for vowing to continue the struggle knowing the battle will last my lifetime. My healing has been slow and painful, but I am healing. I still meet with several members of our Hospice Loss of a Spouse support group weekly for dinner. We've become good friends and walk together down this road to recovery.

What have you been working on?

A few things actually. The Awakening (Strands of Pattern book #2) is again my primary focus. Lots of plotting and drafting going on, some of which has required plotline tweaks in #1. I've also been enhancing Magic Muse, my novel-writing software. And I've been dabbling with a non-fiction project geared toward men recently widowed. A few new short stories are under my belt and I've amassed loads of story ideas yet to be written.

Biggest challenge for me now is simply making good use of my limited time. I wear all the hats now and things don't get done unless I do them, be they professional, social, or domestic. (Retirement has never before looked so desirable!)

What are your plans for the future?

Twenty months after the fact now and I'm still trying to bring my goals into focus. Deciding which of my pre-widowed aspirations are still objectives I wish to pursue has been oddly problematic. The fervor with which I pursue them varies greatly too.

I do intend to pursue publishing The Bonding if nothing else. That wasn't a promise, but it was something Myra wanted to see and she would expect me to follow through and do it. I'm hoping to get back to blogging regularly at some point, even if on a smaller scale. I've made a lot of friends blogging and miss the camaraderie.

I love the idea of a nonfiction book for widowed men. I think it can be harder on men because they aren't always as connected and expressive as women. But I'm also eager to see Strands of Pattern published. I've beta read this story and it's wonderful. And of course, I'd like to see you blog more too. Seems I want it all, so you better get to juggling!

This Jeff Update was brought to you Defying Reason

The Blurb:

Jo Leigh Harper comes from a long line of trouble-making, white trash stock.

Tanner Coulter comes from a longer line of wealth-creating, blue blood stock.

Jo graduated college top of her class, moving toward a future full of possibilities.

Tanner dropped out of college, trading a law degree for drinking games and one night stands.

A family crisis throws the rich party boy and the poor genius girl together. The attraction is immediate, though neither one is a heart-in-the-sand-drawing believer in true love. But as the summer sun heats up along the shores of the Outer Banks, so does the connection between them. Maybe, just maybe, they can win at love by defying reason.

 

Author Bio:

Elizabeth is a multi-published author of books for people who are believers in happily-ever- after, true love, and stories with a bit of fun and twists with their plots. The mother of four young men, she tackles laundry daily and is the keeper of the kitchen. She lives along the shores of the Ohio River in West Virginia, but dreams daily of the beach. 

Facebook/ Blog/ Website/ Buy Link

30 Years of Our Journey Through Forever

Myra and I would have celebrated our thirtieth anniversary today. Some might say that thirty years of marriage is a long time, but I say thirty years is just a brief step in our journey through forever.

Below are the two cards I selected to commemorate this milestone in our journey.

Card #1 (envelope)

Card #1 (cover)

 

Card #1 (inside)

Card #2 (envelope)

Card #2 (cover)

Card #2 (inside)

Happy Anniversary, Myra!

An eternity of anniversaries to come.

Ten Thousand Times

Today.  Feels like it took a century to get here, but its ominous gray has loomed on the horizon for only a year. And I've made it through every single day that it took to get here.

I'm proud. I'm surprised--shocked really. There were times I didn't think I'd make it this long. Truthfully, there were times I didn't want to make it this long. But I promised her. I said I'd live and love for the both of us.

And I have.

My year of firsts has come to an end and I'm still here. I'm still living. I'm still loving our children and grandchildren for us both. I've survived the birthdays, the holidays, the anniversaries. I've faced the quiet house, the empty bed, the missing lunchtime phone calls and the absence of her I Love My Husband messages on my Facebook wall. From the "see me off to work" kiss to the night's last embrace, I've persevered without it all.

I'm doing my best to do my best, if you follow my logic. That includes my writing. I've had two short stories published since Myra died. The Orchid, the first one I wrote after July 17, 2013, was by far the most difficult story I've ever written. Every single sentence came about as easily as a wisdom tooth yanked out of my jaw. But I kept my word.

I wonder sometimes if I'd have been able to keep that promise were it not for family and friends. Your prayers, your words of encouragement, your patience and understanding, they made the difference--literally--between life and death. I am forever in your debt.

In the eyes of society, the state and God, I'm a widower. In my heart, I'm a husband and will remain so until death reunites us. The poem below, I wrote for my wife.

Ten Thousand Times.

10,000 times I've kissed your rings

10,000 times I've whispered your name

Knowing not what tomorrow brings

Wondering why that woeful day came

10,000 times I've shed a tear

10,000 times I've asked God why

All those times in just one year

Seldom a day do my eyes stay dry

10,000 times I've pictured your face

10,000 times I've struggled to smile

Knowing that you're in a better place

And I'll join you there after my last mile

10,000 words I've penned in letters

10,000 times I've prayed for grace

To endure this grief that fetters

And find true peace as I run this race

10,000 days were we on Earth wed

10,000 times has my shattered heart beat

10,000 ways will my soul have bled

When comes that day it's again complete

The first of 10,571 days "on Earth wed"

My Dearest Myra

Sunday, June 1, 2014

My dearest Myra,

What little I know of history suggests that the "season" of mourning lasts for a year--particularly when losing a spouse. I'm halfway through month number ten now and I ponder what makes the anniversary marker so significant. Pain this severe doesn't heal in a mere year. Perhaps the "year of grieving" is intended as much for the mourner's family and friends as anyone. It gives them the option of saying, "it hasn't been a year yet" as though the mourner can be excused until then.

I'm sitting on my deck this morning and I wonder. What happens afterwards? Will my license to grieve expire? Will my mourning privileges be revoked? Does sympathy become derision, an accusation that I refuse to move past it and get on with my life? Do they expect the hurt will magically cease on the 18th of July?

To this very day, tears come from nowhere in the span of a few blinks of the eye. Even now, the agony that simmers within boils to the surface without warning or even a logical provocation. When will I reach the day that I can rein in these unexpected emotional eruptions? Ever?

Perhaps "moving on" really is just choice. I don't know. I just don't see how healing can co-exist with these memories I dare not lose. I want nothing more right now than to wrap my arms around you and squeeze forever. Nothing! Just to whisper in your ear and see the answer in your eyes, I would trade the rest of my life for that one brief moment. God as my witness, Myra, I would.

I look back on my life with you and find that I am so very grateful for so many things. As with any marriage, we had our share of trials and hardships, but we had a rare devotion, one not experienced by many, I think. Nothing separated us. Nothing beat us. Every problem we faced made us stronger, more committed and made our bond of love deeper. Our mutual triumphs brought us mutual joys and enriched our union.

I do not have many of the regrets that other widowed spouses have. I see little shame and much satisfaction in our twenty-nine years. I see how we each made the other better. I see our mutual appreciation for what we both brought to our relationship and how we each enabled the other to grow and blossom, becoming the beauty we each saw budding within the other.

Is it then any wonder why I still grieve? How can my days in mourning be any fewer than the days that lie before me? And how can I hurt less on the year-plus-one day than on the first day I lived without you by my side? Some pains lessen with time, but this ache will last a lifetime.

Eternally cherishing you,
The one whose heart you'll always hold,
- Jeff

O'Malley's Flower at Utah Children's Writers

I'm very glad to announce that the wonderful folks at Utah Children's Writers have once again chosen to post one of my tales as part of their annual "30 Days, 30 Stories" series. They're a great group of bloggers and worth a spot on your blog roll.

30 Days, 30 Stories

My first short story, Grandpa's Unicorn Tale, appeared there in April of 2012.
Immorality's Kiss was my contribution in April 2013.

For this year, I submitted O'Malley's Flower. This was my first attempt (an experiment really) at telling a story in verse. I'm no poet, but I did enjoy putting this one together. And at a smidgeon over 400 words, it's a short read.

Since Myra died (nine months ago today) writing has been a challenge. This is one I think she would have liked though.

For My Valentine

Holding true to tradition, I give my love two cards each Valentine's Day. Although she can't accept chocolates or Teddy Bears, she'll still get her cards.

Looks just like our Sally Sue did.

Card #1 - inside

And then there's the more serious, sappy side of love

Card #2 - inside

Happy Valentine's Day, Myra.

You are deeply loved and missed.

Three Months Separated

I decided a momentary break from my blogging hiatus was due. I'm surfacing for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is to convey gratitude to all who have been checking in on me from time to time. Your compassion and support have been incredibly welcome and helpful.

I also wanted to let you all know how I'm faring.

Three months ago, death separated me from my wife of twenty-nine years. For all twenty-nine of those years, I've loved her more than life itself. I've searched for reasons and meaning. I've clung to hopes and promises. I've remembered and I've cried. God, how I've cried.

Her wedding rings are never far from my heart

This tempest of emotions is neither brief nor tame. I'm but an island besieged by a hurricane, its fury unyielding. Moments of calm are only the storm's eye. I've wept in its wind and railed at its rain, but the tempest persists. It always will.

But I am weathering the storm!

It's grueling. It's painful. But I promised her I would live and love for us both. And I'm doing it. Thankfully, I'm not doing it alone. My mother, brother and children have given vital support. And those three precious grandsons of mine are three very important reasons to succeed.

I've chosen to share some very specific things that have helped me succeed so far:

• The bereavement counseling at Hospice. (Thanks for persuading me to give it a shot, guys!) There, I'm free to talk about Myra and my loss without burdening family and friends. And I've received some excellent suggestions and comfort.
• Wearing her rings around my neck. Having something of hers that's tangible somehow preserves the physical connection. I hold them, kiss them and tell her how much I love her.
• I remind myself--frequently--that Myra was God's before she was mine. She was God's gift to me, but only for a time. I choose to be grateful for that time.
• I write Myra a letter every single day just as if I were on a business trip. Captured within those letters are every significant thought, event and emotion I've experienced since her death. They express my anguish, my love, my despair, my hopes--everything. It's probably the single most therapeutic thing I do.

I've already filled up one 160-page journal, and am well into the last third of this 200-page journal. I have two more waiting.

I have no idea how long I'll continue writing her or how long I'll continue writing daily. I'm guessing that I'll never completely stop.

In the short term, I have a couple very difficult months ahead of me. We've always made big deals of Thanksgiving, Christmas and even the traditional New Year's Day dinner. However, December also holds her birthday, my birthday and a grandson's birthday. Those too were big deals in our family.

This week has been a good one. Last week was tumultuous and I wrestled with some serious anger. Bouts of depression arise--often without warning. Laughter can become tears in mere seconds and vice versa. It's all normal and part of the grieving process.

The important thing is that I am healing. It's an agonizingly slow process, but it is happening. In time, I'll return from my hiatus. I'll resume work on my writing, hop some blogs and again contribute what I can to this awesome community of writers and bloggers that I've come to call friends.

Navigating the Tempest

In memory of my wonderful wife

Some of you know this, but on the afternoon of Wednesday, July 17, 2013, I made an announcement on Facebook that broke my heart.

I cannot begin to express the aching sorrow that flooded my entire being. Over the twenty-nine years that Myra and I were married, we had become one; one mind, one heart, one soul.

August 4, 1984

Until Myra's sweet spirit departed, I did not believe the human heart could survive this level of ache. It is relentless. A gaping hole rests in my chest, open and raw, so deep that I wonder if healing is even possible.

Her death has shattered my very identity. I now must begin the long and arduous struggle to discover who I am without her.

My children have lost their mother and my grandchildren their Maw Maw. And I have lost a wife. She made me complete and whole, better than who I was alone.

My home is now empty. I long for her touch, her laugh and her unconditional love. I yearn to see that smile from across the table, hear her voice over the phone and watch her bounce a grandson on her knee.

I'll never again smell the magic she made in the kitchen or the perfume she'd wear on an evening out. She's no longer there when I turn to share a joke or a dream or a regret.

I will persevere and bravely carry on, for she'd wish nothing less. I'll love our children and grandchildren for the both of us. I'll smile at her memory and weep for what I have lost.

Losing Myra has ushered in the darkest hour of my life. I do not know how long this darkness will last. All I know is that I'm embarking on a new chapter in my life with no idea of what lies ahead. And for the first time in three decades, I'm walking my path alone.

I am angry. I am broken. I am lost. I gave her my solemn vow that I would love and live for us both. I will not break that vow. I'll claw and crawl through each day if I must, but I fear genuine joy will elude me all the days of my life.

Family and friends have overwhelmed me with amazing support. I wear my brave face for them and try to stay strong--whatever that means. But their compassion and prayers do encourage me to face each tomorrow and for that I am thankful.

Death may have taken her from my reach, but nothing can take her from my heart.

To all who are married, I say this: cherish your spouse and make every minute count. It took just over 48 hours for me to go from concerned husband to grieving widower.

My Wife's Obituary

Although I've mentioned Myra in numerous posts, here are a few in which she was prominent:
August is Awesome Because of My Wife Myra
Things For Which I'm Thankful
28 is a Tough Number

August is Awesome Because of My Wife Myra

The whole purpose behind me running this Awesome August series was to introduce to you some of the awesome people I've met.  And I've met quite a few.  However, there is one awesome person that outshines the rest.  I consider myself exceedingly fortunate to not only know the most awesome person alive, but to have married her as well.

In fact, awesome is an adjective wholly inadequate for describing Myra.  She's awesomer than awesome!  Her mere presence enriches my existence to the point that even I, a writer, can't find words to express how wonderful my life is because of her.

Over twenty-eight years ago I realized I loved this awesome woman.  The day we wed I would have given my life for her.  And after all these years I love her even more now than I would have ever believed possible even on that most special day.

A long, long, long time ago...

This woman has the uncanny ability to read my mind and finish my sentences.  She can not only predict what things I want or need, but hand them to me before I even realize I want or need them.  She'll prepare a meal and already be cooking the very thing I would have asked her to make.  And good gosh can my wife bake!  Never has she pulled anything out of the oven that didn't leave me salivating in anticipation.

She knows what I'm going to want to wear to work tomorrow.  She knows when I need "Jeff time" after a long day at work.  She offers encouragement and feeds my confidence like nobody deserves.  She refuses to let me berate myself, countering each self-condemning statement I make with a litany of reasons why I'm wrong.  She loves unconditionally and caters to me like I were a king.

Just this week at work, a coworker approached while I was on the cell phone speaking with Myra.  I noticed this coworker grinning and eventually had to ask why.  She told me I looked like a teenager talking with his brand new girl friend.  Do I still feel that freshness, that excitement after all these years?  You bet I do.  I just didn't realize it was so obvious to everyone.

My inspiration.  My life.

People often ask what our secret is.  Is it the giddy tingles we feel when the other enters a room?  Our fluttering and racing heartbeats when we join hands? The ecstasy of loving embraces? Those things are indeed wonderful, but they're not our secret.

Our secret is commitment.

This is not commitment for commitment's sake.  This is commitment that fuels devotion, demands dedication and drives the determination required to make each moment special.  It's the resolve to set one's self second.

This commitment offers an honest apology for a voice raised in frustration or a word spoken in anger.  This commitment is the reminder to open her car door, the willingness to hold her purse in public.  It's forgiving him for not remembering the anniversary of your first date or for forgetting to give you a kiss before he left for work.

This commitment hurts worse for the hurt of the other than for the hurt of one's self.  It revels in the other's success and comforts the other's sorrows.  It protects.  It serves.  It endures.

This is the commitment that only the most awesome people are willing to make.

My wife is awesome.  I'll tell you today that loving Myra more than I do right now is impossible yet tomorrow I'll tell you that I was wrong.

Twenty-eight years of marriage and I'm still stricken by her awesomeness.