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. 

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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

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