You saved me.

As I’m packing up my life, going through memories, trying to sell things off, unpacking boxes that I thought I could ship on the POD that has now been cancelled, trying to convince myself that maybe that antique desk that Michael had is JUST a thing and it doesn’t matter 😥 and of course crying, reminiscing, evaluating what matters; as I head to a new place with new people and new ideas and a new role; as I experience growing pains and different communications styles and hurt feelings and closing the door on some unhealthy relationships; as I practice the art of LETTING GO OF EVERYTHING….well I’m having a nervous breakdown. I’m a mess. I’m not okay on any level. And I’m not exaggerating. I’m having a nervous breakdown.

I’m experiencing events from a year ago as if they’re happening now. I’m panicking. Not sleeping, Crying. Screaming. Dropping to my knees and begging for him to come back. This shit is not for the weak and it’s not anything I would wish on anyone, ever.

But that’s not what I want to talk about. I really can’t talk any more about it. It’s so deep and vast that I can’t go there.

What I want to talk about is LOVE.

I watched the HBO documentary about Mr Rogers the other night. His whole thing was that everybody, every single one of us, needs to know that we are lovable and that we are perfect JUST the way we are. That telling someone that, can change the world.

I am so afraid to name people because I know I’ll forget someone, but I want you to know that so many of you LITERALLY saved my life.

Thank you to those who ignored my requests to be left alone and showed up anyway.

Thank you for answering my PM’s and helping me find mental health help NOW when I was ready to end my life.

Thank you for hearing my story and hugging me and thanking me for being authentic.

Thank you to those who emailed me or wrote me time and time again even if I didn’t answer you. Thank you for pushing me until I answered.

Thank you to anyone near or far who sent me a text saying they loved me or they were thinking of me.

Thank you for not comparing your pain to mine or mine to yours.

Thank you to anyone who listened to me cry and didn’t try to fix it.

Thank you to anyone who showed up, left something at my door, and didn’t even ring the bell.

Thank you if you made me a meal. Thank you for NOT making me a meal when I said no more meals. lol

Thank you for texting with me in the middle of the night.

Thank you for inviting me places and understanding when I said no, and continuing to invite me to more places.

Thank you for not minimizing my pain or telling me what I must do.

Thank you for inviting me over.

Thank you for checking on me.

Thank you for calling me EVERY TIME I messaged you and asked if you had a minute.

Thank you for loving me the way I needed it, not the way YOU needed it.

Thank you for loving me enough to let me sit in my pain alone when I needed to, and for knowing when I was in trouble and shouldn’t be alone.

Thank you to the early group that rallied around me when Michael was diagnosed. Who protected me, guided me, loved me, and looked out for me. Who heard me. And who are still my tribe of badass women.

Thank you for loving me, just as I am. There are so many of you that I won’t have time to see before I go, or people who are long distance that I don’t see regularly.

But you have saved me. I owe my life to some of you and you don’t even know it. There was more than one text that saved me. More than one interruption to a horrible thought pattern.

If you gave anything of yourself to help me in a moment of physical or emotional crisis, thank you. You made me feel lovable if only for that moment, and that carried me until the next moment.

You saved me. ❤ And even though there are crickets on this damn blog and perhaps nobody gives a shit anymore about what I have to say. But I needed to put this out into the universe. For me. And for the universe.

mister-rogers

Six suitcases and a messed up wrist

Kinda sounds like a drinking song?

So real quick…my wrist. Yesterday I was packing and purging…MOSTLY moving things out to the garage for my upcoming moving sale NEXT WEEKEND (holy shit where is time going!). So I’m moving along, moving along, music playing, I’m working through some of my “feelings” by sweating and punishing some boxes 😉 and all of a sudden – POP. I heard it. I kinda felt it but it felt more like I had bumped into something really hard. I instinctively started flinging my hand up and down because I hurt it, and of course cussing something about a mother or something…and I’m flinging my hand when I realize my arm is about one second ahead of my hand. It looked like my hand was detached! It didn’t hurt but it was disgusting. So off the the urgent care I go, they head me over to the ER and they pop it back in (THAT hurt like a MOTHER). They give me some iv pain meds, wait for them to wear off, and I go home. Now it’s in a brace but the brace hurts too. Whatever. It was actually funny before it started to hurt. You should have seen the faces in the waiting room. Good times. Good times.

But what I REALLY want to talk about is Six Suitcases. Literally and philosophically, spiritually or whatever. I would give almost ANYTHING for mass participation on this post, because I am really, really interested in what everyone has to say.

six suitcases.jpg

So, back to it. Six Suitcases.

Six Suitcases Part 1: The literal meaning.

I am flying down to the DR with the president of the rescue down there, and we are taking all of my dogs on that flight (in cabin with us). Each of us can check 3 bags. I can also pay for another 2 bags. He will be using 1-2 bags, so I may have one of his baggage allowance. Plus my 3 and I’ll pay to check 2 more.

So that’s six suitcases. That is what I have to condense my entire life down to before June 20.

Well not forever. I can store some things. I will be shipping some things in a container but that may take a couple months to arrive. I can have some things brought down later with friends, but that’s trivial. So, I have to put everything I need to live on a day to day basis into six suitcases.

Now, one of those suitcases (EASILY one – MAYBE 2) will be devoted to dog stuff. Their beds actually. Then I have yoga mats. Bella needs them or she will slip (permanently dislocated shoulder from the floors 😥 Did I tell you that?). I’m thinking okay, maybe i can fit the yoga mats and the dog stuff into two suitcases.

That’s four suitcases left.

One suitcase is going to be devoted to Michael’s things or other things that are very important to me and is non-negotiable.

Now I’m down to three.

It sounds silly maybe, or perhaps materialistic – nothing could be further from the truth as I’m getting rid of everything – BUT there are some items, home kind of stuff that I need with me. I just do. They mean something and I need them.  And my dad’s minerals. I can’t take them all, and will store them until I can get them down in trickles, but I need to take a few of those with me. Other “hard” items like A coffee pot (they’re really expensive down there). There’s another suitcase gone.

Down to two.

I keep whittling down and whittling down. I keep putting more in the moving sale than I intended to. I keep adding to the goodwill pile. More and more and more is going, so it’s not an issue of me letting things go. I’m really looking at each item and letting a lot of things go. By the way, looking at each item and going through all of these things is exhausting, depressing, and in general just defeating. Seriously.

I just don’t know if I need to reprioritize.

For example: Do I just suck it up and buy new appliances down there even though they cost more? Momma needs a coffee pot. NOT negotiable. Do I strip the dog beds and take JUST the covers and find new stuffing down there so they take up less room? You KNOW I need to make this move happy for them. All just me thinking out loud questions.

So, enough about me. Six suitcases. PLEASE tell me, WHAT WOULD YOU BRING? This is the REAL LIFE version of desert island. PLEASE play!

Peace,

~ Lisa

 

I’ve got Balls

Yes, yes dear readers. I have too many balls in the air 😉

I’m working Good Karma. I’m working DCDR. I’m trying to clean, purge, pack. I’m making dates with people that I want to see before I go. I’m loading things into the garage for a moving sale. Ordering things from Amazon while I still can.

I’m going through lots of things. And guess what….yep. It’s kicking my ass.

Let’s start with the house. OMG. This is really hard. I have never been a materialistic person, but I do like nice things. I don’t have much. Michael and I never did because that wasn’t important to us. But the point is, what I have, I LOVE. It just absolutely sucks to get rid of the artwork I JUST purchased – the artwork that has meaning that only Michael and I understand. The gorgeous custom recliner I JUST treated myself to with beautiful upholstery with mandalas on it. And my BED. The bed I got for myself a few months ago. I have BED payments ffs. Every gift I ever got from him, every coffee cup he drank from. Every dish that was his, even down to his pizza spatula. EVERY effing item becomes a cry-fest and a big dramatic decision. No, Lisa, you can’t keep everything he ever touched or owned. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It’s a cup. It doesn’t matter. 😥 But it all matters to me.

So, that’s a little tough. But it’s nothing compared to the boxes. Memories I had stashed away until a time when I could deal with them. And now, I’m dealing with them before I was ready.  Photos. 😥 Memorabilia. Souvenirs. Museum passes. Notes, Moments in time in a life gone too soon. Moments in time in our love story cut short.

Sunday, Michael’s kids came over to get the things he wanted them to have. I haven’t seen them since the Celebration of Life, so it was hard. It was hard to send his things away and know they are just….gone. But, they are just things. That’s what I keep telling myself.  They were all things that pre-dated me. I had no right to keep them. They were pieces of a life I never knew. They didn’t belong with me.

My two car garage is filling quickly with things I’ll try to get rid of in my moving sale. And I still have so much more to go.

For so long, I allowed myself to take my time. Feel what I need to feel. Work through my grief and pain. And in just a matter of a few days, that “take your time – grief has no timeline” was thrown into “you have to act NOW.” Now, nobody MADE me act now…it’s just that this opportunity came before I was officially ready for it to. But…that’s how I roll. I’ve never been “ready” to take any of the big steps I’ve taken in life. I just walk and hope that there’s ground underneath me.

Work. Well, work is busy. I’m not used to having so many people to collaborate with. I love it, but it is an adjustment. I’ve always made pretty unilateral decisions. I hated it. So I’m excited for a team of super involved people; it’s a learning curve. I’m still learning communication styles and work styles and where I fit. There are the usual transitional challenges, and I have a lot to learn. Wish me lots of luck in this new endeavor. ❤

Good Karma is a large time investment right now, trying to get it all squared away and set up to run really well without me being physically present.

Personal/ Family. I can’t even talk about it. Well, I guess I can, to say that the couple of remaining members of my family aren’t really in my life anymore. I keep in touch with my dad’s wife Karen, who has become such a source of love and strength for me; and beyond that, I have my friends. I’ve accepted some truths about my relationship with my daughter. I’m completely thankful for friendships that have lasted, or are emerging. It’s not quantity, it’s quality.

Physically. I can’t even talk about it. I mean it this time.

Emotionally. It depends. It changes minute to minute. I’m finding joy and then following it with a big crash. I’m depressed at the tasks at hand, physically exhausted from doing all the work, and just sad. Then I bounce back to excitement and hopefulness. But it NEVER EVER escapes me, WHY I’m in this situation. Yes, I’m excited about my next step. But I’d give it all back. 😥

Peace,

~ Lisa

Moving Fast

Hello to those still reading.  ❤

Well, things here are moving fast. Arranging to move rescue supplies to the Dominican Republic, trying to find my place in a new org while still managing Good Karma, trying to get things together for a massive moving sale, purging and packing for an epic relocation.

I’m in pain, fatigued, and nauseous. Got so much runaround from all the specialists that I quit going and am now under no doctor’s care.

The rescue is slowing down which is to be expected. I’m spending a LOT of time communicating with people which is to be expected. Calming fears, explaining misunderstandings, clarifying our goals, and answering for my decision to leave. That is also to be expected.

My sister moved out a couple weeks ago and I haven’t heard from her since. I think we learned more than anything how different we are, and that we honestly don’t like each other very much. She has blocked me so I’m not worried about her seeing this, and even if she does it’s true so no worries. Another one bites the dust.

I’m headed into personal hell time. All the fresh feels are coming back to me. Very soon, it will be a year ago that I started CaringBridge to keep everyone updated on Michael’s illness and (we thought) recovery. A time when a pretty large circle of people were watching us implode, and hearing my ever-more-dismal words explaining that he was going to die. I don’t know if people really got it until I posted the morning he was gone.

It wasn’t easy playing out our path online for everyone to see. It was a very vulnerable time. In fact, writing this blog is still quite vulnerable. Every time I start to write, I figure why bother. Nobody reads it anyway. I was going to stop blogging but I’ve decided this will just be my journal. I won’t and don’t expect replies or validation here any longer. I just need to pound my thoughts out for my own sake.

I’m headed into big milestones without him. The pain is unbearable and is drowning me all the time. I can’t accept it, I won’t accept it. I want to accept it, but I’m nowhere close. I miss my husband. I miss his voice and his arms around me. I miss his advice and his warmth. I miss being so loved. I miss the company and the friendship. I miss the man who understood me and loved me so much and enjoyed my company and made me feel appreciated. I miss having someone who enjoys my company and looks forward to ME. I miss loving so much. I miss having my best friend and partner in crime. I miss having my cheerleader, my trusted advisor, my protector, my caretaker, my everything. I miss him. ❤

In the meantime, I’m just plugging along, planning the next step in my life without him. Moving away from this place and all the memories will be good for my soul. It’s odd. I still don’t feel like I’ve had time to deal with losing him. I have taken time off. I have taken a hiatus. I’ve dramatically reduced my social commitments and my time away from home. Everything is sad and reminiscent of him. Nothing else matters here except the fact that he’s gone.

I’ve been in a pretty good depression these days. I’m extremely fragile and have reverted to the wailing, sobbing, and screaming of the early days when I would scream to the sky. The nightmares, though they never stopped, have picked up again. I’m in hell in my heart and my mind.

I have so much to look forward to, but even the new job and new location present scary and stressful challenges that make me miss him more. So, how do I leave all I know, move to a new country, begin as the new kid in a new org with people that have a long-standing system in place, keep my health and sanity intact, cope with missing my friends and my house, live with my grief, and cope in a new life without him?

Good questions. I guess we’ll find out together.

Peace,

~ Lisa

 

I am Alive.

In my last blog, I talked about how life-changing my trip to the DR was. I said I’d explain in another post, so here we are!

Not to sound too “eat, love, pray”ey, but this trip was seriously what my spirit, my heart, and my mind needed. Today an announcement was made to the Rescue volunteers and followers, that I am moving.

To the Dominican Republic.

Next month.

Holy.

Shit.

Well, here. Just read.

Before I went, I knew I was going to see if it was a good fit for me and my work style. I knew they needed someone like me and I needed someone like them. And by the time I arrived home, I announced to my family that I was moving. In June.

How? Huh? What the…Huh? No…that’s not your reaction. That’s MINE. Every day! I can’t believe how I came to be here in this place at this moment, how it all came to be. How stars have been aligning for years to get to this very moment. Something happened to me out there. I had a couple of hard core panic attacks of course…but around the third day, I was at the ocean and a feeling washed over me. I am alive. I’m still alive. I didn’t die. I will never be okay without him, and I’ll never be okay that he’s gone. But I am disgracing everything Michael and I stood for, curling up and crying and giving up. The legacy he and I created for saving animals and following our hearts and being proud of who we were and what we did…I owe us more than that. I’m alive. I have no deep roots with my family except my daughter. I have wonderful friendships that will sustain the distance. I don’t have to close or give up on GK because I’ve found a way to take it with me. It’s time for me to start my life without his shadow, without people feeling sorry for me, without the countless messages I STILL get from people who “just don’t know what to say”. It’s time for me to be Lisa, not Michael’s widow.

I owe ME that. This isn’t about owing him, or doing his memory justice. I’m secure in that and in our love transcending this lifetime. I know he is proud of and happy for me. So this wasn’t about doing his memory justice. It was about being authentic and true to me and to us.  It was about doing what I love in a place I love with people who are so kind and welcoming.  It’s a dream come true.

So, now my focus turns to packing, purging, and a moving sale. My daughter and a roommate are staying in my house for a year and then I will decide if it’s time to sell or not. My garage is filling with things to get rid of.

The house I’ll be living in is really adorable and very small. That, plus the cost of shipping container, etc – and I’ve decided for the most part to sell everything. I’ll take the things with me that matter, but a houseful of things will not be making the trip with me. I think it’s going to be really good for me and an interesting exercise in what I really need. It will just be me and my four girls! I hope they like the beach.

My house front
My new house 🙂 
My house
20 second walk to the ocean and nobody on the beach for miles. 

I hate how I got here. I hate WHY moving out of the country is a cool option for me. I hate what I have been through. And now, I’m ending up on a beautiful island doing the work I love. It’s hard NOT to feel grateful, and guilty and sad all at once.

In other news, I FINALLY got my cremain tattoo today. I’m SO in love with it. LOVE it so much. I have another session booked before I move to add to it and make the tree spread out a little more and add some colored leaves, maybe a couple of birds.

His ashes are in every aspect of the tree: The roots, trunk, branches, and leaves. It was an overwhelming experience for me. Besides being immensely painful, dang! it was also a rite of passage. It was something I’ve been dreaming of for so long now and to see it come to life, I can’t explain it. I can’t explain the comfort I get knowing his ashes are here with me.  I had an amazing tattoo artist that was so kind and understanding. She knew this was a big deal and she was just so respectful.

tat

So, a couple of dreams come true. A future on an island saving animals. A beautiful tattoo. All in my life because I lost the love of my life. I don’t understand. I’d give it all back for more time with him. And while I am alive, I’ll never be the same. All I can do is try my best to navigate without him and hope I’m making the right choices. All I can do is USE my life to do the most good I can. And I’m rescuing. Maybe even rescued. I have hope and excitement and adrenaline and love in my heart to give.

I’ve always had a good gut instinct and a sense of adventure. I’ve lived in Colorado, California, Minnesota, and now the Dominican. If nothing else, it makes for an interesting life story.

More as we go along.

Peace,

~ Lisa

Hey, Strangers

It’s been a while. ❤️ I guess my excuse is that so, so much has been happening that I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t want to declare anything. I still don’t really want to go into it, so tonight I’m here to talk about grief and my recent vacation! The goings-on in my life will be a separate post in the near future.

Let’s talk about my vacation! I went to the Dominican Republic! And while it was definitely a vacation, the truth is that it was also a volunteering trip. My neighbor and friend Cindi’s brother is the founder of a rescue in the Dominican. So I spent the week with them, learning about the amazing work they do and the indescribable need down there. I could go on for days honestly.

I helped with a spay/neuter Clinic. The DR has a horrible animal overpopulation problem. Animals are mistreated in many cases because of a lack of proper information about dogs and cats. Most live in conditions we wouldn’t tolerate in the US.

The clinic was amazing. 23 animals spayed and neutered that day, all in a converted airport bus that’s now a kickass surgery center. In almost 100 degree heat. Amazing people. It was hard to choose photos so I’m posting the ones I think tell the story best.

While I was there I also got to go along on an outreach day. They go out and administer parasite and flea/tick control, triage any injuries or issues, treat minor wounds and injuries, and take the animals to the vet if they need more extensive care. The women that do outreach are just incredible. These animals get to know them. It’s really beautiful to see the connections they have made with the animals and the people in these communities.

Like I said I can go on and on. I’ve just scratched the surface! The trip changed my life. More on that in another post.

Oh one last thing: this was the view from my guest room. Can you imagine waking up to this every day?

So, grief. The point of this whole blog.

Grief SUCKS. Man, it just absolutely fucking sucks. It seems like forever and just yesterday all at once. Grief makes you burst into tears when your plane touches down in a faraway place. Grief makes you feel guilty for having a joyful moment. Grief is still 100% kicking my ass. All day, every day. I miss him. He’s gone. That will never be easy for me to swallow.

And it makes me realize that truly, all one needs in this life is to loved. To be deeply, unconditionally, unwaveringly, loved. Nothing. Not a thing in this lifetime fills a void of losing someone’s unconditional love.

I received another piece of jewelry I ordered. The silver disc has his ashes infused into it, and I wear it at my pulse point. I love it but I’m afraid I’m going to break the strings. It’s really hard to slide. My heavy heart urn necklace broke the night before this arrived. At the Miami airport of all places! When I think of my island week and all the places I could have lost it, it’s a miracle that I still have it! But the hoop thing that attaches it to the chain is worthless. I need to solder something else on it, I think.

My ash tattoo work starts May 15. I’m so eager to get started. I’ve waited so long for this. ❤️

So, that’s my readers digest catchup. There’s so much more but I’m exhausted! I promise to catch up more in the very near future.

Peace,

~ lisa

Quicksand, Lessons, Indescribable Friendship

Hello faithful friends ❤

So much. So much to update. I’ll try to keep it brief and coherent.

Let’s see. Where to start.

My health sucks. I’m doing the best I can. The warmer weather does help what I call “statue body” where everything on my body freezes or seizes, so that’s good news. The not so good news is that my insurance sucks and won’t cover the one drug all of these experts are prescribing to me – Lyrica. I also still haven’t gotten Xeljanz because of the same sucky insurance issue, so I’m flying without a net as far as pain management goes.

My life. Wow. A lot.

I’m most likely selling the house at some point in the not-so-far future. It’s too expensive and too much for me to keep up with.

My sister is moving back to Colorado. She will be leaving in about 3 weeks. She’s not in love with my plan (for her, she’s very supportive of me though) and she’s not in love with Minnesota, so she’s heading back to try to make things work in CO again.

I’m taking a vacation soon. I’m not sharing details about where or when, because I’m a paranoid freak now that I am single and I don’t want people knowing when I’m not at home. I will post amazing pictures and stories upon my return.

In the grief department, well what can I say. It’s quicksand. It’s constantly swimming against a strong slushy undertow. Some days I exhaust myself just to stay put in one place. Some days, I’m immersed to my head. Some days, I climb out a little. Some days, I find myself deeper than I was the day before. It’s a moment-to-moment swing that very few understand.

This is actual footage of me*.

quicksand

Grief is not a journey. It’s a permanent state of life. It’s not something to get through or with an end. It’s something you have to learn to walk with, life with. It’s a part of you. The emptiness is permanent. The heartbreak is irreversible. It is who I am. I am a widow. I am a widow before my time. I’ll never make sense of why. Some days, I accept it and I really have a good state of mind that my relationship with Michael is strong and powerful, it’s just moved to a spiritual level. Some days, I wake up and it takes me a few minutes to remember he’s never coming back. The nights are the worst. Everyone goes to bed around 10-10:30 here and then it’s quiet. Then the distractions, the dogs barking and playing, the conversations, the TV, and the noise of the day stops. And then I’m alone. With Michael. And my fears. My memories. And my racing mind.

I still have frequent nightmares. Well actually I would call them night terrors except they aren’t. I wake up almost every night (usually a few times a night) to his cries for help. I wake up almost every morning in a panic that he called out for me last night and I slept through it. Those are those blissful few minutes I referred to earlier when I think he’s still alive. My dreams, when I remember them, are filled with the pain of those last few weeks watching the man I love deteriorate and lose his battle. In my waking hours, the memories are nice. At night, they turn evil on me.

Lessons

I’m learning so much. I’m learning about who I am without the attachment or title of wife. I’m learning that I need to live alone. It turns out I’m not an easy roommate. I’m not difficult on purpose. I’m just grieving. And it’s hard for people to understand, impossible for me to explain, and definitely harder for people to live with someone who is unpredictable. I don’t feel I’m ever unkind. But I do weird things like change light bulbs at 10pm. Change my mind 100 times a day and make it impossible to keep up with. Get a whim and pull everything out of the shed for the yard. Go through phases where I eat nothing for 2 days, then eat junk food for a day, and so on. Get a burst of energy and trim the bushes. Be extremely lethargic and fatigued and stay in my pajamas until noon. It’s difficult for roommates to follow my vibe, and difficult for me to explain it to them. So the lesson learned is that Lisa needs to live alone for everyone’s sake.

This is the actual book that is being written about me.*

roommate

 

Indescribable Friendship

If one thing good came from losing Michael, it was this. Although many people have followed my story and many people reached out with kindness, one person shone through. I had never met her. She wasn’t an adopter or a volunteer. She wasn’t an old friend. She bought wreaths from the rescue Xmas fundraiser the year before and met Michael very briefly when she came to the house to pick it up. But she saw my story on FB, and she read about Michael’s passing. And she reached out to me to tell me how he had impacted her in that short meeting to pick up wreaths.

She kept reaching out to me. We exchanged lots of emails. She is a widow too, and something compelled her to KEEP reaching out to me. Sometimes it’s just an email saying she’s thinking of me. Sometimes it’s a quick comment on one of my blog posts. Sometimes more.

She’s become my confidant. She was my safe place. Close enough to understand but JUST far enough removed that I could share things with her without fear of judgment or information leaks ;). She understood and understands me and all I’m going through. She’s walked before me on this road. She knows the pain. She validated me and made it okay to say what I needed to say. Challenged me, held me accountable, but always did so with a no-nonsense loving nature about her that made me feel I’d known her my whole life.

Yesterday, I met her face to face for the first time. A quick coffee date turned into almost 3 hours of talking about the past, the present, and the future. We talked about dreams, she helped me sort some thoughts out, offered to help me in some pretty amazing ways with the rescue, and filled my soul. She touched me so much, because she paid attention. She knew my deal. She knew what I liked and didn’t. She knew what I feel. And she was never scared. Even when I’d post a bitchy blog or call her out on something, she never flinched. And now, through the pain and loss of Michael…I’ve found a lifelong friend and soul sister who I think is going to be a strong influencer in the rest of my life.

friend-quote-true-realize

A long time ago I gave everyone who said “I think about you a lot, I just haven’t reached out because I don’t know what to say” a free pass. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, and I’ve easily let them go. I have enough to wrap my head around and enough to worry about without worrying about how my loss makes other people feel. It sounds cold, but the reality is that if my husband passing away makes you uncomfortable, unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about that.

I’ve made/ strengthened some amazing friendships and relationships since Michael had to say goodbye. I’ve lost many too, and that’s okay. I’m focused on what I’ve gained, and one thing I can say – one gift I’ve been given; I really, really know that my circle of friends loves me. I really, really have fine tuned my circle and my social bubble to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love. People who accept me, and who I accept. People who will do anything they can to help me, and people I will do anything I can to help. There’s no time for anything else.  And that is one thing I can say I never had until everything and everyone in my world including me was put to the test. I now know who my “family” is and that’s a really, really good feeling.

Thank you, Michael. ❤ Always and still, forever…looking out for me. Just like you promised. ❤

Peace,

~ Lisa

* No, it’s not.