More of you
It's been a tough week. Possibly the hardest of my life. And I'm sure it's only really day one. I'm not naïve enough to think it gets better from here.
But, from here, life goes on. From here, I learn a new normal, a new way of living, however painful or hard it may be.
I am so very grateful to everyone. I can't express how amazed I have been at the amount of people who have shown me love in some way. And I have tried to remember them all, from the smallest to the biggest. I remember the dispatcher I spoke to, the sheriff's deputies who stood with me, the friends who came.
My dear neighbors and friends, who have visited most days, even cleaning my house when I couldn't do anything -- It was way beyond needing it! My family and friends driving from all over to just sit and be. My mom, who barely left. My college friends who came to the services. The fire and Northpoint families for coming to the emergency room and everything they've done after. The (what feels like) thousands of messages I've received. The gifts of food and so much more.
My family, the literal blood and the brother/sisterhood, have helped me through it.
I cannot possibly express how grateful I am. I can try. I will try. But I know I will not be able to.
I am so incredibly thankful to each and every one of you. I saw it, I heard about it, I will remember the kindness that has been shown to me.
Thank you.
And yes, I know I can call so many of you in a heartbeat and you'll be there. Thank you for that and for making sure that I know it. Jim would really appreciate knowing how much you are taking care of me.
He was always making sure I was OK first. He would always tell me be to be sure that I wasn't overdoing it, that I was eating and drinking. That I was taking care of myself, too.
And I am. I promise. I am OK, as OK as I can be.
I know that's been a pretty standard response from me. I can't promise I'll ever really be more than OK. But I am OK. It's the best I can offer for now.
I miss him. It sucks. But, unfortunately, the world doesn't end, even when it kind of feels like your own has stopped on a dime.
And he wouldn't want me to, either. He wouldn't want me to hole up, become a hermit, and live my days locked away at home. Although, as an introvert, I tend to do that anyway, my promise to Jim is that I won't.
I promise him that I will take care of myself and that I will reach out when I'm not OK.
And I promise him to start writing again.
I hadn't been writing much in a long time. He always asked me about it. He told me I should. He loved my writing. So I want to start again. For him.
I want to share stories of our love. Of him. I hope that's OK. I'd love to hear yours. Send them to me, so I can share (and for the not PC ones, I'll just be happy to read and have a laugh) with others.
Maybe I'll finally write one of those books bouncing around in my head. I'm not sure if I can.
My husband, the man who had all the confidence in the world, sure thought I could. So for him, maybe I can try.
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.
I also wanted to encourage you -- don't waste time with those you love. Make sure they know it. Leave them no doubts.
I know my Jim loved me without a doubt. I believe he knew I loved him without a doubt. I miss him, but I cherish our time together.
So, for me, cherish the time you have with the person (or people) that is (are) yours. Whatever that looks like. Don't let silly things become big things. Don't let those small arguments become big blowouts.
Don't waste time. Because you never know what the future holds. You never know when a moment becomes the last you have with them.
It can literally happen in the blink of an eye, with literally no warning. Make sure when that blink happens for you, for those you love, you have no regrets.
I have no regrets for us. For our times together. For the love we shared with one another. Do I have a wish that life could be different? Sure. I wish he was here with me. I wish that he had more time with his kids to witness all those big life events in person. That he made it to retirement.
That he got to go with Brian on those stadium tours. That he had a chance to go to that training at the FBI Academy he talked about. That I got to take him to Ireland, Australia, and Greece.
It's hard to understand those missed plans. It hurts. Logic never applies when you're talking about death, grief and loss.
I know he's with God. I know he's doing well. He will be in no pain ever again. And I know I'll see him again someday. That brings me comfort. I hope it can bring comfort to others who love him as well.
I love all of you for how you've loved him. Even if we've never met. Thank you for loving him.
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I also wanted to share this song. I heard it for the first time on Monday or Tuesday with every intention of sharing it with Jim. I never got the chance. Or never remembered to do it. I think he would have liked it. It's been a bit of a comfort song this week and has made me think of him. That's why I chose it as one of the songs for the funeral.
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