Shoulda coulda woulda

"In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." ~Abraham Lincoln

Today I had a mammogram.

It was routine, nothing concerning, just a regular fun thing about being a female. 

But it struck me hard. Because as I sat waiting, I thought back to my last one six months ago. The one where I sat waiting for results. 

The one before my world changed. 

As that was my first one, they saw some things that were potentially concerning. I had to have a follow up ultrasound. Once they clarified that it was OK, they scheduled me for this one to "just make sure" and give a baseline. Makes sense with that explanation.

But at the time, I was nervous and worried. 

As I sat in the same seat, wearing that confounded half-wrap thing, I thought back to that day. I thought back to texting my husband and telling him what was happening. I think he was on a long trip, so he couldn't check his phone or anything.

When I got word today that all was good, I wanted to text him and tell him.

Then I went to my car and cried. 

Because I know I can't. I can't tell him these good things. I can't tell him these bad things. I mean, I know, I can talk to him, but it's not the same.

He's not here to give me comfort. To give me one of his great hugs. 

The last five months have been exhausting. 

It's not just because of his absence, but it's definitely made worse by it. 

There's something that no one can prepare you for when you lose your spouse. It's the fact that now, literally EVERYTHING in the household is your problem. 

I know that a lot of women think they do it all and some probably do. Sometimes our other halves don't realize and sometimes we don't give them credit. In our house, a lot of the day-to-day things were mine to deal with, especially as he worked so much. It was our balance and it worked. But we discussed things. Not because we had to, but wanted to. We discussed big purchases, we discussed plans, we worked out decisions. 

Since Jim passed, I have had to go back to being the sole decisionmaker. Yes, I can discuss things with friends and family, but it isn't the same. These aren't decisions that impact their life the same way.

Dealing with a sick Luna was entirely up to me.

I know what Jim would have said. He would have been worried about her, too. When I worried about whether or not to get bloodwork, he would have said, "If you think she needs it, call and tell them you want it."

When we found out that she needed an $800 surgery, he would have worried about where to come up with the money. But he would have been more worried about her. We would have agreed to it as soon as we could find the money. 

Knowing this makes the decisions a little easier.

But it's still exhausting. 

Bucket's health, which has also proven to not be cheap, would have been a regular conversation. He'd have gotten tickled at the ridiculous belly bands I've gotten. He would have noticed that our doggo doesn't feel great these days, that he's gained weight, and seems bloated and tired. He'd have also complained about the gas as he cuddled him in the recliner.

He'd have worried about things involving the kids, as I have.

He'd have been around to take care that someone was mowing. Or that the limbs got hauled away. Thankfully, my neighbors have stepped up to help with that.

He'd have taken care of talking to someone about the roof and the trees.

He'd have been excited with me about the new dogs I've gotten to walk. Getting that approval, he'd have said, "That's great beautiful!" 

Something else? I wouldn't have to hear a lot of things that I've heard lately.

I wouldn't have to feel like people expect me to crumble at any second or see that sympathy in their eyes, the kind that makes you feel like you should crumble.

I wouldn't have to hear the phrase "How are you doing?" quite so much and I wouldn't have to say "I'm OK" so often.

I wouldn't have to hear that things happen for a reason, that I'm still so young and have time for a future spouse or family, or that this is how I should be handling my affairs.

I wouldn't have to think about what a future without him looks like. Pardon me if I'm unwilling to entertain your suggestions. I'm not interested in what you think it should look like, how you think I should spend my money, what decisions you think I should be making, or what reasons for which you think hard things happen. You don't really know why, let's quit pretending otherwise.

One thing about this new life of mine? 

I have a lot less patience for pretending.

If I can't be or do, I just don't. That is, at least, a freeing experience. There are so many things in life we do that someone has said we are "supposed" to. But you want to know a secret? No one actually checks. 

Eat cake for breakfast, no one checks. Not that I have, because I am not a morning person! Shakes and coffee for me.

Take a nap. Who is going to know?

I'm not saying live totally wild and run naked through the streets. There are laws about these things, after all. But sometimes we box our lives in by arbitrary "should" rules that take away from the life we could be living. The life we are truly meant to live.

We sometimes worry so much about the shoulds of life, we miss what really is. What really could be. How beautiful could it be?

Of course, I'm going to add a moment of faith here: Sometimes we Christians get so hung up on what other Christians say we should do, we miss what God is asking us to do.

In the end, if you only focus on the shoulds, you miss out on what could have been an amazing life.

Enjoy this one and only life. Enjoy those you love. For you don't know how long you have it or them.

And be a little kinder to each other.