The Big Fuss.

Lately, I was bombarded with questions if I am indeed leaving Wells and moving to another states. But I think, people are more curious if I am simply moving to a different location or moving in with another man. That's the disadvantage of living in a small town, you become a fodder of idle talk as everyone seems to want to know everyone else's business.

But you see, my life has always been an open book - that's why I blog about it.

So today, I decided to answer everyone's question although this is a process and the outcome is not certain yet.

So here goes nothing...

I guess, as a widow, I was anything but.

On hindsight, I admit that by continue on wearing my wedding ring and discussing Ken to suitors (yes, there were some), may have signaled that I wasn't ready to move on. It is because I felt torn between feeling very attached to his memory and taking tentative steps toward a future without Ken.

Not long ago, I met a man with whom I instantly hit it off. We talked for hours online telling stories about our childhood and swapping anecdotes about our lives. He knew I've lost my husband. I felt comfortable discussing it with him. I felt none of the pressure that goes along with courtship. And his kind, nonjudgmental demeanor made it easy for me to open up. Instead of pity, he responded with empathy. He wanted to learn more. He understood how essential it was that I talk about it. He acknowledged that widowhood was central to my story, and he take interest in it.

He invited me to visit Florida. We went to Disney with my friend in tow and we had a good time. Our first personal meeting ended platonically, but it reminded me that I still had the capacity to connect with a man. In a small but significant way, something shifted for me when I returned home. It felt good and restorative just to feel giddy over someone again. It was a small step towards truly moving forward.

Of course, I'll carry the experience of widowhood forever. But the burden does get lighter. And where once the possibility of ever having a relationship again was unthinkable, I don't feel that way anymore. I don't feel tragic, or anomalous.

I feel ready. Almost.

The First Year.

Anniversaries are suppose to be a happy celebration. Tomorrow's date however, takes on a whole new meaning for me as it commemorates the day Ken died. One year ago.

That is why it is so significant to me. Not because it is the first anniversary of his death – everyday is a day without him – but because I was racing ahead of myself to reach this point. As though by ticking off the so-called major milestones it would be time to start over.

This whole month actually has been very stressful for me as it is filled with many anniversaries. We were married this month too! So just imagine how days leading up to these dates had knocked me for a loop. I would liken it to the two weeks before my menstrual period. My emotions were always on high alert. I cry easily and laugh the next. I think it is more the anticipation of “the day”. It is about reliving those last moments, especially since the death was unexpected. I thought about how I might have lived those last couple of weeks/months differently. Those time period burdened with regrets and lots of what-ifs.

I know that this first year anniversary will hold the most importance to me. It is a marker of all that I have accomplished by myself. I have managed to cope with all the seasons of the year and the hard days they have brought. I have made independent decisions. I have supported myself financially and emotionally. I have grown more than I can imagine. There is no doubt I have come along way in a year. I’m back at work, I can hold conversations that are not about my loss and, perhaps most importantly, I have had moments of pleasure, which I would never have thought possible a year ago. But I am not ‘over it’. My husband’s death still takes my breath away time and time again. It still stabs me in the heart when I least expect it. Sometimes it takes all my effort and composure to walk into our home. Sometimes I still cannot believe he was even gone.

But, I also believe that my grief will not magically dissipate after the first anniversary. No! I don't think that in one year, or two or five, I will not miss Ken or feel the pain of his absence. Grief will never totally dissolved. I don’t expect to wake up one morning and feel like I did before my loss. That is not possible, for I am changed forever (but not necessarily in a bad way). What time did is give me more perspective. I have found that time did dissolve the actual physical hurt that I felt inside. It gave me the option of deciding when I will feel my grief and when I can compartmentalize it - that is, put it away for a while and deal with the present.

Tomorrow, I will visit his grave. I want to look back and think that, despite our loss, Ken and I did alright. We had fun. And we rocked.

Now it's official!

Let me make this clear. I love the Philippines - it's just not an easy place to live. Too many petty crimes, cracked sidewalks, garbage everywhere, pesky insects in all shapes and sizes.

Coming here was very exciting for me, although my decision to stay was a bit frightening. I wasn’t automatically eligible for jobs since I didn’t have a work visa, and I knew I would be somewhat dependent on my mom. Fortunately, there were jobs one can do under the table. I baby sat and cleaned houses until I met my husband Ken.

I finally felt safe.

Although Ken was my immigration sponsor, it took a long time to become a citizen: one year to get my green card, then another year for permanent residency and another before I could apply for naturalization. The government doesn’t make the process easy, but it has been worth the wait. Life in the United States has been good to me.

I was fingerprinted, passed citizenship tests last January that challenged my knowledge of the Constitution and was finally called to take the oath today, February 17, a day after the President’s day. This just added one more reason how special this month is for me.

I became an American today at exactly... oops, I don't have a watch. Darn it!

Anyway, my favorite part of the ceremony was when the judge read off the names of all the different countries the attendees represented. She asked us to stand up when our country was called. I wish my son Cedric could have taken a video of that moment. It was truly awe-inspiring. I looked around the room at everyone’s smiling faces. Some were teary-eyed. The feeling of affinity I felt was overpowering. We knew this was a tremendous occasion. Overall, 99 people from over 45 countries became citizens today.

Now it’s official. I can vote and I have a voice in our political system. I can leave the U.S. without being afraid I won’t be able to return. I can worship who or what I want without repercussions. I can speak out against the government, if need be(are you reading this, Patrick?). I can continue to dream big and I’m presented with many more opportunities to make them a reality. I feel safe knowing I live in the wealthiest Country in the world.

My naturalization ceremony was a testament to the American spirit. I looked around me and realized that this wasn't just about the journeys all these people have made. It was about the potential of all that we could achieve in this new nation. I wonder what they were thinking as they, too, became U.S. citizens. Do they have the same emotions I have? Was their joy tinged with the melancholy of giving up a homeland?

My eyes welled as I began the oath. I knew that swearing allegiance to the red, white and blue gave me new nationality. But nothing can ever take away my identity as many other people living in America who were born in other countries must have known.

My Filipino roots run deep, and I will strive to carry with me every day the very best of two lands.

And that's precisely what make this nation great.

I hope, I dream.

I feel compelled to write a new blog after I got so many people worried with my dark post on Facebook.

No! I don't want to die. Although I admit that one of the hardest struggles I have found about widowhood is that the life I had, pretty much died with my husband. Well, at least mine did. The hopes, dreams and plans that we had were buried with Ken. Every morsel of my being was changed because he is no longer here for me to love or be loved by him.

His vacancy left the obvious holes; no more him, no more seeing, smelling, holding, or sharing with him. As time passed, more holes appeared: no one to enjoy my cooking, no one to drive me around the countryside and no one to talk to in the intimate way I could talk to him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so completely alone.

So, he dies. I’m still here. I am left to walk the earth without him and to carry on the plan. Carry on what plan?

It had taken me several months to come to grips with the fact that I need to create new plans. I need to dream and hope without him.

We all know that life is not fair. That life is a gift and a struggle. Life is not to be taken for granted or spent without meaning. And this give me strength to dream new dreams and hope new hopes and reshape my life into something I can live with and hopefully thrive in day after day.

The problem is that the struggle is hard. Some days, some weeks, some months are just too much for me to handle. Many times it left me wondering why? Why try again? Why move on? Why reinvent, re-imagine when so many of these days, I only end up exhausted and overwhelmed?

The only answer I can ever come up with is ... drum roll please ...there is no other way for me! I yearn for joy. I yearn to be someone my boys will look up to each day. I yearn to love and be loved.

Every day that I remember this, I build strength for another day. Every moment that I remember how much faith Ken had in me to carry on without him, I feel honored. Every time I feel the warmth of his love flow through me, I become revived a bit more.

I am revived and even given courage to take on my new dreams, my new hopes, no matter how much struggling lies before me.

So today, I will dream a bit and hope a bit. Every day I will try a bit more. And with each passing day, I will realize the new dreams, the new hopes, the new life that carries his love within me.

This new life may exist without him holding my hand, but it will never exist without him holding my heart. It will be a fusion of old and new. It will be a mix of what we wanted and what I am capable of doing without him.

I hope. I dream. And everyday I live, will bring me closer to me - reinvented.

Rainy Thursday.

I was awaken today by the heavy downpour outside. I can hear the raindrops beating rhythmically against the windowpane producing a chant of their own. "Stay in bed, stay in bed," over and over again. I can visualize the drabness of the day, the gray sky, the wetness of the street, the chill and discomfort of a rainy day. This is a perfect day to stay home.

Then I smiled knowing that rain or not, I stayed home most days in a self-imposed isolation anyway. Duh!

If you have been reading my blog, you know all too well by now that my loneliness had imprisoned me for the past four months. I made a conscious decision not to go out into the world and socialize. What for? I know that socializing with others would not automatically make me feel less alone or lonely knowing that I don't have that one person in my life who knows me better than I do. A sea full of people may help fill the void but it can not replace the closeness that I craved.

And since my isolation had prevented me to stay current with the goings-on in my town, how can I hold a conversation when I don't even have an interesting thing to talk about when I go out in public? I can't just comment about the weather all the time, can I?

My husband on the other hand was a well-read person with a high IQ that he could strike up a conversation with anyone on the face of the earth and hold his own on a wide variety of topics. I knew, because I watched him do it. He never forget anything he'd ever learned, read or saw. He has a knack of dishing out funny stories made up, or real. Of course, I know a little technique of engaging strangers in a conversation, I'm just not as good at it as he was. Sometimes I am able to threw a wise-crack in from time to time, but I am always an observer, not a participant.

Whoa...! The shrill ringing of the alarm intrudes on my journey of remembrance. I got out of bed as the heavy downpour now turned to drizzle. As much as I would love to spend this day indoor, however, responsibilities necessitate my going out. Today I have to take my car to the motor shop for an oil change -another one of those things I was forced to learn to do on my own. With Ken gone, I am faced with tackling tasks he did so well. Now you see why everyday I am constantly reminded of his absence.

On my way to the motor shop, the rain had stopped. All of a sudden I no longer felt the discomfort of the wet, miserable day. The gray drabness of the day had not changed, but it no longer appeared that way to me. I was oblivious of my physical surroundings, because I was thinking of the impact of yesterday's event. It warmed my heart to know that I have touched the life of someone I should have known three years ago. He is a revelation that I never expected to come in my most vulnerable time. Yet in the same breath had given me strength knowing that even with my husband gone, part of him will still be around.

I am home now yet the smile never left my face. I could feel the warmth of the sun hidden beyond those heavy, gray clouds.

Indeed the sun is always there behind the clouds...

Dear Ken,

It’s Tuesday. I sit here wishing you would come through the door after a card game at the VFW.

I have many things to tell you. First and foremost, is that I am coping and I‘ve survived. That would surely make you happy because you always put me first, and wanted to see me secure and well. Even when you were struggling with your illness, you worry about me all the time. You knew how much I depended on you and how lost I'd be without you.

But I think you'd be proud of me as I am doing okay. This past month I did exactly what you told me to do. I sold the truck, the bike, the boat, the firearms, the shop. I have returned to work, and it felt good to be in touch with the outside world again.

Most important of all, I am still here at our home. I have no desire to move elsewhere. In fact, I have finished re-roofing the house and I am now getting on changing the sidings. I often find myself wondering what color would you have chosen, but then again I figure you will let me pick the color anyway. One of the worst regrets I have is that you couldn't have lived to see the new look.

I also felt guilty for inheriting everything you have worked for, your whole life. Even though I knew you arranged it so that I wouldn't have to struggle financially. Still, many times I felt bitter that you were cheated out of the years we planned to be carefree together. You wanted us to travel more, remember?

I miss you every day Ken, but I am getting better. I won't lie that this past weeks my feelings of misery was becoming less and less as you faded further into the past. I don't lay awake crying at night anymore, nor do I get up and roam the house, sobbing and cursing your untimely death. However, I do sometimes suddenly wake up early in the morning panicked and feeling something horrible has happened. Yet as I calmed myself, I would begin to realize that I'm okay, that nothing is wrong and I let my memories go from sorrow to joy, to our happy times together. But the one thing that will never go away is how I miss sharing every day's events with you. The small, insignificant, and the major ones too. I know mostly how you'd feel and respond, but still, I miss hearing you say it...and oh yes, I miss the comfort of your big bear hug, the overwhelming security of being wrapped in your strong arms.

Yet, as selfishly as I want you here with me, I would never have wanted you to have lived a moment in the kind of horrible pain and suffering that your illness would have caused you. I have accepted that your sudden death was a mercy granted you because you were a wonderful, caring, giving human being.
I'm not the only one who misses you. Both our families miss you and you live in their hearts as well. I have talked to so many people in the community who miss you too, and they always say they can't believe they won’t see you driving around town anymore. That is the legacy of a good man.

Yes, you are not perfect. You have made some bad choices in life, but who haven’t? I was not married to the person you were then, but the person that you have become.

I still love you Ken and I always will.

SOLD!

When Ken died I took the responsibility of caring for the things he left behind. I did not expect that it entails so many activities. That dealing with the practical matters regarding the estate can be very overwhelming.

But I won't bore you with the tedious legal process. I will instead talk about the excitement of the auction event I just had.

“Well Jedd, I do need to sell this shop, and everything in it. Tell me you can help me.”

I was talking to my auctioneer Jedd Dulas while standing in the middle of the shop looking at all the stuff that Ken had accumulated over the years. Tools hanging from wall to wall and equipment that covered every space of the floor. Ken do not only own many tools, he has three or more of the same item. There are items still in original boxes, and many still with price tags on them.

“An auction of this property and the items here will draw a good crowd, get you good prices and I can get this behind you so you can worry about other things.”

That's the reply I wanted to hear and I believed him.

Mick and Mike thought that auctioning off our property and everything in it will prove to be both convenient and successful. Besides, in a competitive buying environment, they believe that selling by auction is the best way to achieve true market value for our property.

And they are correct. As always.

I have never been to an auction event before so I don't know what to expect. But knowing that I am letting go of things that Ken had worked hard to own over the years made me emotional. So it is an under statement if I say I was feeling giddy and nervous the morning of the auction day. I was glad though that Mick, Mike, Pat and Jim were there to support me, and my son Cedric made sure he captured the excitement of the moment.

There isn't anything more exciting than watching a bidding war take place over our stuff. Like any typical estate auction, there are equipment, tools, construction materials, furniture, electrical items, firearms, vehicles, property … all sorts of things.

Looking around the crowd, I think that most bidders came to buy fairly specific items. There are those who came merely for construction items and tools, while there are those who came for the vehicles and still those who just want firearms and still others who came solely to bid for the shop.

Jedd started from the items on the trailers and worked his way to the bigger ones and concluded with the firearms. He stood in front of a crowd of bidders and recited the bid he has, and the bid he wanted in a rapid fashion. Items were sold in as little as 15 seconds … typically concluded with the word, “Sold!” I was mystified by the fast-talking and repetitive numbers bellowing through the air as the mood built up. I could not keep up with numbers. It was so fast I could not even make out where he was at, by the time "sold" was called. Maybe that's just the way it should be so he can keep the bidders attention and get them emotionally involve. The fast rhythm seems to suggests an urgency, and sends out a message that one need to make a decision quick.

And quickly they responded, hence despite the massive number of items to sell, it was over by three in the afternoon. I was pleased by how my auction turned out. Everything was sold and I know those things will be put to good use by those who have bought them.

Now that is over, I can start worrying on other things...