Widowhood

What is grief, if not love persevering?

Has anyone seen WandaVision on Disney Plus?

If you haven’t witnessed this masterpiece yet, it’s time to get your binge on. I don’t usually promote shows or movies on my blog, but this one has a special place in my heart.

First of all, it’s unique, one of the most unique shows I’ve ever watched and that says a lot these days. But primarily I think I love it so much because the show speaks to me on a personal level.

Not the superhero stuff, I wish I could fly and move things with my mind. I wish I could control others and hear what they are thinking. But then again, maybe that last power would be stepping into dangerous territory.

Instead, I see myself in the main character, Wanda; I see a reflection of my heart in hers. Without giving away any spoilers (because I hate when people do that), I will give away one tiny detail.

Of course, the show contains superheroes, touches on comedy, and even love. But at its core, it’s about something much deeper, something we all have to face one day — something that I know all too well.

It’s about Grief.

Understanding grief like a robot.

In case you haven’t seen the million different Marvel movies, Wanda Maximoff (portrayed by Elizabeth Olsen) loses someone very close to her in Avengers: Age of Ultron. In the movie, we don’t see much of her grief but in WandaVision (the Disney Plus show) it’s revealed.

In the show, we jump back to a scene that’s meant to be an extension from the second Avengers movie. From what I gather, the scene takes place not long after Wanda’s loved one died, maybe a day or two later.

The line: “What is grief if not love persevering?” is repeated by Vision (a robot) to Wanda. Not only is Vision a robot, but at the time, he was a baby of sorts — brought to life the day before. I know it all sounds weird but stay with me here.

Because he’s so green, Vision is in the process of learning how to be human. He doesn’t understand grief or love. But he’s kind, and he’s trying to comfort Wanda and understand human emotions.

So he says what he is thinking: “What is grief if not love persevering?”

What makes his statement so profound is that in trying to understand grief, he somehow taps into its basic property, one that humans have a hard time grasping.

Are we all programmed differently?

For the past 3 years, off and on, I’ve been writing my book. So far I’ve written close to 12 chapters. That’s not a crazy amount of writing, but to me, it felt like writing 30 because each chapter took an emotional toll.

While becoming an author, I’ve discovered something. I realized why, for so long, I felt stuck in my grief, addicted to it.

I felt sad when I was sad, and I felt sad when I was happy. For a while, I had a hard time moving forward from it. Moving forward felt like moving on. It felt like losing my love for Justin, breaking up with him, putting his photo into a drawer, or changing my last name.

I was afraid of falling out of love with him.

WandaVision understands this predicament.

Besides villains and superheroes, the show is about holding on to grief and what happens when we do. It’s also about holding on to that love we have for someone, even after they are gone.

We love them so much that our pain could move mountains. Or in Wanda’s case, re-create a TV show from the 1950s (Seriously consider watching it if you haven’t yet).

I know this feeling; I know it daily. Sometimes, I feel stuck in the past. Other times, I feel stuck in the present. A lot of days, I’m a little scared of the future. I feel it all!

But one thing I don’t feel is regret.

I don’t feel any regret because I know that all of these feelings are normal; they are wrong, and they are right. Because there is no right or wrong way to grieve. We have no path that leads to ultimate happiness.

We have to choose that for ourselves. Despite our pain, we have to choose to move forward with grief instead of getting stuck in its web.

Our grief will never go away. It will always be there knocking us down. It will always be a barrier. And strangely enough, it’s a hug from our loved one saying, “I’m still here in your heart. Thank you for continuing to love me.”

It will always be a Vision of a love we used to know and one we will never forget.

Saved: Blogs, Widowhood
Tagged: grief, Overcoming grief, tv shows

One Day, I Decided to Be Happy

The second my husband died, I felt like I had been pistol-whipped in the jaw a few thousand times in a row. The simple things were hard like getting out of bed, taking a shower, and brushing my hair.

Justin was young, and we were just getting started. How could this have happened to us? All of our kisses, dreams, and memories had vanished in one split second, and no words could ever describe how it truly felt.

I was a widow for eight months when I finally woke up from the shock. Opening my eyes again was hard. As I looked into the mirror, I cursed my reflection. I saw a shadow, a near entity of the person I used to be.

For a long time, I marinated in my pain, in my grief. Mourning Justin became my crutch and my only connection to him. I was lost, and I didn’t know if I would ever find my way back.

What happens when you put all of your happiness into one person?

Justin and I were by no means perfect. We argued, and we made up like most married couples. Throughout our 10-year-marriage, we had ups and downs, but we were both in it for the long-haul. Justin made me feel safe.

Our relationship gave me confidence, and it gave me strength. I never suspected anything would threaten it, not even death.

After going through so much pain, I realize just how incredible the human mind is. Even when faced with the worst circumstances, it can grow, adapt, and overcome. It can transform into something new.

Because my mind has already passed over to the dark side, it sees the world differently; it sees it for what it really is.

The power to choose

My son loves storytime, and one of his favorite books is called: The Power to Choose. I love this book and use it as an instructional tool to encourage him to make positive choices throughout the day. It makes the decision-making process fun by introducing “the power to choose” as a superpower.

The book is interactive. It presents the reader with a situation for the antagonist, Danny, and gives you two choices to make. One decision requires discipline while the other acts on impulse.

Each decision brings Danny down a different path, and each one results in a different outcome for his day. There are seven different outcomes in total, and it’s up to the reader to choose which ending Danny will land on.

Practice what we preach

I believe adults could learn a lot from this book. What if we did this in our own lives? We could take the advice we give to children and apply it to our lives as an adult. Like Danny, we can think through our decisions instead of acting on our feelings.

I know a lot of people say things like: I wouldn’t change a thing about my past. But I call bullshit. I know I would go back to New Year’s Eve 2018 and stop myself from taking that disgusting Fireball shot. I know I would hold my tongue instead of mouthing off to my mom at 16.

Having the power to choose means we have control over certain aspects of our lives — more than we might realize. If we do have the power to choose, we should have power over our happiness.

Having a good day can make a difference

I cried every day for 18 months after Justin died. Living was like watching the clock at a job I hated. Only, instead of waiting to clock-out, I was waiting to expire. I wasn’t completely lost because I still enjoyed spending time with my son, singing, and writing occasionally. But nothing made me happy. I wondered if I would ever be happy again.

Then one day the unthinkable happened — I had a really good day, and it came out of nowhere. It was Christmas time, a time I used to love but had avoided since Justin was shot. After his death, the holidays were nothing more than a stain on my heart, a constant reminder of what I’d lost.

But for some reason, that day was different. Instead of avoiding the traditions, I embraced them. I went Christmas shopping, ate lunch with my mom, and drove around looking at Christmas lights. As my 18-month-old son giggled at a tacky display of Santa Claus, my heart smiled.

I could feel his excitement, the excitement of an innocent mind, the mind I used to have. When I put him to bed that night, I had an epiphany: I remembered what it felt like to be happy. My heart had been covered in tar, frozen in grief, for so long that I had forgotten that feeling. I was finally ready to wash it clean.

Joy is powerful

After reconnecting with joy, I decided to fight for it. I craved more good days than bad. It was time to laugh, smile, and feel happy again. I felt inspired for the first time since Justin’s death, and I told myself to embrace this new desire to live.

The new me

It’s been five years since that day, and I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have bad days. Sometimes, I have bad weeks. When I feel the darkness working its way back into my heart, it scares me. The pain is too familiar and sometimes, I welcome it. It’s like going back to an abusive boyfriend.

But now, it’s different. The grief doesn’t get a permanent pass to stay as long as it likes. Instead of letting it take up space, I evict it. I force it to move out. I move forward because I choose to be happy.

You can choose your path, too

I realize that for some, this might seem impossible. Some traumas and losses cut so deep that the wounds will never fully heal, but they can scab over. I am a testimony to that.

Recently, a friend of mine came to me with a problem. She was worried about a loved one. “I’m worried that he will never find peace and that he will never find happiness again. He’s going to therapy but he’s not doing his homework. He’s not loving himself,” she said.

I told her that it was okay to be concerned and that I understood her need to save him. But I also told her that it was a waste of time because, in the end, he could only save himself.

Put mental health first

Of course, clinical depression and mental health disorders are not choices. It breaks my heart to think about how many people had to suffer in silence for so long. But I’m happy that we are finally talking about it.

Obviously, someone who is depressed or navigating other mental health issues can’t just “choose to be happy.” These are very serious illnesses, and these individuals should be under the care of a professional.

But I do believe you still have to choose your path. Maybe that path includes medication, maybe it includes therapy, and maybe it includes both.

I went to therapy for a while, sometimes twice a week. It was an essential part of my recovery. I also took anti-depressants and anxiety medication. These things helped me during my darkest days. They helped me get out of bed, they helped me eat, but they did not make me happy because I had to chose that for myself.

Find what works for you

Going to therapy is only half the battle. You have to do the work, in the beginning, to get out of bed. But then, you also have to do your homework by finding some kind of passion, some kind of joy in life.

You have to find what makes your heart smile. No one can find that for you.

I believe that as an individual, we all have the power to choose. We are the only ones who can decide how we live and how we feel.

Just like Danny, you have to choose where you will land. Only we can choose to be happy.

Originally published on Medium

Saved: Blogs, Medium, Mental Health, Widowhood
Tagged: choose to be happy, Finding Joy, happiness, justin ayers

Lordy Lordy Look Who’s 40

After someone dies, everyone pretends like they were perfect. The dead can’t defend themselves so we should not speak ill of them. Justin’s death was so tragic that this notion is amplified. His spirit will always be larger than life.

Does he deserve the praise?

I’ve got a lot of good Justin stories, probably more than anybody. I saw him at his best and his worst. I was one of the rare people that he was his true authentic self around.

My darling husband wasn’t a god, and he certainly made plenty of mistakes. But I have to say — he sure as hell made up for them in spades. In honor of what should be his big 4.0.

I’d like to remind others to be more like Justin.

He called his mother every single day

That’s right boys, take some advice from the man with long red hair. He sure the heck loved his mom. He had a routine. After he finished teaching guitar lessons for the day, he’d give mom a call on his way home. He didn’t call me, he called her.

He wasn’t a mommas boy, but he sure loved his momma.

Vicki and Justin had a special relationship. I think it was a little more unique than most mother-son relationships. I hope my relationship with Jax will mimic theirs. Maybe one day he’ll show me the respect that Justin showed Vicki. I hope he will take after his daddy and CALL HIS MOMMA.

He was kind to everyone

Justin’s heart was kind. He had a way of making everyone feel included, especially if you were an outsider.

Over the 17 years that I knew him, I learned a lot. He opened my eyes to the bigger picture and helped me understand how much power we have as humans.

Surprise, surprise, we have a lot!

Justin was nice to homeless people. Not the kind you see on the street, but the ones that came into his music store. He offered them water and a place to use the bathroom. He smiled at them and asked them how their day was. Most of all, he listened.

Justin was nice to the unpopular. He wasn’t a trendy guy. In fact, if something or someone was on-trend, Justin shunned it. This meant that status meant nothing to him. He didn’t care how much money you had or how well-known you were, he treated everyone as equal.

He was forgiving

Once upon a time, someone might have called me competitive. I get this from my father’s side, it’s not my fault.

Justin witnessed this trait of mine early in our relationship. When we were teens, he beat me at Monopoly. I’m pretty sure I blacked out because I don’t remember tossing the entire game board at his head.

What can I say, I like Boardwalk!

Later in adulthood, he would become a victim of this ridiculous behavior again. Only this time, I wasn’t the one acting out — it was my dad.

Justin and my dad got into it, not once, but a few dozen times while playing board games and poker games. Justin had every right to be a jerk and never speak to my dad again. He could have used the arguments against me. He could have told me, “We’re never spending time with your family again.”

Not only did he forgive my dad for his childish behavior, but he was also the one to make amends. He didn’t let anger take up space in his heart. He was always ready to forgive.

And because of that, his relationship with my father was unique. They loved each other like father and son.

He was a gentleman

Justin treated this lady like a lady. Some might call this old fashioned, but I call it being a gentleman. So what if we no longer wear petticoats and girdles under our clothes. It doesn’t mean chivalry should be lost.

Justin always opened my door, and he always made me feel special. One day that meant rubbing my feet, and the next that meant fetching me Taco Bell when I was pregnant.

During labor, he never left my side, and his hand never left my forehead. For 22 hours he held a cold rag to it, and he never complained.

He would never turn his back on you

“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.”

— J.R.R. Tolkien

Justin was loyal, almost to a default. Short of killing a family member or committing some other heinous act, he would not leave your side.

He never kept a tally of things done wrong, even if he had every right to. He never threw past transgressions in your face, even if he was justified. He was in a relationship for the long-haul and he was as loyal as loyal got.

On many occasions, I encouraged him to give up. “They treated you wrong and they should know how it feels,” I’d say.

I wanted him to stand up for himself, especially if I thought he was being taken advantage of. But I realize now that he wasn’t allowing others to use him or treat him wrongly — he was just too damn committed to walking away.

If you were one of the lucky ones, he considered you irreplaceable. He considered you essential to his life.

Happy 40th birthday to the man who cared about others first.

Saved: Blogs, Special Occasions, Widowhood
Tagged: angel birthday, birthday, special man

I’m The One Who Gets to Keep His Memory Alive

I'm the one who plants the seeds.

I get to implant his father’s past into his future. I enjoy sharing the talent, and the traits that made his dad so unique. He likes hearing about daddy, and when he’s older, he’ll only enjoy it even more.

I'm the one who makes special occasions —special.

The good and the bad occasions are mine. The ones I’d like to forget yet also have no choice but to remember. They are the excuse, the blame, and the reason why we have an opportunity to remember him that day.

I'm the one who gets to raise his legacy.

Jax has his smile, sense of humor, and he shares his passion for life. His laugh is starting to sound like Justin. His face is changing every day. His hair is not red, but it feels the same in my hands. His legs are taking shape and he’s even picking up the “Ayers Stride” when he walks.

I'm the one who knows his deepest darkest secrets.

I remember both the good and the bad. I can look back on a day when we argued and laugh because I know I was right. I can look back on a day when we fought and smile because I know he was right. I cherish the smiles and the tears.

I'm the one who makes the most of the days.

I know they are passing quickly. I know that we are not promised another. I know how precious life is, and I will teach his son this motto. He will know how short his dad’s life was — too short. But he will also know how full it was.

I'm the one who gets the privilege and the curse of being his widow.

Saved: Blogs, Special Occasions, Widowhood
Tagged: angel birthday, special occasions

Forever Young

Today is a day like all the others —only it's not!

The pain that I feel in my gut, it never goes away. Not even on a random Tuesday in March, or a hectic Saturday in December. It’s always there, even while enjoying a lovely dinner with family, or a fun filled day at Disney World. It doesn’t matter what day it is, it always hurts without you. There is the “everyday” that I mourn you and then there are the “other days.” The days when it hurts even more — when the hurt becomes unbearable.

A day like today — your birthday. Today is both the best and the worst, all at once

Days like today, are the best because

I have an excuse to lose myself in you, to immerse my thoughts in us, and love you even deeper than I did yesterday. Today, it’s justifiable to fall madly in love with you again.

Days like today, are the worst because

I have an excuse to lose myself in you. To immerse my thoughts in us, and to love you even deeper than yesterday. Today it’s justifiable to fall madly into grief with you again.

Forever 33 — that's you.

Today, I wish we were celebrating your 39th year around the sun, instead of mourning it. Today I wish I could peek around the corner, and watch as you examine your hairline for the tenth time in a row. You always feared to lose your hair, yet looked forward to being an “old fart” as you famously called it.

Your outlook on growing old was special. Unlike most people, you embraced it. Never in a million years could you (or I) have imagined that instead of growing old, you would remain forever young.

You will remain forever young in my heart and forever present in my mind, — I will mourn you forever!

Today, you missed your birthday for the sixth year in a row.

I love you, Justin Ayers!

Saved: Blogs, Holidays, Special Occasions, Widowhood
Tagged: birthday, forever young, special occasion