Author: Mikki Eveloff

I am certainly no princess, but I did marry my Prince Charming. We had the once upon a time and the “almost” happily ever after until August 30th, 2014 when my Prince Gregger died tragically on the beach in Maui. I believe in fairytales. I believe in fate. I believe that “everything happens for a reason.” We planned a lifetime together…75 years to be exact. Someone or something changed our plans and gave us a new “ever after.” So here I am. I am still a wife, but now they call me a widow. I am a mom and grandma…three children, two in-laws, and two grandchildren. Life has changed and it’s time to move forward. It doesn’t stop, it keeps on going, so I do too. It’s my choice. Be happy, be grateful. It’s the only choice. I have a treasure trove of memories to share..it’s how I keep the happily ever after alive. A True Love Fairytale is 40 years of memories…it’s the essence of our happily ever after. It’s the imperfections of our perfect marriage. And it’s what makes today beautiful.

Welcome “Home”

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roadtripSo after a long, but incredibly enjoyable road trip with my “bestie,” we made it back to Arizona. I had butterflies, tummy-turning moments cruising down the 101. Driving in bumper-to-bumper, nail-biting traffic didn’t help. But there were “welcome home signs.” Signs that kept reminding me that everything would be okay. It was incredible. Sometimes I think I’m nuts. Or if I talk about it, others will think I’m nuts. At this point, I don’t care. I’m nuts either way. But these signs. OMG! I know they were there for me. And I know I was meant to be aware. Open.

Rainbow. First it was faint. In the distance. Marcia spotted it. I squinted. Let it be there. PLEASE. A rainbow. I wanted it so badly. It was Gregger’s gateway. His way of welcoming me back. I just knew it. So I kept squinting. The colors became deeper. A little broader. A little longer. And then we spotted a second one. Faint in the distance, but there. Was this for real? I was like a kid in a candy store. Snapping pictures. Sending them to my kids. He’s here! He’s here! Suddenly the skies opened and the rainbow appeared from one end to the next. Full on. Every color. Full arch to the pot of gold. It was nature’s miracle awakening in front of me. And I was the glorious witness. My spirits lifted. And I knew from that moment on, everything would be okay. IMG_1549

Traffic was gridlocked. We crawled at a snail’s pace. Anxiety building. The music was nearly muted. But I heard it. The sign. Again. Gregger’s “Happy” song. “Because I’m happy clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth!” OH YEAH! Gregger dancing me home! Keeping my spirits up. He knew how to get me. And he did. We were rocking. Singing. Being silly.  But, in that moment, nothing else mattered. He was bringing me back and I’d be okay.

roadtrip 3We finally made it home. Well, we made it to the house. I wasn’t sure it was “home” anymore. Four walls, lots of memories, but missing a big piece inside. Weird. Big. Empty. Silent. And dark. Very, very dark. I entered. One foot at a time. I had four extra arms to guide me. To hold me. To cheer me on. And I will forever be grateful for their support. In the blink of an eye we were exploring, sharing, moving. From room to room. Picture to picture. Memory to memory. Maybe not the same home it was before. But the love was there. Happiness. Peace. It will always hold a huge piece of my heart.

Today was a step. Tomorrow will be something new. I’ve got a long road ahead. But I’ll take this new chapter one day at a time. Just like the others. And I’ll get through this too. Live. Learn. Love. And always be grateful. Blessings.

To be continued…

coming home

All Good Things Must Come To An End

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all good things 3I am sad. I am leaving San Diego tomorrow. The place I’ve called home for the past 5 1 /2 months. It was meant to be a vacay. 2 months. Get away. Recoup. I fell in love. The place. The people. The life. I am hoping my departure is short term. But for now I don’t know. Life is funny. It throws you curve balls. You swerve so you don’t get hit. Or you catch them. Some fall. Land in the right places. Some go foul. Some go out. You just never know. I was trying to avoid this “ball.” I did not want to go back to Arizona. Not without knowing I was coming back here. I wanted everything tidy. Tied up with a pretty bow. But life doesn’t work that way. And then you have to figure it out. And face the “stuff” you try to avoid. So here I go. First I have to say “goodbye.” As Gregger used to say, “Say ‘so long. Until we meet again.’” That’s better. Not final. He was right. So until next time. I will miss…

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  1. My OTF family. The people who welcome me every day with smiles, warm greetings. They have no idea how it warms my heart. Days I’m feeling down. Alone. I walk in and I feel at home. So, thank you.
  2. The wonderful people who I can now call my “friends.” In a short time, we connected. Bonded. As if friends forever. Marcia, Geoff, Hudson, and Harper, I would not be here most days without you. You have been my lifeline. To the others who have touched my life, I hope you know who you are. I love you. I will miss you. But the connection will never be broken. You have given me strength when I felt weak. You have given me love when I felt lost. You are not only friends but family. So, thank you.
  3. Walking into Starbucks or Peets and having them fill my order without saying a word. Knowing my name. As silly as it sounds, it made me feel at home. Welcomed. Remembered. Just someone. They never realized the number of times that small gesture made my day. I smiled. I thanked them. But I wish they knew. Really knew. So, thank you.
  4. Walking. The beach. The lagoon. The hills. With Lucy. Lifting my spirits. Miles and miles. Just the two of us. Lost in thought. Talking to Gregger. Letting things go. Crying it out. Finding peace.
  5. Manis-pedis with my girl. My baby. (And when we were lucky, her hubby too.) Just time to talk. About everything. Or nothing. Whatever time we had, it was always special. I will miss this most. I will miss them. My kids.

I am afraid. Afraid to walk into that big, old house. Afraid to see memories hanging on the walls. Afraid to feel the life I miss so much. So I will step cautiously. Slowly. I will feel the love. I will remember the good times. And I will cherish the life we had together. Strength. There is no other choice. Until next time San Diego…I will miss you. Thanks for the memories.

all good things

On Being Strong…Speaking The Truth

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strength and loss 1So I was learning to live alone. Wake up in an empty house. Quiet. Nobody sitting at the bar reading the newspaper. No coffee brewing. No coffee cup waiting for me. I had to do it alone. Mornings were tough. It was one of our “moments.” I’d make his ritual breakfast. OJ with water. Never full strength. Oatmeal. Or Bagel. Half butter. Half peanut butter. He was a ritual guy. If I switched things up, it had to be sneaky. Or slow. And then he’d go back to the same old, same old. I understood. I’m worse. We’d chat. Sometimes he’d rattle off a to-do list. I’d get frustrated. Wait. All of this? Today? He’d say, “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” I’d banter back, “No, it’s fine.” And back and forth we’d go. Why didn’t I just make it easy for him? He had so much on his plate as it was. What was I thinking? Selfish. Ugh. Can’t go back. Wish I could. So those are the things I missed. I thought about them every morning. In the silence. But I was learning. It was a day by day thing.

strength and lossFamily and friends were coming in town. The memorial. It was time. Three nights of visitors. At my home. Coming to see us. Talk. Again. “What happened? Are you okay? How are you doing? You are so strong.” I understood. People didn’t know what to say. So that’s what they said. I will know better. When the time comes. For someone. “How are doing?” I wanted to scream, “How do you think I’m doing? I suck! I just lost my best friend. My soul mate. The love of my life. Honestly, I have never been worse.” But, I didn’t. Instead, I remotely responded. “I’m fine. Okay. Some days better than others. Holding up.” I smiled. Kept talking. Told the story. Talked about Gregger. Even tried to laugh a little. No tears. Held them back. Best I could. When everyone left, I cried.

Strength test number “who knows at this point?” The memorial. Writing my speech. Preparing for hundreds of people to arrive. Standing in front of thousands to present the biggest speech of my life. The one that mattered most. People asked,”How could you?” I did not have a choice. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t. I had to honor Gregger. I had to be strong enough. Put EVERYTHING aside for him. I wanted to share with family, friends and colleagues the BEST of what Gregger left to this world. I could not let him down. I could not let myself down. One final moment to glorify his being. To make sense of his time on earth. And his being taken away. There was no choice. I knew it was in my heart. My soul. My spirit. I could do this. So I did.

strength and loss 3I remember standing at the podium. My voice shaking. My hands shaking. My heart pounding. But my feet were planted solidly on the ground. This was it. I looked into the immense crowd at US Airways Arena. I saw no one. I saw everyone. And then I spoke. I wanted to speak forever. I did not want the moment to end. Because this would be final. This would close the chapter. And I did not want it to be over. I wanted Gregger to stay with us. If we kept talking, showing videos, reminiscing, he would still be here. But we had to stop. I saw his picture beaming from the monitor high above the crowd. Eyes twinkling. Smile sparkling. Well, that smile. There will never be another. And I knew right then that he was looking down on us. I knew we would all be okay.

I ride the waves. They come. They go. I’m up. I’m down. But I’m moving. Strength. Courage. Positivity. My guiding lights to a new life.

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To be continued…

returning home

On Being Strong…Returning Home

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strength and courageSo I was home. Not the way I thought it would be. Ever. It would never be home again. Not without Gregger. It would be a house. But never a home. Too much was missing. But again, I had to be strong. Too much ahead of me. Too much to do. People to see. Emotions. Tears. Plans. Could I do it? I had no choice. So I moved. Robotically. One foot in front of the other. I had to go into our bedroom. Our closet. See his clothes. Every shirt, tie, jacket that reminded me of him. A day. A night. A memory. His toothbrush. Standing erect in its holder. He would never use it again. Everything I touched reminded me of his absence. And the fact that he was never coming back.

strength and gratitudePeople came. To pay respects. Platters of food. Flowers. So nice. So grateful. And my role? To tell the story. Again. And again. And again. How did it happen? What did you do? How are you feeling? The questions were overwhelming. But I had to answer. I had to smile. I had to keep standing. And so I did. Strength. Somehow. It was there. You never know where it comes from. But somehow it shows up. Just when you need it most. 

Time to plan. A memorial. Really? Was that word even in my vocabulary? That’s for sick people. Old people. Not for Gregger. Not for us. But this was real. This was happening. And I had to be present. I had to make this beautiful. For him. He deserved it. More than anyone I’d ever known. The support of community, family and friends was overwhelming. I couldn’t have done it without them. I was blessed. Forever grateful. But in the between time people scattered. Went back to their lives. And I was alone.

gratitude and strength 1One night I collapsed. To the ground. On my knees. Sobbing. Endless tears. I went outside. I wailed to the stars. The moon. “Are you out there? Can you hear me?” I uttered those words. I needed to feel him. I never felt as alone as I did at that moment. My sister-in-law called.  I wanted to let it ring. Don’t let her hear my agony. My breakdown. But I answered. Choking tears. And she saved me. She talked me through. Told me it was okay. Break down. Cry. Let it out. So I did. And as we talked, I felt the strength return. Slowly.  I knew at that moment that I would be okay. I just had to learn to ride the waves. 

To be continued…

On Being Strong…The Long Ride

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“When times get tough, the key is not to stay strong…the key is to stay grateful.”

courage 4In a moment, gratitude was my only choice. I focused on the blessings. The life we had together. Almost 40 years. Our kids. Our true blessings. It was time to go. Time to say goodbye. I didn’t know if I could do it. I wanted to stay forever. To be with him. We went to the beach. One last time. We wrote letters. Buried them in the deep blue water. He would see them. Feel them.  We held hands. Hugged. Embraced in strength. A powerful force. We watched the sunset. We watched the sunrise. One last time. I’d be back. Someday. But Gregger was with me. Giving me courage. Strength.

courageNow came the test. Fly home as a widow. No one to hold my hand when the air got choppy. No one to lean on when my eyes got weary. Or not the one I thought would always be there. I leaned against the glass. I opened and closed my fist. I reached for his hand. I never slept. A single tear slipped down my face. I wiped it quickly. I did not want my kids to see. No fear. Be strong. Courageous. I could do this. Gregger was with me. He would guide me. Six hours later we were home. A new chapter had begun.

First step. Getting into Gregger’s car. His smell. His things. Sunglass case. Suit rack. Meticulous. He should be driving. He should be taking us home. But he wasn’t there. We were going alone. We could do this. It would be okay. And as we drove up to the house, my heart was pounding. Out of my chest. And then I saw. My brother. Standing by the garage. I was so grateful. Another blessing. Family. Love. Strength. He was my pillar. He would take us home. Into our home. We would not have to be alone. We would be okay.

I buried my head in his shoulders. I sobbed. But, in that moment, I felt strong. He was there to comfort. Support. And guide me. Forever grateful.

To be continued…

gratitude and strength

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On Being Strong…It’s a Journey

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“When life changes to be harder, change yourself to be stronger. What hurts you today, makes you stronger tomorrow.”

being strong 4So life changed. In the blink of an eye. I didn’t have time to think. Everything was coming at me so fast. STOP! Let me breathe. Absorb. Understand. So we stayed. In the house. In Wailea. The house that was supposed to bring so much joy. The beach. Relax. Rejoice. Remember. But in this space, we found peace. And in the peace I found strength. Strength to deal. With my tears. My childrens’ tears. The loss. I felt Gregger all around me. I knew he was there. And it comforted me. I knew he was okay. And I knew that in time, I’d be okay too. For three days we sat. Silent. Hours upon hours. Chairs in the sand. We stared at the blue sky. Wispy clouds drifting in the distance. Waves slapping at the shore. Others snorkeling. Paddleboarding. Swimming. Splashing. Having fun. We were oblivious to the noise. We felt alone. But it was okay. When late afternoon came, we hated leaving. We wanted to sit by the water. All day. All night. We felt closer. To Gregger.  being strong

I remember thinking, I can’t eat. I’m not hungry. I don’t need food. But then I realized, I must. I had to be strong. I couldn’t let my kids down by giving up. I had to be better. Better than I’d ever been. Stronger than I’d ever been. I had to take care of myself. Because if I didn’t do it now, who would? My rock was gone. Now it was only me. But that strength was there. I could do it. I just had to believe.

And then it was time to go. Another test. Would I pass? I wasn’t sure. This was a journey I never wanted to take. Or one I never imagined…

To be continued…

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Strength…The Beginning

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strength 3They say “you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.” As much I did not want to learn this lesson, I have. From the moment I saw Gregger’s lifeless body floating in the water I realized my only choice was strength. Despite the odds. I panicked. Screamed. Stopped breathing. Sunk to the sand. But a force greater than me took over. I don’t remember how. Or when. I just remember feeling embraced with courage. An aura. I knew I had to be something “bigger” than I’d ever been before. In my life. Maybe for my kids. Maybe for everyone else. Maybe just for me. Whatever the reason. It happened.

strength 2 (1)I remember talking to the chaplain that day. I felt at peace. I was probably in shock. Disbelief. But, I believed him. I kept questioning. But, in reality, I knew what he spoke was the truth. I knew it was out of our control. I knew it was Gregger’s time. None of us wanted to believe. He was too young. Too vibrant. This couldn’t happen to such a “good” person. But it did. A “higher power” wanted him that day. And I knew it. I cried. I felt broken. I ached. I felt pain like I never felt in my entire life. But I knew. I knew what I had to do. I knew it would never be easy. I knew life would never be the same. But I knew there was a strength in me that had never been there before.

strength 1I remember waking in the middle of the night. The first night. I sobbed. Uncontrollably. I felt such a loss. A void. An emptiness. A deep, dark hole. I kept reaching, searching. But I couldn’t find my way out. I allowed myself to sob. Silently. My kids were next to me. Breathing softly. Lost in sleep. Hush my sounds. But I needed to cry. And then as the sun rose I wiped my tears and began a new day. I could carry a little more weight on my shoulders. The weight of two people. It was just me now. But I had no choice. Again, “you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.” Well, I was learning.

I remember talking to people. Through the airwaves. Easier. I didn’t have to see their faces. Their tears. I could hear the emotion. The choking sounds. But I could speak. I couldn’t say the “D” word. I said he was “gone.” I talked about what happened. But the “D” word was not in my vocabulary. I wasn’t there yet. It was too final. If he was “gone,” maybe he was coming back. Gone is when you go somewhere. On a trip. To the store. Not somewhere that you don’t return. So gone was okay. I could be strong with “gone.” Death was too final. Death did not exist in my world. Not yet.

To be continued…

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Just One of Those Days

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Dear Gregger,

anger 2Today was tough. I thought I was over the hump. I thought I had hurdled the toughest of toughs. But today got me. It wasn’t a birthday. An anniversary. Or anything special. It was just a tough day. And I’ve had some tough ones. Coming home to an empty house. The firsts. Just missing you. But today, I simply needed you. I needed you to help me fix things. I needed you to be my better half. My #1. So I could fall back as #2. I liked it better that way. I kept asking myself, “What would you do? How would you handle things when life gets a little crazy?” I was crumbling. So I walked. Looked at the clouds. Got angry. Yelled at you. Why did you have to leave me? Not fair. I needed you to help me figure it out. Sometimes I think I know the answers. And other times, UGH! It just seems to fall apart. Who do I talk to? Lucy? She looks at me with those sweet eyes. Tongue dangling from her little mouth. Innocent as her little puppy self. But she gives me nothing. My insides are brewing. I feel a burning rage of frustration. Torment. I NEED YOU HERE. You have better answers than me. I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t. I wrote a blog today about strength. Now I feel like I’m lying. I thought I was strong. Today I feel so weak. Honestly, it just sucks.

angerOkay. So you’re not here. What would you do? What would you tell me to do? I think you would tell me to stick to my guns. I think you would say be tough, but be fair. Identify the source of my anger. Don’t allow it to control me. You’d say, count to 10. Take a time out. Stop talking. Walk away. Breathe. I’m listening. I’m trying. You’d ask me why I’m really angry. Am I afraid of something or someone? Maybe. Possibly a fear of failure. Fear of failing you. Not doing things the way you would do them. Or the way that would make you proud. I know that’s silly. I know most days I’m doing the best I can. But, days like today. Well, they just don’t feel good. So I guess anger is the outlet. Sorry. I wish it was something else. Yes, I’m angry at you for leaving me. For leaving us. But it’s not your fault. I’m angry at me for getting angry. I will try to do better at that. It’s just those mixed up emotions going all wacky inside.

So today was one of those days. It’s over. Gone. I saw the anger. I felt it. I raged. And now I can bid adieu. Gladly. Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll greet it with a smile. A warm heart. Just the way you would. Thank you Gregger for being there. You always know how to make it right. I love you. And I wish you were here. I miss you. 

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Grief Journey

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truthI heard an interesting term the other day. “Grief work.” Apparently it is the response to grief. Makes sense. It’s a lot of work. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Simply draining at times. But, I’d rather think in terms of “Grief Journey.” The act of traveling from one place to another. From heartache to harmony. Mourning to tranquility. Whether “work” or “journey” you still have the same bumps. Hurdles. Peaks and valleys. But a journey is a passage to a different place. Something new. A journey requires an open mind. An open heart. The most predictable part of grief. It’s unpredictable. It comes on like a raging storm. Or rolls in with slow brewing irritability. For days, weeks, the ride is steady. Serene. And then thunder strikes. Lightning is not far behind. Wham. So the journey begins. I realize now it’s a long road. So I might as well enjoy the ride. Learn. Live. And just be. But for others on this journey, find your path. Follow it. You may get lost. There may be detours. But hop back on. It’s the only way to make it through. Grief Journey. Year Two.

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  1. Reality sucks. But acceptance is strength. I know Gregger is gone. I accept the loss. But I can feel his presence. I recognize the signs. Openness of mind, heart, body and soul equal strength.
  2. I talk. I feel. I cry. I scream. Feel the pain. The anger. The sadness. It frees me to feel at peace.
  3. Be okay by myself. It doesn’t mean I miss Gregger any less. It doesn’t mean I love him any less. He is gone. I must be okay. I must move on. I must be okay. He would want that for me. I want that for myself. It is the only way to continue my “journey.”
  4. Have faith. Just because the worst happened doesn’t mean I can’t believe good won’t come to me. I have to believe.
  5. Build new relationships. I can’t stay stuck. It is part of the journey. This is the hardest part for me. I must find the strength. To open myself. My heart. My soul.
  6. This is just a small part of the journey. A work in progress. Daily lessons. One step forward. One day at a time. Patience. Understanding. Compassion. I can do it. I know I can. If you believe. Have faith. And hope. You can too.

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my best advice

My Best Advice

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grief (1)Year two. I’ve had a lot of time to think. Process. Grieve. But with all of that comes all of the B.S. All the crap I just want to brush under the rug. Make it go away. Make “them” go away. Attorneys. Planners. Accountants. Signature after signature. What the heck am I signing? What the heck am I doing? My brain isn’t even functioning properly. I don’t understand the lingo. H-E-L-P!

So now it’s time to get real. To give you my best advice. Just in case. I know you don’t want to hear it. I know you don’t want to think about it. Neither did I. But, luckily Gregger was smart. He put his ducks in a row. He MADE me pay attention. MADE me learn. Where things were located. Trusts. Wills. Passwords. Names. Numbers. How to write checks. How to balance the books. I know it sounds so simple. So trivial. But if you don’t have a clue, watch out.

Being prepared is a gift. Gregger wrapped things up with a beautiful bow, and, even so, I have had my share of aggravation. Unnecessary distress. Avoidable stress. I promise you, you want to know. So what can you do? Some of you may close this now. Others may be strong enough to read on. Good for you!  if-not-now-when-in-the-noe-picture-quotes

  1. Listen. Carefully. I closed my ears every time Gregger mentioned the “D” word. “STOP. Don’t talk about it. I don’t want to hear it. No need to discuss.” WRONG! Listening is power. Listening is learning.
  2. Keep things up to date. Trusts. Wills. Estates. Lists. Passwords. Passcodes. Make life easy for those left behind. Trying to recover passwords is a nearly impossible task. Write them down!
  3. Clearly state power of attorney and others who may have to make important decisions.
  4. Make sure credit cards are in BOTH of your names! Not just in both names, but both people as primaries. It matters. Most of ours were, but the ones that weren’t, OMG! That’s all I can say. Nightmare! Paperwork. Headaches. And endless hours of stupid computer phone calls. It’s impossible to get to the right person. And just when you think you do, you DON’T!
  5. If you need to hire an estate attorney, interview carefully. I thought I did a great job. Maybe not. It would have helped if we had one BGD (before Gregger died).
  6. Talk about financial planning/planners early on so the one left behind knows where, what, and how to do things. I was LOST! This was Gregger’s area of expertise. I tuned out. WRONG! Now I’m quickly tuning in, turning on, and taking it seriously.
  7. Here’s the one you don’t want to hear. Talk about the BIG what if. And what each of you “want” to do “if.” We brushed the surface, but when “what if” happened, I completely forgot. I had tuned out too many times. I just wasn’t sure. And here we were. Miles away from home. But a decision had to be made. ASAP. If only I had listened more. If only we had said for sure. If only. But now, it was just up to me. I had to make decisions I never wanted to make. And I wanted to make the right ones. I was brain dead. But I had to think. Those two things just don’t go together. But if the “what if” were clear, things would have been easier. Think about it. Talk about it. It sucks. But it’s real.
  8. Last but not least. Don’t take one moment for granted. Life is short. Every moment is precious. Don’t look back and say, “I wish I had.” I’m lucky. I can say, “We were blessed we did.” All the yucky stuff doesn’t matter. In the end, it’s the love. So take the time. Be together. Say “I love you.” And really live. It will be the greatest gift you give to yourself. Each other. I promise.

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