Author: Mikki Eveloff

8 years. 

“When we lose someone we love, we must learn not to live without them, but to live with the love they left behind.” In that moment life changes. 8 years. 96 months, 35,040 days, 840,960 hours, 50,457,600 minutes, 3 billion seconds. Somedays it seems like a minute ago. Somedays it seems like forever. Yet. The facts remain. You’re gone. Forever. Death changed me. The loss. The pain. Death forced me to face my toughest choices. I spent 40 years of my life envisioning my whole future with you. We were going to grow old together. Plans. Build memories. In a flash they were gone. And I had to choose. Fall apart. Or be better. Find the strength. To keep going. 

What do I miss most? Normal. Simple moments. Talking. Sharing. Holding hands. Kissing. Cuddles. Watching TV. Sunday coffee. Neighborhood walks. Costco/Target shopping. You. Just you. And everything  about you. Silly. So silly. But, oh so simple.

Grief. Never fixed. Dormant. Concrete. It ebbs. Flows. Hitting hardest in unexpected moments. Lessening over time. It never goes away. Buried under layers of love, memories, pain, and loss. I grow. I get stronger. I adjust. I accept. I function. Day by day, month by month, year by year the weight lightens, lifts and I “go on.” Life goes on for the living. And so must I. I smile. Laugh. Attempt to love. But, the grief, the pain, never goes away. At any moment, it emerges. Striking my heart. Creating salty tear drops from my eyes. I’m okay. Doing the best I can. It’s a moment. And I need to be. In that moment. To feel. Sad. Lonely. Lost. Alone. These moments never go away. They will always live within my soul. Because I live with the “love you left behind.” A love I will never forget. I was lucky to find my soul mate. A love I will cherish forever. A love I was blessed to share with you. “You’ll survive. That’s the first thing they tell you after you lose someone. You know what, they’re right. In time, we all find a way to pick up the pieces and move on. What they forget to mention, however, is survival and happiness aren’t always the same thing.”

8 years. How can that even be? I saw this the other day. “Your choice and why. Blue door: you go back in time and change one thing in your past. Red door: you get 10 million in cash tax free.” No Brainer! BLUE DOOR! We would not go to Hawaii! Would that have changed our lives? Would you be here today? Would we be living our best life? I will never know. The why’s and what ifs haunt me. I was supposed to bury them. With you. They sneak up. It’s hard not to think. Wonder. But we can’t go back. Life is forward. Breathe. Accept. Love. Be grateful.

I think of you today as I do everyday. I try to live my best life. I see the best of you in your children, grandchildren. Life’s blessings. I am forever grateful. And always will be. For our time. Shortened. But beautiful. “Goodbyes hurt the most when the story was not finished.” Our story ended but the love carries on. Forever in my heart. Today, tomorrow, always. 

Happy Birthday Greg! 68 Years! Another “should have been.” As I thought about what to write the words got “tangled.” What can I say that hasn’t been said? You aren’t here today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate your life and all of our wonderful memories! Today is yours! So why not celebrate everything EVERYONE loved about YOU! Kindness, generosity, compassion, loyalty, honesty, and love. The admirable traits that encompassed your being. The twinkle in your eye and your infectious smile welcomed anyone who crossed paths with you. Once a friend, always a friend. What a gift. Today I’d like others to share your gift. Commemorate your birthday with random acts of kindness! February 5th. Greg’s Random Act of Kindness Day! You hated gifts. This is one I think you’d love! One you wouldn’t/couldn’t return. LOL! So who’s on board? It’s simple! In a world that’s gone topsy turvy, do something good. Make someone smile. Nothing big. Even the smallest gesture can change someone’s day. Someone’s life. Sometimes we’re just too busy to think about it. Take one minute today. For Greg! He’ll be smiling down on all of us with that infectious grin! “How do we change the world? One random act of kindness at a time.”

• Smile at a stranger.
• Compliment someone.
• Leave a positive review.
• Hold back on that negative review. 
• Take that 1 minute survey after a phone call. Annoying as hell, but it can make a world of  difference to the person on the other end. 
• Let someone go ahead of you in line at the store. 
• Send an email or call someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. Maybe something’s going  on in their life. Your words could brighten their day.
• Compliment a store employee. A few nice words could make their day! 
• Send an inspirational quote to a friend.
• Hold the door for someone.
• Take time to listen. To your kids. Parents. Friends. You never know what someone is going through.

These are just a few ideas. Anything you do. Anything from the heart. Anything with kindness. That is AMAZING! Cheers to 68! Happy Birthday Greg! This one’s for you! #bekind#68#loveyouandmissyou#nevergrowold

Dear Greg…Happy 46 years! Another one of those “should’ve” moments. “Little by little, we let go of loss, but never of love.” This, like all the other 7 anniversaries, is worthy of celebration. Our day. You. Me. Together. Forever. “Til death do us part…”

“Every love story is beautiful, but ours is my favorite.” When I began writing (over 7 years ago) I told the story of our “once upon a time.” We believed we’d grow old together. Celebrate 75 years! Enjoy our “happily ever after.” That ended on the fated day, August 30th, 2014. Though the fairytale ended and it wasn’t the happily ever after of my dreams, you will always be my prince charming. I will remember what gave me joy. Helped me grow. Made me the person I am today, truly better because of you. 

Our fairytale was ours and ours alone. It wasn’t perfect. We weren’t perfect. But it was perfect for us. We were perfect for each other. Perfectly imperfect. Accepting our imperfections. Life wasn’t perfect. Kids weren’t perfect. Nothing’s perfect. All. The. Time. It’s the failures. The bumps. The jolts. They made us stronger. Wiser. Better. We were learning. Take time. Cherish the moments. But. In a flash…life changed. I was left with far too many “shoulda, coulda, woulda’s.” I can’t take them back. I can only focus on today. I can’t live with regret. I know we lived a beautiful life. I wish we had more. 

Cheers to 46 years of our “should have been.” I will forever celebrate the happiness, joy, laughter, and tears. Our beautiful family. I was blessed to share my life with you. I love you always and forever. 

What does grief look like after seven years? 7 years. 84 months. 30,660 days. 1,839,600 hours. 110,376,000 minutes. 6,622,560,000 seconds. Heartache. Tears. Pain. Tears. Loneliness. Tears. I wish I could say it’s “easier.” Different. But it’s not. A tough year. No reason. Nothing particular. Just tough. I want Greg back. That will never be. In my mind. I know. Reality. In my heart. I beg to differ. My heart feels empty. Yes. I am blessed. Amazing kids. Beautiful grandkids. Blessings. All.  Undeniable love. Love I am forever grateful to hold. But. Not the same. I feel broken. Seven years

Signs. Surround me. White butterflies. Clouds. Music. Hummingbird. Just one. Visits daily. Flies to the back door. Flitters a bit. Flies away. Healing. Signs. From heaven. Comfort. 

 “Still got your number in my phone. And even though you don’t listen I still call and wait ’til the tone. Just to hear you saying, ‘Leave a message.’ Since you’ve been gone I’ve had to find different ways to grieve. There’s days that I don’t even want it on my mind but tonight I’m weak. So, I’m gonna pull out pictures, ones with you in ‘em. Laugh and cry a little while reminiscing. By myself. I can’t help that all I think ‘bout is how you were taken way too soon. It  ain’t the same here without you. I gotta say, missing you comes in waves and tonight I’m drowning.” (Chris Young)

7 years. I’m drowning from the emotional turmoil. It “should be better.” Or so they say. Years flash. Memories of overwhelming “what was” and “what could have been.” 

As hard as I try to suppress it, ignore it, seek to “get over it” IT’S there. Grief.  A hard slap in the face.

Guilt that I wasn’t the wife/partner/friend/everything I could have/should have been. There are so many things I would have done differently. If I could turn back time…

Remorse for so many wasted moments.

Isolation…that feeling of being lost and alone.

Emptiness…that missing piece.

Fear of fleeting time. We can never get back yesterday. I’ve already lost too many.

“Time only moves in one direction These are the nights we won’t get back. Don’t wanna waste one single second. Don’t want the starts to fall so fast. ‘Cause someday we’ll be sayin’ how we wish we could turn back around. Time only moves in one direction. Come on, get closer, come, let me hold you now.” (Dan + Shay)

Through the years…

Year 1. Gratitude. For support. From friends. Family. Strangers. “I’ve made it through the worst of times. Death. Firsts. And now it’s time to say “thank you.”  I would not have made it here without YOU. Family. Friends. Strangers. You helped me reach this road. You’ve been by my side on this journey. A journey that continues. A journey that looks toward the future instead of looking back in the past. I will always remember. I will hold the memories in my heart forever. You have supported me in ways I never dreamed possible. You have given me strength when I thought my world was falling apart.” 

Year 2. Reality. You’re gone. “Two years. Is that even possible? It seems like the blink of an eye. And then it seems like an eternity. So much has changed. So much has stayed the same. The one constant. You aren’t here. And I miss you as much as the day you left this earth. My heart still aches. I keep going. I live. Parts of me are even happy at times. But I’m empty. My soul is empty. I just can’t fill that void. I don’t know that I ever will.”

Year 3.  Acceptance. “It doesn’t get easier. Grief never ends. There’s no expiration date. It just gets different. Rebuilding. Redefining. This is my life. I will be ok. I may not like it. Certainly not my choice. But I’ll be ok. I’ll always love you. Always miss you. But. I know I can conquer life’s challenges with courage, strength and determination. One day at a time.”

Year 4. Growth. “With acceptance comes growth. Strength. Courage. And the will to keep living. Death taught me more about living than life ever did. Your death opened my eyes. It made “death” real. “ 

Year 5. IT’S BACK. “Grief returns. I thought it’d be different by now. Not quite so raw. But. It stings. Burns. Aches. The pain. Sadness. Tears. Far too pronounced. Grief is a journey to which there is no end. I’ve grown. Changed. I believe for better. But I’d give it all back for one day with you.”

Year 6. Back to Gratitude. Life is worth living. “Death taught me ‘that tomorrow is real, and yesterday is no longer here. It made me realize that living inside my comfort zone means that I don’t appreciate life as much as I should. It taught me to respect my sunrises and sunsets. To dance when music is playing. To laugh at least two times a day and to say I love you even when I am mad at someone. Because at the end of this, nothing else will matter.’ And we all learned that family is what matters. We are blessed. We have each other. Our family. A bond that will never break. Life doesn’t give us do overs. Today is here. I am here. I miss you. You are in my heart forever. I have moments of sadness. Loss. Loneliness. But. I can’t stop. I must breathe. Live.”

And now. Year 7. The journey continues. Rebuilding. Redefining. Seeking my normal. “Grief never ends. But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love.”  Grief. Unfinished love. Our story. And so it goes.

I have my story. My loss. My grief. Too often I leave it there. My kids lost their dad. Their best friend. The best Papa. Missing years of firsts, bests, accomplishments, growth, and so much more. He’s watching. He knows. And he’s proud. They share his legacy living a life based on kindness, generosity, compassion, and love. We all grieve today for his loss. But are forever grateful for his gifts.

Year 8. Here we go. With Gratitude. Patience. Courage. And. Hope. Missing you. Holding you in my heart. Forever.

Dear Greg,

Happy 67! This is the day we celebrate you. And every year I’m reminded of another celebration  without you. Another 365 days gone. And you weren’t here. It sucks. Sometimes more than others. This is one of those “others.” Maybe it’s the pandemic. The turbulent, chaotic society. The endlessness. Uncertainty. I don’t know. But it’s hard. Days like these are even harder. “Grief changes shape, but it never ends.” I live. I smile. I laugh. But my soul is empty. And it hurts. This is my truth for now. Some days I’m ok. Others I’m not. I just want you here. To hold my hand. Watch silly TV. Talk. Or sit in silence. I’d even take a good snore. But. That’s not happening. So. I go on. The best I know how. 

I ask myself, “why is this so damn hard? Should I be ‘over it’?” Or at least in a place where I roll through these events without being battered by a barrage of emotions? I turn on the TV. Suns vs. Pelicans. Whoa! In a moment I’m flooded with thoughts. Memories. I want to scream. We were there. Together. I see our seats. And remember the joy. Ugh. So many things to tell you. Damn! But. I can’t. And. No one will understand. It’s crazy. Silly. Yesterday. I was driving. Listening. Thinking. A car. Smack in front of me. License plate. GE❤️. Seriously? Signs. Every song. Spoke to me. Words. Messages. More signs. Reminding me of what is gone and will never be. But I’m still here. I will find a way. I will go on.

Your birthday falls during the month of hearts. A month to celebrate love. And you. You inspired us to be better, do better. To live our lives with grace, goodness, kindness, honesty and integrity as you did. We strive to honor your memory by doing just that. We celebrate you and all of your goodness. With joy. Laughter. And love. Grateful for moments. Memories. You live in our hearts. Always. The only purpose in loss is to live a life of purpose. Find our blessings. And always. Always. Be grateful. For life. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. 

February is Heart Health Month, a time when the nation spotlights the #1 killer of Americans. Despite your commitment to health, wellness and fitness, heart disease (cardiac arrhythmia) took your life far too soon. In commemoration of your birthday Bling It On by M&M (our new “baby”), is donating 10% of our proceeds for the month of February to the American Heart Association. This is our gift to you. We love you. We miss you. Cheers to 67!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/BlingitonbyMandM

Dear Greg,

45 YEARS!!! 45 freaking years! We should be celebrating the hell out of those years. Our love. Our life. Even with this crazy pandemic it would have been AMAZING! How do I know? Because our needs were simple. It just took two. US. You plus Me. No fancy dinners. Trips. Glitz or glamour. Just us.  Happy. Hanging. You in your boxers and Birkenstocks. Me in my baggy sweats! Bring on the Jamesons. A glass of wine. Chips for you. Veggies for me. Cheers to love. Cheers to us. Cheers to many, many more years together. 75 years. Right? Wrong. God had other plans. We were cut short. Life ended. And so did we. 7 years of celebrating. Alone. Remembering what was. And what will never be. But. One thing never dies. Love. You Are Forever In My Heart. Life changes. I change. Love remains. And nothing in this life can tear that away.

2020 was the year of all years. Unprecedented. Surreal. Traumatic. It was also a time of reflection. Growth. A time to recognize that with tragedy and loss there is always a glimmer of hope. Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays will NEVER be easy. Year after year. My anxious mind, empty heart brightens with the treasure of memories. Flashes. Glimpses. A lifetime ago. Kids. Innocent, carefree, ready to conquer the world. A snowy winter night. 1.10.1976. Friends. Family. Celebrating us. Our love. So much to learn. A lifetime ahead. Kids having kids. Growing. Learning. Teaching. Fighting our way through the highs, the lows, we battled to keep ourselves together at times. Yet the beginning ALWAYS kept us from NEVER ending. In the end, we were strong. Stronger than ever. More in love than we’d ever been. Best friends. Lovers. Life was settled. I am forever grateful for that beautiful chapter of my life. The best chapter of my life. Will I have a second chapter? I don’t know. My first chapter was my once upon a time…it didn’t end the way we planned. Not the perfect “happily ever after.” Cheers to 45 years of what “should have been.” I will forever celebrate the happiness, joy, laughter, and tears. Our beautiful family. I was blessed to share my life with you. I love you always.

6 years, 72 months, 2190 days, 52,560 hours, 3,153,600 minutes, 189,215,800 seconds since you’ve been gone…and it still seems like yesterday. August. Ugh. The calendar turns over and so do my nerves. But it’s there. The month. And it’s full of anticipation. Reliving the moments. The joy. The laughter. Family. Together time. And then. Gone. Over. Life changed. In. A. Moment. Life doesn’t give you do overs. We all learned that. We were left standing. Empty handed. Empty hearted. We still are. 

I write this tribute to Greg every year. Honor his memory. The words flow. Easy. From my heart. 2020? So different. My feelings? The same. Melancholy. Heavyhearted. Nostalgic. But. So are hundreds of thousands of other people. Families suffering with the loss of loved ones. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Sons. Daughters. Grandparents. Friends. How can I mourn alone when I know there are so many who share the same pain? Who will continue to feel the emptiness? I think about all of them. I want to touch. Listen. And say, “Somehow we make it. One minute. One day. One week. And suddenly. A year at a time. Breathe. Life may be different. That’s okay. But you can see love and beauty again.” I can honor Greg today. But I will not drown in the despair. I will share this moment with so many others. I will join hands and say, “we will survive.” 

Memories. Social media flooded with photos. Year after year. Travels. Happy times. Together. “Sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” August. A month of OUR moments. Family moments. Reminders of our life well lived. I embrace the moments. Value them as polished diamonds. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing can replace the moments. Memories. Embedded in my heart.

Greg taught me so much about life. But he taught me even more in his death. Death taught me “that tomorrow is real, and yesterday is no longer here. It made me realize that living inside my comfort zone means that I don’t appreciate life as much as I should. It taught me to respect my sunrises and sunsets. To dance when music is playing. To laugh at least two times a day and to say I love you even when I am mad at someone. Because at the end of this, nothing else will matter.” And we all learned that family is what matters. We are blessed. We have each other. Our family. A bond that will never break.

I love you. Our last words to each other. Standing on the beach that day. August 30th, 2014. I can still hear him. And I know he meant every one of those three simple words. Blessed. Truly. For nearly 39 years. We built a life. A family. A love. I’m grateful for what was. No regrets for what could have been. Our “happily ever after” may have ended that day, but we had the fairy tale. It just wasn’t long enough.

Life doesn’t give us do overs. Today is here. I am here. I miss Greg. He is in my heart forever. I have moments of sadness. Loss. Loneliness. But. I can’t stop. I must breathe. Live. I know that’s what he would want me to do. Want our children to do. Six years. Time will pass. It doesn’t stop. And neither should we. Forever grateful and blessed. #August30#timestoodstill#missyoualways#loveyouforever❤️

Happy Father’s Day Greg! Five Father’s Days, six years without you. It never gets easier. As each holiday rolls around I find myself in a state of melancholy. It washes over me. Encompasses my being. Uncontrollable. I don’t realize it’s happening. But. The calendar reminds me. You. Should be here. Celebrating. Your family. Kids. Grandkids. We. Should be celebrating. Together. I’m sad for what you’ve missed. The joy. The laughter. Their love. Smiles. The milestones. The way they make every day better. Especially when life seems to suck. 

These are hard times right now. As much as I want you here, I don’t. The pandemic. Economic hardships. Police brutality. Riots. America in crisis. It’s a world of stress. Unhappiness. Life as you knew it has stopped. And. It’s sad. Struggling through these difficult days, I summon your strength. Spirit. Anything to pull me through. Years ago I asked to share your legacy. Simple.  Be kind. Compassionate. Listen. Be good. Do good. Live good. Be 1% better every day. A universal message that can touch so many lives. Touch others and leave YOUR silent mark on this world. I ask that again on this Father’s Day. Share the message. For a better tomorrow. 

We miss you. Your light. Your love. Your laughter. But. It lives on. Your children. They have your spirit. Drive. Determination. Compassion. Love. I see you. Hear you. Feel you. But. It will never be the same. I will always wish. 

As we mark the official start of summer, it’s a time for new beginnings.  Sunlight.  A time to reflect. Shining light to reflect on our being. Open our hearts. Recognize blessings. Allow the warmth and light to envelope us with a blanket of peace. This is my hope and prayer for this Father’s Day. For all fathers. May we live in a world where our children can live together. With love. Peace. And harmony. #happyfathersday#blessings#peace#lovetoall