Category: Chapter 2

I’ve talked about moving on. Changing. Learning. And growing. But I took a giant leap of faith in January. I decided it was time. Time to step out. Put myself “out there.” I was tired of spending lonely nights at home. Snuggled with Angel. She’s great. Don’t get me wrong. But conversations are a drag. One-sided. So. I put it out to the universe. I was going to start DATING. Dating? What the hell did I know about dating! I hadn’t dated in over 45 years! And even then, I wasn’t a dater! I had boyfriends. When one broke up with me, soon after, I had another. Long term. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t have a string of boyfriends. Two, maybe three, in high school. And then. The Gregger. Two months into that. And I was engaged. So dating? I was a novice. Bar hopping? No way! Dinner alone? Never! My bold move. Starbucks. Peet’s. Head buried in my computer. Not exactly approachable in my book.
So. I threw it out. Universe. Help me. Find me a nice guy. A real one. I couldn’t face the onslaught of, dare I say, Online Dating. Ugh! I couldn’t do it. Dig through hearts, smileys, and emails. Distorted pictures, fuzzy images, and other “bs.” Somehow decipher the “good” from the “bad.” Was I so overwrought with the whole concept that I believed it would just “happen?” Again? Let the universe take charge. Whatever happened to meeting someone organically? Happenchance. The gym. Coffee shop. Grocery store. Who knew? It happens. In the movies. My dreams. But. I could hope. I had my head in the clouds. The dating clouds. But. It did. Or so I thought. I was sitting at my favorite spot one day. It was the day I decided to write again. While lost in my words, I caught a glimpse of a rather cute guy sitting at the table across from me. I felt the energy. I knew he was looking. Watching. I kept my head down. Pretended to be working. I wasn’t sure what to do. So I pretended to write. Type. Look at my book. Stay unapproachable. I have no idea what I wrote or read. I just felt energy shooting between us. When I got up to throw my cup away, he grabbed my attention. We talked. Connection. Easy. Commonalities. He took my number. My first. He texted. Again the next day. Called the next. And we planned to get together. I was a teenage girl. All over again. Butterflies. Nerves. What do I wear? What would I say? But. It was easy. Surprised me. I expected less. Or more. Hard. I don’t know. Anything but easy. But he made it easy for me. Comfortable. We talked. About everything. It was nice. I felt freer. Lighter. Having Fun. Something I thought I’d never have again.
A few fun dates. Simple. Carefree. Exactly the way I would want them to be. And then not. Wishy-washy. Games. My first lesson in the good old dating game! After being married for nearly 40 years, I dove head first into a pile of “you know what!” I questioned myself. My words. My thoughts. Everything. And it sent me backwards. Straight into a spiral. Of grief. I relived Gregger’s death. Over and over again. Ugh! I hit rock bottom. But I couldn’t allow him or “this” to control my emotions. He’s tiptoed back in and out. But I’ve learned. And moved on. Not that it’s gotten any better! Oh Lord! The stories I will tell…until next time!

If you have any stories to share, I would love to hear them! Submit to mikkieveloff@gmail.com

 

Along this grief journey I discovered the most amazing thing. Me. For so much of my life, I’ve lived in a bubble. Safe. Protected. Secure. I’ve been defined by others. Wife. Mother. Daughter. Sister. I was busy taking care. Nurturing. And pleasing. And then. The bubble BURST.

There I was. No protection. No one holding my hand. Just me. I HAD to make choices. I HAD to take notice. I HAD to see life as what it was. I had a choice. Bury myself. Or take it on. A gift. My turn. To just be me. Whatever I wanted that to be. Anyone. Recreate. Start over. My second chance. My chapter two. For so long I was trying to be something else. Please others. I realized that I’d somehow gotten lost in the midst of all those other identities. Slowly, I was discovering a new version of me. I was a person who wanted to find joy. Embrace the blessings and not the misfortunes. Cherish the moments and not wait for tomorrow. I wanted to LIVE. Because I knew how precious life could be. I knew it could be taken away in a flash. And then all that’s left are the dashes between the years. No. I didn’t want to JUST wait. I wanted every moment to count. I wanted to be kind. Giving. Sensitive. Sincere. Honest. And real. I embraced the “attitude of gratitude.”

 

Some days I look in the mirror and say, “Who are you?” I don’t recognize the “new” me. But I like her. She’s happy. Fun. Light. Free. Even in a time of loss, I focus on the beautiful life we had, not the one we missed. I think of our greatest memories, our highs and lows, the journey that took us to the end, and cherish it all. Do I wish I’d had more? Of course! But dwelling on what’s not to be won’t bring it back. So I look forward. Breathe. And keep being me. Learning. Loving. And living. Every. Single. Day.

 

Gregger’s death impacted every aspect of my life. Me. Of course. One minute. A wife. The next. A widow. (Ugh. Who would have thought?) Single parent (Really?). My kids. Fatherless. My family. Parents. Siblings. Nieces. Nephews. All impacted. All changed. Empty space. Cracked. Broken.

And friends. What about friends? Where were they? Some. Rushed to my side. Others. Cowered. Fear? Maybe. Death. Changes things. Grief. Changes things. Friendships. Relationships. Contacts. Some who were forefront, faded. Disappeared. Others who had drifted were front and center.

“When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

I learned. True friends are those who offer support, love, compassion and understanding when they don’t really understand. They are just there. (I would name each and everyone of you if I could. I hope you know who you are.) They come. They stay. To sit in the silence. To talk. To cry. To hold my hand. Or just do nothing. Just be. But they show up. Day after day. Week after week. And I know we’ll be there for each other. People come in and out of our lives. It happens. But in times of loss, we need our “people” most. And those who stay for the long haul, those are the “real” ones. They let you talk about the happy times. Loss. Memories. They are present. I lost MY BEST friend. The friend I believed would be by my side forever. We shared everything. We were ONE. When Gregger left this earth I felt like half my soul left too. I never needed to surround myself with “people.” I wasn’t a “girl’s girl.” Not big on “out to lunches.” No “girl trips.” I had Gregger. But suddenly I was alone. Moving. New city. New life. Now what? I had to break the barriers. Open my soul. Let people in. And soon I discovered the true value of friendship. Those who are there to protect. Listen. Pick me up when I’m ready to fall. I am forever grateful to my friends who bring sunshine to the cloudiest of days. They are slowly filling empty spaces in my heart. I hear it beating once again.

Writing has opened other avenues. Connecting me with people who touch my life. My heart. Old friends. New friends. Strangers. But we are bound by the commonality of emotions. Stirred by loss. Death. Divorce. Detachment. All loss. Maybe different types of grief. But grief, nonetheless. Pain. Heartache. And learning to move on. We are here. To Live. And we will. One day. At a time.

Starting over. Never easy. Going back. Tougher than tough.  Memories rush like a torrential flood. I returned to our roots. Arizona. My first return since moving to San Diego. I anticipated heartache and pain. I expected a barrage of emotions upon my return. “Our home.” But. I survived. I not only survived, I realized how far I’d come in this journey. No gloom and doom. Only joy. For the memories we’d shared. The life we’d built. Lived. And appreciating the onset of my Chapter Two. I saw friends. Great friends. Friends I miss. But they live there. And I live somewhere else. We are bound in friendship. Love. Always will be. Just as the bond between Gregger and me will never be broken. But life goes on. And I must too. Friends acknowledged my optimism. Joy. Sense of tranquility. Such a compliment. They could see what was shining from the inside out. It validated my decision to move. Best decision ever!

This past week I faced the “are you ok” questions. Again. Gregger’s three year “mark” of leaving this earth. But. This time I had “new” answers. Not just ok. Not just a nod of my head. Pretense. Real. Settled. At peace. Confident. Starting over was smart. Maybe not for others. But it was for me. AZ had too many reminders. Past. I would have been stuck. Moving gave me the opportunity to grow. To learn. To discover. I am still learning. Still growing. Still discovering. Every day is a new beginning. Look forward instead of looking back. The memories will always be there. I hold them in my heart. But tomorrow is mine. Bring it on. I have truly found that there is nothing that can teach me more about life than losing the one I loved most.  

Year 4 here we go.

Dear Gregger,

Three years. 36 months, 1095 days, 26,280 hours, 1,576,800 minutes, 94,608,000 seconds. An eternity. A moment. Whatever. It’s Time. Your time. From earth to shining star. In heaven. Some say anniversary. Of death. Morbid. Others say Death-aversary. Morbid. I say Celebration. Of life. Today is not a day for mourning. Or tears. It’s a day to celebrate. You. And all that you gave. To me. Your kids. Family. Friends. And so many others. We traveled many roads together in our 40 years. This is one journey I’ve had to make on my own. It sucks. But with your love and guidance, I’m still standing.

If I could have just one more day you know what I would do? I’d hold your hand tighter. Hug you harder. Talk incessantly. Until your ears couldn’t handle anymore. I’d tell you how you filled my life with love, laughter, joy, and a little heartache. I’d tell you how lucky I was to have “our perfect.” I’d tell you about my “new life.” Not the same. But good. Different. Kind, generous, compassionate people. Like you. I’d tell you how people miss you. Your light. Your laughter. Your grace. I’d tell you about your kids. Amazing. Each one exhibiting virtues to honor you. You’d be so proud. And the newest addition. Baby Cruz Greyson. Your namesake. I see you. In him. His eyes. His smile. Baby Cruz. A light. A joy. A blessing. You must know. For you are his angel.  

Three years. It doesn’t get easier. Grief never ends. There’s no expiration date. It just gets different.

Year 1. Blur. Shock. Numbness. Tears. Endless chores. Fear. Panic. Tears. Survival.

Year 2. Reality. Loneliness. Sadness. Tears. Hell. Reality. Gone. Forever.

Year 3. Acceptance. 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.

So. Today we celebrate you. Cheers. To a life well lived. You left a legacy behind. A legacy based on love, integrity, generosity, and kindness. We will carry on. My heart is yours. Forever. Peace and love.

Here we go. Year 4…

 

1091 days. Take me back. Life was nearly perfect. 1091 days. Take me back. Hawaii. Vacation. Celebrating. Life. Healthy. Happy. In love. Life was good. 38 plus years. Together. We had our bumps. The roller coaster. Of love. And life. But we’d made it. We were friends. Best friends. And lovers. We’d survived. Kids. College. Weddings. The worst of times. The best of times. I try to remember. All of it. “The saddest moment is when the person who gave you the best memories, becomes a memory.” 1091 days. Since you left. Gregger. YOU became THE memory. Every memory. But. Memories fade. Edges blur. Colors fade. And then. The focus. Disappears. If only. I could freeze frame. Protect. Restore.

Funny how our mind works for us. It edits. Prepares. Alters. Deletes. Arranges. Splices. Bits. Pieces. Memories. Until the only ones left are good. Happy. Gratifying. Peaceful. This just kind of happens when someone dies. And that’s ok. I want to remember the best. The good. Who cares if we fought about bagels? (Ok. So I still remember. And, yes, it’s true.) Or what kind of car we were going to buy? (What a waste!) EDIT. Remember. The best of the best.

Gregger. 1091 days. Since you left this earth. And left a legacy behind. I continue my crusade. #TheChainofGoodness #HonorGregger EDIT. Don’t wait for memories. Practice. Today. EDIT. Your space. Your life. EDIT. Think. Of the good. The happy. The peaceful. EDIT. Family. Friends. Love. Unconditionally. Forgive. With compassion. EDIT. Let go. Of the past. Of hurt. Of negativity. EDIT. Stop. The hate. The prejudice. The violence. EDIT. Words. Thoughts. Actions. EDIT. Practice. Kindness. Love. Peace. Forever. EDIT. Together we can make a difference. EDIT. If we do these things now, the only memories left will be the good ones. The best ones. EDIT. #TheChainofGoodness #HonorGregger.

I will keep digging in that memory bank. Searching for treasures of yesteryear. The fairytale. Where this princess found her prince. And with perfect editing, the demons disappear. Adversities evaporate. And the happily ever after just ended a little too soon. EDIT.

 

 

 

I’ve been a bit spacey these past few weeks. (Yep. My kids will tell you. Nothing new. Mom’s always spacey.) But it’s different. Distracted. Emotional. Agitated. Forgetful. And then it hit. August. THE month. Time for kids to go back to school. Summer sales. AND. THE MONTH. The fated trip. The moment. The memories. Here again.

3 years. Time to deal. Face the flood of memories. As they rush to the forefront of my mind, I see. Gregger’s twinkling eyes. His joyful smile. I feel. The warmth of his hand. Touching mine. His tender lips. Kissing me. I hear. His soft-spoken voice. Whispering, “I love you.” And instead of tears. I smile. Because I know. He’s here. In my heart.

In this world of unrest, I want to honor Gregger. The man who loved unconditionally. Deeply. His family. Friends. The man who never met a stranger. They were friends. Soon enough. The man who embodied kindness. Compassion. Generosity. All with a sense of grace. And humility. He was simple. Just Gregger.  

Last year I wrote,
“There are hundreds of little ways to make a difference. To do the right thing. The good thing. This is what Gregger did EVERY DAY. This is how he touched people. This is why people are reminded to live just a little better. Be good. Do good. Live good.”

Today I proclaim the 2017 onset of The Gregger Chain of Goodness. His legacy. Reach out and touch. With your heart, your words. You never know what someone is going through. A kind word, a smile, a hug can make a world of difference in a person’s life. I know. I’ve been there. And I’ve been touched. Try it. A few simple thoughts.

1. Call your parent/parents. Just because. End the conversation with “I love you.”

2. Reach out to a “lost” friend. Email, text, or better yet, call.

3. Talk to someone new. Introduce yourself. Ask about their life. How is their day going?

4. Help a friend. Show up. Don’t just ask. Do it.

5. Compliment. With sincerity.

6. Be supportive. Of family. Friends. Co-workers. You can agree to disagree. But still be supportive.

7. Love yourself. Be kind. Be vulnerable. Others will realize they are not alone.

8. Be happy for another’s happiness, love, success.

9. Smile. Smile. Smile. At anyone. Everyone. You just might make their day.

10. Stop. When you want to complain. Don’t. Find something positive to say instead. It might turn your world around.

There is no better time than NOW to enforce The Gregger Chain of Goodness. Once Again. Try It. Spread the Word. Share it. See how much love. Kindness. And compassion we can share with the world. In Gregger’s name. His legacy. Starting today. Starting now.

One of the hardest things I’ve learned on this grief journey is showing vulnerability. Exposing myself. Raw. Naked. Truth. Option? Walls. Dark. Blocked. Hidden. Why? To be strong. I can do this. I’m okay. Yes, I can. But then. I’m not. There are moments.  And I crack. The days my heart aches so badly the corners of my mouth won’t lift. My eyes are drawn. My face. An open book. Transparent. Everyone knows. So. What do I say? I’m okay? But. I’m not. So, I’ve learned to say just that. I’m not. It’s a bad day. I’m having a rough go. And I’ve learned. People embrace that vulnerability. It makes me real. I’ve learned. It’s okay to not be okay.

Writing makes me vulnerable. You see my layers. My life. Not perfect. Me? Not perfect. Gregger? Not perfect. (I know many of you are surprised!) But, as they say, we were perfect for each other. And now. I’m reassembling the pieces of my life puzzle. One day. At a time. Some days. I get it right. Other days. I struggle to make it fit. I twist and turn. I fight to push it in place. But as hard as I try, it won’t fit. Life. We struggle. We fight. We have obstacles. Hardships. But overcoming them? That’s the source of our greatest strengths.

We can’t control life. Or life’s challenges. If that were the case, I would have controlled what happened on the beach in Maui August 30th, 2014. But on that day, I had a choice. Be a victim. Or become a better version of myself. And with that comes attitude. My choice. Be negative. Or find the positive. The blessing. In every situation. And even this. My worst nightmare. Has given me the strength to find light. Love. And peace.

I am who I am. I am learning to love the new me. The me who looks at life through new glasses. I am vulnerable. Bare. Some days the tears fall. But that’s okay. Because being real. That’s all I ever want to be.

It was hard enough to lose the love of my life. My soul mate. My best friend. But in the past three years, I have watched pieces of my family crumble apart. Was Gregger the glue who held us together? I’ve tried so hard to play both roles. I’ve tried to be all that he was while finding myself. Not easy. Actually nearly impossible. Sometimes I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff. One minute balanced. Safe. Sound. The next. Stumbling. Rocking. Losing my footing. At any second I’ll land flat on my face. No net beneath me. Why? Just another part of the grief journey.

Losing a loved one is devastating. No ifs, ands, buts about it. There’s no “good” way to experience death. It sucks. But losing a loved one unexpectedly/suddenly presents its own set of issues. There’s no time to say goodbye. Words left unsaid. Lives changed forever in the blink of an eye. And no turning back. And for some, the ramifications are life-changing. I’ve spent almost three years of this journey coming to peace with Gregger’s loss. It will never be okay. But I can accept it. I cannot change it. I can understand there was a reason. I will never know the reason. I no longer need to seek the reason. I can just accept there was a plan. And on that day, the plan was for him to “go.” That doesn’t  mean I have to like it. I can hate it. But I can accept it. On the other hand, it doesn’t mean that everyone sees it the same way. We are on different paths. Different journeys. And sometimes that tears us apart. That’s not the way it should be. Grief should bring us together. But, ultimately, death changes everyone’s lives. Forever. And now I must accept that too. Maybe. Someday. We can come together. For Gregger. Our family. And love.

I struggled with the decision to write again. Some days I felt ready to blurt out, “Hello world, here I am. Let me tell you my story. My journey.” But others, I cowered behind the safety of the walls. No hurt. No pain. No tears. I was alive. But was I living? I needed to feel. Breathe. Let go.  Of fear. Fear of exposure. Fear of being alone. Fear of facing the truth. My feelings. The good. The bad. The truth. It’s been almost 3 years since Gregger left this earth. Some things have changed. Others not. What hasn’t changed? Missing Gregger. Loving him. Holding him in my heart. That’s forever. What has changed? Me. I’m living. Breathing. Smiling. Laughing. I have new friends. Earth Angels. These are the things I want to write about. The changes. The lessons. The tides. The waves. And how I ride them each and every day. Maybe it will resonate with another soul. I don’t know. Each and every day is brand new. A chance for a new beginning. Fresh start. So here we go. My life lessons. My Chapter 2. On my way to a new/different “happily ever after.” This is my journey…

Set aside “grief time.” Let it be okay. It’s not a bad thing. It’s a time to “let out the love you want to give but can’t.” It’s filling those empty little holes in your heart one piece at a time. Mine is the morning drive to “work out.” Not every day. But some days. It just happens. I don’t know when. It just “hits.” No warning. Just a beat of my heart. And I know. I lose myself in the music. Tears stream down my cheeks. Or I smile, sing along, and look to clouds. But it’s my time. And then it’s over. I step out of my car. And enter my “happy place.” I see my Earth Angels. My heart smiles. And joy fills my soul. I’ve had my time. I’m okay. And I know that all is right with the world.