I took Mark home from the ICU at Fairview Ridges hospital a year ago yesterday. I had no idea that he would have only two more months to live - nobody did. I just know that everyday that I wake up I think that a year ago...Mark was right next to me. A year ago maybe we could have done something to save him. Mark's death seemed sudden and unexpected, but in retrospect it was a death of a million cuts.
I'm darker than I have ever been. I really don't know if I can do this anymore. Every morning when I wake up (if I ever sleep), I silently think to myself "what fresh hell awaits me today". Every day is filled with reminders of him, of us...and its hell.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Spring stinks
I spent part of yesterday outside, looking at my garden. The first flowers of the season are in bloom, and of course it was salt in the wound again. Every year previous I would go running in the house, grab Mark, and bring him out and show him "our" flowers. It was a reaffirmation that even after the most harsh of Minnesota winters, life and beauty returns. This time there was nobody to show them to. Just another reminder of the hole in my life.
I read an article on young widow/ers in the NY Times. (http://www.nytimes.com/1999/11/21/nyregion/coping-widowed-young-grieving-long.html?sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all) Almost everyone depicted in the article was at least a decade older, and while it was possibly informative of why it's different to lose your spouse at this age than it is in your 70s or 80s, it only skimmed the desolation that it leaves emotionally.
Mark was the anchor to my life. I had hobbies, friends, and a brother - but I was always led back to Mark. He was the one that I fell asleep with, my head on his chest and his hand stroking my hair so my pain would be distracted. He was the one that my whole day revolved around. The "me" ten years ago would have been aghast that I could be this way. I'm a bit wiser now. It isn't strong to be tough. It takes incredible strength to finally give yourself to someone else.
What's unique about losing someone at this age is that you are blindsided in the "prime" of your life. We were making plans for everything from having a baby to retirement, and then the next thing I knew I'm driving 12 hours to see the spot of ground that he's buried. In my case there was no preparation. Just one day the whole world changed. The relationship didn't deteriorate as it does with divorce. He was just ripped away - along with some of my definitions of who I am (Mark's wife...future mother), my plans for the next four decades of my life...but most importantly my best friend is gone. The only person who made me feel butterflies when I'd catch a glimpse of him in public places...the only person who I plotted with...the one who taught me that it really was okay to be nonproductive and just have fun..the one who would spend a day in bed with me when I was sick because he didn't want me to be sick and lonely. Gone. Nobody gets it unless they've gone through it. It isn't even something that you can imagine how it would feel. You can't....I couldn't.
Insensitive people talk about "couples dinners" -the whole world is geared toward couples. Even the people that try to "get it" don't. They don't understand that there is a huge hole in me, that I will never feel whole again. They don't understand that the weekends are a journey to hell - the days that I would spend with Mark now are the days when my phone is conspicuously quiet.
Mark quipped that this house was Noah's Ark, because we have 2 of almost everything. You name the gadget or tool, we have at least two of them. Two drills, two dogs, two stand mixers, two coffee grinders. Two of everything I don't really need. And, the only one that I do need is gone. I really don't understand anything.
I read an article on young widow/ers in the NY Times. (http://www.nytimes.com/1999/11/21/nyregion/coping-widowed-young-grieving-long.html?sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all) Almost everyone depicted in the article was at least a decade older, and while it was possibly informative of why it's different to lose your spouse at this age than it is in your 70s or 80s, it only skimmed the desolation that it leaves emotionally.
Mark was the anchor to my life. I had hobbies, friends, and a brother - but I was always led back to Mark. He was the one that I fell asleep with, my head on his chest and his hand stroking my hair so my pain would be distracted. He was the one that my whole day revolved around. The "me" ten years ago would have been aghast that I could be this way. I'm a bit wiser now. It isn't strong to be tough. It takes incredible strength to finally give yourself to someone else.
What's unique about losing someone at this age is that you are blindsided in the "prime" of your life. We were making plans for everything from having a baby to retirement, and then the next thing I knew I'm driving 12 hours to see the spot of ground that he's buried. In my case there was no preparation. Just one day the whole world changed. The relationship didn't deteriorate as it does with divorce. He was just ripped away - along with some of my definitions of who I am (Mark's wife...future mother), my plans for the next four decades of my life...but most importantly my best friend is gone. The only person who made me feel butterflies when I'd catch a glimpse of him in public places...the only person who I plotted with...the one who taught me that it really was okay to be nonproductive and just have fun..the one who would spend a day in bed with me when I was sick because he didn't want me to be sick and lonely. Gone. Nobody gets it unless they've gone through it. It isn't even something that you can imagine how it would feel. You can't....I couldn't.
Insensitive people talk about "couples dinners" -the whole world is geared toward couples. Even the people that try to "get it" don't. They don't understand that there is a huge hole in me, that I will never feel whole again. They don't understand that the weekends are a journey to hell - the days that I would spend with Mark now are the days when my phone is conspicuously quiet.
Mark quipped that this house was Noah's Ark, because we have 2 of almost everything. You name the gadget or tool, we have at least two of them. Two drills, two dogs, two stand mixers, two coffee grinders. Two of everything I don't really need. And, the only one that I do need is gone. I really don't understand anything.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
More or less
It just doesn't get easier with time. It gets worse. I miss Mark more than ever.
More and more things happen that I wish Mark were a part of. Our country is changing finally, and in a direction that Mark would be so excited to see. More nights go by that I wish I could hear him laughing as he watched a puerile tv show. More nights in bed that I miss those incredible conversations...what we wanted for our lives, our loved ones and our world.
Less things make sense. Mark had just scratched the surface of what he had to offer the world. I have less reason for being. My future as I envision was intrinsically linked to being Mark's wife. "Me" ten years ago would have been horrified by that statement, but the present "me" knows that being Mark's wife is an honor. I have less certainty that there is a god. What kind of god would have done this?
The world continues all around me. People are falling in love, getting married, having children, and unfortunately getting divorced. My life has stood pretty much still since July 22nd. I don't know how to restart it, and I'm not always sure that I want to.
More and more things happen that I wish Mark were a part of. Our country is changing finally, and in a direction that Mark would be so excited to see. More nights go by that I wish I could hear him laughing as he watched a puerile tv show. More nights in bed that I miss those incredible conversations...what we wanted for our lives, our loved ones and our world.
Less things make sense. Mark had just scratched the surface of what he had to offer the world. I have less reason for being. My future as I envision was intrinsically linked to being Mark's wife. "Me" ten years ago would have been horrified by that statement, but the present "me" knows that being Mark's wife is an honor. I have less certainty that there is a god. What kind of god would have done this?
The world continues all around me. People are falling in love, getting married, having children, and unfortunately getting divorced. My life has stood pretty much still since July 22nd. I don't know how to restart it, and I'm not always sure that I want to.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Underachievers
I've heard it said before that if money can solve it; it's not a problem. Equally, I think that if it can be replaced, it's not a problem. Houses, cars...everything inanimate can be replaced. The only things that can't are those that have a soul. I keep thinking back to Mark's last night. I wish to god that I could go back in time, take him to the hospital and explain to them what was really wrong with him - what I didn't find out until his autopsy. I wish that I could figure out anything good that has come of what he suffered and we lost - I can't.
Part of me is stuck in that time zone, and I don't want to move beyond grieving Mark. How can I stop? I love him, I'm devoted to him...I can't stop grieving him. I took my vows very seriously. I guess I'm technically "off the hook". But I'm not. Because I vowed "until death do us part" - and death has not parted us. I still love Mark Halvin. I'm still his wife. I will always be his wife. So the hard part is; how do I figure out how to want to live in a world where I'm separated from the one I love? I haven't been living for almost six months now. I'm almost as dead as Mark is; only worse. He would choose to be alive, I'm choosing not to be. I know he's not happy with my choices. I know he used to think I could do anything, yet all he ever wanted me to do was to be happy. Such a simple charge: Be Happy.
I've achieved little glimpses of it, always striving for it in the future. I always thought after I graduated things would be better. Then came law school...and I thought that certainly I was paying my dues for future happiness. Mark fortunately relieved me of that delusion, but I still floundered. I knew I was happy with Mark, but I thought I needed more. Then, when Mark passed I realized that I really was happy...I didn't need anything else.
I've frequently heard that we utilize a small percentage of our brains, and it has occurred to me that we utilize an equally small amount of our hearts. I think of how much of my time and energy was wasted on making sure the house looked right, on things that just didn't matter. I really believe that we go about our lives using such a small amount of our potential, whatever that is. Humans are capable of horrendous things, genocides, wars and our ignorance is never ending. But we are also capable of incredible love and kindness. Mark would have been so happy about Barack Obama's inauguration. He was wearing a t-shirt that said 1/20/09. Now that day is here but he isn't.
I know it isn't easy to run on all cylinders non-stop. Just for one day, this day, try utilizing even just 50% of your heart. Try being patient when that creep in the fast car speeds past you (Mark had a lead foot), try overlooking their small flaws (Mark had a couple), and just forgive and love. I know that I sound like a broken record; but you won't have those people forever and YOU deserve to love them today.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Leap of Faith
I've been scanning in the negatives to our wedding pictures.
As always, I seem to bring on the pain by looking at how happy we were.
By the time I met Mark I had mapped out my life. I was going to pour my passion into work and changing the world as a lawyer. I was going to lead a life of the mind, not of the heart. I had been dating, but nobody posed a threat to my "plan". As soon as I met Mark I knew that he threatened everything. For two months I wavered. After our initial meeting at the bookstore, and our subsequent marathon conversation until 7 the next morning I was too frightened to see/go out with him again. I stood safely on terra firma, saw the potential happiness on the other side but I focused on what would happen if I fell. Mark was understandably upset and hurt...but I remember he said that he was "infinitely forgiving".
To borrow from Kierkegaard, I finally took a leap of faith for Mark. In retrospect, it seems like it should have been a safe bet. In nine years, I managed to get him to yell at me once, and I worked really hard at it! He just didn't have a mean bone in his body. I knew some of that right away, but if you are going to truly love someone, truly give them your heart it takes a leap of faith. Kierkegard used this term for religion. I'd argue that love is a bigger risk than religion. If you take the leap and believe in religion, you don't find out that you were wrong until you die. Leaping for love exposes you to a living hell if you're wrong. I lept, left my life plan behind and found true love...the kind of love that makes your heart flutter when you spot him in a crowded store, and the kind of love that allows you to be comfortable "showing your ass" to them. Mark used this expression for the ugliness that exists in all of us that we hide from most people. I showed my ass to Mark, and my heart fluttered when I saw him.
I was talking with my friend Lilly yesterday. She knows about taking "the leap". Like many people she has lept and the person on the other side let her fall when she most needed him. Mark and I were devoted to each other. Some people didn't understand this. They didn't understand why a man who wouldn't "take crap" from anyone would take it from me. They didn't understand why he would choose to stay in bed with me when I felt ill rather than to be with others that he loved. There were people that also didn't understand how I could stay with Mark through some of his rough spots. I never would have put up with the same behavior from earlier relationships.
There's just one answer. Love. Love does not exist only in good times. That's easy. Love is proven when it is most difficult - when every rational fiber in you tells you that it is in YOUR best interests to run, but you remain because love knows only devotion. It will not abandon you when you're weak, ugly, sick, crazy, or in jail. It also can't be ended by death. True love never packs up and leaves.
I will never be one of those widows who deifies my late husband. I don't do Mark justice by doing that. Mark was not a saint. He had flaws, just as I had and continue to have. The most serious "flaws" are now explained by his tumor, but nonetheless Mark was real. The key was we were devoted. People have told me repeatedly that our devotion to each other was remarkable. There was never any resentment when one of us needed from the other. Mark used to have a very simple way of explaining why he would do anything I needed. He said "You are me".
Without devotion, love is just a fad. With devotion, love even survives death. I still love Mark. I will always love him. Not just because I choose to (although I do), but because loving Mark is who I am. As far as Mark was concerned when he "saved" me, he saved himself too. I felt the same way about him. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. Having lost him, that devotion eats away at me. I'm the one that could have saved him. I have a million "if onlys". If only I took him to the Mayo Clinic. If only I would have woke up two hours earlier. They go on forever. It makes life painful.
But now, as I look at those wedding photos I see the happiness on our faces. You can't fake those type of smiles. It truly was the happiest day of our lives. We made that leap, and we landed together. We stayed together.
Love isn't something you can play safely. Make the leap, and stay there.
As always, I seem to bring on the pain by looking at how happy we were.
By the time I met Mark I had mapped out my life. I was going to pour my passion into work and changing the world as a lawyer. I was going to lead a life of the mind, not of the heart. I had been dating, but nobody posed a threat to my "plan". As soon as I met Mark I knew that he threatened everything. For two months I wavered. After our initial meeting at the bookstore, and our subsequent marathon conversation until 7 the next morning I was too frightened to see/go out with him again. I stood safely on terra firma, saw the potential happiness on the other side but I focused on what would happen if I fell. Mark was understandably upset and hurt...but I remember he said that he was "infinitely forgiving".
To borrow from Kierkegaard, I finally took a leap of faith for Mark. In retrospect, it seems like it should have been a safe bet. In nine years, I managed to get him to yell at me once, and I worked really hard at it! He just didn't have a mean bone in his body. I knew some of that right away, but if you are going to truly love someone, truly give them your heart it takes a leap of faith. Kierkegard used this term for religion. I'd argue that love is a bigger risk than religion. If you take the leap and believe in religion, you don't find out that you were wrong until you die. Leaping for love exposes you to a living hell if you're wrong. I lept, left my life plan behind and found true love...the kind of love that makes your heart flutter when you spot him in a crowded store, and the kind of love that allows you to be comfortable "showing your ass" to them. Mark used this expression for the ugliness that exists in all of us that we hide from most people. I showed my ass to Mark, and my heart fluttered when I saw him.
I was talking with my friend Lilly yesterday. She knows about taking "the leap". Like many people she has lept and the person on the other side let her fall when she most needed him. Mark and I were devoted to each other. Some people didn't understand this. They didn't understand why a man who wouldn't "take crap" from anyone would take it from me. They didn't understand why he would choose to stay in bed with me when I felt ill rather than to be with others that he loved. There were people that also didn't understand how I could stay with Mark through some of his rough spots. I never would have put up with the same behavior from earlier relationships.
There's just one answer. Love. Love does not exist only in good times. That's easy. Love is proven when it is most difficult - when every rational fiber in you tells you that it is in YOUR best interests to run, but you remain because love knows only devotion. It will not abandon you when you're weak, ugly, sick, crazy, or in jail. It also can't be ended by death. True love never packs up and leaves.
I will never be one of those widows who deifies my late husband. I don't do Mark justice by doing that. Mark was not a saint. He had flaws, just as I had and continue to have. The most serious "flaws" are now explained by his tumor, but nonetheless Mark was real. The key was we were devoted. People have told me repeatedly that our devotion to each other was remarkable. There was never any resentment when one of us needed from the other. Mark used to have a very simple way of explaining why he would do anything I needed. He said "You are me".
Without devotion, love is just a fad. With devotion, love even survives death. I still love Mark. I will always love him. Not just because I choose to (although I do), but because loving Mark is who I am. As far as Mark was concerned when he "saved" me, he saved himself too. I felt the same way about him. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. Having lost him, that devotion eats away at me. I'm the one that could have saved him. I have a million "if onlys". If only I took him to the Mayo Clinic. If only I would have woke up two hours earlier. They go on forever. It makes life painful.
But now, as I look at those wedding photos I see the happiness on our faces. You can't fake those type of smiles. It truly was the happiest day of our lives. We made that leap, and we landed together. We stayed together.
Love isn't something you can play safely. Make the leap, and stay there.
Connections
I've been hiding for over a month. I'm not sure who or what I'm hiding from. I just know that I've been hiding.
I have heard people claim that we are the sum total of everyone that we've met in our lives. I'm not sure that I wholly agree with that...I'd like to believe that there is something unique in each of us that can't be simply molded by our experiences. However, when I think of who I am now, versus who I was when I met Mark, I think maybe it has some truth.
Mark and I spent nine years together. We lived together, slept together, we loved, we fought, we expressed our biggest fears, kept a few secrets - but our hearts were always an open book. He has affected me more than anyone else in my life. We spent more time together, one on one than I spent with anyone else. Some of those hours were spent just huddled together sleeping - but even then we were connecting. I always woke up when he left the bed. Part of me must have known something was wrong. If he wasn't next to me sleeping I'd wake up and find him usually in the bathroom. Now we know that he woke up frequently because of his tumor. After he left, I couldn't sleep for over three months because my body sensed his absence and refused to allow me to rest without him. All I knew was that he wasn't where he belonged...next to me. He never will be again.
You don't need candlelight dinners to connect. Open yourself to the multitude of connections that everyday life offers. Don't pass them up - they may never occur again.
I have heard people claim that we are the sum total of everyone that we've met in our lives. I'm not sure that I wholly agree with that...I'd like to believe that there is something unique in each of us that can't be simply molded by our experiences. However, when I think of who I am now, versus who I was when I met Mark, I think maybe it has some truth.
Mark and I spent nine years together. We lived together, slept together, we loved, we fought, we expressed our biggest fears, kept a few secrets - but our hearts were always an open book. He has affected me more than anyone else in my life. We spent more time together, one on one than I spent with anyone else. Some of those hours were spent just huddled together sleeping - but even then we were connecting. I always woke up when he left the bed. Part of me must have known something was wrong. If he wasn't next to me sleeping I'd wake up and find him usually in the bathroom. Now we know that he woke up frequently because of his tumor. After he left, I couldn't sleep for over three months because my body sensed his absence and refused to allow me to rest without him. All I knew was that he wasn't where he belonged...next to me. He never will be again.
You don't need candlelight dinners to connect. Open yourself to the multitude of connections that everyday life offers. Don't pass them up - they may never occur again.
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