Risking

Taking a risk….

We have been taught that one of two things can occur from such an action:

Something bad, with  an unfavorable outcome..

Or….

Something magnificent, soul empowering and life-affirming.

–

So what happens when you take a risk and both occur?

Would it be a mutant? An “X-Men” of risks?

A grey area that few talk about or like to admit to?

–

Or is risking something of ourself….of our life, always going to have both outcomes?

You know what. That’s what I believe. Because at the end of the day, when we take a risk and our dreams come true, we forget to admit that even the magnificent is finite.

And when the “bad” occurs, we forget to see and honor the great wisdom that comes from the hardships.

And maybe, just maybe, by embracing that risk will not have one of the outcomes….but both….maybe that allows us to cherish, and be grateful, and honor the roses and thorns that occur from such a noble and courageous act.

–

Marrying Michael at 19 was one risky move….I can admit to that. Not only because of age but because he was Infantry in the Army in the middle of a war.

But you know what…. I refuse to look at that risk as one I shouldn’t have taken because he died and I was left a widow a 21 years old.

He was one of the greatest risks of my life.

And yes, a “non-favorable” outcome occurred that temporarily shattered me.

But if he had come back and lived another 70 years by my side, one of us would have eventually passed-on….and that wouldn’t be favorable either.

But the risk is always worth it.

I can’t decide the timing or the turmoil or the triumphs that happen as a result of such an action….but I want to keep risking.

I want to keep milking every ounce of beauty in the risks that turned out the way I planned, and keep honoring the teachings from the risks that didn’t (seem to at the time) end as hoped for.

And what is life if not one short or long and beautiful stretch of hoping, trying and loving and living…..but only if you risk to feel/experience it.

Risk on.

There’s No Place Like Hope

 

 

I was spending my Friday evening perusing a used book store when my eye was caught by this very catchy title.

 

Being an avid “Wizard of Oz” fan, the switch of HOME with HOPE struck such a chord with me.

 

Home, for me, has never equated to a physical structure, but rather a place to fully be me.

 

To be immersed by all that I love.

 

To let me hair down.

 

Dance around naked.

 

Talk out loud.

 

Find myself.

 

Cry.

 

Laugh.

 

LIVE…

 

A breeding ground to create memories and share moments with those I care about.

 

A place of peace.

 

Unapologetic.

 

Quirky.

 

Me.

 

 

When thinking of all that I hope for, I saw that it literally embodied what “home” was/is.

 

Hope is nothing more than us trying to find our way back to all that we are when we find ourselves in a space/energy/place that embraces all that we are and all those that add color to our canvas….hope in disguise.

 

I have no freaking clue what that darn book is about that stirred this realization…But I sure as hell know that it made me realize that there really is nothing like hope.

 

Nothing like ‘home’.

 

Nothing like remembering where the yellow brick road leads to and what that homecoming means to one’s soul.

 

Sometimes we just need to click the heels of our hearts and mind together to remember where it is.

 

 

Evolve

The 4 Fires we created the last night for the 108 aka the 108 times we walked across them for graduation.

Evolve.

We all hopefully do it.

Peel the layer off the onion to reveal the next.

It was hard and unthinkable to have any other “layers” after Michael’s death…but surely, 5 years later, I’ve evolved.

Grown.

Learned.

But the growth has been like watching a snail crossing a road:

It’s surely moving, but when you watch it continuously, it looks as slow as molasses…when you turn your glance and look back a time later, it seems as if it’s gone leaps and bounds.

This past week though…I saw the growth happen before my eyes…without taking my eyes off the whole time.

I went to become a Certified Firewalk Instructor for new things I have planned in the future for my passion and cause…but left having learned more about myself than I could have ever imagined.

It was a crash-course in the obstacles, faults, fears, and goals we all have in life.

It was like taking a sip of what I thought was water, to have my system shocked when I realized it was sprite.

I pushed myself (along with the help of a god-sent group of individuals all trying to attain the same goal or facilitating), mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Together we cried, cheered, were inspired by each others faith in the other, by each person’s perseverance when things got bad, by the ability to find a place in our mind that was pure, unscathed, and there to show us the truths within each of us.

There were moments of doubt and apprehension…but always a hand to reach out (Thank you Kathy). There were moments of realizations that we are not alone in are connections (Thank you, Del) and there were realizations that some people will test you to make sure your spirit and soul are reinforced in your being (Thank you, Robert).There were moments that I saw the utter goodness of strangers who want to do nothing more than help other’s achieve the goals set forth (Thank you, FIRE team).

Only one other moment since Michael’s death have I been so utterly sure that the things I learned would change my life forever.

I am now a certified Firewalk Instructor.

But more than that, I am a better person. A person that has much growing to do, but can finally see life with clear eyes and an open heart.

I didn’t want our time at F.I.R.E. to end and had a bit of hesitation in the outside world being able to fully comprehend all that took place…all that will run through my veins from this point on…and they may not…but I knew that for 4 days I learned amazing and extreme tools of enlightenment and empowerment, I met people who are more than people, but now family, and I have no doubt that I was where I was supposed to be…with Michael’s amazing spirit alongside me the whole time.

 

“Courageous risks are life-giving, they help you grow, make you brave, and better than you think you are.”

Clearing

 

Life’s pretty darn comical.

I get all I could ever dream of…then that gets taken from me.

Next, I get used to the grief and pain and in a way have it take the backseat to the life still before me…but then I’m slammed with something else that clouds the clearing my heart and mind had worked so hard on clearing.

A recycling of the good and bad…a recycling that fogged over the beauty still present in the midst of the uninvited madness that made its presence pretty darn known.

I was never good at juggling…or surprises.

Everyone’s been telling me to take me time, in hopes that a clearing can be made once more.

But it could be clouded over again…or it couldn’t….or maybe I was too preoccupied by the clouds that crept in to not look a bit further to see the clearing was still there….just a bit harder to see.

I think I’m going to have to go with the last theory.

It’s slowly getting brighter and brighter. I’m finally kind of enjoying the whole recycling thing, too…keeps me on my toes.

And I’d rather be on them than my knees…

Recap

The past week has been a roller coaster.

Charlie was laid to rest and it was one of the hardest moments of my life. It was also during that time that I was moved by my friends kindness. I was lucky and blessed to have some of my dearest and best friends there…friends that weren’t like the friends that were around when Michael died….these are friends that aren’t going anywhere and laugh and cry and grieve without questions or answers. TT told me she wasn’t used to being so open with her feelings, as we all shared our love and memories with Charlie…the secret is…it’s because they were there that I was able to. I love you all so very much. Thank you for helping me, loving me, and allowing me to be called your friend…I’ll never feel deserving of such kindness.

The flip side of this major loss is a major gain! My organization, as of today, has it’s first official office! I hold the key and smile…it’s more than an office…it’s a brighter and more beautiful future for myself and the fellow widows of the AWP. I’m so excited and know that this means nothing but good. It’s in my dream area. My dream 360 square feet. And will be a place where even more dreams come true for all we serve.

I’m spending this month to absorb all that May has consisted of. A month of growth, pain, survival, and the further assurance that Michael’s love is always present.

That’s it.

The end .

Last Walk

Charlie…

Charlie is more than a dog.

Though my family had him since he was a puppy, in 2004 he came to live with me full-time. He became king.

Always having been an outside dog, he was thrown into a world where he didn’t have to fight to get to the dog bowl and got to sleep among pillows and soft comforters. An escape artist, he’d flee and be back within the hour, waiting on the front porch. The same porch he’d eagerly await my arrival after class each day. He was my best friend.

Michael and Charlie had a special bond. Something I was admittedly jealous of. Charlie would do special tricks and give extra kisses to Michael. He was a daddy’s boy.

When Michael got deployed to Iraq, Charlie was his wingman. Michael had a talk with him to watch over me and take care of me….Charlie never faltered from that agreement they silently made looking into each others eyes before Michael kissed him goodbye for the last time.

When I was sad, Charlie would quietly walk up to me and give me a kiss. He always let me know everything was going to be alright.

On May 21st, 2007, Charlie would have to step up to the plate even more. Michael had been killed and I was shattered. I refused to eat or drink, and Charlie, who never left my bedside, refused to do the same. He was the only reason I would get up….to ensure he’d eat to live another day.

I never thought I’d live longer than Charlie or Maximus. I even have in my will who each are to go to.

In the months following Michael’s death, I stayed inside, planning my escape route from Earth. And yet, Charlie, with his deep brown eyes, always found a way to ensure I face a new day.

He’s a quiet soul who reminds me of Michael. He rarely barked but was known for being a fighter….literally and hypothetically. He had sent a couple of dogs to the vets whenever they got to close.
(I remember one day, napping, when I heard a barking scuffle outside. Pillow in hand, I ran to find Charlie and a boxer going at it. Pillow’s swinging left to right, I feared for Charlie’s life, only to find that the giant boxer was the one harmed.)

As I ventured into a world I decided to fight for, Charlie rooted me on. I talk to him, you see. He’s the child of Michael and I, and I feel he understands what I’m saying…never doubts or challenges.

The next 3 year’s I would travel so much in hopes to bring the AWP to life, but no matter what, he’d be there at the front door to greet me and give me a kiss hello.

In October of 2010 things changed. One night while on the carpet with Papas (one of his 20 million nick-names), I noticed his eye looked weird. Right away I knew something was wrong and asked my parents to take him into the vet (I was afraid to face any bad news).

My dad called me. “Taryn…Charlie has cancer. He has a tumor growing on the top of his head. He doesn’t have much longer….”

No.No.NO. Our baby couldn’t go. I frantically started making calls within minutes of finding out and set up a meeting with a veterinary oncologist.

Many tests were taken, biopsies done, needles poked.

In November they called to let me know that Charlie had squamous cell carcinoma. I went in to see what the options were.

The doctors told me that I could put him through radiation and chemo. Once done with the treatments it could possibly add no more than a year to his life.

I agreed, and so began our new life of waking up each morning for months. Traveling over 2 hours each day. Things would look good and other times I’d bring him in crying, afraid that I had made the wrong decision. But Charlie fought, pulled through, and one night, even ran up to me and gave me a kiss. It was one of the best moments.

The radiation took a toll though, and the skin burned away and then his vision deteriorated.

I cried myself to sleep many nights, but even blind, Charlie would find his way to our bedroom and sleep next to me.

It’s been around 5 months since all of his treatments. 5 months I’ve been able to give him extra belly rubs. 5 months to whisper into his bushy ears how much Michael and I love him.

5 months to have something I wasn’t able to have with Michael….the ability to say goodbye.

I returned home two nights ago and Charlie’s health had deteriorated within hours. Although he had been eating and drinking while at my parent’s house, it became very obvious that he was just waiting to be back with me.

You see, I’ve wondered often if my actions to keep him here, to do everything in my power to keep him with me, were selfish. I asked Michael during the rough times to just let Charlie go in his sleep. But on Tuesday night, I asked Charlie to let me know when he was ready, and at one moment, he looked up at me…blind, but as though he could see, and I knew.

I knew that it was time to do for him something unselfish, and take him out of his pain. I think he breathes for me, suffers for me, feels indebted to his loving father to stay with me….I want him to know it is okay.

I’ve had him for 15 years. He’s been through every life-changing event of my life, but tonight, at 6pm, on his favorite spot in the house (the cold tile of the fireplace), Michael will have his 2nd love join him.

My dearest friends and family by my side, we will wrap him in Michael’s uniform (the one he slept underneath in the closet after Michael died.) Fill the pockets with letters to him and our loved ones he’ll be joining and spread his ashes with his father’s.

I’m in pain…but Charlie is in more. And tonight we will celebrate his furry life. Remember random memories, like how when I took him running he always ran faster than me, making me look even slower, so I had to buy a really short leash. Or the moments when a spurt of energy would hit him and he’d run around like a banshee. Or the time he sat up on Michael’s knees and kissed him farewell. Or how much you simply adore window surfing.

I love you so much, papas. I know you’re outside sleeping with the wind on your face, and maybe by the time you wake up, it will seem as if we were not parted for long.

You have fulfilled you daddy’s wish and taken care of me better than anyone or anything. I know I am strong enough now…and so much of that is because of the loyalty and love you have forever shown me. You are the epitome of unconditional love and I hope to embody your strength.

I love you. We love you.

There’s a stone I had made for Luke at the top of the hill road, where the pasture opens wide and the setting sun highlights the words carved into its face. “That’ll do, Luke, that’ll do.” The words are said to working dogs all over the world when the chores are done and the flock is settled: “That’ll do dog, come home now, your work is done.” Luke’s work is done too. He took my heart and ran with it, and he’s running still, fast and strong, a piece of my heart bound up with his, forever.

-Patricia McConnell

I Smile

Recent Photo From One of my 2011 Adventures

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.”
-Arundhati Roy

 

I must say, with each passing year it’s as if another layer of sludge is washed away from my life….The life that began the day Michael was killed. I life I used to loathe to the core of my being.

 

But for once, I’ve been watching, I’ve been learning. I’ve been trying to understand that which I don’t, and yet, with no answers I smile with the reflection.

 

I feel that so much has been bestowed upon me since becoming his widow, and yet, I find more of it that I love than I could ever hate. I’ve never looked away. And for once I am seeing the fruits of that sometimes painful action. I see the immeasurable gifts before me, and even more for my taking. And just as the quote states, I know it’s because I never allow myself to forget. Forget the nights we sometime wish we never had to remember, the moments where taking my life seemed like the only means to an end of all that I felt was taken from us both, the moments where I cursed God for continuing to test me and my strength I sometimes ignore.

 

Those moments, though they will probably occur time to time until I’m reunited with my love, are the ones I sit here at my computer smiling over.

 

The questioning, begging, and pleading have gone on an undetermined sabbatical and I feel free. And I feel Michael. And I feel excited for where our story will continue to lead me.

 

And I feel alive.

 

And it’s all I because I never forgot…..It’s all because I’ll never forget.

Loveinity

If I had to choose between loving you and breathing, I would use my last breath to say, "I Love You."

This Thursday will mark our 5 year wedding anniversary. As I've stated through the years, this day has always been more difficult for me than any other...including the day he was killed.

Read More...

Comfortable

It happened.

 

I’d become comfortable. I’d accepted the fact that I must survive…thrive in this world without my soul mate. It became acceptable. It became something other than a curse.

 

Then it happened. News. News that I was not supposed to deal with without him by my side. News that made me want to screw the comfortable and scream for the past. News that I didn’t know how to take.

 

I had retreated into a world that was only known to me many years ago…I didn’t want to go back there, yet my heart knew no other path.

 

I guess that is what it is. Like a down comforter chair. You see it. It looks so welcoming. You decide to sit in it. It’s blissful as your muscles are enveloped by its comfort, by its surroundings. But just as you sink in more and put your feet up, it happens, you’re abruptly thrown to your toes, thrown into a confusion of sorts that you never saw coming.

 

Maybe the secret isn’t dwelling on the fact that it started “just when”. Maybe it’s a matter of celebrating and being grateful that I had that “just when”.

 

Life is the greatest mystery. The second greatest is our heart’s capacity to handle it all. The only thing that isn’t a mystery is the love that drags us through the hell we find ourselves in. Drags is through those moments when we had just become comfortable.

Guide

I’ve always taken my own path. I like the fresh, uncharted dirt beneath my feet, the barren terrain of land not crossed by others. Yes, as Michael would say, I lived in the clouds, a world of my own, but he never tried to change that, and in all honesty, I think it’s one of the things he loved so much about me. It’s the Christopher Columbus in me, which did lead me to him to begin with.

 

After Michael died though, I forgot about this land, the trail of life I was blazing. Soon my life became consumed by the “What would Michael want me to do?” I had lost my inner compass, my sense of direction, and leaned on Michael to show me the way.

 

This sustained me for a little while, but I felt Michael fading more in presence.

 

Then it hit me. How or why would I feel his presence and guidance when I was losing and forgetting that I was my guide all along. I was losing me, in this pursuit to let go of my steering wheel, hold my hands up and expect for  there not to be a crash.

 

Once I realized that to continue on my journey to him, my journey through this life without him, my journey, I had reclaim that girl that “lived in the clouds”. That girl that had a machete in one hand to cut her way through an alien world.

 

I’ve found her. Piece by piece, new and old me’s, gleam beneath the gravel of life they’ve been hidden in.

 

It feels good. To have that compass inside of me working. It feels good to know that at the end of my pioneering this life before me I’ll be with my soul mate.

 

I remembered that the only phrase I needed to ask myself the whole time, “What would Taryn do?” and it’s a phrase that has brought his loving presence back into my life more powerful than ever.

 

There is great meaning in life for those who are willing to journey.

-Jim England

Losing Me

And remember, no matter where you go, there you are.

~Confucius

I remember the day. It was two months after Michael was killed and I found myself sitting on our big red chair, laptop in hand. Tears welled up in my eyes as I scrolled through the hundreds of photos I had of Michael. It would take a moment till I finally realized what I was doing. As I passed through each picture I would only look at Michael. When I finally looked over at myself, the real pain settled in my heart. A pain that recognized that I had not only lost my soul mate, but along with him, myself.

The twinkle in my eyes, the smile on my face, the glow of having my love near-by…all those things were gone, and I felt like an empty shell staring at what it once was when a soul inhabited it.

I must say, three years later, I know that those expressions I shared  in the moments where I looked up at him, kissed his lips, held his hand…those moments will never be recreated, as they were exclusive to the man that unearthed them from the person I was before his love came into my life. Yet on another note, as I’ve healed,  as I’ve grasped back onto the core or who Taryn is,  I’ve learned to once again love the life that still is before me. New expressions are exposed…expressions of love, laughter, happiness, and contentment.

I no longer mourn the loss of the person I was when Michael was alive. I can look at those same photos that once brought me tears and smile reminiscing over the feelings I felt at that very moment, feelings that manifested out of the rubble in a new form, shaped to the life I never thought I’d have, the life I will look back on in photographs with happiness…happiness over the person I once was, the person I became, and the person I continue to court on this strange, alien yet beautiful, life I call my own.

1157

One restless night of blog surfing, I saw someone post the exact number of days since they lost their soul mate.

I must admit, I stopped long ago in counting the exact days and months since Michael was killed. Knowing such numbers, especially in the never-ending days in the beginning of my grief, seemed like mental suicide. As much as I’m a believer that each day on earth is a day closer to them in heaven, I couldn’t fathom marking and taking note of each day without him…that is a loss in my being that no month, date, calendar, or clock can construe.

Yet I admit, as I stared at the widowers days numbered, I was tempted to find out my own. I found a site that allowed me to find out the duration from date to date…

“Submit” was clicked.

1157 days can be converted to one of these units:

* 99,964,800 seconds
* 1,666,080 minutes
* 27,768 hours
* 165 weeks (rounded down)

I stared at the numbers.

I wasn’t numb. I wasn’t in shock. I simply looked at them, shook my head, and closed the page.

As much as I can’t believe that it has been that long since everything happened (and had I been earlier out I may have had a different reaction) I’ve learned one thing above all;
In 1157 days I have struggled, cried, given up, stood back up, laughed, smiled, grown, cried some more, scorned the heavens above, thanked the heavens above, given up on life, taken back my life, fallen to my knees…prevailed.

I look at 1157 with pride, not pain.

I have survived 1157 days without my soul mate physically here. I have fallen deeper in love with the man who took a new form and shown me a new perspective on our amazing relationship and my new life.

Just as I couldn’t count the days or months these past 3 years because I felt that no number would ever bring back my love or erase the heartache felt because of his death…no number or date can be put on the length and depth of our love…but when I am given the chance (or the curiosity) to see a number, it will be one that reminds me of the strength born from both of those things.

My name is Taryn Davis. My life ended 1157 days ago….but in the last 1157 days it has come back from the dead…stronger then ever…fueled by the essence of any life…the knowledge that is has true love on its side.

Aspire

After he was killed, it was so easy to stay down.

Barricaded not only in my house but my emotions, thoughts and feelings. I’d torture myself with not looking at the memories as a gift, but more so, a reminder of that which could never be again. Even as the light would creep in through the darkness, I still didn’t allow myself to feel and live the way I already knew how to live when he was alive, but instead the way I thought I was supposed to live because he was dead. How can I exist, let alone smile and feel alive with my soul mate not here?

No one wanted to accept that I’m madly in love with a dead man, so separating myself from others and feeling that I could only live in a bubble became a notion I was ready to fulfill, as long as it meant I could live in his love.

But that’s the thing…I wasn’t.

The love we share is unrelenting, full of life, an explorer of the world and all the emotions out there waiting for us to feel them. It’s a love that does not sit and wait for something to happen, but goes out and gets it. A love that defines the infinite and creates feelings in which words have not been created to describe.

But what was I doing?

The opposite. Afraid to go out into a world that I was letting the fear of the unknown and those who did not know hold me back. A fear that smiling, laughing…living would make others believe that suddenly my love and pain was waning for Michael.

But those notions, each and everyone noted and unnoted, are things in retrospect that I have learned were my own aversion from embracing this life before me.

So I stopped.

Now my life is defined by the love that I know. The love that is compiled of all the things I spoke about. The love that has made me feel alive after I died inside, the love that grabbed the paddles, placed them on my corpse of a life, and recuperated me into living the life that I know Michael is looking down on with pride…and maybe a little envy 🙂 and most of all gratification in the fact that I did what he was whispering through my soul, but did not allow myself to hear with the glaring pitch of grief…that to honor his life, and the gifts he’s left me with, is to be the woman he fell in love with and proudly announced as his wife…to be Taryn.

“The reason why all men honor love is because it looks up, and not down; aspires and not despairs”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

3

Three…

Three whopping years since it happened.

Since my soul mate went to the other side and I ventured out in the unfamiliar world called widowhood.

The Angel-versary is always a time where I look back on the time that has passed, things that have been conquered, feelings that have been realized, and growth that has taken place. As I drove in my car one evening, thinking of these things, thinking of THREE, one thing took precedent.

In the rehashing of all that has transpired, what came to mind the most were the three words that have got me through it all. Three words that he said to me for the last time on May 21st, 2007. Three words that have not only carried through my grief but helped me soar above it’s grasps into a life where smiles are more prevalent then frowns, and memories are recalled while making new ones.

Three words that on this three year anniversary will be heard in my heart and felt in my veins. Three words that have defined my being.

Three….

I LOVE YOU.

Sure of You

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh?’ he whispered.
‘Yes, Piglet?’
‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”
–A.A. Milne

I’d be lying if there weren’t moments where I begged for a sign, dream, feeling that you were here…around.

Like a detective I’d search for clues or signals…but my magnifying lens, in turn, seemed to blind me.

It’s not a matter of the physical…that was something I had acclimated to not having or needing long before you were taken. It was more of that sense that in my deepest moments of despair you’d appear out of smoke to wipe away my tears.

But I forced it.

I begged and pleaded.

And it equated to me not feeling what was there all along.

Your presence…unfaltering presence..in a place that I could not see with my eyes, or figure out with my mind…

but felt it lodged, deep in my heart.

I’m sure of you.

I’m sure of you.

How Much?

It’s been nearly 3 years since I saw this video (it’s been stuck on a broken computer), and nearly 4 since it was filmed in Eagle River, AK by my baby (you can see him in the reflection of my sunglasses).

I sure don’t sound the same, and definitely don’t look the same, but I sure do feel the same each time I watch it.

Love you mucho mucho.

Happiness – Provided By Me

“I define comfort as self-acceptance. When we finally learn that self-care begins and ends with ourselves, we no longer demand sustenance and happiness from others.” -Jennifer Louden

Let me just say how much I love this quote. I really should print it on cards and hand it out to those who make the snide remarks that I will not be able to be happy until “move on” or somehow refuse to acknowledge the smile on my face when they see no one is standing at my side.

In my later years of college, single, partied out, and facing a world sans boyfriend…I found self-acceptance. I learned to love ME as ME. Flaws, bad decisions and all (and believe me when I say had a few). That was a trying time, as I believe we sometimes are our worst critics. But I did it, I peeled the layers of my onion and saw a new life before me, one like play-doh; bright, colorful and ready for me to mold.

Well, a little less than 9 months later Michael came back into my life and my own personal happiness was their, but enhanced by my soul mate…caught on fire. Maybe that’s why separation did nothing but enhance our relationship more, not strain it, because the happiness never faded, and still hasn’t to this day. Others just seem to have a hard time grasping on to the “sustenance and happiness” which still run through this widow’s veins.

So as I walk on this journey, I’ve dusted off my “self-care”…which was gathering dust…and decided to continue the path of happiness I found on my own, found enhanced by my soul mate, and found resurrected like a phoenix out of the ashes.

Dreams- Brandi Carlile

Ok, I have something to confess….I’m website crazed! I have this one, which is the consolidation of three blogs…I have this one, which I put my favorite quotes and personal photos…and my newest one, which I just use as a photo gallery of my pictures…i know…it’s bad 🙂

While on this one, I came across this song from Brandi Carlile ( who I fell in love with, with “the Story”) and had to share it on here. It’s so true. Every night I hope to see his face, to just have him be a part of my world, even if it’s my dream one.

Dreams, I have dreams when I’m awake when I’m asleep
And you, you are in my Dreams
You’re underneath my skin, how am I so weak

And now in my dreams,

I can feel the weight, I can just come clean
I keep it to myself, I know what it means
I can’t have you, but I have dreams

How long, can you hold your breath?
Can you count to ten, can you let it pass?
Keep, can you keep it in?
Keep it behind lashes, can you make it last?

And now in my dreams, I can feel the weight
I can just come clean

I keep it to myself, I know what it means
I can’t have you, but I have dreams
Oh, I have dreams, I have dreams

(And then an amazing guitar solo)

Mind, can you read my mind?
Has it come undone, am I showin’ signs?

And now, in my dreams
I can feel the weight, I can just come clean
I keep it to myself, I know what it means
I can’t have you, but I have dreams
I have dreams, I have, I have, I have Dreams

Guilt

I wanted to touch base on guilt, as I believe it has played a role in my grief with Michael’s loss.

The guilt that he died and I lived

The guilt of the things he never got to experience that I know have been.

The guilt of having eyes to still see this world’s beauty and ears to hear its melodies.

The guilt of knowing that he would have handled this pain, loss, and life better then I could, if it had been me to go instead.

The guilt that is created in my over-thinking mind…fictional and factual.

The guilt has sub-sided though, as I know it is a belt of weights I buckled around my waist…a belt that never was supposed to weigh on my hips, my being, my soul.

You see, guilt was never a component of our life (even though I may have used it as a defense mechanism in a disagreement…bad Taryn), so it makes no sense that I would make it a part of my life now, and the love that is still ours.

But I apologize, to Michael and the others around me, for the moments where I let guilt’s claws take their grasp on a moment that could have been put in the light it deserved.

Now I can’t say that it doesn’t creep up at moments where life is a-glow and I feel as if I’m surrounded by a bubble of positivity…but those are just the workings of my brain….
not my heart.

“Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.”
-Coco Chanel

In the Box

So a little story… a story I love to tell.

It was February 12th, 2009, and I decided to do something I had given up after Michael’s passing…create homemade Valentine’s Day cards. Making cards was one of my favorite things and with it being a dismal part of the year, I was secretly hoping it would lift my spirits. Michael used to love recieving them and seeing all the little touches I’d add to make it special.

So I pulled out my box of paints, papers, embellishments and more. I grabbed enough to strat creating and sat at my kitchen table. The first card was made without a hitch, but it was as I created my second one that it happened…grief decided to make an uninvited visit, and the tear’s soon followed. Oh, what I would do to have spent that Valentines with Michael, to just hear him say, “I love you”…those thoughts and more clouded my brain as fast as the tears clouded my eyes.

But no!! I could not let this stop me…”I just need to find even brighter papers and paints, maybe the perfect quote on vellum….I’ll go back to the box and continue forward. ” was what I told myself. So I got up, went back to closet and pulled out the box, digging for something…I didn’t quite know what. I sifted through a rainbow of colored papers, paintbrushes, cardstock, and more. I lifted one stack and noticed a tiny sliver of paper with the ink of a sharpie seeping through the back.

I knew it had to be something written by Michael, he always wrote with sharpies. The pain from my very recent breakdown gave me a moment of hesitation is which I feared to turn it over and read it’s words.

I put my hand into the box and slowly pulled out the ruled paper. Sitting on the floor, I flipped it over….

“Happy Valentine’s Day”

Written in his handwriting (all caps)….waiting for me in that box, in that closet, in my office….waiting for me to find it 2 days before Valentine’s Day, to let me know he was there.

“A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.”
-J. R. R. Tolkien

Over Oceans

Over Oceans
by Josh Garrels

I remember when all the trees knew your name
Flames from fire flies would light our way
Have I lost all that which I never knew I had found
Searching for you on the wings

On oceans to you
All my time comes to you
How long has it been
Flying home again

Will we be the same as we were once before
Remember like children the stories of old
Your hand was in mine be the firelight when we danced
Mighty wind will carry me

On oceans to you
All my time comes to you
How long has it been
Flying home again
And I’ll be there too
And I’ll be there soon

He Did It

Michael did.

Not through buildings, books, televisions or how much money he had in his account- but through lives.

The lives he touched with his words, kindness, support. The lives he touched through his love, encouragement and unfaltering friendship.

He did it. He did it without even trying.

He created something that will last forever. If not only through those people who were affected by it, but the places where his feet have set or his hands have gently grazed.

He understood the definition of forever by not aiming for it or trying to reach it as the ultimate goal…he just lived, and when he left, it sat on the front door step for me to bear witness to, to learn from, and continue on his “forever” by slowly creating my own.

Do you have a lighter?

I’ve been able to reach the life I deserved. Just as stated above. But then the sparks fizzled…went out…as that life slipped through my fingers with fate’s plan.

This past weekend though, in the presence of those acquainted with the loss of their love, their soul mates, the sparks reignited, pilot light by pilot light.

I am coming to learn to ignite the sparks and reach the life I now deserve as Michael’s widow.

I apologize for clouding the hero he taught me to be with grief’s evil grasp.

But i have not perished.

And I will win this battle…..

This life without you here.

Happily Ever After

I try not to think too much on all the things we would have done, family we would have built and life together we would have lived.

I try not to imagine it too much, for their is a pain associated with the what-ifs and that which we were unable to fulfill as the soul mates we are.

We lived our fairy tale. Our own Disney movie.

Like a knight on a white horse, you came and saved me from myself, took me to a safe place and calmed all my fears and hurt. I wish we could mourn together the losses we both share, for I know you mourn them too.

I think people look at me now and think all is shattered all is lost with the possibilities we once shared.

Not all was.

It isn’t.

We did live happily ever after, even though it the plot took a twist and all the characters we would have wanted to add to our tale never came to fruition.

The fairy tale ending didn’t happen though, and I will admit that.

For what we share has no ending.

1.11.10

“The clouds in your eyes,
down your face they pour…”
plays in the background.

Down they pour, as I wonder
what I’ve become.

Where are you?

They pour down my face,
over my neck, and like
a puddle,
settle over my heart….

Weighing it down.

I need you…come take me away

A Falling Through – Ray LaMontagne

Laid our blessings on the ground,
The softening of sound
Draws us closed again

Stay, stay and watch the coals
Till they cease to glow
Like empty promises

Why, Why did you go, why did you go away?
Why, Why did you go, why did you go away?

Baby?

There’s nothing I can say
Nothing I can do
To bring you back again

This of life I know is true
It’s all a falling through
And so I reach for you

Why, Why did you go, why did you go away?
Why, Why did you go, why did you go away?

Don’t you care
That it may seem unfair?
(You steal things you ought to borrow)
Don’t you find
That it may seem unkind?
(I’d rather breathe than drown in sorrow)

Why, why did you go
Why did you go away baby

Turn the Light On

The other night I was enjoying dinner with one of my great friends. She is also a widow and will be coming up on two years since the loss of her soul mate.

As we sat and enjoyed our meals, drinks, conversation and company, it became obvious that in a restaurant full of people, we were the only ones laughing, smiling, toasting and enjoying the evening to the fullest. At one point, a waiter even came up and commented on how we brought “happiness” to the abode.

So what was our secret? It wasn’t the drinks, but more so – the stories we were sharing, the struggles we are currently facing (that we confirmed were normal), the love of our heroes, and this crazy life that we’re daily trying to figure out. Conversations that if most were listening in on, they may feel sad for us and the hardships we face. Yet, it became obvious to me that we are doing and were acting as we did when our loves we’re still here, because it was in that evening that they were brought to life.

Brought to life in the way that we were not hiding from our realities, but embracing them and the fact that we have come this far do to the love that still burns in our souls and beings.

And like the quote above says, it’s about remembering to turn on the light. I can’t say I always remember to, but with the right people and the right spirit,

I am more often.

Note to self:

Life was grand with my love by my side.

As i come up on the reality of him not being on this earth for nearly 3 years, and face another year, another number, in which his existence is void to the outside world, I’d be lying if I said it’s gone smoothly.

I’ve struggled with an impairing grief and the pain. The nights where he felt so close that I reached out to the emptiness in front of me in hopes to feel him. Times in which the memories were so fresh, that I could paint their visions with my tears. Moments where I fell to my knees with the pain of the past, and what should have been our future. Yet through it all, I’ve learned, grown, and felt him there by my side.

Yet now, I face another war, another type a grief. Now, I face an opposite reality. One in which I beg for a dream, a sign, a feeling that I am not alone on this journey. A grief that comes not in the obvious, but in the mundane.

I feel strong and have happiness in my life, from what he has instilled in my heart, but I wish sometimes to go back to those raw moments of pain from a life that didn’t seem to far away.

I think that it’s been in my growth, my realization of the person that I am becoming and the person michael always knew was in me, that I have struggled and grieved over recently. I think I may be the one causing the disconnect and grief, over the disappointment that I could not have made and shown the strength that I never wanted to admit I had, the strength that is the sole reason for my existence right now, the strength Michael knew could take our love and relationship beyond the darkest of days.

This year I want to grab life, and make it what I know it can be, full of his presence, yet still full of those moments where my strength will be tested, just enough to remind me that it’s still there.

I’m always in love with Michael, even when life isn’t going where I thought it would.

Now though, I want to take the love I have with him always, and love the life I sometimes despise, the life that at times i fall victim to with it’s many forms of grief…I want to be in love with it for the life it blessed me with before tragedy, yet the one I have in front of me.

My life is different and the one I will lead will be different, but I can take that which isn’t different to get me through………

our love and the strength born from it.

Bad Dream

The false realities

blanket my being,

as the morning light seeps in.

Nightmares and falsehoods

taint my day

before it can even begin.

-T.D.

The Beat

2.28.09

As I lay and feel my

heart

beat,

I think of lying against

your perfect body.

Beat

after

beat

it throbbed against you,

like two drums playing a flawless duet.

Tears run down my face

thinking of its sound….

familiar sound.

2010

Well, it’s 2010.

I remember going into 2008 without Michael. It was the first year in which no history or memories would include him,  a year in which reality took it’s place next to me on my throne of grief. It’s funny how my mind also worked in ways to revert back to a time when he was still living. I’d sign checks with 2007, set dates with friends on the phone or email with that year… it was, in a way, symbolic of my heart holding on to something not tangible… going into a year with Michael by my side.

Each year, the ball has dropped, and I’ve taken on at different capacities… 365 days of self reflection, self growth, setbacks, happiness, grief, pain, joy, curiosity, dreams, nightmares and more. With each year though, the hesitation and reluctance to accept the current year I’m in, has fallen to the wayside and I am becoming more aware and open to my present and all the gifts it holds.

Each year is lined with the sour notes of with my life without Michael, though positive thoughts and actions have taken place.  I have learned that I am able to take on things (like a new year), with the knowledge that I feel him rooting me on and invisibly holding my hand when I am open to living life the way I did before tragedy struck.

So it’s with that knowledge, that I will embrace 2010 and hope to feel his presence every time I laugh, smile, take on the world and explore all it’s beauty.

Happy New Year!

“Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.” ~Thomas Mann

Broken Heart

Sometimes I wonder how.

I had the Johnny and June idea about our life together. One of us would die and within a couple of months the other would die of a broken heart.

Fast forward to almost 3 years later, and that theory has been proven wrong…..Even though there have been many times I’ve begged for it’s brokenness to take over the rest of my body to finally reunite me with Michael.

I didn’t  know how it could still beat, other then that it must be held together by the eternal remnants of our love.

But lately, I’ve thought of “E.R.” or “Grey’s”.  A doctor will be doing some sort of open-heart surgery when the patient suddenly flat-lines. The paddles won’t work and in a last ditch effort, the doctor pulls the heart out of it’s chest and starts pumping it with his two hands.

The night I heard Michael died, i remember putting my hand  over my heart and feeling as if it had stopped, as if I was hollow. I wanted to give up and at times prepared to raise that white flag, but just like the doctor with the patient, I felt as if Michael began pumping me back to life with those rugged and callused hands of his.

At first I despised as it  got stronger, yet with time have cried tears of happiness as I felt all its capacity fill my being once again with the love and memories that made it once pound in his presence….The feelings and times that had, for so long, been clouded my by own despair.

My heart is broken.

My heart is healing.

My heart still beats in the warmth of your hands.

It beats to tell the story of our love and pulsate your undying words through my veins…..

“I Love You, Taryn.”

……..

And that my friends, is how a broken heart still works.

4 years…

Well it’s almost midnight, and at this time 4 years ago we had already shared our vows and become Mr. and Mrs. Davis.

This anniversary is harder then any other I face without Michael here. Mostly for the reason that I don’t define my relationship and present by Michael’s death, I define it by our love……and a day that helps in symbolizing that love is our wedding anniversary.

I miss him, I love him, I’m in love with him. The pain persists, and I must honestly say that at times I wonder how fate still allows us to be separated. But the air leaves my lungs, and still I inhale. There is some madness to this unreasonable reality. For now, I must believe it is to strengthen our love more, to put it over the fire and forge it to a level of strength that is insurmountable by heaven and earth combined.

Happy Anniversary my love, my heart, my soul. Your love pierces me deeper with each passing moment, and I could not ask for a more beautiful gift.

Why?

Why: adv. For what purpose, reason, or cause; with what intention, justification, or motive

Now we know there are definitions, but in this case it is three letters that come together to become a word that has a way of haunting those of us who have felt cheated of a lifetime with our soul mates.

“Why him?”, “Why me?”,”Why us?”, “Why so young?”, “Why so suddenly?”, “Why so violently?” …and the list goes on.

In the first months this was a word that I loved. I loved it because it fed off my grief…my pain. It was a word that I could use to sulk in my new life, and it was a word that helped in hindering my journey, it was a word that was my companion of woe.

With time though, something prevailed; a voice, a knowing, something that had always been there but came out of hibernation, came to reign where it always should have….my heart.
The “Why’s?” I was using after Michael was first killed had clouded my heart, clouded what was the one truth in a world of lies, but finally the truth showed through.

The “Why’s?” that fill my mind and mouth now are “Why have a been so blessed to have him in my life? “, “Why did I get so lucky to find my soul mate and know true love?”, “Why have I been blessed to know such happiness?” And I must say, it’s a route I much more prefer.

It’s funny how one’s mind turns a switch to only find the sadness in life after loss, and hard for outsiders to understand how one can wallow in that sorrow. But when the time comes, the switch is turned on to the heart you always had that guides you back into the thoughts you are meant to have, the thoughts your spouse quietly whispers as you sleep each night, the thoughts that get you up in the morning to face each day….and that is one “Why?” I will not challenge.

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”
–Friedrich Nietzsche

The Ocean

I cannot think of any better example of this new chapter of mine then that of an ocean. Waves are a constant but there are days when all is calm, and then there are the days where they crash on the sand with all their power and might.

So goes the same with my grief.

There are moments of serene beauty. The sun rises and the sun sets and all is well, even with the knowledge that the weather will change and along with it the current. But what is life if all we do is focus on all that is to come….the inevitable? I think there are moments where I feel I need to shield myself from the waves crashing in, as if putting on a blindfold would deter me from hearing them hit the beach….hit my heart. But as I have learned, there will be moments of pure bliss and those of pure pain. The tide will rise and the tide will fall, the water will glisten and the water will produce squalls, the ocean will be as smooth as satin and as ridged as a mountain.

Of these realizations, one thing I have decided to do when the storm comes and the water hits the beach like a rock through glass, is I will not sit in pain on the pier thinking that distance will deter me from feeling all that it brings, I will go to the edge of the ocean and let the waves crash down on me. I want to feel it soak me down and make me shiver, I want to scream at the top of my lungs as it covers all that I am, scream in victory that I have and can take it on.

I know there will always be moments that I am brought to my knees, but I want to say I felt each ounce of the weight that got me there…..and then I will stand and face a new day.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),
It’s always our self we find in the sea.
~e.e. cummings

See You In My Dreams

Dreams take on a whole new meaning after the loss of your soul mate. They are a realm you travel to each night, with their population and surroundings always a mystery. Sometimes I have dreams in which I see my love; that smile, that face, that counterpart of my being. There have been times I’ve been able to speak with him and other times in which I feel as if he cannot see me. There are times in which I am conscious of the fact that he is not alive and times when I feel that I’ve been thrown into a time machine taking me to a time when he was still here.

After encountering theses night encounters I may wake up with a smile on my face and a drive like no other to take on the world, then there are the times in which I wake up in tears or just with the need to stay curled up in the enveloping warmth of my comforter. I’ve come to terms that these dreams may not all have a special meaning or happy ending. There are no dream dictionaries that can decipher their hidden message or let me know which ones may actually be Michael visiting me, or just my imagination feeding into my never ending want to be near him.

I still will wake each morning and face this new chapter that I never thought I’d be the author of. I still will be go to bed each evening not knowing what will come, but unafraid to shut my eyes….. and I will still see you in my dreams.

I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can play together all night. ~Bill Watterson

wait

The pain one knows, the pain one feels with the separation of true love is undefinable.

I have touched his skin, kissed his lips, heard his words, but above all felt his love.
A love that I cannot define, other than being one that knows no limits.

It knows nor life or death, nor distance and time,
but it aches for his soul,
his soul when mixed with mine,
one so complete that i wish to know no other.

Tears are shed for the moments I can feel him, yet never enough,
and for the oceans of heaven we are separated by.

It is a love so pure that others do not understand,
a love that others disregard and brush aside,

but I have known it, I have lived it,
it is the air I breathe, it is the reason I am me.

If there was a door I could enter to just feel his presence, a breath from his mouth,
I would be there.

But until then, I shall live on this earth as a half, a half that does not want any other than him,
that does not want anything but the eternal love i know, no matter where, we both feel as it beats in our hearts worlds apart.

and I will wait
I will wait………………..
-T. Davis

Your Grief

Your grief for what youve lost holds a mirror
up to where youve bravely working.

Expecting the worst, you look and instead,
heres the joyful face youve been wanting to see.

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expand
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.


-Jalaluddin Rumi

A Loss From Both Ends…

There is a quote from a book that C.S. Lewis wrote after the passing of his wife, it says: “If, as I can’t help suspecting, the dead also feel the pains of separation (and this may be one of their purgatorial sufferings), then for both lovers, and for all pairs of lovers without exception, bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love.” – C.S. Lewis

I feel this way as well. I think Michael misses me just as much as I miss him. I believe he is counting the seconds as well to when we are reunited. Other’s may view this as me being selfish or heartless to say that about someone who is in “heaven”, a place with no worries or pain, but he lost his wife that day as well.

He cannot have me kiss him goodnight or make him dinner. I am not there to listen to his thoughts and feelings. My loss is the same as his, and I take comfort in knowing we share this angst together. The frustration of not knowing if he hears my words, feels my undying love, I wonder if he struggles with as well. I believe that just as hard as I try to communicate and get across how in love with him he is doing the same. As much as I yearn for him he does as well. When I sit and think of that I feel immediately less alone. It is one thing to meet fellow widows who suffer from the loss of a soul mate but at the same time I find even more comfort knowing that both Michael and I are still in this together….Life and Death.

Our love covers both realms. I do not search for answers or signs for just like love, it is something you cannot force. It is when you let go of the wanting and pushing that all that you need answered comes to you. I love you baby and am so in love with you. We are soul mates in life and in death.

Below is a picture that I took while walking across Spain. I looked up as the clouds rapidly closed in. Coincidence? Maybe…but beautiful above all.

The River

How is everyone? Today it is 90 degrees out, sunny and perfect. Today was also a day of further realization. I always connected memories of Michael with photos, places, physical things, etc.. I never had connected him with a hot sunny day in San Marcos, TX. I woke up and knew today would be a day where we would go swimming in his favorite river. A river where he grew up as a kid, a river we went tubing down, a river with memories that could fill a small book. The river where I spread his ashes, a wish he requested and one that is now written in my will for my resting place. Even though he’s probably in the Atlantic ocean by now 😀

I remember how he would dive into this falls that I always thought would suck me under. He’d beg me to jump in and I always would. I’d sit on a tiny rock and he’d swim up to me all cold and wet and give me a kiss. Sometimes I’d lay in the sun and he’d jump on me all soaking. On this sun blazing day, I miss you Michael…but I love you even more because I can sit here and share the memories you left me, memories I will forever cherish.

So widows…..share your favorite memory, share that day that is tinged with sadness but filled with recollections of better days. It is one thing to wake up and feel as if it will never get better, but even better when you share it and embed it that deeper in your heart.

Line by line, moment by moment, special times are etched into our memories in the permanent ink of everlasting love in our relationships. -Gloria Gaither

In Our Prayers….

I guess I should note to all: I wrote this 5 months after michael was killed, so I  apologize for the raw and bitter words 🙂 . I saw a post by a widow today, speaking about how she thought “prayer” had done little. I remember being there. I feel now is the right time for me to post this, as I have learned…even though I do not know all of God’s reasoning, I have seen his love and abundance in the many blessings I have been given since his passing.

10.27.09

“You’re in our thoughts and prayers” “God will help you through this” yada yada yada……. Note to non widows…..fuck prayer. I prayed everyday, unconsciously every minute of every day. As I drove home to find soldiers at my door I prayed continuously until I saw them there waiting for me. One of the first things I remember screaming after learning of Michael’s fate was, “There is no fucking God!” How could someone one who is supposedly supposed to answer our prayers and help us through all are ordeals be so cruel. I remember when I got caught smoking weed my freshman year in high school. I was sure it was god punishing me or him letting me know it wasn’t right. I have no answers on why he would do this to Michael. I don’t think I will ever find the answers I want, because the only one I’ll take is Michael at my door step when I get home.
I want to tell all those out there, who “Pray” for me to not waste there breath. I know that they believe they think it was there prayers that stopped them from having the same outcome that happened to me. So they will keep praying and asking god to heal me and my broken heart. If there was a god, I would ask him to show all the “others” what we widows are going through so they would know when to bite there fucking tongues.
There is one thing I will ask the God of ours for. I will ask him that if he wants to help me in anyway then he will make sure that when my time here is up…..that the first thing I will see is that beautiful face of my baby. The one I so much loved to touch, kiss and smile with. Until that time comes I just ask that the rest of my time her goes by fast.
I love you baby and I’m SOO in love with you.
*kisses*