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Eviction

“Most people think happiness is about gaining something, but it’s not. It’s all about getting rid of the darkness you’ve accumulated.”

Darkness comes in many forms.

In the form of grief, depression, loss, regret…

but we forget about the other kind.

The kind of darkness that squats in our soul because our fear, insecurity, doubt and ego has invited it in.

So if happiness is that Sheriff that serves the eviction notice to darkness, it is our awareness of this happiness, that sees it out the door.

The issue so many face though, is recognizing the joy and love that “knocks” daily on the “doors” of these unnecessary guests that have over-stayed their welcome.

So listen….

Listen in that morning kiss from your lover.

Listen in the patter of dog paws on the hardwood floor.

Listen in the exchanged smiles with a stranger.

Listen in that sip of wine and bite of chocolate cake.

And in listening….bid farewell to the darkness within.

Letting

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Last night I lost the world, and gained the universe.”
― C. JoyBell C.

Letting go.

I always hated when people pronounced that I needed to do so…

And still kind of do 🙂

But as I sit here in a sea of cardboard boxes…2 months after the flood. 2 months away from all material things I’ve accumulated over the last 26 years.

It hit me.

As sifting through the million shirts of Michael and myself..the million little things that have no direct connection to him or I, but I held on to…it was than that I realized that I had to let go….

Not of him…not of our eternal love and how in love with him I still am….not of that damn smile that still gives me the warm fuzzies…

Letting go is letting go of the life I expected us to have…the one I unconsciously didn’t realize I was holding onto through some material things that don’t embody who and what we are….

Letting go is embracing the life we live now, on different plains, but still together.

Embracing the fact that moving his clothes out of my closet into one of his own (minus those warm sweaters i love to wear in the winter and that hell of a sexy uniform he filled out so well) isn’t letting go of him….that donating some items (okay….one shirt) that he wouldn’t give a fuck about will never take away from all that we always will be.

I’ve let go of the rock in my hands that consisted of all that was supposed to be…I let it go in order to embrace the life here in front of me…the life carrying so many gifts from him and from myself once I allowed myself to free up my hands to grab them…

So let go…it isn’t this horrible phrase consisting of forgetting those you love more than yourself…it allows you to love them even more and grasp the immense amount of love still out there.

Thank you, flood. Thank you, baby. It feels good to let go of all of the what could have been’s…and hug onto the what will be’s….my heart fills fuller and my eyes feel clearer…my mind feels free in knowing that the now is all I need.

Challenged

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“If you are facing a new challenge or being asked to do something that you have never done before don’t be afraid to step out. You have more capability than you think you do but you will never see it unless you place a demand on yourself for more.”
-Joyce Meyer

 

He challenged me.

 

I’m stubborn.

Hard Headed.

 

Yet he provoked me to think, to reflect, to never embrace the me I was…but the me I could be.

 

He showed me someone I loved. The me that is me.

 

Then he died.

 

Who would challenge me?

 

Who could see the me under the dirt and muck that I could only imagine being?

 

Who would never doubt me, but always make me question if and how I could handle/do things better?

 

Who would be there for me to have no other goal but to have them love me, and ultimately, make them proud of the person they had dedicated their life to?

 

Life was paused.

 

Over, in my eyes.

 

But under the thick blankets of pain and grief, one normal widow day, I challenged myself out of bed.

 

Then to breathe.

 

Then to see.

 

Then to live.

 

Now, 5 years later, I realize that it was never Michael that challenged me…but Michael that challenged me to see the me I am and always was.

 

So I venture out and challenge myself.

 

The coming weeks and months, more than ever.

 

To live, to succeed, to challenge others to see the them that was there all along.

 

He pulled back the curtain to a world I wasn’t ready to see until he was by my side…

 

A world that years later I’d have to refresh myself to..

 

A world that is challenging, but that I’m inspired to be challenged by.

 

He placed a demand on me to evolve.

 

I was scared to do it without him there.

 

Now I evolve and demand nothing less than to be afraid, scared, hesitant towards…

 

All things that I’ve learned equate to the life we deserve.

Proud

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I was asked I question recently and figured I’d respond in a blog:

 

Hi Taryn,
Thank you for publishing this, it makes me feel that others are like me. One thing I want to ask you: why should I be proud of being a widow? I hate it when I am referred to as a widow! I just hate it! I don’t see why I should be proud. I would love it if I could say “I’m so-and-so’s wife”. Give me a reason to be proud of being a widow. Thanks again.

 

When Michael was first killed I remember sitting there thinking, ‘Does this mean I have to be a widow?!’.

 

Our society had put such a stigma on the word, that any chance in me feeling the need to embrace it was pretty slim.

 

I even had people telling me not to call myself that.

 

“Widow” was a title that had everything going against it in the sense of embracing it.

 

But I remember, one evening, in the first few months after his death, thinking of the pride I had when standing next to him and hearing him introduce me as his wife.

 

I felt unstoppable. I felt that the world was mine to conquer. I felt that with him by my side and the title of his wife…that all in the world was right.

 

It was in thinking of that feeling that I knew I had all reason in the world to feel the same as his widow.

 

That title represents his sacrifice.

 

That title represents my sacrifice.

 

And that title, due to the fact that I am still here to say I am the widow of Michael…represents my survival.

 

I know it is easier sad than done to embrace a word that for centuries has been shunned and put in a negative light, but when I think of that glowing feeling in my heart when I stood next to him as his wife, I quickly let the notions of others fall to the wayside as the same feeling sweeps over me as I introduce myself as his widow.

 

You earned this title with every ounce of love you share with them. You earned this title with every day you decided to get up and inhale and exhale after their passing. You earned this title for being an example for all those that will come after you and will be asking the same question on why they should embrace a word…and then they see how you have lived…and suddenly know why.

 

So be proud.

 

Being a widow is title worth sharing.

 

Grasp

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I just have to write it out.

This feeling.

This vibration running through my veins.

It may only last a little while. Who knows. I may wake in the morning and it be gone.

But right now…

As my fingers push each button down….racing to capture this moment in time.

It’s perfect.

It’s as if he’s sitting across the table from me, with his warm and kind smile greeting me, and his heart reminding me that ours beat as one, and Clair de lune plays in the background, and I know, as I stare at the empty chair in front of me…he is not there….but he is.

We are.

I am.

I know the song will end…I can not stop it.

But right now…I will let myself be enveloped by this reminder that even after the most tragic of circumstances…even when life proves that it will and can go on in the most beautiful of non-explanatory of patterns…I will feel it…

Feel as if I did when my lips met his.

Feel as if I did when he stood right next to me holding my hand.

Feel as if the world was ours to conquer.

And I’ll remember that it is.

And that he’s still holding my hand.

And even when his lips can meet mine no more….

I’ll be reminded of it’s feeling for eternity…

Empowered by it.

And the moment that sparked it all will fade,

and yet something in my heart reminds me that I can.

I will.

I must…

Live to feel it when it strikes me once more…at the most random time….and place….but always with the notion that it is he that causes it…he that allows me to find the beauty of life.

Do It

“Let your mind start a journey thru a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be…Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you’ll live as you’ve never lived before.”-Erich Fromm

Tomorrow I share a part of my life known by few…and figured I’d follow it up by spending one of the holiday’s Michael claimed to hate (but always truly loved and went all out on), the way he’d want me to…all out…in Paris.

I vowed after his death to do a “Once in A Lifetime Trip” once a year,  but found that I had no time in 2011, so this year I’m making up for it by starting off 2012 in the city of love.

Life, living,  his love, love in general, keep on bursting at the seams of my being and I truly have no complaints.

As I was telling someone tonight, I’ve gotten and continue to get all that I’ve wanted from life…just not all at once….and I’ll take that any day.

This journey unwinds and the least I can do for it make the most of it, plus some…and so I shall…