Texts and Tears

The last meme I that I texted to Scott: 


It was my signature move. The scene would go like this: I hug him whether he wants it or not. He grumbles a bit before letting out a nervous laugh; ultimately, succumbing to my adorable display of affection and hugging me back. I annoyed him in the best way possible… and the plan was to do it forever.

I was supposed to grow old with this man. We looked forward to being old people, reading our papers and getting our senior coffees at restaurants. He was naturally an old man already — one of those guys who was growing into his personality, and he particularly couldn’t wait to be a grandpa (which I always thought was odd but very sweet); he looked forward to being fun and playful and spoiling the heck out of our grand babies. My heart is broken, knowing that this dream is gone. Poof. Taken. Just like that.

It’s moments like these that I fight. I’m trying my best to not be an emotional mess, but when I look into the future too far, I feel great despair. Surviving grief has taught me to stay in the moment as much as I possibly can. Do not think about the silly, stupid, naive past. Do not think about the lost, never-to-be-seen, taken future. Sometimes that’s easier said than done though…

And suppose that’s ok too… I have no clue.


The Fantasy of a New Widow

I wish I could take up a drinking habit. I fantasize about it often these days.

Not the kind of habit where I go out with friends, get hammered, and hit the drive thru on the way home; All of us laughing, listening to Rihanna songs.

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No.

I want the nastiest most painful vodka. I want to be alone with my misery. I want to be alone and lose my mind. My eyes smeared of mascara, my hair greasy and unwashed… This is the fantasy I have for myself. A drinking habit.

It can’t happen though.

I have little people looking to me for guidance through this confusing time. I have dear loved ones watching me, ready to catch me… and I really don’t want anyone to have to catch me.

I also have a belated husband who took great pride in my happiness. So I have to be happy. I have to wash my hair and drink coffee. I have to cry into a glass of good wine before going to bed early because the kids wake up for school in the morning. For him, I have to find happy.

But I really want vodka.

 

My Guy – A Tribute to my late Husband

          Scott and I were two children pretending to be adults when we met. The sense of relief we felt upon meeting one another was instant. We recognized something familiar in the other, and from that moment on, we didn’t have to pretend any more, and we became inseparable. I’ve been asked what it’s like to fall in love – for me, it was like I spent my whole life holding my breath and upon meeting him, I could finally exhale.

          When we became engaged, we told our priest: this is what God wants for us. This decision to get married did not come from a place of ration, reason, or even emotion. It was a deeply spiritual ”knowing”. Scott and I were going to build a life together, and together, we would protect the other’s childlike heart.

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           Things he loved: He loved music and dancing. He loved comfy clothing and fresh white tee shirts, but he also took great pride in wearing a suit. He loved playing video games, board games, all sports, and pretty much anything else that involved strategizing. He was a true “gamer”, and his approach to life reflected that. He would tell you that he likes the basics though: good food and spending time with his family. And boy, did I love to cook for him and boy, did we make the most of our time together.

         We talked about Heaven. He imagined it as a place where, upon arriving, all of your loved ones from the past are waiting to shower you with their love and encouragement, and you just feel the overwhelming warmth of God.

          There has always been so much to love about Scott. Initially for me, it was his smile and how generous he was with it; but there was so much more. He was incredibly focused, hardworking, and wicked smart. He was goofy and thoughtful and knew the true meaning of family. Family. Was his number one priority. He never missed a tee ball game or recital. He truly believed that we work to live and not the opposite. Work hard. Play hard. Family comes first. He was just the best. The best husband to me and the best father to our children.
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         While Scott would tell you that he was living his dream, he and I enjoyed talking about our future together. He really looked forward to retirement. He wanted to build a sweet tiny house and live the simple life somewhere spectacular. He knew that life isn’t about fast cars, designer homes, or large bank accounts – although those things are fun, they are just ‘things’. He said: life is about the bonds you form with others. It’s people. People: family and friends are what make life. And he loved you all. 

Thank you.

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Then and Now: a Confused Woman

“As much as you’ve wanted to, you can’t control the future, Megan,”

A notion I heard countless times before, yet never was able to wrap my heart and soul around its concept. Even still. Now. I remind myself that it is not a concept. It is a truth.

The future is out of my control.

Me: comfortably mediocre since I was an adolescent. In my own way, I thought by never doing much, I could never lose much either. I’ve been in limbo for years. Quietly panicking about the future, I’ve slept in a constant state of ordinary, not knowing what else to do. Throughout my life, if I couldn’t control it, I put no effort into it…

He awoke someone who had lived within me, dormant for so long. The woman who does what’s good for herself, who believes in herself… a woman who is happy… I couldn’t understand her before. Someone, once frightening, is now here and alive.

She is me.

He awakened the woman who puts the effort in…

And this is the point where I cry.

For years, I’ve been trying to put into words what Scott does for me. It’s like everyone else talks to the mediocre me. Scott speaks to that sleeping woman within me.

And she listens.

December 1, 2007. I will become Mrs. Megan Bajorek, but it’s more than that. It’s the day that I embrace that sleeping woman who he sees. It’s the day that I deny the girl who is fine with ordinary.

“…you can’t control the future, and neither can I! But I have you here, and I want you to be there in my future, by my side. That’s what I do have control over.” ~Scott, 2006

 

*EDIT– I wrote this by hand, before blogging and social media were gigantic. It was later posted to my MySpace, but I thought I would share it here.

Scott passed away in a car accident last month and reading this brings me both pain and gratitude. I wish I could have one without the other, but apparently, all good things come with a price.

The pain needs no explanation. He was the love of my life.

The gratitude is to him…

Leaving the school parking lot today, two moms power walked past my van. Sweet ladies, laughing and carrying on… I smiled, while wondering what they were gabbing about.

They’re probably talking about their diets, or the shape of their butts, or recipes they’ll be trying this week. They’re probably complaining about their picky eaters at home. These thoughts streamed through my mind and then one floated to the top. They’re probably complaining about their husbands.

I used to complain about my husband.

“He didn’t…” “He forgot…”  “He’s so…”  “He’s too…”

I look back now on these statements and see how oblivious and spoiled I was.

Me. Me. Me.

I was given such a gift. My person. Someone who not only understood me in a world that couldn’t, but he also asked me to be brave. He encouraged, almost demanded, that I be myself. He loved the ‘me’ I worked so hard to hide. All of that, and he gave me three babies.

Why would I ever pretend that it wasn’t enough? It was everything.
I don’t pray to turn back time. 

I miss being the sweet, spoiled, oblivious wife, but I know that’s just a distant fantasy now. My prayer is different. I pray to God for one statement: thank you.

I want to give all those mindless complaints back to speak those two words to him.

I plead for it daily.