I am not a Pollyanna, damnit!!!

I’m having a tough time trying to figure out how to start this… starting at the beginning is usually the best option, but I’m not sure that I know where the beginning is here. So, I’m just going to let myself ramble on for a little bit til I find my voice… bear with me…

Okay, I think that what I’m trying to offer up tonight is pretty much an apology of sorts. Or maybe an explanation? I’m not entirely sure where I’m going here….

I want you to actually understand what I mean when I say, “We were blessed”. I want you know that I am not trying to make anyone feel better about his death, least of all myself (I already feel fine-ish, thanks). I’m not trying to fluff off your sympathy. I know that it’s hard to know what to say sometimes. I also know that, “I’m so sorry for your loss” really means, “Wow, that sucks. I can’t imagine what that feels like and I’m glad I don’t have to.” And, I’m good with that.

I am.

Hmmm, maybe this does have to do with making other folk feel better – but deep down I think it might be even more about making me feel better. I’m really contradicting myself tonight, huh? I’ll try to monitor that going forward…

Anyway, about being blessed…

For this to work, you have to accept as a given that Honey and I started this journey with brain cancer. It won’t work if you try to run the story any other way. I might never had even met Honey if it weren’t for the cancer. Or not, but begin with Blob being an inevitability if you would…

Being blessed…

We (all of us who knew him and some who didn’t) were touched by the lessons Honey taught, his seemingly effortless patience with and acceptance of Life. Not just HIS life, but Life.

He was pretty awesome that way.

He put on a really good show. Fooled me too, more times than you’d think. I still sometimes feel like a bad caregiver for all the times he tricked me into thinking he was doing significantly better than he actually was. I hate that he did that, and I love him all the more for having done it. *Nod thoughtfully if you know what I mean.

He is easily the most spiritually evolved person I have ever met. I’d be willing to bet that he’s probably the most truly Christian person most of us have ever come into contact with. Isn’t that crazy? He didn’t follow any particular dogma. He referred to himself as a progressive Christian with Buddhist leanings and I guess that’s a good enough way to describe where he was coming from. He actually walked the walk significantly more than he talked the talk. Wasn’t that what Jesus taught? Didn’t he specifically tell his students not to go out and beat people up with his message? I’m pretty sure he did. I think he threw out a little bit of lead-by-exampleness at that same time. Honey took that lesson to heart.

I laughed every day we were together. EVERY day.

He actually did dance like nobody was watching (All. The. Time. Thank you very much), love like his heart had never been broken and live like there was no tomorrow. Right up until there really was no tomorrow.

I got to have more time with Honey in the four years I had him than I did with The Boy’s dad in the 15 years I was with him….

I was loved like every person deserves to be loved. I was loved for my truest self – not the self that I put out for public consumption but the self that I often hide even from myself. And ya know what? He didn’t have to love me, but he chose to anyway. He set me up to be able to love again knowing that no two loves are ever the same – nor should they be. That’s pretty awesome,too.

All that being said, I want to be sure that you also know that being his widow sucks ass in a really huge way. Like, a really, really huge way.

I didn’t function for the first month he was gone and then I barely functioned for the next few after that.

I still have a hard time going to bed. I go to sleep just fine, (where-ever I happen to be sitting or standing when the need hits) I just struggle with going to actual bed. I’m almost positive that this is related to the fact that Honey waited until I had fallen asleep to die. I know this was his final act of charitable love, that he wanted to protect me right up until the end, but it didn’t work out that way for me. Rather I felt like I was going to lose everything I hold dear just by going to bed. Maybe (I rationalized) if I never went to bed, nothing bad would happen again…. And thus we enter into (and stagnate in) the bartering stage of grief.

So, yeah. I am sorry for my loss, too. But I was so very blessed to have had him.

AND…. I know it.

Love you

and rodeos (but that’s a story for a different day…)