Aaaaaand you just don’t get it.

Yesterday was the 8th anniversary of BB’s horrible, awful death. Yes, the death part was actually horrible and awful as well as the aftermath. If you recall, I posted last year about how I commemorated the stupid day to make it less stupid, less ridiculous and less hideously obscene. I emailed friends and family about the day and asked them to contribute their thoughts. This year, I put them all together, edited of course, and forwarded that back to everyone.

Some obviously didn’t care to respond last year or said something so stupid I couldn’t include it. This year it continued.

Some didn’t freaking take the time to read or at least comprehend what the crap I was even saying, that this was from the previous year. Missing the mark completely. Why do I try? (SEE ME DOWN HERE, BUD?)

I get responses from some people about how it is sad to miss BB but that I should be so thankful for the life I have now blah blah blah.

Um, YOU don’t get it.

I get responses from others that are truly appreciative but add nothing.

Um, okay.

I get responses that totally miss the mark altogether, telling me how THEY are doing. What exactly DOES fine mean?

Um, nope.

I get NO response.

UHHHH, who ARE you? Jerk.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a few meaningful responses and I truly take them to heart.

But then, I got an email from BB’s BFF today. HE GETS IT. Makes me feel good. And understood.

That our lives really truly are missing something. That even though we do this thing called life, we can’t help but think of what might have been. That we want to remember. That we will not EVER forget. Anything. ANYTHING. YOU hear?

‘and that is that’.

Just Married.

Been thinking a lot about looking back at pictures from Cancun. So I did. I was really, really struck by how freaking fat I looked. In my head I didn’t think I was that heavy then.

Here is a really long preface to the next point.

BB’s grandpa died in 12/00. We had to buy something for him to wear to the funeral. We bought a really nice light navy blue dress shirt with a super cool tie to match. He wore it again in May of 01 to a friend’s wedding. I have a picture of him in it from that day. I remember how handsome he looked and how he seemed to feel nice wearing it.

<SIGH>

When deciding what to send up to the funeral home for him to be buried in, I went with that same get up. His corduroy pants and his American Eagle shoes (bowling pin undies if you must know). But I had sort of forgotten about the undershirt I sent to them. Until I looked through those pictures. I had taken a shot of the BB’s back while still on our honeymoon. The hotel had given us matching shirts that had these flamingos on them and it said “Just Married” across the back on top of the picture. Well, that is the shirt I had them put underneath the blue dress shirt.

I had a rather obnoxious reaction to these pictures yesterday. I was so nauseous. I thought for sure I was going to vomit.

I didn’t. I did shed some tears but that is par for the course.

I didn’t want to forget again. So there you have it.

Certain days.

You know, there are days that just stick in your memory. The kind of days where you remember exactly what you were doing, where you were, what the weather was like… Today is one of those days. I mean, it was. Eight years ago today.

To all of the individuals who suddenly found themselves to be widows/widowers on September 11, 2001, my heart hurts for you. I hope that the path you have found yourselves on has had some happiness. For our whole country will always remember the unspeakable tragedy of that time but your lives, your futures, your dreams were changed in one instant on that day.

The day was Tuesday

The skies were bright blue

My love was sleeping after a long night’s work

GMA suddenly reports that the first tower had been hit.

I woke up BB, we watched in horror together on that green couch.

I had to get ready for work and was in the shower when the plane went down in PA.

That day changed everything. Looking back now, it is just one of those things that defined that horrible period in my life.

I really wish it wasn’t re-lived on the media every single year. I could do without that.

First choice.

It is funny how stuff creeps up. I think this is because I am currently trying to get pregnant and for one reason or another, it isn’t working out. So, I get all bitter, quite introverted (more so than normal) and angry.

I listened to a friend tell me how much he loves his wife and how much he enjoys his marriage. I see it in other couples too- the complacency, happiness, the normalcy, the love. I was just looking at a picture of someone I have never really known but known of for many, many years. She was with her significant other in the picture looking happy and relaxed.

While that is fabulous, it makes me angry.

I realize that I am really in this family making mode. That is what I have always wanted. Babies. A family. While I have a loving husband and an almost 2 year old, I still miss out on that whole happy, loving, normal, relaxed marriage thing. I suppose it isn’t to say that I am not in a happy, loving relationship. It just isn’t with my BB.

As I write this I feel like it sounds spoiled. Many people don’t end up with the person they think they love and want to be with forever. That for whatever the reason, it ends and they find themselves with the love of their life years later and realize it was all meant to work out the way that it did.

Except, that just isn’t me. The owner of a ginormous hole that just can’t be filled. It seems as though it is something I will never come to terms with and that is just a depressing thought. I want that same happiness I see that others have. I know the difference, I had it once.

I guess I just have to figure out a way to deal with that.

What could have been said.

I swear, when I can’t sleep at night, I should just hop on here and go to town. I was up last night thinking of things to write, you know, for my someday book (now entitled The Bravest One).

BB didn’t attend church regularly. Never really had. In fact, when we met to discuss funeral arrangements the guy (incidentally someone BB went to high school with), asked about BB’s religious beliefs, etc. My “other mom” piped in that that was something I would be more familiar with. Hmm.  We didn’t really have any personal people to perform the eulogy for us. I think how it actually ended up happening was that there was a minister of a local church that somehow was also connected to the police department. He was the one who did the eulogy. I can’t remember a darn word he said.

When he was done, someone asked me if I wanted to go up there and say something. Did they actually say something? Anything? Because when you think about it, something and anything are quite different.

I declined.

Brotherman, BB’s elder brother by six years, “took the stand”, talked about him, ripped on me a little and then BB’s boss, one of my best friend’s uncles, took the stage. I can’t remember much of that either.

As I am laying there last night I was thinking of who sat where and so forth. I remember being on the inside edge of the front row directly in front of the casket. To my left were BB’s parents followed by his siblings and their significant others. I think, my mom was right behind me sitting next to BB’s paternal grandparents. To my right and filling about the entire half of that side of the room were BB’s fellow officers. What a day to live in the city they represented. Sure local agencies were covering emergencies and so forth but HELLO speeders galore.

I chose to say nothing. Knowing if I got up there I would faint from the pressure, nerves of being in front of so many people and the sheer fact that I was standing in front of my BB who laid so still.

This all reminded me that at anytime I can remedy this and in fact realized that I have been trying for years. One day I hope to have the time, energy and the emotional reserves needed to jump up there center stage and have my say.

It will go a little something like this…

I adore you.

I have loved you, probably not from the moment we met, but shortly there after.

I have lived the greatest years of my life with you and really wish we could have grown old together.

Your presence in my life has made me a different person, teaching me about kindness, stability and a kind of love that not even death can shake…

To be continued.

When Hell Froze Over.

Picture it. Fall 2001.

BB died. Yeah, yeah.

The next day, my dad arrives at my house from out of state with his wife (who is not my mother).

Simply put, my mom and dad have a very strong relationship.

They are linked by my brother, myself and a thick cable of hatred.

I bet you know the type.

I don’t remember who else was at my house when they arrived. I just know I had on baby blue sheep pajamas, BB’s fisherman hat and that my mom was also at my house. Mark this as a super special occasion in my life. The only time they had been “together” that I could ever remember was at our wedding 6 weeks previous. That was an especially tense day and the wonderful state that is death made this time even better.

Who would have guessed that my parents would ever be in the same house together, (mine!), EVER.

I don’t remember much else about that day. But I do recall the following weekends how my dad and his other half would drive up and help me at the house. I know they assisted with other stuff but yard work was the thing that sticks out in my brain. Remember the GRASS post? One significant day, I think the week of the funeral, we (mom, brother, dad, stepper and myself) were “alone” together at my house. They were raking.

My mom later told me a few interesting things about this time in our lives.

1- my brother came out the day after BB died (good timing, idiot)

2- my dad said something to her like “so, I guess Hell finally froze over…” I am sure this dates back to a conversation they had in my childhood that I am not aware of but you get the point.

I think what really happened was that Hell got lukewarm but heated back up later that year. Things have been back to “normal” ever since.

The real reason for this particular post was two-fold.

One, I had a dream about BB. He was in jail… I am dreaming metaphorically these days I guess. The “charges” were dropped and just as I was about to call my lawyer to get him out of jail, he and his dad show up at our (BB and mine) house.  Interesting.

Two, sometime in the fall of 2001, after the hubbub died down (no pun intended). I remember being on my porch looking at the annoying plants and talking on the phone to my dad. He had started to call daily after BB died… That too ended. Anyhoot… he was telling me that his fav aunt had passed away. I never really knew/know his side of the family. He was saying something like he expected me to attend the viewing/funeral in his place or something like that. I was flabbergasted as back in the day and years following pretty much any mention of funeral homes, hospitals, etc. made me get all shaky/hyperventilaty feeling. I told him in no way would I do that and that it was just too soon.

He quickly remembered what trauma I was going through (how could you forget?) and backpedaled out of that conversation really quickly.

It is not like I wouldn’t typically do something like that for someone. I will do a lot for those I care for. Everybody has limits though and back then I was learning how to redefine all of mine.

I hate being forced to do crap like that.

Stupid death. Stupid selfish people. Stupid Stupid Stupid.

I’m just saying…

I miss you.

Woke up extra early today. Laid in bed thinking about you. I noticed I was laying in the same spot and position as you had been in a pic I have of you back at our house.

So then I started thinking of that opening line to the book. I decided a working title could be something like “My Heart”. Then I considered opening with something to do with the aftermath stuff. I mean, the negligence. Or something to do with my feelings as I was to be called or something dramatic about looking out at the room/people blah blah blah. It always sounds really good and intriguing in my head.

Today is the day that Biffy died. It bites me. I also thought of her as I laid in bed. About the bagel she asked her dad to share with her that morning as the sun was rising. About how he declined and regretted it later. On something, it said that the time she died was 10:41a. Whether it was or not, that is more often than not, the time that it is when I look at a clock. It is ridiculous and makes me mad because it is like a small form of punishment. Pretty much daily.

I remember when she died. I called you. You were working. I can’t remember if you didn’t offer or if you were unable to come to me. I sort of think it was a combo of the two. You reacted in such a surprising way– not really understanding or compassionate. The next day I think of looking out the window and just crying. I feel like it was raining but later that day as I drove up north, it was dry so I am not sure.

The green paint.

The stories.

Her mom outside when we arrived and she was wandering around her yard. Upon seeing us, she just started sobbing. So ridiculously painful.

Today though, not common for the last eight years, I was looking forward to today. There is a special event tonight. I am so happy. Hopefully the memories from tonight will help to put a new light onto things. I think that was probably suppose to be the case six years ago today as well but it wasn’t me getting the gift that day.

This is all rather unfortunate. And so very sad.

I love you.

Blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

BB,

I am missing you something fierce. You and me, we’s like peas and carrots. I don’t know what it is about this time or why it is that I can’t get you off of my mind. I am participating with Relay for Life this weekend. I uploaded a pic to my site of us. The married us, a month before you died. Oh, do I miss you.

I remember when you would come home from work. Coming in the door (memories mostly from the apt. and not the house) wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Even though you were sweaty, tired and sometimes not in the greatest mood, you looked so sexy. Even when all you wore was sweats and a tee with slippers (back in college) you were IT.

M. talked to a neighbor yesterday who works for your former employer. That sentence in and of itself makes me wonder… Did time stop for you when you died so it would be your employer? Or, do you know what is going on and are aware that you don’t work for them now how you used to? UGH. Anyway, even though this person has only been there six years, she knew of you. M. said “my best friend’s husband used to work for “them”. The chick responded… you mean BB?

I was thinking how luck of the dept. has in fact sucked and I am sure my knowlege is quite limited:

Vehicle accident killing officer off-duty

Motorcycle accident severely injuring/disabling off-duty officer

You and your stuff

On duty officer en route to a call hitting and killing 2 people

And the dept. is so small… SO sad.

Anyway, I love you.

Apparently as I have been told, my eyes reveal my wounded soul… nothing has changed. Love you always.

YBG

Rubber guns

When you are a police academy recruit, they don’t just turn “sidearms” over to you when you are practicing being a cop. They will allow you to practice shooting with a real gun at the firing range, but that is about it. The rest of the time, you are given a little red rubber gun that is really an actual mold of such weapon.

BB had “night problems” in which his academy deployed to a local university campus and had to act out scenarios put on by neighborhood police departments and the academy. The guys were able to drive cruisers (at speeds much too exhilirating) and pretend to chase down the bad guys and so forth. The university that this all took place at just happened to be the one BB had graduated from and the one I was attending during the time BB spent in the academy. Lucky for me, I knew too much! BB had been illegally living in my dorm room with me and I knew his schedule like the back of my hand. So, the nights he had night problems sucked because it was after a long day doing the regular academy stuff, ran into our time together and was just a pain in general. Anyhoot…

On the evening of night problems after BB had left, I decided to go and chase them down via my trusty bicycle. The guys were broken down into groups but lucky me, I came across his group first. I stayed just far enough away and hid inside one of the college buildings so I could keep my eye on him and see what was up. It was sort of fun being all secretive. He never knew that I had planned that and never saw me there that night. I was only able to watch for a bit because the darkness was coming in and it would probably have been too dangerous for my bike to be out and about in the southerly, less traffic-ed areas of campus.

I digress.

The little red gun, right? Well an obvious requirement of recruits is to be able to shoot a gun fairly accurately.  In order to account for such things, they had different firing range levels that they had to pass. They shot at this black and white picture of a guy that was taped up to a target opposite of where they were standing. BB had no problem with most of his shooting. Then he encountered a range that gave him troubles. He tried that first day, was given multiple chances and couldn’t pass. The stress set in. The next opportunity they gave him, same thing except he knew that if he could not pass the next time, he was pretty much done in the academy. Talk about pressure, right?

The eve of the last time he went to shoot, he slept with the little red rubber gun. He said that all during his high school football playing years, he would sleep cradling the football and it seemed to do the trick for the next day’s game. I just went with that… how can you argue with such logic, right?

Not sure what the circumstances were that day but I was back at home and he was still in the city where the academy was for the day. I remember waiting to hear from him because I was SO nervous that he wouldn’t pass. The implications of that day were ridiculous. If he failed, he would fail the academy and not be able to pursue the profession he had dreamed about since he was 16. If he passed, it would be the next step to something great happening in his professional life and the key to opening the door to our future together.

I remember being in the kitchen doing something and was sure I heard a car in the driveway. I ran to the front door and there he was in his little academy get-up SMILING! The hug that followed, the relief and the excitement still bring tears to my eyes. I felt so happy for him. It was amazing. 

The rest of the academy went along swimmingly. He studied, he succeeded as he did at almost everything he attempted or put his mind to. He graduated from the police academy in April of 2000.

It was a very happy day.

Guilt all the way to God

I can still feel guilt for not posting “Happy Birthday” on his birthday, right?

Seriously, I have to let go of these things.

Since a reader asked, BB stands for “Buddy Boy”. I think I typed it somewhere in here a long time ago.

I am sorry that I sucketh with updates. Home life is SO busy with a toddler. Work filtered out blogs so I can no longer post there which is what I had done in the past. I try and keep this quiet at home. I guess it is like my own little private journal.

I think I have been taking the approach lately of not trying to think of things. Well either that or I simply don’t need to think of things. When we were in the area as of late, FRU suggested a visit to the cemetery. I DID NOT want to go. That is unlike me which is why I am going with the trying not to think of things option.

January is a big month for BB’s family. His birthday, his brother’s, his Grandpa’s, his mom’s and his niece’s are all within about 2 weeks of each other. This means lots of family time. We already had the Christmas celebration and the other niece’s birthday just last month. I am surely seeing lots of them!

FRU had a meltdown when we traveled over the holidays. He is still grieving his mom who passed away a few months before BB. He has pretty much coped with it in unhealthy ways and will begin counseling tomorrow which is a GREAT thing. I have high hopes for some positive changes in that respect.

Not to get too spiritual or anything but I do believe in God, have a personal relationship with Jesus… I have sort of had a message driven home to me in different ways lately. I feel like it is just the tip of the iceberg though in regard to what I am about to learn.

Here goes…

We bought a house just before we got married. I thought it was a good decision. I was pretty happy in the house for 4-5 mos.  I was fairly happy in the area although it was far from work. It is pretty, it is was new. But for the last 2 years, I have mostly HATED it here. I feel trapped. I dislike the neighborhood, dislike the area, dislike the commute to work and dislike being so far from any support system on either side of the “family”.  Mostly I focus on how crappy it is that we will never get out of here as the housing crash hit just after we purchased this place and the builder cannot fill this phase let alone the next 2 that he has committed to build. So, people trying to sell their now used homes have to compete with the builder’s new models and all-the-time-lowering prices. Add to that the complete economic breakdown of our state and country and our house is worth a whole lot less than what we paid for it. To sell it and move to a more favorable place, we would lose our butts and have no $$ left for a down payment elsewhere. I know it isn’t the end of the world but please consider the money in this house comes straight out of the aforementioned aftermath. I just can’t see blowing that away.

So, we are stuck. Trapped!

It occurred to me the other day that everything happens for a reason. Yes, even the widow in me can own up to that one. That our living in this very house, in this very area, so despised- is for some kind of reason. Then our pastor started talking about the treasure principle- you can’t take it with you and such. That God has a plan, a purpose for my life. Maybe HE tried to tell us it wasn’t the right choice, maybe HE didn’t. Regardless, he knows the outcome of this move. Maybe HE will direct us to move and bite the financial bullet at some point. I know I don’t think I want to be here too much longer but maybe that isn’t what HE wants for me/us.  We are here now. We have been blessed with a roof, heat, jobs, family and so much more. So it isn’t a more modest (yeah, I hope for a smaller house next), older ranch home with brick on its’ exterior. It doesn’t have a fancy tub for me to lounge in or a fenced yard and storage shed for all our junk. There is no finished basement or a view of the lake. I pray that I hear loud and clear when I need to move on.

Keep your fingers crossed on that one.