The year 2016 started off looking to be an amazing year. We were just about to have a baby, our third. We were happy, we were seemingly healthy, my husbands employment was good. Everything was looking good. Just 13 days into the new year, that all changed. A terrible accident ended our happy family. (Read more about that here)  I am skeptical to look forward to anything with such anticipation ever again. I hesitantly look to 2017 as a year of growing and a year of hopeful emergence from the deep darkness of grief and mourning. There is change on the horizon and I am not ready for it….but I have to trust it will be for the best. I have to believe in healing. I have to believe in good things to come. I cannot get excited about any of it, but I can believe it all the same.

If my situation had been different, the way I have handled this last year would have been very different. I am not saying that I handled it well, or even better than I would have. I am saying I not only handled it as a grieving widow, but as a mother, a single parent, a role model, and a safe place. Grieving with your small children is a difficult balance of being sad and being strong. Talking about them, and talking about everything but them. Learning to do it all by yourself, quickly. I didn’t get a trial run at parenting three kids…taking them all to the store by myself, putting them all to bed, losing sleep yet being available when they needed. And so I found myself not only grieving differently, but parenting differently as well. For starters because of my injuries, I did not, could not, nurse my baby for his first year. This is something I still have guilt about, even though this freed me up in many ways to handle all of my children in better ways. I was also barely able to take care of him in the beginning. I didn’t get to snuggle him in bed, let him sleep on my chest, comfort his middle night cries on my own. It was hard, and I was hardened at the time, but it is heart wrenching as I look back on the moments I missed. With my older kids, I am ashamed to admit, I have been less patient, distant, quick to anger at times. I have had to learn to hug on them, snuggle them, and give them physical attention. I have found myself trying to balance being practical and being fun. I have watched them try to understand both their situation and mine. I have talked them through being afraid. I have calmed them in the car when they become nervous. I sometimes just get through a day. The way I cook, serve, and clean up is changed. The bedtime routine is often much shorter. I want them to grow up faster…but I don’t want to want that.

What I haven’t been for most of this first year, is afraid. I haven’t been afraid to lose them, to let them out of my sight for fear something bad might happen. It seemed odd, seems odd. But I have discovered that on some level I realize that I cannot change what happens to them, or to me by keeping them close and safely in a bubble. I was there. This happened on my watch. I was where I could have done something…and yet I could not do anything. I have thought of how much I got nervous about what had happened to my husband when he was late getting home, or didn’t answer his phone, or we lost contact in the middle of a conversation. And yet, I was rarely nervous when he was with me. Sure he did crazy things, he was always living just right on the edge. But on some level I felt like I was there so I could fix it. But I have had to let myself off the hook for not fixing it, not being able to do something, for him dying on my watch. I couldn’t change what happened because I don’t have that kind of power. But I was with him and he was with me. And maybe that is something to be grateful for. Maybe. I know we cannot live afraid that bad things will happen. Bad things will happen. Good things will happen. We never know how bad or how good. We must live knowing that we can find a path whether it is in this world or the next. The safe bubble is no way to live, and my husband would definitely scoff at the idea of it.

With that in mind I have made a list for 2017…after all it is New Years.

Resolutions of a Young Widow….

Let myself off the hook. There are so many things I could do, should do, will do, won’t do. Some of it I will want to do, some of it I won’t. I need to remind myself I am a good mom. I am a good person. And as long as I am trying and loving on my kids, I am doing ok.

Decide I am enough. To my baby I am enough, because he doesn’t know any better and that pure contented happiness in his face when I lift him out of his crib in the morning, is precious. If I can be enough for him, I can be enough for us all. Even though I cannot be their dad, I can give them all the love, nurturing and support they need.

Keep moving forward, even when I fall back. I am going to fall back. Its pretty much a given. Negative thoughts, hard days, and tough moments will cripple me at times. Sometimes it will be sadness, sometimes it will be anger or even fear. The waves of grief will continue to roll over me. I will not use those moments as reasons to quit, but reasons to push forward.

Live. I am here and I am alive. I need to remember that life is a gift even in hard times. If I choose to really live, there will be more to live for. There are adventures left to have and memories left to make. There are so many wonderful things coming up in the boys lives. This is their life too. I can’t give up on living. They need me to live, they need to see me live. And I need to live for me, not just for them. They need to know life is about meeting the challenges and not giving up. Finding happiness at all costs.

Give up guilt. Giving up the guilt of being the one who lived is one of the hardest things in the grief process. But I didn’t choose this. It is not because of me or anything I did, or didn’t do, that he is gone. Although this is hugely unfair, and he had so much more to do, his life was not more valuable than mine. It shouldn’t have been me. It shouldn’t have been him either. But I cannot carry guilt that I am here.

Be happy, when happiness is available to me. Smiles, laughter, and especially true joy, are rare in my world anymore. Sometimes happiness feels manufactured and forced. But as time goes on these things become more regular and natural again, these moments where I find myself feeling only good feelings. I want to remember to let the good feelings fester. I want to simmer in them as much as I can.

Turn jealousy and envy into gratitude. Oh boy, this is the hard stuff. The grass got so much greener on everyone else’s lawn when this happened to us. Everyone has the perfect, complete family that I have lost….wrong. No one is perfect, and all families look different. I hate these feelings more now then ever, because there are times when I want to justify them. Tell myself its ok to envy those kids playing with their dad at the park, or be jealous of my sisters husband cooking with her. Its ok because I am a widow. But its not ok. Its natural sure. But its not ok. I want to look at that and be grateful for the time my older kids had to play with their dad, and the moments when my husband cooked with and for me. But even bigger than that, I want to be grateful for sunshine and dirt, food and dishes, parks and kitchens. All the little things that make up those moments we all still share.

Believe that good things will happen again. I have to believe that life will not always be so hard. I want to believe that I will again have more reasons then my three rambunctious boys to get up in the morning. I need to believe my life will have wonderful meaning and purpose that I cannot even imagine.

Don’t be afraid that bad things will happen. I can’t live in fear. It’s an awful place to be. Live safely, yes. But not scared. Bad things will happen, maybe even terrible things, but those are bridges to cross when they do. They are mountains in the distance I will have to climb, but today, I just need to climb this mountain. Todays mountain of being a single mom and a single person.

Breathe when I feel scared and panicked. Seems obvious, but sometimes when you feel the walls closing in you forget to breathe. You don’t know if you can breath. But focusing on my breath almost always calms my fears and gives me a chance to process those thoughts in a rational way instead of a crazy panic.

Work out when I need to work through the pain. Sometimes a cardio blast can really blow away the fog. It releases endorphins and heightens your awareness of your living, working body. And being healthy and fit makes it easier to chase and play with my kids.

Get outside everyday. The sunshine and fresh air are so good for….well everything.

These are the 12 things I am going to tack on my wall this year, and burn into my memory.  I hope you find a few things that can remind your heart to soften and settle when the road seems rough and the mountains seem steep.

Happy New Year.  May you see the blessings in disguise, and find the joy in the journey!