Contemplations on healing

As I approach the one month marker of being without Mi Amor, I find myself growing more emotional, more nostalgic, and more determined to make sure that El Salvador and our family there stay an important and regular part of our lives. Mi Amor has a son, almost four years older than La Hija, whom I have never had the pleasure of meeting in person. I have asked Mi Hermana if she would help facilitate a meeting between us during out next visit so that Mi Amor's children can forge a relationship. I have also decided to keep up the tradition of sending him birthday and Christmas gifts, in memory of his father. I do not know how I feel about the possibility of meeting his mother, as she was the source of so much pain for Mi Amor, but I am civil and kind enough to put that aside in order to have a relationship with Mi Hijastro.

I am saving up to buy a headstone for Mi Amor's grave. Mi Tia paid for the funeral, the casket, and the burial--I wish I could find a way to show her how much I appreciate her kindness in taking care of him... of us in that manner. Part of me would like to offer to repay her once I have the money, but she told me Mi Amor asked her a long time ago to buy him his caja, and so there was a sense of keeping a promise in her acts. One day, something will come to me and I will know what to do.

I still speak of him in the present tense and I can't imagine how I can speak of him otherwise. One thing I know for certain is that I am a lucky woman. I met, loved, and was loved by my soul mate. Few people in the world can say that.

What happened...

This is not an attempt to scare anyone away from El Salvador. I love that country and the people in it. This is something that could have happened in any major city in any country in the world.

I have taken most of the following from a journal post. This is what happened:

On June 6, 2009, as he was working at his taquirea, my husband was killed. Someone came up behind him as he was preparing food for some customers and shot him seven times. Seven. Once behind the ear, two in the arm, and four in the torso. Seven.

Crime of opportunity, the police assume. His watch was gone, there was no money on him. They made sure to leave his ID, though. Thank God for that. My worst fear was that something would happen to him and no one would ever know.

He was an amazing man. Hard working and loving beyond words. Everything he did, he did for us so we could make our dreams a reality. He knew it was dangerous where he was, but went there anyway because he made good money there and he just needed to make it through until September when the next boat left.

La Hija and I were to head down in August so we could finally have our civil ceremony down there and have both of our governments recognize our marriage... so we could start working on getting him back into the states.

I spoke with him the day he died... I told him I love him, and I am so thankful for that.

Now, I am numb. I try to keep it together for La Hija, but that isn't always possible. Every once in a while, when I realize I will never hear is voice again, never feel his touch, see his smile... when I realize that the one person I could tell anything, the one person I went to when I needed to breathe is no longer there, I feel lost and scared. And then I look at our daughter and see him and realize I need to get it together and take care of her.

I just miss him. I really miss him.

This event in my life, as horrible as it is, will in no way keep me from going back. In fact, I think it may just make me fight that much harder to get there, since it will have to be on my own. I will return to spend time with my family. Perhaps someday I will return and work at one of the private schools. I will return though. That much, I know for a fact.

The Fright of an Open Future

The thing that keeps me up nights, the thing that I am having such a hard time with at this point, is the uncertainty. We had all of these plans. I knew where we were headed. A civil wedding in August to "legalize" our marriage. Finishing school. Teaching in El Salvador. Another baby in two years. A house, a garden, a business. Returning to the US when we had the money for an attorney.

It's all just... gone. I'm staying in school, and teaching in El Salvador is still one of the ideas I'm tossing around, but everything else... all those other plans... all those fantasy images have to fade because they can't happen.

At night, though, they come back to me and make me smile because they images were so lovely... and then I remember we buried him and I've spent as much time with him as I was allowed. There is no future with Mi Amor and that I'll have to make my own way.

This is what keeps me up.

Thank You.

We are home and I am exhausted. I will write about it--put it into words with the hope that it will help clear my head.

Thank you for your words of support. I am so touched by how people have reached out to me and feel so blessed to have the sort of encouragement and kindness in my life.

Right now, I feel the hardest part is over and now I just have to figure out where to go from here.

One thing is for certain: this is not the end of mi vida Salvadoreña. This I promise to myself, Mi Amor, La Hija, and all of mi familia en El Salvador.

...

I don't know what to do. I can't sleep. I feel so useless. So lost. So confused.

We had plans.

I talked with him today.

I can't stop crying. Can't stop thinking. Can't figure out why this is happening after we got so close.

How do I explain this to our daughter? How do I press on through this?

The language barrier is so frustrating. I need an explanation. Need to know what the hell happened, although I'm quite sure I don't want to know.

All these dreams... all these plans... everything went *poof* and my vision of our future is impossible. No more time together... no more hugs and kisses... no more laughter... no more children together... no growing old with him.

It just doesn't make sense... and I'm so tired.

Not much more to say.

I don't know how much more I will be able to write here. Mi Amor's sister just called and I heard little more than muerto.

I don't have any more information than that right now.

This is not what was supposed to happen.
This makes no sense.

I am waiting for phone calls so I can go down there.
Trying to figure out whether or not to bring La Hija.
Trying to figure out what to do without my other half.

My mother was widowed at 30.
This was not supposed to happen.
We were going to make it
We were going to overcome.
Figure it out.
Have our family.

I will update when I can.

Honduras

I am worried about my Honduran blogger friends... is everyone ok??