Food for thought

In about an hour from now, it will be 9 months to the moment that I heard of my husband's death. Today, it feels like it was yesterday. I have been nervous and anxious all day, and there are other factors creating these feelings as well... but I know that my loneliness and feelings of loss are playing a huge role in my mental state.

Sometimes, I really am fine. I accept the idea that I must move on and am taking the steps to do so by making plans for the future. This is healthy and I'm feeling good about where I am with that. I'll get to the point where I can finally believe this idea that I'm really going to be okay, and then I'll have a day (or a few days) like this. It knocks me flat and I end up feeling like I've taken about 20 steps back.

I start doubting myself, finding fault, becoming self-conscious and needy... and that's just not me... or at least it wasn't before a few years ago.

I really hope that I can get beyond this fragility soon. Ever since he went back to El Salvador I feel like I've questioned and questioned and questioned. I know that I had trust issues before him, but they are ugly and I want to let them go. I remember a time when I would confront feelings like jealousy with a kind, "thanks and goodbye, this is not what I'm looking for," because I was just not looking for games and drama. Now, my insecurities make me brood and hold on, hoping that the feelings will go away instead of actually doing something about it... and I still find myself actually thinking about the ridiculous things that his landlord alluded to, which I fundamentally know were lies... but those insecurities come into play again and for a while, I will actually wonder......

I don't like it one bit.

There has to be a way to get back to myself. I know I'm not broken.

Smoothing things out

We started going to Ele's Place when we returned from El Salvador and it has been a good experience so far. My situation is very different from a lot of the other spouses, but it is good to have that time set aside to talk. La Hija seems to enjoy it, and that's the most important part.

I am already planning my next trip down south. I miss it there. I miss my family and I miss the gentleman I spoke of in my last post. We have been talking regularly since my departure and our friendship has only grown. La Hija asks for him every day and talks to him regularly as well. Our relationship is a breath of fresh air. We are silly and laugh so much, but we tell each other everything... we are in very different places in our lives, but that seems to be ok at this point.

My late husband's sister is not doing well psychologically. She had been having problems since her brother died and they have not gotten any better. She was put under hospital observation last weekend after having some sort of sevre breakdown. I hope that things begin to smooth out for her. I could certainly tell that something was wrong when I was visiting the family. She secluded herself and her daughter for most of the day and began to think that the family members who were helping her were really out to get her. A few times she sat me down to talk about what I knew about my late husband's death and would not let the subject go until I was sobbing. A few times I tried to talk to her about getting some help (talking to someone or taking to a doctor about depression medications) but she said she was fine, even though I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't. It's sad.

I have been making an effort to start referring to my husband as "my late husband," which is probably pretty obvious by the last paragraph. I was trying to figure out what to call him. I feel like it's unhealthy to keep referring to him as my husband, especially if I am thinking about moving on emotionally. Calling him my husband means that I have *not* and *cannot* move on, at least in my mind. The only other term I'd remembered was "ex" and that doesn't seem to fit either (I realized this during the conversation I had with the immigration officer upon my return lol), so I actually had to look up how people refer to their deceased spouses on the internet! I felt so silly and ridiculous doing it, especially after I saw the term "late" because I coudln't believe I didn't remember that! Anyway, it seems to be working, but I have to remind myself all the time.

The long road...

I am still struggling with this. I want to be able to say that it's gotten a bit easier, but I can't. My aunt (or technically, my second cousin) passed away last week and the funeral was on Sunday.

I was a ball of anxiety, jumping the whole drive there every time someone's breaks went on. A bundle of nerves.

At the interment, La Hija (who came along) was talking with her Nuh-Nuh about what was happening and I heard my mom say, "She is in heaven now, with your daddy," and it took all my strength not to lose it.

The things that struck me most, at least the detached and objective part of me that takes over when it's too much for me to handle, is how drastically different funerals are in El Salvador. Beyond the two day, pre-burial, almost shiva-like, in-home viewing and visiting period, the funerals there are just so much more... real. There is no attempt at hiding or prettying up the grave-site. No tarp over the dirt, no trying to hide the hole, no fancy contraption to lower the casket. There was a hole, a mound of dirt, some slabs of cement, some rope, and four men. I watched as they lowered his casket into the ground, praying no one would let the rope slip. Mi Compadre was watching them like a hawk, making sure everything was done properly. The last thing I saw was them lay the cement slabs down on top of the casket. Then, a family friend (very close to a Tio to me) and one of Mi Amor's closest friends (who sang "Wish You Were Here" at the grave site per my request... talk about a meltdown for me--it was one of our favorite songs during the time we spent apart) took me aside and told me I should leave because I needed to let it go and there was nothing else to see.

It was all so raw, but in some ways I think it was better. We pretty up death to make it less scary for us, but I'm not scared of dying, death, or the afterlife. My problem is missing people once they're gone.

One month...

It was one month ago today... four weeks as of Saturday--but who's counting?

I am.

Te amo siempre, Mi Amor. Te amo mas de la que tu sabes.

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.