wishing for a miracle
This is Edward Hopper’s house. The one he used to escape city life during the summers with his wife Josephine. Mikey loved Hopper’s work, and this was one of the reasons he was drawn to North Truro decades ago. The grand portrait glass window, which can’t be seen in this photo, has a view of North Truro and Provincetown. A landscape Hopper was often inspired by.
As with time, that landscape has changed. A horrid, contemporary-looking house has been constructed, obstructing the view Hopper once gazed upon. Mikey and I watched news of this closely, and I know it would’ve saddened him to see the building, as I did for the first time, yesterday.
Mikey’s sudden death means there was no time for goodbyes. And if there had been, it wouldn’t have felt like enough time anyway.
What we did have was one perfect last morning and afternoon that Sunday, August 7th. Both as husband and wife, friends and parents. Sundays were always my day to sleep in. I could tackle the busyness of Monday through Saturday, so long as I had one morning a week to be lazy. No alarms to rouse me, no lunches to pack or markets to visit. Just some extra sleep, and waking up to kisses was a fringe benefit too.
That last Sunday morning Mikey came into the room and rubbed every morsel of my skin. It’s almost like he knew he needed to leave a lasting impression. I opened my sleepy eyes, and whispered for him to lock the bedroom door. The girls were watching cartoons.
We made love for the very last time. I didn’t know it then. I had no idea he would be gone forever nine hours later. But what I did know is I was ready to say yes to something he’d been asking me. He’d been teasing about trying for “the boy”. As he left the room to tend to the girls, leaving me with just a few more minutes of quiet peace, I decided to tell him that night that we should give it a try.
I’ve been hoping every day since he died that the condom broke. Wishing for a miracle, albeit it one that would send my world into overdrive. I was wishing for one last parting gift. A consolation prize, of sorts.
My period came, much to my sadness, and with it another flood of tears and reminder that the life I wanted is not available to me anymore.
I’m so sorry Jennie. I wish there was something, anything, that I could do for you. And I know so many others feel the same way.
You are in my thoughts all the time, even though I don’t know you – but I hope that the thoughts and prayers and love coming from everyone provides some teeny tiny bit of comfort to you in some way.
I can understand every emotion of this post, even if I don’t know your pain.
PS You are so lucky to have a lock on your bedroom door.
Sweetie. Hang on. One day at a time. Minute by minute. You are going to get through this. I cry with and for you. I don’t know you but I want to do anything I can to make it go away. I can’t do anything other than think and wish and hope that every day brings you closer to good memories and less hurt.
The love and passion you feel for Mikey is so visceral… This must’ve taken so much courage to write and to publish, and I thank you. Thank you for sharing something so intimate and beautiful and heartbreaking. As the daughter of a widow who lost the love of her life at 36, I can know without a doubt that you will be able to share Mikey’s love with your daughters — that they’ll feel it in your bones just as you do.
Oh man. How devastating. I’m crying with you. I wish there was something I could say, or do. But I don’t know that there is. And I’m a stranger, so it probably wouldn’t matter.
But this I do hope-that someday, you do get to say yes. Maybe to that question, maybe another question. Reading your last post, I think you will. I’m a romantic-I believe that you will create, are creating, a life that you’ll want to have just as much. I really wish, though, that losing the life you had didn’t have to hurt you and your girls so very very much.
And now I hope I didn’t say the wrong thing.
i’m sorry you didn’t get that miracle, and even more sorry for the loss of your mikey.
Barefeet In The Kitchen
Oh Jennie, I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes, wishing once more that it were possible to turn back time.
Everyday that I read your blog I feel the power of your love and the pain you are carrying. You are a brave woman and I hope and wish that for every sad moment you have you can think of something that brings back a memory to make you smile.
Julie @ Willow Bird Baking
Tons of love, prayers, and a big virtual hug to you right at this second. I’m hurting for you — I wish it were so, so different.
I have been reading all of your posts and the comments left over the past few weeks. This is the post that broke me. I have no words for you during this awful time except that I am so sorry for your loss. In response to your previous post is up to you to grieve how you want to (or not), simple as that. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
It is so hard to to convey in words my feelings, I feel so terrible for your loss, but am so drawn to your words. I wish I was not so moved by them, I wish I had never read them, wish you had never needed to write them, but I thank you for sharing, you are a very special person. I’m sorry the first thing that connected me to your words was a post with a picture of a wedding ring and the sadness that came through your words. I am so very sorry for your loss. Stay strong Jennie, you are loved!
Your openness and intimacy is so touching. As your world changes and you include this unknown audience with you, I wanted to thank you for allowing others to learn from your experience, and take a moment to reflect upon our own lives. Thank you for continuing to be so vulnerable in such a public manner, and know that your eloquence and grace inspirational. Even the sharing of anger towards God or whatever, the fear, the loss, the sense of injustice, it is so raw and true. So, thank you for sharing that.
Oh Jennie. Thank you for sharing your perfect last morning/afternoon together. I wish I could take away the reason for all the tears with all my heart…
I completely understand that hope – despite the obvious difficulty the reality of it would cause. All warm wishes coming your way as you work through this time.
It’s beautiful to follow your journey back into the kitchen by the way. The tomato jam prep looked fantastic.
my heart aches for you. your strength is an inspiration to me. My husband is 47 and dying from interstitial lung disease. We are just now getting the diagnosis figured out. No idea why this happened to him. He never smoked. I am so angry about everything. I am afraid to be alone as we never had children. I went thru many painful years of infertility. I have so many experiences of people saying terrible things to me. The childless couple. You dont understand how it feels because you dont have kids. And on and on and on.
I am ashamed of myself when I hear your strength. I read your post to seek your strength. I know you dont feel strong now but you are to me. Some have asked me if I think therapy may help and I feel like saying HELL NO. It wont fix the outcome. And Im not ready to feel better.
When your awake at night know that I am too. When I pray( and right now Im afraid not to) I pray for you as well.
Beautiful photo…thanks for sharing your memories.
That was such an incredibly personal thing to share. More evidence of what a strong woman you are.
Jennie, that just must feel like he has died all over again, or at least the dream of “maybe” has died. I don’t think there are any words of comfort that I or anyone else can give you. Let me just say that there are so many people thinking about you, pulling for your, praying for you, and just generally loving you. I hope you feel it and that it brings some small comfort.
From reading your posts as well as following you on twitter, I know you have a great sense of humor. I’m hoping that it is serving you well. Many folks are afraid to laugh around people who have recently experienced loss. But sometimes laughter helps like nothing else can.
To that end, a haiku I just read today:
Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don’t make sense
my heart is just broken for you. Wishing you peace and strength and hope in the days ahead.
I am an absolute stranger to you but feel compelled to say how much I appreciate you for sharing this journey that you are on. I live in another country, in another time zone, across a continent but have made a peanut butter pie, held my child a bit more tightly, told my husband, passionately, how much I love him, all because of you. If I could do anything to lighten your load or provide you comfort I would so in a heartbeat although it seems you already have a “village” that is attempting to do just that. I do send you my very best wishes, hope and love.
This breaks my heart. When my dad died I was 13. My mom had wished he’d left her pregnant with a gift as well. He didn’t!
Thinking of you and the girls.
Peace & Strength to you!
You write beautifully and I am so thankful that you have this blog as an outlet. I hope it is therapeutic and serves it’s purpose to you. I know all too well what those reminders feel like.
They come suddenly at times, sometimes creeping slowly. They come far too often and stay too long. Yet, those feelings almost make you feel closer to him while feeling ripped apart all over again.
We weren’t trying, but I cried so hard the first time my period came after my husband’s sudden death.
I think of you often and wish the best for you and your girls. I am so sorry your life has changed and is not what you wanted.
I, and all the other young widows, are here to share in your emotions. Painful, sad, happy, all of them.
Keep writing. Keep doing what’s best for you, even when you aren’t sure what that means.
Oh Jen, thoughts with you. What a post.
I just stumbled on your blog about three days ago and my heart just breaks for you. The only way I can somewhat know what you are going through is that I just lost my mom eleven weeks ago. Watching my dad, after 63 years of marriage, lose the love of his life is horrible. Through him I can get a glimpse of what you are going through. Just hang onto your girls the way my dad is hanging onto us. We are a tad older than yours at 59, 57 and 55.
Oh, Jennie. I’m so sorry. xo
Devastating. My heart is breaking all over again. How much can one person endure? Again, you are in my thoughts and heart…
Jennie I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t begin to imagine your heartbreak. Thank you for sharing this memory with all of us, I can feel your love for him in every word. I’m glad that your last day together was so beautiful. Sending you love.
Jennie: Lots of love and hugs to you. Your strength is admirable. Thinking of you Jennie. Radhika.
Oh no. I’m so sorry 🙁
I am so sorry.
(((((((I’m so sorry)))). If only life were like a movie.
What a beautiful memory.
There are no words that can offer you as much support as I would love to be able to give you and your family,
Elizabeth @ Coppertop Kitchen
I have tears streaming down my face. I’m so sorry for your loss, and praying for you and your family.
Your clearness and honesty of heart is beautiful and heartbreaking…I don’t know you nor did I know Mikey, but I have shed tears for you all today. While this miracle hasn’t happened, I believe the miracle of your beautiful last day together is one to be held close and cherished. I hope peace and a new type of happiness is not far away for you and your girls.
My heart aches for you…I’m not even sure what to say. I so appreciate you sharing your raw emotions and experiences with us – you are inspiring all of us to live our lives to the absolute fullest and cherish every person and moment in our life. Its sad that we even need that reminder sometime, but I’m so grateful to you for giving it to me. You are truly an inspiration to all of us, even though it may not feel that way right now. You have also taught me that even in the toughest times, stay true to myself and don’t let anyone tell me how I “should” feel. I hope that you can feel all the love out there for you and your girls, even from all of us who only know you from your blog. My thoughts are with you and the girls.
In awe of your honesty and beauty. Thank you for sharing with us.
You made me cry. Well said. Well felt. I send hugs.
The Kitchen Magpie
My heart hurts for you…I am so sorry you didn’t get your miracle.
I am so thinking of and hurting for you and your daughters! I am making that peanut butter pie for you, for Mikey and for us.
You inspire me to be a better person each day. I am a total stranger to you, I am sorry for your loss.
Disclaimer: You can release this into the comments if you want, but it’s really meant just for you.
I’ve been following your blog for quite some time now. The path that you are traveling is one that we are traveling together. Although, they are separate journeys, we have both had our worlds turned upside down.
I lost my Chris on the same day you lost Mikey. He was the love of my life. Like no other man I had ever met. We were raising his two sons together, ages 11 and 6, and expecting identical twin boys in March (my first biological children). On Saturday, we were involved in a car accident. Chris and I were both admitted to the hospital. He to Critical Care on life support and me to the Obstetrics floor. The twins didn’t make it and on Sunday Chris’ life support was turned off.
The suddenness of him not being there hurts. I want to scream and cry and cuss, as I know you must also feel. I want to commend you for making your journey through grief public. I know that what you’re writing doesn’t begin to touch your pain, but I believe that it will help. It makes my heart glad that you and Mikey were able to spend the time together that you did on Sunday. Hold those memories close. I’ll never forget the weekend Chris died. We were away for the weekend just the two of us. Holding hands, holding each other, talking, and making love. It couldn’t have been better memories.
Stay strong Jennie. Hold on tight to your friends and loved ones. Know that you’re not alone in this journey. Everyday when you look at your girls remember the blessings that Mikey gave you and the lifetime of memories still to be made.
I feel like someone just knocked the wind out of me after reading this post. To say that I hurt for you is an understatement. I hope that I find someone someday that I am in love with as deeply as you are with Mikey.
I want you to know that I think about you everyday, although I don’t know you. When I get into bed at night, I think of you and hope that you are asleep and not in pain, if even for a little while. I’m not really a religious person either, but I find myself saying a “prayer” that there will be things in the next day that bring you happiness and some laughter in the midst of all this shit you’ve been thrown.
I also want you to know that although I pretty much hate peanut butter, didn’t own a spring pan, and have really never baked anything more complicated than chocolate chip cookies.. I bought the proper pan, made Mikey’s pie, and ate it with my roommates anyway. If loving thoughts and hopes could heal, you would surely be the happiest person on Earth.
Much love to you and your adorable girls <3
I’m sorry….I wish I had something better or more clever to say – but my heart is aching for you.
Thank you for sharing the last day with your husband. What a wonderful morning memory to have even if it is tinged with the sadness you are feeling. Losing someone special is painful. I know and send positive energy your way.
Sasha @ The Procrastobaker
Oh gosh. Ohhhh gosh. Your writing just turns me into an emotional soppy girl every time Jennie, its heartbreaking, and your open honesty is almost too touching. There are no words to express my feelings about this post, i only hope the hundreds of comments of support say enough. Thoughts with you, as always, at this unimaginable time
Some things are just not meant to be. You have those two darling girls. Hold them close and take comfort in the memories of the four of you together. Make sure Mikey lives through those children. They are his legacy. You are his legacy. This blog is his legacy. Cherish them all.Big hugs your way, for you and the girls.
My heart aches for you
Jessica / Green Skies and Sugar Trips
Sitting at my desk at work crying, completely balling (thankfully I work with family and I have a sister who once she reads this will be crying just as much)
My heart breaks for you. There is nothing I can say, no advice to offer.
You are so strong, and so amazing, and inspiring. Sending love, and hugs to you <3
you are so beautiful!
Janie, I have been reading all your post. My heart just aches for you this morning! What a beautiful man your Mikey is! My only wish is that I could share with you something as “special” as what you are sharing with us. The best I can do is to send BIG HUGS you way! I hope you can feel them.
Janie, I have been reading all your post. My heart just aches for you this morning! What a beautiful man your Mikey is! My only wish is that I could share with you something as “special” as what you are sharing with us. The best I can do is to send BIG HUGS you way! I hope you can feel them.
I´m sad for you too. Luckily you have your two girls. Keep remembering the good memories xxx
Crying at my desk again… I swear my boss must think I am a basket case. My heart just broke a little more for you after reading this post. Sending you peace for your heart. <3
Oh, I am so sorry. I am very happy that you all your able to have one last special day, though.
Tears are in my eyes as I am typing this. Your words are making me realize that I do not have time to waste worrying about the trivial things of life…love and family above all. Thank you.
oh jennie, i am sitting here in tears as i read this post. know that people all over the world are rooting for you and your girls – we are sending love and hugs and strength your way.
No words. Just sadness for your loss.
God willing, I will go home tonight to the man I’ve loved for 26 years. I will be able to tell him how much he means to me and touch him the way I know you wish you could touch your husband just one more time.
Your loss makes me a better wife today.
Thank you for sharing.
Damn! Damn! Damn! That sucks!
You are one hell of a woman. Sending you hugs and wishes for peace through the airwaves.
I came upon your blog because of the peanut butter pie and soon realized what you’ve been going through. Right out loud I said, “well that sucks!” I’m brought to tears by your pain – and sometimes your humor! My sister counsels the grieving and I’ve heard her say many times that “death sucks!” She’s so right. She gave me a poem called ‘I Am Not Gone’ by Susan D. Meyer that seems appropriate to share with you. It even mentions the seagull!
I am not gone – I have simply changed my form
You will find me in the coolness of a raindrop and in leaves that brighten the autumn ground
You will hear my voice in the whisper of a falling stream
And feel my touch when the warmth of the sun meets your skin
My soul will travel to you in the flight of a seagull
And you will see my smile in a fresh summer flower
I am the energy that fills your spirit when you witness the beauty of nature
We are called together when you remember a time we shared for I exist within those thoughts
Whenever your heart is touched you are receiving the gift of my love
And every time you cherish me my soul is blessed.
Jennie, I sincerely hope that your spirit continues to be filled with love and, as soon as possible for you, peace and joy. Hang in there, Sister.
I am so sad for your loss but so very grateful that you’ve experienced a love like you did. True love. Still breaks my heart though. Big huge hugs to you.
Wow, tears for sure. I am so sorry, Jennie. What a strong and brave woman you are for sharing such an intimate last morning. My heart is broken for you…thinking of you and the girls daily. You are not alone.
Your writing is so heartfelt, raw, and honest. I have been following along since just before Mikey’s death. And reading through your postings since that fateful day I have been typing and deleting responses, never quite sure what to say that won’t sound trite or cliche. Your strength is awe inspiring. Your courage to be commended. I send you love and hugs and strength and prayers. I wish for you happiness someday (when you least expect it) and the ability to make it through those dark days.
All the grace and peace and comfort in the whole wide world is wished to you and your girls….you are an amazing woman, a true woman….and I see why Mikey loved you so very much…your girls are blessed to have you as their Momma! You WILL thrive and heal and grow as you live through this so very, very unfair loss! You’ve got what it takes…..hugs and love to you and your girls.
Michelle W. Flannery
This is a beautiful post Jennie. I can feel every emotion you intended, and I am wet with the tears you shed while you wrote it. It is a strong healing moment when you are able to share these tender details. But even more, there is a blessing in being able to recall them with such rich detail, that each of us can feel as though we were there with you in those moments. Thank you for inviting us into those precious, intimate moments.
In the south we say, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” Well, Jennie, I can feel your strength growing. But I’m sure you feel it too. Like the proverbial mighty oak from a tiny acorn, you are emerging and becoming something more beautiful and strong than you thought you already were. Thank you for sharing your transformation with us. I’m so sorry for the circumstances, but we are all being blessed by your willingness to share. May this blessing return to you 100 fold.
You are amazing.
I’m so sorry.
You leave me speechless, my love.
I made your amazing peanut butter pie for my husband, son, and daughter. My son said, “This is the best pie you ever made, Mom.” Thank you for your words and inspiration. Sending you love and support during such a difficult time.
Chelsea Talks Smack
My heart hurts reading this, there are no words, just lots and lots of love…..so much love…..
Jennie, As one other reader put it so well
“Your loss makes me a better wife today.” I know that is a bittersweet and unfair thing to read but it is the truth of my heart today and each day forward! Thank you for sharing with us, it gave me purpose
After such a heartbreaking loss like this, please seek some kind of grief counseling. Do this before you put up another blog post. Otherwise, you may not know where the boundary lies; in disclosing the most intimate details of your loss. Take this from someone who has experienced the same bitterness and anger after losing their cherished husband.
JP’s Note: I sincerely hope you are finding peace and happiness after losing your husband. With all due respect, though, don’t tell me how to grieve. Find what works for you, and let me carve out my own path. If you don’t like what I’m writing here, then there’s a world of blogs to choose from. I’m not writing for you or anyone else. This is my process, and no one is forcing you to be a part of it. Life is too short to spend on anything you don’t find fruitful.
Each day I come here to see how you are doing. Was it a better day? was it a bad day? And each time I read a new post, I am amazed all over again at your courage. I sit here crying for you, someone I have never met, and realize how many tears you must have shed the last 26 days. You have me in awe of the things of yourself you are so willing to share. You are teaching a master class (albeit one you would gladly return) in the art of grace. While so many of us can feel anguish for your journey, very few on here can say they have walked the same path. To each of you, and especially to you Jennie, I wish just a few moments of peace each day, when you can look back with a smile even through the tears.
Thank you for appreciating Mikey’s last beautiful day, and especially for sharing it with us.
And for your last post, yes, there are a million firsts you must do. But you’ve already started–the first night, day, pie, pancakes, vacation…and you’ve done them with grace, with strength, with your family, and with the inspiration and memory of a wonderful partner. I have sobbed for you many times. I imagine as your posts continue, I will cry more for you, and smile for you too. I will not be a voyeur on your life events, but instead see them as lessons and inspiration for how to continue to appreciate my life, my adoring husband, my precious babies.
Lynne @ 365 Days of Baking
Oh, Jennie, to be heartbroken all over again, and each day, is devastating.
I’m in tears and there are no words.
Praying for you and sending lots of love…
While I do not know the paid of losing a spouse, I do know the pain of recently losing my mother who lived with me. I am sure my pain cannot compare to yours but know that my heart goes out to you and your family.
thank you for sharing your pain and the beauty of your love. no words can come close to what you are feeling, but i am glad that you are able to transform your sorrow into words.
i see another of your followers is feeling the agony of losing her love to disease. for each of you the pain may be a bit different but seemingly insurmountable for both. a long time for goodbye or no goodbye brings you both to the same reality.
my thoughts are with you daily. i cannot imagine what it will feel like to lose the love of my life. this is a second marriage for both of us, and i cannot bring myself to look into that possibility….
i will be watching for your post in my inbox….keep going jennie…
and to joanne, whose name i share……thinking of you too…..
I haven’t commented here before, but I felt compelled to come out of lurking to tell you how beautiful and touching your words are. I can’t imagine the strength and courage it takes to not only keep on keeping on right now, but also to share your pain so honestly and openly here. My heart goes out to you and I wish there was something more I could say to help you. Please know that your words have inspired so many people like me who have never even met you to hug their loved ones a little closer and sieze every day a little more passionately. Thinking of you and your family…
Please get some help before you turn your blog into something you never intended to do. I see a lot of hurt, anger and bitterness.
Wow. I’m stunned by your honesty, your writing, so fraught with emotion. Thank you for sharing.
Like many others, I stumbled across your blog just 3 weeks ago. I have been following anonymously since. Today I cannot pass on this raw and beautiful post without adding my complete sadness for you and your girls. My words mean less than the tears and heartfelt deep pain of this event and your loss of this man so truly loved.
Thank you for sharing such raw, private and beautiful moments that you had with Mikey. A lot of warm well wishes for you and your loved ones.
I cannot stand that you have to endure so much loss and pain. As others have said, I’d do anything to make it not so for you and your girls. Thank you for letting us in. Please know that through your words there will come healing, even when it feels impossible. The love you put out is and will continue to return exponentially, a small consolation but hopefully some comfort. You are always in my thoughts and even though we’ve never met, I hate that your Mikey was taken from you and your girls too soon. I know you will find the strength and guidance to push forward but oh how I wish to erase your hurt now.
I have read this post so many times and have cried just as hard every time. I had just found your blog when your life completely changed and am amazed at your ability to continue writing so articulately. I really hope that the love of your sweet girls will help get you through this. Mikey was one lucky man.
Wow. Today I am blown away not only by this beautiful post but also the heartbreaking comment from Olivia, who lost her twins and her husband on the same day as Jennie lost Mikey and is somehow able to write about it gracefully and poignantly just like Jennie. I want to hug you both — more than that, I want to turn back the clock for you both and have things turn out so very differently. I’m so sorry, and I wish you peace and strength in an appallingly sad and unfair time.
From someone who grieves every day for the husband and children I was never blessed to have, your life, though sad now, is fulfilled in ways I will never know. I’d love the opportunity you have to be grateful for what I’d had. Take care and take the time to grieve and you will treasure your memories forever. I hope you eventually find happiness again.
Brought tears to my eyes.
Even though I don’t know you – you are in my thoughts and prayers. Please be kind to yourself.
I’m so sorry. This brings such tears to my eyes – thank you for sharing. and inspiring me to hug and treasure my husband and family every day. The last time i saw my mother before she died in a car accident i hugged her and told her i loved her. which i am so glad i did. As i’m so glad you did with Mikey. Let the tears come and be strong, knowing you are surrounded by friends. Even if we’ve never met.
Kim in MD
Oh Jennie…I am crying as I type this. Although we have never met, I have never felt so compelled to read a blog to see how the blogger is doing. I normally read blog to see a new recipe or decorating post. I stumbled upon your blog after Mikey’s death, and you and your girls have been in my thoughts every single day since. I am so sorry for everything you are going through. I can only imagine how you longed to pregnant with Mikey’s baby, only to realize that you weren’t when you got your period-my heart breaks for you. I know you are sick by now of people trying to comfort you, so I won’t try to find comforting words today…I will just keep you in my thoughts and prayers.
Alicia Sokol - Weekly Greens
Oh, my my. Of all your beautiful, heartfelt, raw posts, this is the one that really got me. I continue to be amazed at your ability to share so openly. My heart is breaking all over again for you today.
I believe there are miracles ahead for you. They may not be what you imagined, but I have to believe this universe has something very special ahead for you. I just know it.
Take good care, sweet Jennie.
The love you and your Mikey shared is so beautiful and I’m very glad you had such a special love, even though the time was short. I am so very sorry for your loss.
Shelby @ Lady Gouda
Ahhhh Jennie. My heart breaks for you all over again.
Such a beautiful post – thinking of you.
I ache for you. I hope for you.
oh honey…i wish i had words, but i just don’t. <3 <3 <3
Reading this is like a fist to the chest to knock the wind out.
Jesus. Your words are so powerful. I am a summertime Wellfleet girl and appreciate the impact this piece of the world has on ones life. it’s a good place to work with feelings that stop you in your tracks. You are so well loved by so many of us. Perfect strangers. At any given moment you are who you need to be. Your girls are very very lucky to have such a mother.
My heart breaks again for you, Jennie. I don’t know what else to say.
Although I am a lover of food blogs, I have never come across yours for whatever reason today I finally did and I am so happy for that. There are no words to express how sorry I am for your loss, but I want you to know that in the few minutes that I have been reading your blog I think I may never forget you or your story. Your words are so touching filled with truth, rawness and for me although I have not experienced the loss of my partner I can relate to all the if you could call it the “aftershock” and flashbacks into the past and wishing you could have seen into the future so that you could somehow make some changes that would soothe your pain right now. I have so many times promised that I would make my dh his special treat but somehow the demands of life and children had pushed that deed away. Discussing the idea of adding to your family and thinking you have forever and realizing that forever was right now. I want to thank you for sharing this hard time with us so that those who may have been taking life for granted, take a fresh look at life and realize that now is the time to show your love and enjoy every moment as if it was your last. I wish you and your little girls nothing but the best going forward and you will be in my most heartfelt prayers
Hi Jennie. I came across your blog through the smitten kitchen, unfortunately the first post i read was about your husband. I wish i had read your blog earlier. i am at a stage right now where i might not get to be with the man i love, not because of death, but simply because he might move on from me. while that is nothing like what you are feeling, somewhere i wish, and hope that i at least get the chance to be with him, like you did with your mikey. life is so precious, i dont want to waste any moment of it without him.
anyway, i hope i didnt say anything stupid. a BIG hug to you and your cute kids all the way from mumbai.
It is well known that cash can make people autonomous. But how to act if someone has no cash? The one way only is to get the business loans or just credit loan.
There really are no words.
Your words, your thoughts. . . You are so strong. And your strength will see you through. No matter what anyone else thinks or says, you (still) control your destiny.
Dear Juilie, Im devastated for your loss and incredibly moved by the date of the passing of Mikey. I met the man I am now in love with, and most certain I will spend all the time in this life we are given with, two days before and on the afternoon of Aug 7, in the Black Hills of S. Dakota, the Harley I was riding on the back of, helmetless, crashed, bringing down the two bikes carrying my friends behind us. In the miracle of all miracles, no one hit their heads and we are all pretty well healed now. I now have a tattoo that bears this date. This give and take in life, seemingly at random but always so painful, scary and profound, is overwhelming to me. All I can do is be grateful, humble, and remember to savor every moment like its last. Sending you all of our love…
I’ve been following your posts (thanks to the recommendation of a dear friend of mine) and have felt a deep connection to your story and to your words as you describe moving through life now without Mike. Yesterdays post, which I received this morning, hit with a particular resonance and has stuck with me through 6 a.m. yoga class and beyond. I tried desperately through yoga to focus on my breathing and to “tune out” the thoughts in my head but my mind inevitably and irretrievably kept going back to this post.
You see, the same was true for me of the day that John (my husband of 12 years, age 36) died. It was our anniversary after all and the kids (ages 3 and 6) were down for naps and we had this moment in time–which as parents of two little ones, becomes rare–and so we took advantage of the moment, not realizing that it would be the last time. I was on birth control and at some point during that dense, early fog of those first few days after he died, I realized how ridiculous it was to be taking the pill so I stopped. I had this crazy thought that maybe I would become pregnant based on that last intimate time, thinking maybe it would be John’s parting gift to me, a last vestige of our enduring connection to each other, not recalling that it was never quite that simple even when we were actively “trying” to get pregnant and certainly not thinking of how selfish this thought was to think that I was even in a position to carry or care for another little person in the midst of my grief. Nevertheless, the thoughts were there and so I remember being equal parts relieved and devastated when my period came–because both emotions were so palpable and because there were parts of me that wished both options could come true.
But what I realized most of all, was that I just wanted my life back–the way it was, the way I thought it was going to be. And so, with that period, I was reminded–as if I needed yet another reminder–that John was gone and that this was my new reality.
John also died of a sudden, massive heart attack that day, our anniversary. My 3 year old son was with him at the time and my daughter and I found him.
I don’t know you Jennie, but I think of you often. I am so very sorry for the loss of your best friend, partner, and father to your children. My heart aches for your loss, and your children’s loss, which is so deep and personal. Your writings are powerful and poignant and courageous. I thank you for your willingness to share them.
I don’t know if you want to share my post but I just felt like I wanted to reach out to you, as someone who has and continues to walk a similar journey.
JP’s Note: Melissa, thank you for understanding what many people do not. Sharing my grief and these inner thoughts doesn’t mean I’m not giving myself a break. I’m just choosing to do it in a very public manner, for better or worse. I find writing here to be very therapeutic and realize only someone who has experienced what I am going through can understand how much this really helps me. Thank you for sharing your words, both of your own experience, and encouragement for the journey I’m taking right now.
Jen, this is so raw and real….and I understand. I am so so sorry….this is so so hard, but I know there is some plan that is unfolding that is unknown to you right now. As awfully painful as it is right now, hold onto the memories and honor a man who loved you so very much. I hope each day you wake is more gentle than the day before….