The Great Bambino

My mind is spinning today and all I can think about is the Babe…

In August 1994 my oldest sister married a wonderful man. She married the Great Bambino, not one of the greatest Yankees of all time, the one that sparked the Red Sox curse but the true Babe of our family. Babe, as he’s been called since childhood, is the kind of man who every woman should want to marry. He’s a man’s man, straight forward, hard-working, loving, can fix anything, loves his family, always has the answer yet lets you make your own mistakes. He’s going to point out that he told you so; followed by a chuckle, a gentle dig letting you know he’s kidding… sorta. He’s a man who laughs from his gut and smiles with his eyes. He’s a man who surprises his wife with a plane ticket so she can hold her newborn granddaughter even though they were planning a trip in 4 weeks. He’s a man who sends his wife off to see her sister when she needs her most. The man who you’d never think would coo over a baby, yet his enormous hands are the most gentle of all. He’s the man who repaired a family and made them whole again.

My oldest son Will and I are very close; we talk about everything from the weather to dating, drinking, sex and drugs. Most of our conversations happen after one of us has come home from a night out or when one of us is having a “bad day” with all that our family has gone through. I remember this particular conversation so clearly and its stuck with me ever since. It’s no secret to anyone; including my children that dating since Zed passed away has not gone well. There were QJ’s lies that destroyed not just me but my children; BDD’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality that caught us all off guard and I still can’t believe it happened. It was a few days after Mr. Hyde showed his face and I was crying in the kitchen. Not for him but because my children had seen too much. Will, the witness to the madness, sat on the stool and looked at me so very thoughtfully with slight tears in his eyes and said “Mom, I just want you to find your Babe” I cried even harder. He couldn’t have said it any better and his perception of love and life was never so clear to me. He’s a brilliant kid with a tender heart. I knew exactly what he meant by that one sentence. It runs through my head all the time.

I have met a Babe. I know without any doubt that the man I’m seeing now is absolutely a Babe. We spent a lot of time together this weekend, two dates and lots of laughing, kissing, touching, affection and A LOT of disbelief for both of us. I know it seems completely insane and I can’t explain the turn of events in my world over the last few weeks the unexpected seems to be happening right before my eyes.

I wonder if he can hit a home run like the Babe? He is a Boston boy but a Yankees fan… Does it get any better?

Love,

g

Choking On My Words…

When I first set up my Match.com profile I only purchased a four-month membership. Not long after that first bizarre date, the one where he was planning what we’d be doing in six months and the string of even more bizarre emails, winks etc. I hid my profile from public view, I just didn’t feel like it was a good option for me. Even though my profile was hidden from public view I still continued to get daily emails from Match “Here are your new daily matches” I never logged on to look, I just didn’t care. I was waiting for my four months to be up…

On one of my nights out with the girls, my favorite hot bartender, who always asks what’s going on, convinced me to try it again. He said “it’s fun, just relax and enjoy it for what it is” Alright, alright, I logged on just under two weeks ago, updated my profile a little, added a new pic, etc. I really wasn’t interested in dating someone continuously. I’m content with the idea of being alone. I thought, I’ll just be a serial first dater for a while and meet some new people and have a little fun with absolutely no attachment.

I looked at a few profiles but didn’t really see anything that struck me, except…..this one guy. I looked at his pictures first, come on, that is the first thing you do! Hmmmm, very handsome, dark hair, dark eyes, huge smile that made his eyes light up and holding the cutest little girl in his arms. I read his profile and was instantly struck. Some profiles are so terribly written but his was witty, funny, sarcastic, yet sincere and thoughtful. I knew immediately he would contact me, he emailed the next day.

I received a very short, sweet email, basically opening the door for me to email back if I was interested. Of course I did! He made a couple of funny remarks in his profile about what he liked on his hot dog, ate at the movies, and touched on his love of a good thrill ride. My first sentence was mustard, milk duds and the inventor and patent date of the roller coaster. Can you hear the reel spinning?

There was an immediate banter back and forth through email with a few “details” about our history as well. It didn’t take long and he asked for my phone number and could he call me. I emailed him my number and I got a text that afternoon…I gave him bonus points for the surprise contact in the middle of a work day. His response “triple word score, 96 points”. The banter has continued ever since. We’ve gone on three dates in a week…

Of course our first date was a burger date! When I stepped out of the car and saw him, there was an immediate attraction. It was a night of great food, great company and the conversation flowed easily. It was a little ADD and all over the place, jumping from one topic to the next, and back again. After dinner we went downtown and had a drink at Squeeze, talked and laughed a little more, sitting close and touching gently. He held my hand as we walked, it felt so natural it caught me a little off guard. He took me back to my car and I headed home without a first kiss. We both wanted to but didn’t…I mean we had just met!

I think we both immediately regretted not taking the opportunity to have our first kiss. After that first date we communicated often and the draw toward the other was mutual. A few days went by and he finally text me, “that’s it, I’m seeing you today I can’t wait any longer to kiss you”. It was a very quick meet up after work, as he had to go pick up his daughter. We both got out of the car and immediately kissed, I don’t think we even said hello and I’m pretty sure during our short visit, we didn’t take our hands off each other once.

He also lost his spouse a few years back to breast cancer and is raising his daughter alone. He has been through a lot since she passed as well. Yet he has kept a positive outlook in the worst of situations and believes that happiness is possible again. I can tell we share a lot of similar outlooks and beliefs without even having a discussion, I can sense it by how he carries himself and his actions.

The comfort that comes from spending time with someone who knows that there are days where you want nothing more than the life you once knew back, is overwhelming. Someone that knows they can never understand the complexities of your own personal path through grief. Someone who knows, no matter what happens in the future you’ll always love your spouse and always wish things happened differently. It’s the strangest kind of feeling to still be in love with a person who’s gone, yet move on to have a different kind of relationship with someone else. I don’t believe most people can understand it, comprehend that somehow your heart splits in two but stays intact.

I’m cautiously optimistic and looking forward to getting to know him better. I’m well aware that you really never know someone or what they are capable of, we shall see what happens at the three week douche bag mark. Although I don’t think he’s gonna be a DB. No matter what comes of our time together, I already know I’m better for meeting him. So kudos to Match.com… I guess you can meet some nice people. Sorry for the bad review before.

I almost forgot…for the first time I can’t give someone a code name, I don’t want to. So for now he just is……..

Ohhhh one more thing, he’s a great kisser too.

Love,

g

Life’s a Beach

On that day in August 2009, Zed was working in one of his favorite areas of Isle of Palms; the corner of 5th Avenue and Ocean Blvd. We had spent a lot of time out there together, as we have friends who own a house right there on the beach. I went there for the first time in a long while on Sunday with Saffron and my cross-eyed dog Charlie.

Saffron and I met at the house which overlooks the ocean. When we arrived, I asked her to walk with me for a minute before heading out to the beach; “I want to show you something”. We walked across the street to the side yard of the house opposite the ocean. She said “Are we just going to walk through random people’s yards?” “It’s ok, I know the owners” I said. We were on the side of the house where a short concrete wall not more than a foot high separates the front and back yards. Charlie was sniffing around and I said “This is it, this is where he fell”. Tears immediately welled in her eyes, I said “it’s okay, don’t cry”. I admit I shocked her, who expects that someone would want to spend time where their spouse lost their life. I have a love/hate relationship with that spot; I’ve cried many tears sitting on that wall.

Of course right on cue Charlie decides he has found HIS spot and promptly does his business, right as I’m telling Saffron. At least it made me laugh. While I’m telling her this tragic story, I’m also trying to pick up a steaming pile. Typical! The moment made us both laugh; more importantly I wasn’t crying. I couldn’t tell her the whole story; I would have choked up and neither of us really wanted to spend our Sunday crying.

I did share with her how I used to go there every month on the 1st, sit and cry, sob really. Sometimes I would lie on the grass where I imagined his body was or I would sit on the wall and listen to his iPod laughing at his song choices and sometimes I would scream with tears streaming down my face because I so desperately wanted my life back. Didn’t matter what the weather was like, hot, cold, rainy, I was there. I tried on many occasions to imagine what happened that day, did his foot slip?, did he fall when he was hanging up the phone with me?, did he know what was happening? He used to tell me “Don’t worry, I’m Spiderman, I always have a plan in case I fall” There was nothing he could have done to save himself, nothing to grasp onto, break his fall, to change the outcome. As time passed I went out there less and less. As we were walking away Saffron asked “where is he buried?” I laughed and said “Uhhh, nowhere” she replied “So where is he?”….“Now? In the dining room.”

Cremation is a bizarre thing. I never really thought about the details prior to Zed’s death. The how, what, where of it all. It was a couple of days after the funeral when they called to let us know he was ready to be picked up…Hmmmm, I didn’t really think this part through.

It was so strange, as we walked in the funeral home, my sisters and I, the attendant came out to greet us, she lead us to a room where candles were burning on a table with a black plastic box sitting between. She said “I’ll give you a moment alone with him” Uhhhhh alright??? We looked at each other like what are we supposed to do now? Trying not to giggle, we just sat down and waited for her to come back. She returned looking very somber, a reusable grocery bag with the funeral home logo in hand. She handed me the bag filled with information, a pen and some other stuff. Who’s going to carry around a funeral home bag? I don’t think they thought through their marketing materials. She started explaining that the box is quite heavy, something most people don’t think about I guess, I never did. Now I realize…Hey, he was a two hundred pound man in a 6”X4” box; of course it’s going to be heavy, like twelve pounds heavy.

We got in the car with the box; I held it on my lap. We had to run a couple of errands while we were out, when we stopped at Target I looked at my sisters and said “Can I leave him in the car?” My oldest sister looked at me like I was crazy and said laughing “well you’re not going to carry him in there are you?” I don’t know what I was thinking? The oddest thing about death and grief is how much you laugh through it too, at the absurdity of it all. I recall laughing at the funeral because Zed’s lips didn’t have any chap stick on them. I know irreverent but laughing is the only way to make it through.

When we got home I really didn’t know what to do, I carried the box upstairs and took him into my bathroom and shut the door. I set the box on the edge of the tub, sat down on the toilet and stared. He sat on the edge of that tub for a long time. Appropriate I guess, Zed and I had some of our most important conversations in that room, always with one of us sitting on the edge of the tub. Today that box resides in a beautiful wooden box that my brother made, it’s made of elm wood that he recovered from one of our childhood “second homes” sanded so smooth you can’t imagine it was made by hand, with beautiful walnut inlays. Zed sits on the buffet server in the dining room we never use, surrounded by pictures of our family. Inside the box there is a tray that holds our wedding rings, his watch and a pile of old cards we had given each other over the years. That box is only thing I’d grab if there was an emergency.

I’m glad I went to the beach yesterday, to our old spot. It was a beautiful day in Charleston, a little overcast, breezy and with great company, perfect really. It felt good to go there again and laugh a little, see old friends that I haven’t seen in too long. I know someday, when the time is right and I’m ready, I’ll take him to that part of the beach and let him stay. Well what’s left of him… That’s another story, ugh!

Footnote: Since my last post, I’m doing quite well. I feel like myself again and I’m smiling more than ever… more on that later 😉

Love,
g

Mojo

I’ve been really out of sync lately, lost my mojo. It all really started in November of last year culminating a few weeks ago. I’m just gonna come out and admit it loud and clear; I’m depressed and I have been for a very long time. I’ve had too many heart breaks and the stress of living a life alone, raising kids, maintaining a home, shitty dating, all of it took a huge toll on my mental state. I’ve said it before, I’m not one of those people who has gone through this with grace and class. I’m the hot mess.

I’ve isolated myself from a lot of my old friends, the friends I’m talking about are the ones Zed and myself hung out with, you know the cookouts, pool, family stuff “couple friends”. They’re distant, by my own doing and I know this, it was too painful in the beginning and now it’s just different. I’m single and they are all still married. It’s tough to be around them and not feel lonely, not miss him and the life I once knew. I say these words to myself and others a lot… “I want my old life back”. Those words have kept me where I am, kept me from old friends, kept me from moving forward.

I know it’s gone and I can’t have it back but that is what the last 3 years have been about. Grasping for that life. I hit a wall back in November and needed help, I went to the doctor and was prescribed Cymbalta. “Oh my Gosh, I can’t believe she just admitted that”, please! Guess what, 1 in 10 Americans take anti-depressants. Which after being on them for the last six months, there has to be a better option; at least for me. It helped in the short term but man they really took a toll on my body and mind as well.

In the first few weeks of taking them I was extremely sick, nauseated, disoriented, unable to focus and I felt like I had the flu. I was told by my doctor to give it time. I did and then all of a sudden I felt better. I felt pretty good for about 2 months, then I started to become numb. I didn’t even realize it was happening. What I did notice though was how tired I was, how my body slowed down, how I couldn’t focus, how I GAINED 20 pounds! Slowly over those months, I wasn’t Gail anymore. I haven’t even wanted to write. I knew I needed to change something.

After the road trip with my girlfriends, I decided to call my doctor to make a plan to wean myself off the medication. Holy shit, it really sucks and I’m still feeling the effects. It’s been 16 days and I still feel terrible. I will never do this again. After doing some research on the how the drug affects you when you’re coming off the medications; which can last anywhere from 3 weeks to 3 months. I have come to realized it’s gonna be a living hell. Every moment of the day I feel like I’ve just stepped off the merry-go-round. Remember that feeling? It’s like your body stopped spinning but your brain didn’t but with the added pleasure of what feels like an electrical jolt. It’s referred to as “brain zaps”. Seriously? It has a name that’s how many people feel this side effect. How did this drug get on the market? I have periods of time where I feel drunk, disoriented, unable to complete my thoughts and sentences. I’ve had very vivid dreams, restless legs and the list goes on. Very difficult when you’re working and your employer doesn’t know what’s going on. It’s crazy!! Pun intended

Good news? Maybe. Although the side effects are constant, I’m actually starting to feel things again, to have emotions. I was so unaware of what was happening to my body and brain. I have been crying and very emotional the last few weeks but it actually feels good. I’ve been trying to work on a plan to treat myself naturally, this can be difficult when motivation and focus is lacking. So I’m starting small, changing my diet, a few supplements, trying to cut out caffeine which is almost impossible for someone who LOVES coffee, and exercising. Exercising is tough too because the best time for me to go is at 5:30am; which is impossible when you’re exhausted from the side effects and changes in sleep patterns and energy levels but I’ll get there.

Today happens to be a bad day, mostly because I didn’t get any sleep last night(thanks Will)! I’ve really noticed, when and what I eat and how much sleep I get, affects the side effects. I just want to be completely me again. I want to feel whole and alive…happy.

When my mojo comes back though, watch out. It’ll be Mojo with a side of Mojito.

Love

g

Chutes & Ladders

This classic childhood game is so illustrative of how life can play out. Remember playing when you were a kid? I couldn’t stand hitting the chutes, it took me away from my goal of winning. When I’d land on a ladder, I would get all excited to climb up and get ahead of everyone else. However, we never know when there is going to be a chute or a ladder. I lost my husband over 30 feet, those 30 feet came from falling off a ladder; no chute was there to break his fall. He didn’t get to enjoy an easy ride down a slide and work all over again to climb his way back up to the top.

Since Zed’s fall I’ve climbed a little and I’ve slide down a lot. The last four months have been mostly climbing and learning to be happy with all that I have in my life. Some days are tough, I miss Zed, I cry over the pain from QJ or the stress of raising 3 kids sends me down a little chute. However, most I the time I’m ok.

I’m continuing to climb back up the ladder. Unfortunately I’ve hit another chute. I’m no longer seeing the guy I’ve been seeing for the last couple of months. It makes me sad, he has been a part of my life for a while but sometimes it just doesn’t work. I hope that we will be able to remain friends. It may take some time though.

I’ll start the climb again tomorrow. Tonight I’ll hang out at the bottom.

Love,
g

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Belief

I believe in love.  I believe in marriage.  I believe that no matter how difficult the road is, all marriages can survive even the most difficult of situations.  I have a lot of friends who have faced very real and what can seem, to most, as impossible to forgive events.  However, if you are both diligent, choose humility and forgiveness, the best part of your marriage can be on the other side.  Marriage is not easy, if you think it is you have not had your trial yet.  You will in some way, be prepared and choose to love your way through it without losing yourself.

We are all guilty of making poor decisions, giving into our inner desires instead of what is right.  It can be a relationship outside of marriage, a crime, financial difficulties, anything that betrays your partners trust.  I’ve been guilty myself.  I’ve also been the one that has been scorned.  I try to encourage my friends to work through their difficulties, I tell them how wonderful my marriage was after Zed, and I fought through some trials.  The things I’ve experienced and the choices I’ve made in my past have made me who I am today.  I’m not proud of a lot of it.  Nevertheless, I am different because of it all.  I would never make the same choices today.

It was on a Tuesday Morning around 3:00AM in January of 2011, my phone rang, it was a blocked call but I knew it was him; QJ, I couldn’t help myself, I answered anyway knowing I shouldn’t.  I needed to know why?  I still need to know why?  It was only three weeks after he married her, six weeks since my world was turned upside down, only seven weeks since we spent Thanksgiving with my whole extended family.  He played the game well and I was blindsided.

I answered and said “Hello” there was silence but I knew he was there.  I repeated myself several times asking, “Why are you calling?”  Nothing, just silence.  So, I started talking about everything that was going on in our lives, myself and the kids.  I told him of going on vacation, my upcoming trip to Pittsburgh anything, except speak about my daughter.  I figured if I spoke softly and let him know that I still loved him that he would say something.  He never said a word.  I finally said “If you are not going to brave enough to speak I’m hanging up.” so I did.

The next night the same thing, the phone rang, silence…  This time I was angry, I said “the least you could fucking do is say you’re sorry!” that is when the sound came, a grown man sobbing on the other end of the line, pure sobs; I could feel his heart breaking through the phone.  All I heard was “I’m sorry” through the sobs.  I hated him and loved him in the same moment.  My heart ripped out of my chest.  It was validation of what I already knew, he really did love me.  He still was not speaking anything else so I began asking questions.  “Why did you marry her?”, “You could have made any other choice!”, “Why?”  All I heard was “Reilly?” infuriated I said “You lost the right to know anything about her.”, he claimed he loved my daughter as if she were his own.  He said he loved all my children and he would be there for them for the rest of his life.  At least that is what I thought, what he made me believe.  I now know, if that were the case, he wouldn’t have sacrificed them for his own selfish gain.

He couldn’t answer why, in the thousand times that I’ve asked since that first phone call, he’s never given me a reason.  He’s never said he was happy, he’s never said he made the right choice, he’s never said he is no longer in love with me, quite the opposite.  That day began a year of torture for me when all I wanted was closure.  I wanted him to tell me that he chose marriage, that he believed in love, and that he knew he would be happier on the other side with her, that he was sorry for the thousands of lies he told.  Instead, I just got more lies that lead me down a very dark road.

Even today my heart still breaks for the love I thought I had, for the person I thought he was, I still love that person, the one that doesn’t exist.

Love,

g

What’s Worse?

I’ve contemplated this question a lot over the past couple of years. Which is worse, to have your heart broken in a failed relationship or to lose your spouse to death? In the past 2 years, 6 months and 18 days I’ve experienced both. How does that happen? Well its simple when you lose a spouse especially one that you are madly in love with all you can do is beg for the world to stop spinning. That feeling still haunts me today, lying in my bed not wanting to deal with school, kids, life, making dinners, friends, phone calls and bills; just needing to be in the moment and grieve. It doesn’t work that way, the sun still comes up every day, the kids still need to be fed, and there are a million things that need to be done. My whole purpose became about making life normal again for my kids, to keep their world spinning smoothly. Holding onto a house, I shouldn’t have, seeming happy when I wasn’t, laughing when I really needed to be crying. In addition, through all of it, I just wanted to feel normal again, to talk to the one I was missing; to feel their touch and have their support. It’s an unexplainable feeling that is different for everyone. To have someone just gone one day is torture. I’d never experienced it before and I live in fear of experiencing it again.

There have been a few men in my life since Zed died. HD, who really was just a blip on the radar and not a relationship. There was BDD who saved my life, held my hair, my hand and my heart for a moment, but I broke his because I couldn’t love him the way he needed me to. The King who has been a quiet presence for a little over a year with his occasional “how are you?” texts, long philosophical conversations & debates, a friend. Ooh and I can’t forget GI Joe…damn! Nothing ever happened with him, wrong time, and wrong place but we had a couple of great moments that still make me laugh. Sure would have liked to know what could have happened there, think he’s just as nuts as me, and only guessing but just as damaged. But today it’s about him, the one that almost took my life. I want to scream his name and expose him for the pain he caused me, my family and friends but I won’t; QJ changed me. He broke me just as much as losing Zed. Sometimes I think it was worse.

QJ’s story will take me several posts to tell. It’s a whole chapter of my life that I’m still trying to resolve in my mind. It was a scandal, sexy, sweet, dirty, and full of wild passionate love, the kind that you only experience once and really never want to experience again. Nevertheless, my mind goes back trying to search for that moment, the one moment I can still feel, where everything I thought I once knew about being connected to another human being changed…forever. I don’t know if I will ever feel that again. I want to, it was an explosion of every emotion I ever felt in one single event that left me happy, sad, crying, scared, ashamed, vulnerable and for once fully trusting another person with the truth of the deepest secrets of my true self. I beg some days to bring that all back but have contempt in my heart for all the events that followed and could never forgive him for the destruction of my life and family, that came with his game. It was all a lie; I was so desperate to feel whole again I gave myself to a man who almost took my life.

At Zed’s funeral we had a receiving line. Everyone came through hugging, crying and sometimes laughing giving their best condolences. I distinctly remember QJ being there. I wanted to be sure that I spoke to him. He sent the largest most beautiful arrangement of flowers, and I wanted to acknowledge them to him personally. I saw him walk through the door, look at us standing there; me and my children. What he did was the epitome of him, he didn’t wait in line, he walk directly around everyone else and came straight to me. He hugged me told me he was sorry turned around and walked out the door. He didn’t stay. I later learned it took all he had to come there, funerals are not his thing.

It was several weeks after Zed passed away when I received the first email. It was two sentences, something like, I’m going to stop by and bring you some brownies and wine. I thought it was a little odd. This man who I’d known for about a year and only had a few conversations with, to email me but everyone was checking on me at that point. The very short emails bounced back and forth between us for weeks. We would talk at our bi-weekly card games that continued without pause after Zed was gone. It was a way for us all to feel normal and to hold onto him. At one of the games we talked quite a bit and he asked for my number, I gave it to him knowing that he was probably interested in more than just being a supportive friend. However, I was lonely and he made me feel beautiful and important. He called me about 3 days later while in California on business, we talked on the phone for hours, until three or four in the morning about everything. It was like a warm blanket had been draped over me all in an attempt to ease the pain. He covered me with that blanket for over a year, all while living another life too.

It will unfold like the pages of a fiction novel, but it’s all real. A story that keeps changing as the days go by and life continues to heal. What a wonderful thing it is to be human and continually learn to be happy with who is present in your life, to find peace in the moment.

Love,
g

The Last Was Best

The last date I had with HD was wonderful; we went to dinner earlier this week, sat close, held hands, and enjoyed each other’s company. We made out in the car when he dropped me off and text each other the rest of the night until I fell asleep. Unfortunately that was our last date. I’m not really sure what happened after that? Sometimes things just fizzle out; he has been distant and aloof since and stood me up this weekend with no explanation or communication. Being stood up is a new experience for me and seemed completely out of character for him but that’s why we date so we can really learn who someone is, I learned something that I wasn’t expecting and can’t accept. He was a great experience and I can walk away knowing that our last date was incredible. He was a sweet, kind, generous man that I’m happy I had the chance to get to know a little.

In thinking about our time together it’s left me remembering the best last date I’ve ever had. As I’m sitting here at the place that Zed, my late husband, lost his life, I can’t remember the last words I said to him. I’ve tried a million times. However, I can remember the last date we had, every detail. Right down to what he was wearing.

The week leading up to Zed’s death was hectic he had been working insane hours. Our little company had been suffering just like everyone else. The construction industry had been crippled by the economy and we had let all of our employees go. Zed was working by himself and making it work financially for our family. He would work outside jobs all day, take a little break then go back out and work an inside job into the night. Crazy thing was he loved it; he had such pride in his work and what he had built for himself.

The kids had been gone for the summer as they usually are and were returning on Sunday. It was our last weekend together before homework, activities and kids took our lives back over. In summers past we went out to nice dinners or cooked gourmet meals at home together; that summer was different we were being very careful with our money and hadn’t been out at all.

It was a Friday night; I had worked all day and was lying on the sofa exhausted from the week. Zed came walking through the garage door covered in paint but happy, excited with his huge beautiful smile plastered on his face. He said “let’s go out, I want to take my beautiful wife out to our favorite place and enjoy how hard we’ve been working.” I of course fought him, saying we couldn’t spend the money. He wouldn’t have it, he said the kids are coming home on Sunday; we have poker here tomorrow let’s just have some time to ourselves. I finally agreed and we got ready and headed to our spot, High Thyme on Sullivan’s Island.

On our way to dinner we stopped by the job site he had been working at for a few weeks, to check on the equipment. He got out of the car and the family came out to greet him. Everyone loved Zed, his clients became friends and he never met a stranger. They didn’t recognize him at first; he was dressed up, clean shaven just handsome. He introduced us and they told me how he talked about me and the kids all the time.

When we arrived at High Thyme we were greeted like we usually were by Emily at the bar and Kenny the owner. We had a drink and laughed with Emily while we waited for a table. We were seated at an intimate table in the back of the dining room where we had an amazing meal and perfect conversation.

Zed was always thinking about life, what he wanted to do next, how to be a better man, husband and father. He held my hand across the table and talked about our kids. They weren’t of his body but he loved them like they were his own there was no difference. He talked about the upcoming school year and how he wanted to be closer to them and encourage them more to strive for their dreams. He told me how much he loved me and how grateful he was for our life together. That he wanted to be a better husband to me. It was perfect all the things that every woman wants to hear.. needs to hear. After dinner we walked out to the beach and were just quiet together walking, listening to the water and enjoying the warm ocean breeze. Holding hands, kissing… In love.

When we got home that night we didn’t make it far, walked in the door making out and ripping off our clothes. We had amazing sofa sex that night; the kind where you’re sweaty and out of breath when it’s all over. Zed was my other half, my balance, never to be replaced always in my soul.

The next morning we were up early and heading out the door; me to the gym for back to back classes and him to the job site for a couple of hours to finish up. I don’t know if I said goodbye, if I told him I loved him, we always did a kiss and an, I love you but for some reason I just can’t remember if we did that day. That afternoon he lost his life and I lost part of mine too…
That was the best last date I’ve ever had.

I love and miss you Zed.

Love,
g

Finding My Little g Spot

I love football. It has become a big part of my life over the past thirteen years. I remember as a child on Sundays when the game was on, it meant that you couldn’t watch anything else because Dad would be sleeping on the sofa. But thirteen years ago it began to change, my future husband, Zed, was obsessed with all things football but especially the Steelers, recording games all on VHS tape, making bets and trying to watch as many games as possible. It became part of me too.

In football everything hinges on ten yards, just ten small yards can change the course of a game. Gives you another chance to achieve your goal or can send your team to defeat and turn your once promising season into the end. Ten yards changed my life too. Do you know how far ten yards is? It’s thirty feet, thirty feet took my husband’s life on August 2nd, 2009 and changed my life forever. I became a widow at 39.

Welcome to my Little g Spot. I’m glad you decided to read a little, even if it’s only once but I hope you choose to follow along on my crazy ride. I’ve been threatening for a long time to start a blog about my funny experiences dating as a widowed mother of three teenagers. Only problem, it isn’t always funny, the emotions and difficulties that come with transitioning from having the life I once knew to the one I have now has been gut wrenching. I wish that I was one of those people who did it well with grace and class but I’m not.

So here is what you’ll get, I promise at times it will be wildly funny, I always have a story. There will be cursing, sex, alcohol and bad behavior but there will also be moments of sadness and tears. You may feel empathy or maybe even pity for me. But at the end of the day I just hope to find myself. Best case scenario I hope that in someway and at some point the look into my very small world gives someone else a smile or helps them through a dark spot in their own life. Or at the least be glad you’re not me.

The topics will mostly revolve around my friends and dating but will also include my kids, weight, depression and financial difficulties and triumphs. So a little randomness to get me through the day. narcissistic? Yup, blame Oprah. She made us all look at ourselves and share it with the world…blah blah blah. I just want true happiness and peace for the life I have now, don’t have it yet but I’m still searching.

Love,

g