Category: forever love

13Nov

Those three words

 

It happened one day last week.

I left work that afternoon at my usual time and I was tired, really tired. And to beat all, I hadn’t felt well all day – you know that feeling that you get right before you get officially sick? Runny nose, cough, aching.. all the symptoms of a cold coming on.

Charlie, along with a good friend of his,  had left town just an hour earlier heading to Atlanta.  In his absence, I was looking forward to going home, settling into my pjs, and curling up into bed with my dogs along with a hot cup of tea.

Except I hit a bump in the road – literally. Well, a convenient store parking lot curb to be specific. 

I was thirsty. Maybe from the excessive coughing; maybe from the cold medicine I had taken  earlier. So I benignly decided to stop at the convenient store for a soda before going home.

And boom!

What was that?

Damn.

The curb. I hit the curb.

Instantly the low tire indicator came on and it was just a matter of finding out exactly which tire I had blown.

With my heart and mind racing, I got out of my car to discover the right front tire was flatter than the batch of homemade biscuits I attempted to make last year.

I drive a Chevrolet Volt (it’s electric). Spare tires are not included…. something about space availability… carrying extra weight…bla bla bla.  So, here I am in a parking lot, miles from home, with a flat tire.

Am I in danger?

No.

Am I hurt?

No.

But I am in need of a tow truck. And maybe a hug.

So I called Charlie in hopes of a hearing a friendly voice and getting a tow truck connection. As embarrassed as I was to tell the story, “Honey I jumped a curb, I have a flat tire”, I made the call anyway.

And what did he say?

Those three words that sometimes we all need to hear.

“I’ll be there”.

“No honey”, I said (maybe not too convincingly), “I’m grown, I can take care of it. Keep heading south, just call me a tow truck please.”

Charlie immediately got on the phone with the insurance company and got the process started on getting a tow truck to my location.

As I sat there in my car waiting on the tow truck (not much else to do), I thought about all the times I was forced to handle these situations on my own for so long. Did I manage? Yes, yes I did. And I gained confidence each and every time I made it through another challenge.

But I gotta tell you, it felt good having Charlie to call, having someone to say, “I’ll be there”. No questions asked…. well, maybe, “How did you not see that curb?”…  🙂

In the end, Charlie and Stephan made it there before the tow truck did – and I was so glad to see those friendly faces!

May I always remember how sweet those three words are, and to be that friendly voice on the other end of the phone when needed.

Peace (and keep it on the road),

Cat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

31Jan

Happily Ever Holbrook

We  don’t care for each other’s music.

He likes to sleep with the television on; I prefer complete darkness and the soothing sound of a fan next to me.

When it comes to decorating styles, I think, “Less is more”, he thinks, “More is more”.

He’s a morning person. I, am not. Definitely, not.

But it works.

Despite our differences, it works. My yin to his yang gives us the perfect blend of our personalities to keep things interesting. And fun. And laughing. And, if I’m being honest here, the occasional head-butt.

One year ago today we went on our first date. It was, (for both of us), an instant attraction. We knew within the first few weeks that this relationship was going to be permanent.

It’s been quite the year. Quite the adventure.

In October we stood on a beach with a few dear friends and family as witnesses, and we pledged to spend the rest of our lives together. We publically proclaimed our love and made personal promises to one another.

It was by far one of the best days of my life.

This man has allowed me to dream again. He has reaffirmed my ability to fall in love. He has given my heart a home. And as corny as it sounds (and possibly not popular to say anymore), he completes me.  And for all of those things, I will forever remain grateful.

Love to my Charlie on our first anniversary.

Cat

 

16Mar

A Home for my Heart

Almost seven years ago I found myself standing in a funeral receiving line as the widow of a man that took his own life. I was told later that I uttered the words, “I will never smile again.” Now that I look back, I’m sure I believed those words.

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The road has been long, and at times, seemingly endless.

Many of you have accompanied me on this unintentional journey. You have been there to catch my tears and to buffer my falls. You have endured my many questions that there were no answers to. You have witnessed my small victories and stood by my side while I experienced life’s disappointments. My gratitude for your love and support is immeasurable.

And although grateful for my many friends and family that have been there for me, I discovered that any healing, or any growth that would take place in my life,  would ultimately be up to me.

So I set out on this – what – pilgrimage, if you will, to forge a new life for myself.  A life without Michael. A life without a mate. A life where I was forced to learn my weaknesses.  A life without a safety net.

But where do you begin? Where do you go and what do you do? How do you continue when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and pretend this awful thing didn’t happen?

Well, to answer these somewhat rhetorical questions, I will borrow a scene from one of my favorite movies – Sleepless in Seattle. Tom Hank’s character is trying to explain his life as a new widower.

Doctor Marcia Fieldstone: “What are you going to do?”
Sam Baldwin: “Well, I’m gonna get out of bed every morning… breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won’t have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out… and, then after a while, I won’t have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while.”

And that’s what I did.

Breathe in.
Mourn for the love that was taken from me.

Breathe out.
Mourn for the life I had to leave behind.

Breathe in.
Fill my lungs with the fragrance of a new day.

Breathe out.
Look around me and witness the china blue sky.

 It was gradual. It was painstakingly slow.

But, in time,  I began to face each day with more optimism than the last; with more laughter (yes, I laughed and smiled again) than sorrow; with more joy than grief. I began to breathe in contentment; and exhale the pain. I have stayed true to the belief that this tragedy would not define me.

And as the years have passed, and as time has marched on, I have evolved and transformed  into a woman that absolutely loves life and all of the good, the bad, and the ugly that it encompasses.

Six months ago I began a weight loss journey; one that I have not shared on social media – maybe because it was so personal – maybe because I feared failure. But I jumped in – head first – and have not come up for air. To date, I have lost 48 pounds.

How do I feel? Wonderful. Successful. In control.

Which catapulted me back into the dating world.

Yes, I joined Match.com.

And on the first morning of my membership I am greeted with the most friendly of greetings:

“It’s a great day to say Good Morning TnShortStory.”

Meet Charlie.

Cat-Charlie-02-5x7

Our beginning was a couple of witty emails, followed by a surprisingly easy phone conversation, and ending in an unpretentious meeting at a local Chili’s for lunch. Come to find out,  we have a mutual friend (thank you Spencer), that corroborated that neither one of us were serial killers, stalkers, or relatively bad people.

We have been together ever since.

May I please tell you about this man?

He is kind. He has a heart that is pure, and I believe, spun of gold.  His sincerity reaches to my soul. His amazing creativity inspires me. His energy is contagious and the way he looks at me – well, it melts my heart.  His love for life is equal to mine.

We fell in love; almost in an instant.  All of this seemed to be happening so fast – or was it? Looking back – given my history and his, I believe God has been preparing our hearts for one another for some time now. The time was right. Our hearts were ready. And it happened.

There is no turning back from this irrefutable, irresistible, wonderful love. Come hell, or high water, I love this man. And he loves me. If I could safely shout it from the rooftops, I would. We are planning a life together. A future.

From the beginning we have captured a sentiment.

We love “us”.

A unit that was formed from two people into one entity.

Us.

And that is how we will remain.

Us.

Charlie and Cathy.

A life to be lived. A love to share. A future to write.

Our hearts are finally home.

All my love,
Cat

For Charlie.

21May

Six years, or 2,191 days without him

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This is my week. This is “The Week.” This is the week that I allow myself to relive that night in May 2009 when my world was turned upside down; the night my husband, without any warning, took his own life. The night that would forever change not only my direction, but the direction of his entire family. This is the week that I allow myself to be enveloped with grief if I feel the need; the time to reflect on this unintentional journey; giving myself permission to cry and be sad for a bit. This indulgence might appear to negate the progress that I have made, but in reality it brings to light the everyday joy that I am now able to find in life again.

So, please, allow me to share some of my thoughts and feelings that guide me through “my week”.

It’s hard to believe that I’m in the midst of the sixth anniversary of Michael’s death. Sometimes it feels like yesterday that the police officers were knocking on my bedroom door, and other times, it feels like a lifetime ago, or even yet, someone else’s lifetime ago.  And yet no matter the perception, the reality remains that this man has been gone for six long years. You know, there’s going to come a point in time if I live long enough, that he will have been gone longer than we were together, and that will make me sad.

Even today as I rummage through old photos, I am reminded that there will never be any “new” pictures of Michael. All of our images of him stopped in 2009. And as the lives of his family have continued, and our own images have, and will continue to change, his image will remain frozen in time. As I flip through the photos, my breath is taken away when I see all the “last” images of him. The last photo of him with Lexi (the only grandchild he got to meet), his last Christmas, his last Easter, and sadly, the last picture taken with his son Brandon and daughter Heather.  I weep at these sights. And not just for me, but for Michael and all that he has missed. I weep for his children, Brandon and Heather, as well as for my children, Heather, Robin, and Shane.   I break down in sobs knowing that his grandchildren (and future grandchildren)  will never know the wonderful man that they would’ve called “Poppy”.

Michael was an incredible man. He was a giving man, a selfless man. He was one that would take on your burdens and make them his own. He was the last one to sit down at the dinner table to ensure that everyone had everything they needed. He would give a stranger the last dollar in his pocket if they needed it. He was my emotional rock and my best friend. Michael was always quick with a smile, generous with his hugs, and a kiss if you allowed him. He loved with his whole being, he gave with his whole heart. He made everyone around him feel special, important, and loved.

Michael loved life more than anyone I knew. So, the obvious question would be “Why would he take his own life?” This individual that appeared to be in charge of his own happiness, a man that portrayed strength and control. Why?  I don’t have the answers, nor will I ever. I can only speculate and to do that really serves no purpose. He made a decision, a very poor decision and it cost him his life. I have moved on from seeking an answer, as it only sends me into a spiral of sorrow, self doubt, and confusion.

There have been numerous times when I have asked the rhetorical question. “How could you do this to me Michael?” My own sister has vocalized the same question to me. Funny though, when she asks the question I feel defensive of Michael. I sat down one night and wrote these words while tears were streaming down my face and I was choking back sobs.

“I never would have done this to you,
This pain that you have put me through.
This hell called healing,
You left it all up to me to deal with.
I never would have done this to you”.

It has taken time for me to realize that Michael didn’t do this “to me”. I, along with his other family members, were merely casualties left behind in his act of desperation. I don’t blame him anymore, I only have love and sadness for him. The anger ship sailed long ago.

 Although having a loved one pass away in any other way is devastating, the nature of a death by suicide adds to the complex act of grieving. I know many individuals that have witnessed their loved one struck down with cancer and other life threatening illnesses. I have seen the heartache and the desperation of them watching their soul mate fight for their life and ultimately succumb to the illness and pass away. And I’m left thinking, “God Michael, WHY DIDN’T YOU FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE LIKE THEY DID?” That is the added ingredient in this process of grieving for a victim of suicide.

So, I’ve learned a few things about being the widow of a man that took his life – through my own experiences and those of others. I suspect these thoughts are probably universal to survivors.

  • If you’re my friend, never be afraid to talk to me about Michael. I’m always ready to hear stories of him, your memories of him. That keeps his memory alive.
  • Unless I bring up the act of suicide, I don’t want to talk about the way he died.
  • Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m pretty strong, I’ve been through hell – and in some ways I’m a better person to have gone through this.
  • Never – ever – tell me that everything happens for a reason.

My family agrees that if Michael had waited until daylight, we might’ve had a different outcome. So please, if suicide has ever crossed your mind, just wait.

Wait until daylight. Wait until you see your child’s smile again. Wait until you hear a bird’s chirp, or a choir singing God’s praises. Wait until your love kisses you Good Morning. Wait for that sliver of light, because it’s there to be seen. Just wait, because life is worth living. Life is worth the heartache. Life is worth the wait.

Above all, it is my wish that Michael be remembered for how he lived his life, the legacy that he left behind; not how he chose to end it.

Love and peace to all,

Cat Corrier