My Moments of Gratitude : MOG #96: Don't stop beating

I want to start this MOG with a word and definition that I feel best describes this contributor, Jessica. I shall let these beautiful words from her be yours to read...

May 22^nd, 2014 was the day the love of my life Aidan, passed away suddenly. Sometime around 2pm on that horrible day I’m pulled away at work to be told the grim news before his name was published in the news. A car accident. Died instantly on his way to work. This doesn’t happen to 23 year olds, nor to the people I know and hold most dear.

My parents are the first ones I call to tell and to beg for them to get me out of here. I’m working at camp, the place I met him, fell in love with him and am all of a sudden surrounded by those memories. Within hours, my step dad shows up. I don’t talk because I can’t. All I have are sobs. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t real. I felt sick. The man I was going to marry was gone. I didn’t just lose a person, I lost a part of my future.

I didn’t sleep that night, but instead lied down on the dock on the lake and looked at the stars. The stars don’t pity me. They don’t ask questions. They know, I just need peace.

I go home and my family rallies together.

If you’ve ever met my family, you know we are not touchy-feely or all that emotional with one another. “I love yous” aren’t a common thing, it’s all implied. The eight days I was home for his funeral they were there for my every need. They fed me, drove me places, comforted me. My younger sister put together a frame with pictures of Aidan and I with a poem entitled “Life Goes On”. It’s the poem my older sister sent me since she lost her husband at 23 and felt that I would appreciate it since it had helped her.

I’ll interrupt myself for a second here to share something really eerie. My step-dad, my older sister and I all have lost our significant others when they were 23, on a Thursday. All suddenly. All unexpected. I’m hoping this pattern is now over, as it’s now three.

My family stood by my side as I went to two visitations and the funeral over a two day period. They held me as I cried and were just present. I have never been so grateful for my family as I did on those days. You know your family would do anything for you, but it’s so very different when you see it in action.

Fast forward to November and I’m really struggling to find peace. Nothing helped. We had visitations, a funeral, I went and visited the crash site, we planted trees at the camp we both worked at. Nothing gave me the sense of finality that I craved. I remember Aidan’s mother making a comment telling me that if camp people were to write a book, she would read it. Challenge accepted. I started the ball rolling and got a huge response. I had it printed and gave it to his parents.

A sense of calm came over me as I handed his mother the book I put together. We both started crying because really, we just miss him. We understand each other as the two women in his life that loved him the most.

2015 is the year I stop feeling sorry for myself and create a life that I’m proud to call mine. Just because I’ve endured such a loss does not mean I will let myself dig a hole that I won’t be able to escape. Aidan would hate it and truthfully, I would hate myself in the end.

Doing something for me, his family and for the camp community really helped.

I finally found the right therapy in the happy memories that Aidan shared with all of his friends.

I’ll never stop loving him and I’ll never be able to tell my family I love them enough for what they did.