Things I learned from my husband dying at 27

It's been a bit over 3 months since I got a call from my mother-in-law telling me the love of my life, my husband Andrew, was in a motorcycle crash and he was heading to the hospital in critical condition. That one phone call changed my life forever. Andrew didn't make it. His heart stopped and I don't know why this part gets me the most. It's not his head, it's not the broken bones or bleeding. It's his heart that gave up. Even now when technically I should be more logical about the whole thing, I question whether his heart stopped because it gave up on me. Maybe I wasn't enough of a reason for it to keep beating and bring him home to me.

People react to traumas like this one in many different ways. It would be completely normal if I blamed the driver who caused the accident. Instead, I think of the morning I told my husband that I needed a car, and even when I knew he didn't feel well that day I said he was fine to take his bike. He was upset about it, didn't walk the dogs like he was supposed to, and left for work all grumpy, talking under his nose. I watched him getting his stuff out of the car and walking towards his bike. I was so mad that I had to walk the dogs before work because he didn't. Little did I know, I would be the only one walking them for the rest of their lives.

I blame myself for his death. Of course, I do, and I am not expecting anyone to tell me otherwise. It's not a cry for help. It's a statement. It's a fact. If I hadn't been so selfish that morning and told him to take the car, Andrew would be still here. Walking the dogs twice a day as he always did (at least tried to). That's why I really don't care if the other driver is found guilty. It's not going to change anything. I'm still the one to blame and Andrew is still dead. No judge or sentence could change those two ultimate truths.

You'd think that after a life-changing accident like this, I'd be afraid to drive. Not really though. If so, I've become quite a reckless driver. I'm not afraid of crashing because if my husband had to go through this, I kind of feel like I owe him to go through the same thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to crash or kill other people or even do anything crazy. I'm just not afraid anymore. I got my first stop-light ticket on Christmas Eve and my first speeding ticket a month later.

It's funny how my brain reacted to losing the most important person in my life at the age of 26 (I'm 26, and Andrew would have been 28 today). I just don't care anymore. The worst thing that could ever happen to me already did happen, so there's really not much that could make things worse for me at this moment. This thought weirdly gives me the freedom to actually be fully myself and live my life the way I want to.

Well, that's not entirely true. The last thing I want to do is to leave my apartment and move to my in-laws, losing all the freedom I worked so hard for. But I also can't pay rent for a 3-bedroom apartment and raise 5 pets on one salary. The point is, outside of the financial aspects of this mess called my life, I can do anything I want to and no one can tell me NO. Because who would ever dare to say no to a 26-year-old widow?

Last month my best friend had a birthday party in London, so I randomly decided to go and booked plane tickets just a week before. I live in the US so of course, when I told people I decided to go to London for a weekend they thought I was having a mental breakdown. And of course, they were right. I've been having a mental breakdown at least once a day on average. Everyone supported me though, because again, if they don't support a girl who just lost her husband, they are being assholes.

Yesterday I bought a car I should probably not splurge on. It's 3 times more expensive than my current car. It's yellow. My thought process while making that decision was quite simple.

"The car is yellow. I want a yellow car for road trips. A yellow car will make me feel better."

THAT EASY!

The money? Yes, it pays the bills. Yes, it is important. No, it cannot buy me another day with the man I love. And that is honestly the only thing I care about at this moment.

I have also recently learned the beauty of speaking my truth. If people ask me how I’m doing, I have no problem saying “I'm horrible, and you?”. Oddly enough, saying I'm horrible feels great. It feels amazing not to hide my feelings, just let them be. That's why I took up slam poetry and started going to open mics weekly. I get to go on the stage and tell people how much I hate my life, friends, and family. How everything blows, and it's unfair, and I'm so fed up with this world. Then I get off the stage, a hundred pounds lighter, and people talk to me and tell me how grateful they are for me sharing my story with them.

For a girl who was always told she was stupid or too silly or was always criticized from a very young age for saying the wrong things at all times... Being able to say ANYTHING and call it art? Being praised for it…?!

It feels like pride and freedom in their purest forms.

Most importantly, over the last 3 months, I've realized that small shit doesn't matter. Don't ever let it get to you. Don't let it mess up your day. You and your friends or your family deserve so much better than fighting about stuff that just doesn't make any difference. If I could do everything all over again, I would never take back any date, any dinner out, any trip together we've had. But I regret every little fight, every stupid mean comment I made, every time I thought I deserved "better". We had so many arguments about chores or walking the dogs and now I'm left with all of it alone. I walk them 4 times a day (don't get active dogs if you can't provide them with the enrichment they need), I clean everything on my own (or try to clean at least), I have to live off one salary, and .... and I do it, all of it every single day. With no help at all. I have no other choice. And if someone told me they could bring him back, but he wouldn't help with any of this, I wouldn't care. I'd do anything to have him back just for one more day. Chores? Walking the dogs? Bills? It's all so fucking stupid. It doesn't matter. Small inconveniences in a relationship filled with so much love it could end wars.

Why do we let all of this shit overshadow what really matters? Being able to hug each other at the end of a very tough day. Stolen looks or smiles while the other one is busy. Those phone calls in the middle of the day just to say I love you or I miss you. A date night at your favorite Italian or Thai place. Sharing memories from those amazing trips you've taken together. I miss it so much.

Why do we always allow our lives to get in the way?

Why do we care what other people say?

Why don’t we say things that we WANT to say?

Why do we try to make everyone happy besides ourselves?

Why do we always wait to start living?

It blows my mind I ever cared about things like laundry or dishes, when the truth is, all I care about is Drew. At the end of the day (or life), nothing really matters besides the BIG STUFF like love, joy, beautiful memories, and those special people you can’t live without. Do me a favor, and don’t you ever take those for granted. Even better, stop caring about things or people that really just don’t matter.

Why do we always wait to start living...?