We give thanks

He's been on my mind, and in my heart all day. All the preparing, cooking, baking, talking, laughing, listening, and eating, never a moment was he far away.
The crowd has left. Our beautiful daughter sleeps. I've wrapped myself in his favorite sweatshirt, wearing his ring.
He is with me... and I am thankful.

I can't possibly begin to list all the things I'm thankful for. I hope you spent your day feeling thankful as well.


Fake it Until you can make it.

In his eyes, I could do no wrong.
With him gone, I feel like I can do no right.

I start to feel human. Wham... our anniversary.
Pick up for a few days. Slap... 8months since his passing on a Tuesday that went down in history for being awful.
Dust myself off. Karate chop...thanksgiving.

Gee, I'm excited to get through my birthday next week and then the mother of all moments... Christmas.

If you see me in public, you wouldn't know what I'm feeling. For the most part, I can get through my day. I come here, to this place, to let go of the ugly, hurt, sad, broken parts of my soul. I'm so thankful that I have this place.



I miss him everyday. Everyday, I think 1,000+ times "I wish"...
When Kate masters a new skill. Or when she's flipping out in swim class and I'm left struggling with what to do next. Becky the cat, snuggled on my feet. Jake the cat, doing somersaults. Yummy treats. The first crisp fall day.
When folding socks and I find the last sock he wore. When I hear Kate tell random strangers that her daddy is in heaven.
The list could go on forever. But those moments roll past. What used to make me stop in my tracks doesn't even slow me down now. I feel the "missing" but it doesn't stop me. I keep moving. Breathe in, breathe out.

But tonight, today... I'm stuck. I'm stuck and I can't see past my longing. There is no physical piece of him left. His jacket doesn't carry his smell. His pillow has lost it's dent.
Kate and I have been to grief counseling. While I was assured (repeatedly) that Kate is doing remarkably well, the counselor encouraged me to keep Kate talking. We've been working on "feeling" words. Talking through our feelings and not getting angry, frustrated or reduced to tears. Today for the first time, Kate climbed into my arms in the middle of the day and cried for her daddy. She begged for answers and told me that nobody else will every play Playdoh like Daddy did. She cried big shirt soaking, cheek staining, tears. And I couldn't do anything but hold her.
I will hold her forever. Never letting her feel alone. I can't replace her father but I can be the best mother for her. Being stuck is not an option. Working past "stuck" is something I do well. I certainly did it better when he was here.


Goodbye Andy. Say hello to Scott

You're probably thinking "She's officially lost her marbles." You may be correct but I do have a reason for my slightly bizarre title.
In case you have heard Andy Rooney has died. When I heard the news this morning, I couldn't help but laugh. Literally. I'm not the type to laugh at any ones death, and certainly not at an American icons death. But this morning, I knew that Scott was getting one of his wishes.
Scott had an interesting "relationship" with Andy Rooney. One of my favorite stories that Scott shared with me was about his Sunday nights growing up as a kid. In the Witt house, Sunday night brought family dinner, and a quiet night of television.
Scott knew when he heard the ticking of the 60 Minutes clock on the television, his weekend was over. The hours of playing outdoors were gone. The time spent on the shore of a local lake with Rob, catching fish was over. The bikes were put away. The garage door was closed.
He had to trade in his Star Wars figurines for pencils. It was time to finish homework and sit with the family and watch 60 Minutes and the Disney Sunday Night Movie.
Scott hated knowing the weekend was over. He wanted nothing more than to stop that silly clock on the tv and keep having the non-stop fun. As we all know, all good things must come to an end. Scott just hated letting go.
As he grew older, Scott started listening to Andy Rooney at the end of 60 Minutes. Loving the way Mr. Rooney could analyze the simplest of things, making you see them differently. Scott would listen to Mr. Rooney and laugh. Scott would think about what he was hearing and admitted to thinking to himself on more than one occasion "What would Andy say about this?".
Those final moments of 60 Minutes stuck with Scott long after he stopped watching it. Andy Rooney stayed on a short list of people that Scott thought were pretty cool and would like to have lunch with.
I know that Scott got his wish. I'm not sure how the whole "lunch" thing works in heaven. But I'm really very sure that Scott is breaking bread with Andy Rooney. I'm kind of jealous of Andy.



Sometimes the body, mind and soul need nothing but solitude. That's what I gave myself yesterday.

I want to thank everyone for the email, texts, messages and phone calls yesterday. To have so many people thinking of me (and Scott) on what would have been our 8th wedding anniversary means more than I can express.
I got through yesterday and I'll find a way to get through the holidays that lay ahead.
Lots of positive changes coming. Changes that I've been resisting. In fact, a little bit of that needs tending to now.