Marking the 10 year anniversary of the death of my first husband, Tony LeBruno.

So, there is a lot to talk about when trying to recap the past ten years, but that is what this whole blog adventure is for. However, for this first post, I will just write about how I am feeling as the anniversary approaches. I have to say; I am feeling much better than where I thought I would be. To be honest, if you asked me even five years ago how I would feel after ten years, I would have told you that I didn’t think I would make it that far. There were definitely days where I thought it was my last one. The heartache was so deep, it was so painful, and I just wanted to get rid of it.

I had to start over with nothing. I lost the love of my life, my right arm, the other part of my identity. 2009-2010 was a rough year, full of prayers, hospital visits, family visits, and making as many memories as possible. I remember for new-years eve, going into 2010, Tony’s mom and stepdad were visiting, and we all decided he had earned a small bit of champagne. We all promised not to tell his doctor. It was our little celebration secret because we were faced with two avenues for his care: “do we do everything right and he still may not make it?” or, “do we just let him do what he wants, knowing more than likely, this will be his ‘last’ everything?” At this point, we had all decided to let Tony do whatever he wanted. But, out of hope, still follow the ridiculous medicine regimen every day, still follow the strict diet, do all the blood draws, and attend every chemo session.

In the end, or, I should say, AT the end, when we were putting Tony in the ground, I remember thinking to myself, “why does he have to go down into the dark ground alone?” I was so mad about that; it just seemed so cruel to me. I mean, why would anyone want to be in the dark for all eternity? And then I remembered what Tony said (always speaking in wisdom beyond his years), “I am not where you put me to rest. That may be where my body is, but that is not where my soul is.” I had to keep repeating that to myself as I saw his casket get lowered into the earth, and even as the days passed while I was living through this heartbreak.

But now, having the strength to have lived through it, I am thankful I did. It took a lot to get here. There were emotional struggles and worldly struggles. I had to rediscover myself, fight off many, many demons, find a new job, find a new home, rebuild my credit, change my name on all our accounts, the list goes on and on. Taxes were hard, paperwork, and identifying myself as a ‘widow’ was hard, taking his name off our bills, insurance, and vehicles was hard. I had to present his death certificate everywhere, and every time I pulled it out, it was hard.

However, now, I am able to look at his death certificate and not be so sad. Now, I am able to look around at my life, “Part 2,” and no be so sad. Don’t get me wrong; there are definitely days where the pain is still felt and reflected on. But it’s less about being sad that he is gone and more about revisiting the pain of losing him. The everyday sadness has transitioned from “I cannot believe this happened. Why me? I don’t know if I am going to make it,” to being, “I am glad I was able to make it, and that I had the strength to start over. I am glad that I am happy again.”

I still don’t know the answer to “why?”, but I have to get over that. I have this pain that has provided me with a certain wisdom that I am surprisingly grateful for. In more recent years, I was able to find love again, to find happiness again, and find myself again. Not without a bit of pain that still lingers in the shadows, but that is the pain of my past, reminding me of who I am. I have been a widow, I have seen and experienced the devastation of cancer, and I have overcome overwhelming pain. I have been a warrior. That is how I feel about the upcoming anniversary, proud and strong.

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