Moving on, moving forward ... is there a difference?

Moving on ... moving forward ...

My pre-loss self would look at those two phrases and say they mean the same thing. With a whole new perspective on loss, I see definite differences in those two phrases.

Moving on. When I think about moving on from something, I picture traveling down a road carrying baggage. The baggage is heavy. At one point, it's as if I decide to put down the baggage and move on. It's as simple as that ... drop the baggage and move on.

Moving forward. When I think about moving forward, I picture traveling down the same road carrying the same baggage. The baggage is still heavy. While traveling down the road with the baggage, I see a full, bright life ahead of me. I choose to move forward toward that full, bright life carrying the baggage with me.

There have been so many times during this journey when I wanted to drop the grief, with all of its heaviness and sadness, leave it in that moment and move on.

But, I don't want to leave the pain behind me. Losing Steve was by far and away the most tragic experience of my life. In a moment, life was never the same and it will never be the same. However, that experience has shaped the person I am today. There isn't any way I could leave that behind and move on.

The other night, my fiance, Mark, and I saw Garth Brooks in concert. It was an absolutely amazing show! During his performance of one of his well-known songs, "The Dance," I thought about where I am in my life and what's ahead of me.

I hugged Mark a little tighter when I heard the words:

"... For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance."

No, I couldn't have known what would have happened nearly six years ago. But, I carry all that has happened, the love and the memories with me as I move forward as this new me post loss. It is all part of me as I create my dance, this next chapter of my life with Mark, his son and my children.

My past, present and future come together

One year ago, I wrote a post about how much I dread the first half of July. During the few days before the 4th of July holiday and 10 days after, I recall what was happening during those days in 2009 with such incredibly clarity. The same is true this year, but there also is a big difference. It's a wonderfully positive difference.

As I approach the five year anniversary of Steve's death, I am acutely aware of the convergence of my past, present and future.

I've written a lot about my past ...  I was married to a wonderful man who loved his family, the outdoors and life itself. He adored his children, loved his work as a wildlife biologist and spent many beautiful days on Lake Erie fishing for walleye and perch. He also suffered from depression. Although he was doing everything he should have done to get better and deal with the depression (see his doctor, take the medications as prescribed), he couldn't beat the disease.

My present has been a journey to find my new normal. I know I'm not the same person I was prior to July 2009. Life isn't the same. What was normal then is different now. During these past few years, I've been learning how to move forward while figuring out who I am as a young widowed mom. I've been blogging about my journey - the good, not so good, the down right ugly, the happy and sad.

Once I emerged through the fog of the first year or two of grief, I decided I didn't want to just exist. I chose to live ... to live a full and happy life. Part of embracing a full life has meant choosing to love again. I know what it is like to lose someone I love. I know the depths of that loss. Still, I have been open to loving again.

As I look to my future, it's a future that includes a second chance at love. A long friendship with an incredibly kind, giving, supportive and caring man has turned into a very special love. I feel so blessed. He may not fully understand this crazy journey of widowhood, but he gives me his love and support and room I need when I need it.

My journey certainly has evolved during these past few years. It is evolving again in a very big and exciting way ... I am marrying again!

I've ended each post with the same phrase ... "my journey continues." Even as I marry again, vowing love for the rest of my life, widowhood won't end. I will be Steve's widow and Mark's wife. It may sound complicated, but I know my heart has the capacity to love two incredible men. Love lives on in my past, my present and my future.

And, yes, my journey continues.

A bump in the road

On this journey to move forward after a horrible loss, I hit a bump in the road. As I hit this bump, I was forced to remember that this journey isn't just about me.

Moving forward as a young widow has its challenges, to say the least! Moving forward as a young widow with three young children adds a whole complex dimension to this journey to a new normal. It's a journey the four of us are on ... each of us on our own path.

Part of my path has included dating ... yes, dating again after many, many years. I never would have pictured myself at 39 widowed and dating again. The last time I dated I was just beginning my life after college and starting my career. I met Steve when I was 23. We were young and had our whole lives ahead of us. We married two years later.

Fast forward 14 years later ... and here I am. Losing Steve by far has been the most devastating thing I've experienced. EVER. It seemed as if one minute, we were happily married moving toward our 10 year wedding anniversary. Just shy of that anniversary, I came home from work one day to find my husband had died unexpectedly.

Although Steve had been ill, suffering from major depression for many years. I didn't see death coming. Not for a 44-year-old husband and father of three. We managed the depression when it reared its head, but overall we were very happy. Our love grew stronger with each passing year. Then, it was gone.

For the longest time, I couldn't sleep on my left side (sometimes I still can't). When I'd lay on my left side, I would open my eyes to an empty space where Steve once laid. Seeing that empty side of the bed was surreal.

I miss being married.

Steve was my husband and also my best friend. We knew what each other liked and disliked. When something great happened at work or the kids had done something new, I couldn't wait to tell Steve. Now, when I have something great happen, I pause knowing I can't pick up the phone and call Steve or send him an email.

So, after a bit of time, I began dating. Now, this is a topic that could fill the pages of a very large book, probably a volume of books! I'll skip ahead to the present time. A time when I had been dating a great guy for about nine months. From the beginning, we seemed to hit it off. Eventually, I introduced him to the kids. They adored him.

We spent many weekends together often finding some adventure -- biking a trail at one of our metroparks, hiking or sledding -- or we'd spend nights at my house making dinner, watching movies or playing games. It was great!

Until a few months ago.

To make a long story short, I recently ended the relationship. I wasn't happy. I didn't feel like I was an important person in his life. In the first few months of the relationship, I loved receiving texts telling me how happy he was that he had met me or that he couldn't wait to see me again or even a "good morning, beautiful xoxoxo." I loved hearing that special sound alerting me I had a text from him. I'd reciprocate sending him short messages to let him know how I felt. More recently, though, I'd send a short message, something like "I can't wait to see you" or "I've had you on my mind" and I'd get this message back - "that's nice."

Ouch.

What was that about? A distance seemed to grow between us. At one point, I thought he might be the one, my chapter two. But, as this distance continued, I grew more unhappy.

With the loss I've experienced, I've vowed to live each day fully, to love more deeply, to find happiness.

I wasn't loving deeply and certainly didn't feel like I was being loved deeply. So, I ended it. I'm ok.

What I didn't expect was how hard it would be to tell the kids. As we sat around our kitchen table and I began to tell them he and I were no longer dating, I could see tears begin to fill their eyes.

Ouch.

It's not fair. They lost their dad. Now, they lost someone they had grown close to. I want to spare them heartache. I wouldn't mind skipping some heartache, too! But, I can't imagine being alone the rest of my life.

So, now what?

I don't know.

Well, like Jane Seymour says, I need to keep my heart open. In the meantime, I will let go and see what happens.

So, the journey continues. It continues for me and for my three awesome kids.