Along the Broken Road

An Unexpected Bond

A few weeks ago, my mom sent me a text saying that she’d been cleaning out her filing cabinets and came across some really nice pictures of Ralf and me. She asked if I would like to see. Then, she took pictures of the pictures with her phone and sent them my way.

There we were.

Just 18 years old, freshly graduated from high school, filled with hope and anticipation for the future that we already knew we wanted to build together.

So in love.

So happy.

And, completely clueless of what was to come.

Mason sat next to me on the couch as I scrolled through the images. In his precious little voice he asked, “What you watching, Mommy?”

I returned his question with another question.

“Mason, who are these people?”

“Mommy and Daddy in Heaven,” he replied with a shy smile.

“That’s right, Baby.”

I took the opportunity to talk to him about his father. I explained to him, as I have many times before, how much we loved each other and how excited we were to have a baby. Mason listened intently as I told him, yet again, the story of how his Daddy in Heaven was a fireman who drove a black RAM and knew how to operate a big boat.

Then I explained that Daddy in Heaven was called to be with God while Mason was still in Mommy’s belly. He loves to hear about how the doctors took him out of Mommy’s belly, how his Yaya placed him on Mommy’s chest for the very first time, and how she fell in love instantly.

He smiled so innocently, paused reflectively, and said something I was not quite prepared to hear.

“I want him to hold me.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“Oh, Sweetie. He wants to hold you, too. And I believe one day he will.”

I pulled him in close, squeezed him tight, and reminded him – for probably the millionth time that day- just how much Mommy loves him. Then, a few minutes later, the front door opened and in walked his Daddy on Earth. Mason screamed in excitement and ran into his arms.

And he was held.

Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way we plan or even hope for, but we must be grateful for the unexpected blessings that come our way.

I know with all my heart that Ralf watches and rests in peace knowing that his son is so loved and cherished. Until the day he can finally hold him in his arms, just like he always wanted to.

I truly believe he will.

Tough Love

Sometimes it seriously feels like my child hates me, and I know I am not the only mom to ever feel this way. I love that kid more than I could ever adequately express in words, and every single thing that I do, I do with the intention of providing the best possible childhood for him…

To read full post, click here.

A Family Portrait

Ralf died just two days before our scheduled maternity photo shoot. It ended up being the day of his funeral instead of the day we were going to have our first family portraits taken.

Those that know me well can tell you how much I love pictures. I always used to make elaborate collages of my favorite snapshots as a teenager, and still have more picture frames around my house than the average person. I think it’s amazing how a camera lens can capture a moment and freeze it in time forever. Since losing Ralf, my appreciation of the art has grown even more. Our wedding photos and video are so beyond cherished.

During my last two months of pregnancy, and then once Mason was born, it broke my heart to think that we would never have the type of family pictures I’d always wanted.

I hoped to find companionship again one day, but I never imagined finding a man who could love me so deeply, despite my brokenness.

A man who would take Mason into his heart without hesitation and love him the way I know Ralf would have.

A man who could make all of our future family photos whole again.

I never truly believed we could find that man…until we did.

This is OUR family picture.

The faces and participants are different from what both Vinnie and I originally envisioned, but the bond and love captured are exactly what we’d always hoped for.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but they could never adequately describe the value of this one.

Thank you, Michelle, for doing what you do.

💙,

Maeghan

The Five Things Nobody Told Me the Day My Husband Died

You’d think that the worst part of becoming a widow is, well, the obvious: losing your husband. If and when you actually become one, though, you are forced to learn that the physical loss of the man you exchanged vows with is just the tip of the iceberg. All the really hard crap lies underneath the surface. I wish I could tell you that it can only get better from here, but I want you to hear the truth. I want to tell you the things that nobody told me on the day my husband died…

To read full post, click here.

A Mother’s Oath

I carried him in my womb for 9 months. Luckily it was a pretty “easy” and “uneventful” pregnancy. Inside my womb where he was protected and untouchable, at least. Outside, my world was crumbling during those last two months. His little beating heart was the only thing that kept me going…

To read full post, click here.

Imperfect Love

I posted this picture on Instagram last night. It was taken by a friend on the night we celebrated turning 21 (our birthdays are just five days apart). The picture gained a lot of likes and comments, one of them being “true happiness” – and it made me realize that there was more to this picture that I wanted to share.

First of all, if we look incredibly happy – one too many vodka cranberries may have had something to do with it. (I mean, 21st birthday celebrations usually involve alcohol, right?)

Secondly, while it was mostly an epic night, it ended with Ralf and I getting into one of the worst and dumbest fights of our entire relationship. (Yes, once again, vodka cranberry. If you asked me today what the fight was about, I couldn’t tell you.)

Here’s the point I’m trying to make: there is no such thing as a perfect relationship. They simply do not exist. If that’s what you’ve been searching or waiting for, you will never find it. I promise you that.

We were truly happy – most of the time.

Then there were times that I wanted to wring his neck or that he wanted to throw me off of our second story balcony.

And now, I’m very happy in my relationship with Vinnie, but it isn’t always rainbows and butterflies. There are days when the very ugly parts of grief surface for each of us, and it takes a great deal of patience and understanding.

Don’t look for someone to love you perfectly. When you find someone who will love you despite your own ugly imperfections – that’s who you should hold on to.

The one who will still see your beauty and your worth even when they are buried under irrational, unwarranted anger brought on by too many vodka cranberries.

The one who will see past your irritability and depression caused by grief and wait for you on the other side with open arms.

And if you’re lucky enough to find that, remember that the length of your time together is impossible to predict.

So cherish it.

All of it – even the unpleasant moments. Because working through the hard stuff is when your relationship will have the potential to grow the most.

Fight and argue if you need to; air out your dirty laundry.

Then, remember that you must always fight for each other.

💙,

Maeghan

Love After Life

We never met while you were here on this Earth, but I feel very connected to you. You were the love of the man who now holds my heart. Like him, I have suffered the loss of a great love of my life.

I completely understand how he yearned for you, cried for you after you left – and how a part of him always will. I understand how even now he can be having a completely “normal” day and suddenly see your eyes in the face of a stranger or hear your laugh in the line of a song and be swallowed up in grief all over again. I understand how he may feel guilty at times because his mind occasionally has trouble justifying his right to be in love and feel happy again, even though his heart of hearts knows that happiness is what you would have wanted for him. I understand that while his soul overflows with pride and gratitude every time he gets to witness and share in another milestone with Mason and me, that there is an underlying, eternal ache for all the missed moments that he should have had with you and Anthony. A pain that is ever present but that he has learned to live with because he’s had to.

I understand that I will never be you, because, how could I be? You were the only you there could ever be. And from what I’ve been able to gather from stories, pictures, and my own imagination, you were special and beautiful both inside and out. I understand that he doesn’t need or want me to be you, either. His heart has grown despite his suffering and has made additional room for me, with your space completely intact forever. As it should be.

You were you and left too soon. It was completely out of your control.

I am me, and I’m still here. And while it’s impossible to know for how long, I hope to honor your legacy by giving him all the love you planned to. I know that I can, because it’s the same love that I envisioned giving to Ralf until old age. But like you, he had to leave sooner than anticipated.

We move forward into this unpredictable life, but you are and always will be a part of our story.

So will Anthony.

So will Ralf.

And what a crazy, tragically beautiful story it is.

I hope we make you proud.

Widowhood and Hashtags

It finally happened. I’d read about it in some widow groups that I’m a member of, but had never personally experienced it myself. I’ve even had the audacity to think to myself, “Wow, these women know some really insensitive people!” And now, I stand corrected…

To read full post, click here.

To My Fellow Imperfect Parents

A couple of months ago, while sitting in the waiting room at my dentist’s office, Good Morning America was on the television. Kyra Sedgewick and Kevin Bacon were the featured guests, and they were talking about their experiences raising their children. Kyra said something that I thought was pretty powerful.

She stated, “They’re born kind of perfect, you just have to try not to mess them up too much.”

Wow. Isn’t that the truth? But then again – it seems like a lot of pressure and responsibility, doesn’t it? Then I thought, “Oh God, am I messing up my kid?!” And once again the self-doubt settled in…

To read full post, click here.

Grief Book Review: My Favorite Color is Blue. Sometimes.

Grief is complicated. It brings so many emotions that can be difficult to feel, let alone explain, for adults. So how about for children? How can we guide little souls through such a complex and uniquely individual process in a way that is understandable and relatable to them?

My Favorite Color is Blue. Sometimes. by Roger Hutchison does an exquisite job of describing the feelings of a griever in a profound yet simple way through colors and art. It’s a beautiful book that I’ve added to my collection of grief resources, and I will absolutely be reading it to my little man.

Click here to order your copy!

To learn more about Roger Hutchison, you can visit his website, follow him on Instagram, or find him on Facebook.