Like the rest of the country, I watched in horror as the massacre at Virginia Tech. unfolded. My thoughts immediately went to the parents of the students. You ship your child off to college, assuming they're going to be safe from most everything - you never expect to hear that a crazed gunman killed 32.

I can't even begin to imagine the pain those parents are going through. Reading through a list of the victims last night, I saw that there were several people who left behind spouses. I can understand with them a little more the feeling of seeing your spouse go off to work, and then finding out that they are never coming home.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the entire VT community.

I started this blog partly to get out some of the darker feelings, and partly to see the progress I've made as the months go by. Since it's been pretty dark around here lately, let's lighten up things a bit.

I saw a really nice sign recently: "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." It may sounds trite, but I think it's a lovely sentiment. There are moments when I do feel as if my world is over. I always lived life "on hold" - I'll do things after I graduate, I kept telling myself. And then, 8 months after I graduate, my world collapses around me. I feel as if I've been put on hold again.

But more and more lately, I've felt as if I might just be turning into a butterfly, excuse the corniness. I feel parts of my world brightening. I know that the dark days aren't gone - they'll never really be gone. But I feel hope surround me, and the darkness no longer shuts it out.

I just stumbled onto a site for "sports widows". Does it make me petty that I instantly became incensed? I can't believe someone could benignly call herself a widow just because her significant other watches sports. You know what, I'm a REAL WIDOW, and my husband ain't coming back after no game. Think about people who have really lost someone and think about that next time your husband wants to play a little golf, or your wife wants to go shopping.

I’m on a plane back to Jersey, and I’m just glad I made it through the weekend. The effects of the copious amounts of alcohol I drank were nothing compared to the heart-wrenching time at the wedding. I am so happy for my friends; they are great people, and deserve the joy they are experiencing now. It’s just so difficult to be at a wedding, and see happy couples everywhere. It’s so odd how you can be in a room full of people, and yet feel so utterly alone. I think the hardest part was definitely the ceremony. I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I went through that exact same ceremony less than four years ago. At least they didn’t use the “till death do us part” line. I think if I ever marry again, I’ll definitely use “as long as we both shall live” instead. I like that better. The candle portion of the ceremony was also incredibly touching, since we did that as well. I don’t understand why our candle had to be snuffed out so early. 18 short months we were married. It seems like a lifetime ago.

I of course couldn’t help but remember my memories of that day. It was so wonderful, and he was great. We were deliriously happy, obliviously ignorant of the realities of life. I look back at that me in pity. I was so innocent. The day Pablo died, I think the scales dropped from my eyes. I always believed that if you lived a good life, you’d be rewarded. If that’s the case, then what contest in hell did I win?! I have come to understand that that’s clearly not the case, that the world operates in a random matter. I have to believe this, or else I’ll go crazy, seeing people I know who don’t appreciate what they have.

I hate that the bitterness is creeping in, that I’ve become cynical and jaded. I want to get better, and enjoy the rest of my life, since I expect to be here awhile, but it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard. It takes everything I have to maintain this thin veneer of normalcy I show to the world. Yeah, I look like an ordinary 28 year old. But I’m so cracked, so damaged, and I’m so scared of letting any of that out, lest I become a nutcase. It’s such a thin line that I walk everyday.

Dammit. I've been avoiding this.

Several weeks ago, Baby Girl and I, while in Florida, went to Disney World. Wow, that was fucking depressing. Everywhere I turned, there were happy little families, parental units intact. How do I explain to Baby Girl that we're different? That there's no daddy in our little unit? It hurt so much seeing all these shiny, happy people snapping their pictures and knowing that I should have that also, that I would have had it, if only a fucking valve had worked appropriately on that day.

However, as hard as that was, I at least was free of (mostly all) the ghosts. We had been to Florida together once, when we were newly engaged, but the Florida of those days is very different than the one I just visited. Back then, we slept all morning, and spent the day hanging out till it was time to the hit the clubs. Now, running after Baby Girl took up most of my waking hours. Between that, we managed to go to Sea World, and catch a few ball games. But at least my mind was calm for those few hours.

My mind wasn't calm, though, at Baby Girl's 2nd bday party. First of all, doing mostly everything myself is a drag. There were so many errands I could have used him for. But beyond that, I really could have used him in the pictures, chasing after her, entertaining our guests, serving as the buffer between his family and myself, and basically basking in the glow of his daughter's 2nd bday party, like I know he would have.

I've been neglecting you lately, little blog, but it's not really my fault! The siren call of pools and laziness is far too great for me to resist.

Trekking all over the state of Florida, I've come to realize one thing: I hate driving. Driving used to be one of my favorite things. I loved the alone time; I usually spent that time singing along with the radio, talking to friends, and (best of all) thinking. I could think about anything and everything, uninterrupted (at least for the time it took me to get from point A to point B). My car was my oasis. Nowadays, though, driving is a chore. Not the short drives, mind you, but anything over half an hour sets my mind whirring. And I wish they were all happy thoughts. Nope, the darkness and despair just wait till I'm seated behind the steering wheel to grip me. Have I mentioned how hard it is to drive with tears in your eyes? What once was a treasured time for me is now cause for panic. Later today I have to drive from Miami to Orlando, and that three hour drive is not going to treat me kindly. Especially since it'll be just me and Baby Girl. Sigh.

Why is it that when I'm driving around, I've gots all these thoughts bouncing around, but as soon as I sit down in front of the computer, it all dries up? I can barely think of what I want to write.

I think it's partly because my brain wants to believe that everything is hunky-dory in my life. So it'll come out while I can't write it down, where someone else can read it. It's just the oddest thing. Maybe I'm going to need to start going around with a notebook.

When you've suffered a great loss, even a simple thing like reading a newspaper becomes difficult, as you're never sure where you're going to encounter fodder for heartache. I've learned that even in the sports section, you can find something that just sucker punches you in an unexpected way.

I was reading about Ty Wigginton, a player for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, and the story was about how he delivered his second son. Just reading about him and his wife, and their shared experience reminded me of everything I missed out on, and I'm still missing out on. While I love Baby Girl more than life itself, I was never the "I want a bay-by!!!" type of girl. I wanted a baby with him.

It might seem like that's the same thing, but it's not. I wanted us to share doctors' visits, to be awed together at the picture of the sonogram, to be able to tell our kids about the night they were born. I wanted to see him cuddle his daughter, to see them fall asleep together, to take pictures of the two most important people in my life.

And all that was shattered in a the blink of an eye.

I don't know what tomorrow holds. I don't know if I am going to have more kids (I do hope so, though). All I do know is that even if I do have other kids, I know the fear that I will lose one of them, or the father, will never be far. It'll always be lurking around, skulking in the corners. And even if we do all the couple-y stuff (going to the sonogram together, our first picture as a family, etc.), that won't change the fact that I was supposed to have all that with Pablo.

Damn, how is it that something as simple as an answering machine can knock you flat on your ass (figuratively speaking)?

I was working at the dining room table, reading some property questions, and Baby Girl was in the kitchen, playing with the answering machine (which we don't use, because our phone has voicemail). I kept hearing the original message (the one that comes on the machine) when I heard Pablo's voice. I convinced myself that it was just me hearing things in my head. After hearing it several more times, I got up and found Baby Girl. I took the machine from her, and checked the greetings, and lo and behold, there's Pablo saying hello, and that he can't come to the phone. That voice, that's so fucking familiar - yet I haven't heard it in two years. I couldn't contain myself and the tears just overcame me. Baby Girl thought I was laughing, and she started laughing nervously, but when she saw that I was crying, she held my head, stroked my face and just said "No llores, mami" (don't cry, mommy). Of course that just set off a fresh jag of tears. When Baby Girl said "papi" I finally smiled through the tears, and played it for her, so she could hear his voice.

It's incredibly fucked up that my daughter has to hear her dad's voice through a message that is 3 1/2 years old. My sense of fairness is extremely stretched to the limit at those moments.

Sigh.

Well, happy Valentine's day.

This is an odd little day for me. We never made a big deal about Valentine's Day, partly beause I think it's a made-up holiday, and partly because we were usually saving money. So we never really did the big V-day dinner, or anything in that vein. As a matter of fact,


So why is it that I miss the flowers? The candies? Actually, fuck all that stuff, I miss him. I miss the talking, the hugging, the hand-holding, the knowing he's there for me.

I really wanted to write more, but what else is there left for me to say?

It's weird how some days can go from okay, even good, to crappy as hell in under 5 seconds. Yesterday, I was chugging along, studying (which is the reason I haven't been able to post a new blog), and feeling pretty good because I was nailing my questions. Shoot, I didn't even have to use my AK - I gotta say it was a good day.

Then I go to pick up Baby Girl from her uncle's house, and on our way back, I'm rocking to some reggaeton, bopping my head. And it happens, a song from our past comes on the radio (Tono Rosario's "Cojelo", for those of you who care). If my life had a soundtrack, that's where the needle would have screeched to a halt. It was a slap in the face, and all of a sudden I was back at all the countless parties we went to together. It was a reminder of a lot of happy memories and also of the fact that those happy memories are pretty much all I've got left.

I hate when a simple song can do that to you.

Well, the two year anniversary of Pablo's death has come and gone. Seriously, I didn't feel any differently on Jan. 25, than I did on Jan. 24. I still missed him incredibly, but the day wasn't any sadder.

I think the anticipation of the day itself is harder. Every day is hard in and of itself.

But I already knew that. You don't manage to survive two years of this without picking something up along the way.

I like this poem by e.e. cummings:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go, my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

I wasn't kidding when I said I get inspiration from the weirdest places. I was just on youtube.com, watching a clip from one of my favorite Scrubs episodes - "My Screwup". The part at the end, when they're all at Cox's brother-in-law's funeral, always tears me up. And then J.D. monologues: "In the end, the most important thing to accept is that no matter how alone you feel, how painful it may be, with the help of those around you, you'll get through this too."

And that is so true. My parents have made this grief journey infinitely easier. I don't know how I would've handled Baby Girl all on my own. And it hasn't been just them. Pablo's family, also, has been there for me, and their support has exceeded all my expectations. While I remain slightly disappointed in my friends, I usually give them a pass, because I don't know what I would've done if one of them had to go through this. I like to think I'd be awesome and supportive, but who knows?

Today is the Dia de La Altagracia (Our Lady of the Altagracia - she's the patron Virgin Mary for the Dominican Republic). Baby Girl was dressed up in a folkloric outfit in the colors of the Dominican flag - a white sweater, and a red, white and blue skirt, with a red bandana around her head. She also insisted on dancing with a group of children who were about 8 years old. She was so frackin adorable! She actually kept up pretty well with them, considering she'd never practiced, and isn't even two yet. Yet, while she was up there, and everyone was cheering her and the other children on, I couldn't help tearing up. I was so proud of her, of how she was dancing and how everyone was enthralled with her, but also so sad that Pablo wasn't there to see her and to share that experience with me. I wish he were here.

I was recently reading that the Mayans believe that the world will end in 2012. In five years. And I was a little surprised to realize that I felt sadness if that were to be true. I want Samantha to be able to grow old, and have babies, and fall in love...

And I realized that, more than that, I want to have those things as well! I want to grow old, and fall in love again, and perhaps have another baby. And I still don't know how I feel about that. I feel happy. In a very tentative way. Like, if I allow myself to feel the recent happiness too much, I might strangle it in some way. So for now, I tenderly stroke it, hoping that if I nourish it enough, it'll grow. Because that's the way it works, right?

Seriously, I get inspiration from the weirdest places. I was doing my workouts last week, and my trainer said: "If it seems sometimes things are too much to handle look to God. Also, your mind and your will are all you have. Use it. Remember: where you are today, is where YOU put you. Where you'll be tomorrow, is where YOU will put you." It's all I have to remember.

I know sometimes I ramble a bit during these posts, but fuck it - outlining for briefs, not for this silly little blog...

Part of my Plan for 2007 is to improve myself. Make a New and Improved Merry Widow, so to speak. (On my myspace page, my name is now Fancy, New Wanda. I really want to fix myself.)

Fixing myself includes fixing my outside. So for 2007, the junk is out! (not totally, because I'm not insane. But definitely curb it!) Especially since I (ta da) started working out!

So wish me luck on this fitness journey... I'll definitely need it!

Other than that, just trying to keep sane as the 2 year anniversary of Pablo's death looms. In 8 days, it'll be over, in 8 days, it'll be over, in 8 days, it'll be over...

When do I get someone again to love me unconditionally? Am I selfish in wanting that again? After all, there are people who go their whole lives without it, and here I am wanting a second love like that!

I am so tired of the loneliness, of the excuses, of the promises broken, of the shards of affection.

Nothing seemed difficult when He had his arms around me, when He would gaze into my soul, when He loved me...

The Day After

So, the birthday's over. Kinda relieved about that one. However, I can't stop thinking that next year, I'll be 29, then 30, and so on. I feel as if I'm hurtling towards a future alone and I can't do anything to stop it. I hate it. And I've had some people tell me that I have to "get out there" to meet people, but dammit, why can't my life be like a movie, and have a guy come to me?!

I'm so lonely. And I don't know if it's all coming to a head because in 20 days, Pablo will have been dead for two years, or what. It could be something else entirely that is causing these feelings to rush to the surface.

It might be cheesy, but I can really express myself through songs and music. Here're the lyrics to "My Reflection" by Christina Aguilera, from the Mulan soundtrack, and they are on point:

Look at me/You may think you see
Who I really am/But you’ll never know me
Every day, it's as if I play a part
Now I see if I wear a mask/I can fool the world
But I can not fool my heart
I am now in a world where I have to hide my heart
And what I believe in/But somehowI will show the world
What’s inside my heart/And be loved for who I am
Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?
Must I pretend that I’m someone else for all time?
There’s a heart that must be free to fly/That burns with a need to know the reason why
Why must we all conceal/What we think, how we feel?
Must there be a secret me I’m forced to hide?
I won’t pretend that I’m someone else for all time
When will my reflections show who I am inside?

Birthdays - blech!

Tomorrow, I turn 28. 28 long years I've been on this planet. Actually, they haven't been long at all. It's just the last two that seem as if they've lasted a decade each. Life went by much quicker when I was happier.

I don't really have much to write, because the thought of being alone again on my birthday is just bringing me down. I do so well on the everyday stuff, but anytime that requires you spend with someone special - I just lose it.

I have no choice but to chin up, and drink a lot on my birthday.

January 2nd

Alright, so some of the bitterness has flowed away, and I am actually getting excited about this new year!

2007 will be the year where I:
- finally pass the Fucking Bar Exam
- go back to looking like my 18 year old self (or as close as possible!)
- possibly, but probably not, go to my 10-year high school reunion
- maybe, but again maybe not, move out
- get a boyfriend
- maybe fall in love, and have someone fall in love with me (is that too much to ask for)
- be the best mom I possibly can be (although I did that in 2005 and in 2006)
- write a book
- finally stand up to my parents, and not let myself be guilted or brow-beaten
- finally accept

I look foward to Chapter 2.

Happy Meh Year

A new year is upon us. Big deal. (This post will be a little scattered; bear with me.)

Last night, as midnight approached, just one thought ran through my head: " I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry." Moments like midnight, when everyone is kissing, and hugging, are when I miss him most. I miss him all day long, everyday, like a dull ache in my chest, but those moments feel like a hot poker pressed on me. It sucks, it fucking sucks, and there isn't no other way around it. Sigh. 364 days to find a date for next New Year's.

Last week, I was in Houston, for a college football Bowl game featuring my alma mater, Rutgers University. I had a great time in Houston, hanging out with friends, getting to eat the local cuisine, and cheering my team to victory. The three days were over way too fast, but you know what they say about time flying when you're having fun, and all that jazz. Now, I have a trip to New Orleans to look forward to in April.

I was just watching "Prince of Egypt" (yes, I will watch any lame ass movie that comes on my tv), and a line in it spoke to me: "they can take everything away from us, except faith." I may have "lost everything", but I'll be damned if I lose my faith: faith in that life will get better (even if the changes are too small to see), faith that I will love again, faith that someone will love me again, faith that I am not destined to die old and alone, with my 6 (hypothetical - I don't have them yet) cats.

Faith. It's all I have right now. But maybe it's all I need.