No great love was perfect

When I remember my marriage to Alan, the memories I have come from all the pictures we captured in our love story. True love stories have joy and sadness so I can’t really paint the entire picture of our marriage with just happy pictures. Who posts or takes pictures of the arguments or the jealous outbursts or the crying and the cursing? I know we never did and even so, we would never share it with the world. Alan and I kept private the personal struggles we had in our marriage, but after he died the universe gave a key to that door that was closed and everyone took turns walking in. It wasn’t fair to his memory or to the lives of my children and I didn’t feel it necessary to try to explain to anyone the details of our personal life. Still, it hurt no less to hear what assumptions were made about me or my decisions and what bits and pieces people heard to try to piece together their own judgement about me and our life. We were never perfect. When Alan and I first met, we fell so in love with each other. Trying to keep our hands off each other proved useless after a day of work of not seeing each other. We were so happy until we weren’t. There was jealousy from both of us and there were arguments about things that were petty. We broke up several times, spent time apart and then came together to try again. As we got to know each other, our love grew stronger and we realized it was us against the world. We both failed each other numerous times in love and found ways to forgive. We married and had a child and struggled again as parents, having our disagreements and experiences but always finding common ground for our family. Family was always the focal point of our life together. No matter how we argued or disagreed or felt about one another, we now had a child and we both made sure she would always have us both no matter the cost. There were so many times we came together to apologize for our short comings and we would make up and all was right in the world. We knew each other so well; Alan was always aware of my moods and I his. Sometimes in the silence is when you can hear your partner the loudest. I can remember asking Alan if he could remember the first time he knew he loved me. He tells the story of my grey Volkswagen bug and an out of town trip we took together. It was a pleasant day so we had the top down. He remembers looking over at me driving with the sun hitting my face and me squinting my eyes to see. He said it was right there, in that moment, he knew he loved me. I can still hear him telling me that story like he was right here. I remember that moment too, and I remember his eyes looking at me. That was a perfect moment in our love story. Alan remains the only man to love me without judgement. He never found faults in me just perfect imperfections as he called it. I would push and push but Alan never gave up. In fact, he just loved me harder. Gosh, I have so many regrets of how I took our love for granted. I wish I had spent more time in his arms. I wish I had not spent time stressing about the things I could not change in our lives. I wish I convinced him to sleep in longer with me. Alan was so busy taking care of us and the house, he never rested. I wish I could have changed that for us. You see, there were so many times we both felt like we weren’t doing enough for each other or for our kids and we spent wasted time agonizing over that. Truth is, we did the best we could with the time and resources we had. I see now how precious time was with him and it hurts like hell to know time is something that you never get back. I can’t beat myself up and I try not to, but being real with myself, I think it will get better, the regret of it all. 3 years now and I still have so many damn regrets. I am glad we weren’t perfect. I am glad we had struggles. I am grateful for the tears and the laughter. It was all real to us. It made our love and our marriage real to our kids too. To show them that despite the arguments, the slammed doors and the occasional F bombs, love still remained. Let the world pass judgement on me and our marriage, it is a topic for the sheeple. The family and friends that are still around after these years know me and accepted my faults. I accepted Alan’s faults and appreciate his life I was blessed to be a part of. Even better, I have this little human that we made that shows me how his legacy lives on. She is so much Alan and a little bit me that gives me that everyday kick in the ass to get up and live. You see, if you believe that marriages are only what you see on social media with the smiles and the vacations don’t believe it. No great love was or will be perfect.

The game of what if…

The universe brought Alan and I together, at least that’s what I believe. Divine intervention as some will say…..okay. The belief that things and events happen for a reason is also a possibility, right? Have you ever played the hypothetical game with yourself? A friend or loved one? I am certain most of my readers have played or entertained that notion of “WHAT IF?” The what if game is basically making another scenario of how different some event could have turned out for yourself or others AND how that event could have altered your journey. I feel that game can take you into a deep rabbit hole, so to speak, as the outcomes and circumstances could affect so many people and destinations, possibly create life or death situations that could in turn create different lives. Even now, almost three years later, I can allow my mind to sometimes wander into that dark rabbit hole. I always find my way out of it, but there was a time, not too long ago, that my grief for Alan’s death kept me trapped in the what if hole. Some of my what if’s go like this:

What if I didn’t decide to join the Army after high school? What if I did join the Army but chose another career path? What if I was too chicken to go Airborne? What if I allowed all the negative people in the Army influence my career path decisions? What if I never met my first husband? What if I never met Hannah’s dad? What if Hannah had a brother or sister from my marriage to her dad? What if Hannah’s dad and I were still together? What if I decided to stay at Fort Bragg after Hannah was born, alone? What if I bled to death after giving birth to Hannah? What if I never decided to do a tandem sky dive with Alan? What if Daniel and I were not friends and he hadn’t introduced Alan and I? What if Alan had never thought I was his type? What if I didn’t respond to his emails at work? What if I did not have problems jumping that required me to meet Alan for training? What if Alan and I did not get married? What if I did not like the unit I was in and went to another unit in the Army? What if Alan had passed away while he was Active Duty? What if he stayed in the Army longer that 21 years? What if we never decided to move to Arizona? What if we had stayed in Arizona after he retired? What if he had started another career in Arizona after retirement? What if we did not move back to Corpus Christi, Texas? What if we decided that a career in law enforcement was not for him? What if he hadn’t passed the initial vetting process for the police department? What if he didn’t pass all the requirements to become a police officer? What if, the morning of January 31, 2020, Alan listened to me and stayed home? What if Alan got off just a little earlier the night of January 31, 2020? What if Alan stayed a little longer on the call before getting on the crosstown and responding to Michael Love? What if Michael Love made the speeding truck exit to expressway and did not stay on the over pass? What if Alan had been the 3rd cruiser to respond to the call instead of the 2nd? What if Alan had been standing where Michael Love was? What if Alan had survived but had been paralyzed? What if Brandon Portillo had stayed longer to keep drinking? What if Brandon Portillo took a cab home? What if Brandon’s truck had a flat tire and he never was able to drive it after he left the bar? What if Brandon Portillo did not drink that night but instead drove passed Alan on the crosstown and never hit the vehicles? What if Brandon had never been born?

See, I can play the game until my head hurts. Every what if question can become such a different path in my future and that of Alan and our kids. Each what if can then create another destiny to an unknown future. I stayed consumed with different paths I should have chosen or influenced Alan to choose. I do wonder, if Alan was still destined to die on that day. Could his death have been earlier? Later? In other words, God knew Alan would be coming home but why did his death have to be felt by so many people? Why did our grief have to be shared by so many strangers? Alan was ours, yet perfect strangers would talk about him or of him like they knew him. Of course, because of his public servant status his death had to be honored, I get that. I just regret how my kids and I never had our privacy during and after his death. I would never say “I wish I could do that again…” I hated everything about his death and the funeral and I was given that closure. Bottom line, Alan and I were supposed to meet. We were supposed to have been in each other’s lives. I still play the what if game, but the guilt of making different choices doesn’t linger as it did before. I don’t feel like I could have prevented his death. Our chapter, together, had to come to an end, I just wasn’t prepared for it to be so soon. Just because I have accepted his death doesn’t mean I still don’t “what if…”

Souls

There is a Western series I am currently watching and hooked on week to week. Recently, the episodes have become deeply involved with character content and have shown us, the viewer, what love and loss looks and feels like. The main character, Elsa, a young pioneer woman along this journey with her parents and other pioneers looking for a new home within this new United States back in 1883. Along this much complicated journey full of death and sorrow and dangers, Elsa finds love. Young love, something we all have gone through some way or another. It’s innocent, it’s exciting, it’s so intense and passionate at times. She experiences this in an episode and we are taken along this ride with her as she falls in love with her new beau and they playful and intimate moments that give us, the viewer, the warm feeling inside along with them. However, this is the Wild West, so to speak, and just as quickly as a person can die from a snake bite or the elements, no one was immune to a gun fight that could result in death. Cutting to the chase, Enis, her new love, was killed in a gun fight. His darling Elsa grieved for him and felt that horrible pain of loss and despair. She was desperate for healing and understanding of his death and her pain. There is a line from the show that goes like this, “When you love somebody, you trade souls with them. They get a piece of yours and you get a piece of theirs. But when your love dies, a little piece of you dies with them.” When I heard that I wept because it explained to me what I felt the day Alan died. It feels like a part of you dies with them, it truly does. You ache and you cry and then you cry some more until you are exhausted and dehydrated but no amount of comfort can come from anything or anyone. You mourn everything that was and could have been. You blame yourself for words spoken in hurt and anger and you “what if” in your head every day. You question yourself, your decisions then and now, and of course, there is God. The questions you have for him, the anger and despair. I am still on that journey with HIM, so maybe I will never understand, but I won’t ever stop asking “Why Alan.” There are friends and family that do their best to explain how Alan’s soul is with us, his heavenly being is in heaven and his earthly body remains buried. What about the part of his soul that remains with me? I cherish that part of Alan that I knew for 16 years. That part of him that bared his soul to me and shared his life on earth with me. We, together, accomplished a lot in our marriage, in the lives of our successful children and in our careers. I have said this before, I will always be thankful for sitting front row to the last 16 years of his life. He taught me what true love feels like and how it should look like when a parent loves their children wholeheartedly. I believe I hold on to his soul until my last breathe. He took a piece of mine the day he went home but I know we will meet again and both be whole, his soul and mine, reunited in Heaven. I cling to the part of him that remains here on earth, my Lili. I think the same is true when it comes to our children, especially for moms. We give them life inside our bodies, our blood together for those 9 months. It’s beautiful to share your body so intimately with another human being and then bring them into the world as your masterpiece. I will always love Alan and cherish the little piece of joy from our daughter and a part of his soul that I will always protect and love in my happiest and saddest moments.

And so it goes…

It’s been about 10 months or so since I last blogged. A lot has actually happened to me and to us. In September, right before my birthday, I broke my right ankle in three places. Let me just say, since I have your attention, IT HURTS!! The pain was unbearable and yet, I felt like I deserved it. Sounds weird and I’m not seeking any sympathy, but that “pause” in my life was much deserved. I feel like the last 2 years of my life has been 1 step forward and 2 giant steps back, constantly. I have ups/downs/sideways kind of days and I try my hardest to speed through the day if only to savor the warmth of my bed and the covers that I throw over my head. The ankle travesty gave me perspective. It allowed me to just stop and rely on others. I hated it! For me, stopping was enough but then having to rely on others….holy shit was that the worst! It humbles you…truly it does. I felt loved and I didn’t feel alone. Situations like that, where you really take a big look out your window and see who really is coming to your rescue. I appreciate my family and my friends who kept me sane during my time of pause. I started off in a wheel chair as I could not put any weight on that ankle. Then came the crutches…..those damn things that most days I wanted to chuck out of the window! Then the god awful grey boot. Didn’t my doctor know that pink is my color?? Well, almost 5 months later and I am walking with an ankle brace most days and with a slight limp. I have healed well and I owe it to the excellent love and care from my circle. I love you all, truly. Lili and I attended the police memorial in Washington DC in October. I was in awe at the amount of families that attended for the years of 2020 and 2021. You look around and see the shattered lives of those who lost a loved one and it takes your breath away. I met some men and women that shared their stories and their grief. You see their children and extended family members and you realize, at least I did, how the ripples look. Then came our move to Virginia. In December, Lili and I decided it was time to leave Texas for a bit and start a new chapter in our lives. The sting of Alan’s death was harder each day that we lived in Corpus Christi. We pass by the hospital where we saw him on that bed, lifeless. We drive on the same road where he fell to his death. Seeing the police cruisers every single day made it hard to try to just live a normal life without the constant barrage of bad memories or trauma of his death. People start to forget him, I can see it. His memory is starting to fade to those that didn’t even know him. For my girls and I, we don’t get to do that, forget. If I don’t see his picture every day, or hear his voice on an old voice mail, or look at his clothes, or day dream about his smile, then I am seeing him in my dreams. For 2 years there has not been one single day where I didn’t think about him. What really hurts, way down deep, is my youngest daughter’s memories of him. I know she is starting to forget his voice, or his hugs or the nights when he would cuddle with her in bed right after he got home from work just to give her warm kisses before she fell asleep. It hurts me so to have those memories fade for her. She is growing fast and maturing into a young lady right before my eyes. Alan would be so proud of how much she has accomplished in school and being there for me. My girls give me that drive and motivation to continue on this journey. I don’t think I will ever stop questioning God about why he took Alan home when he did. Until you have lived the nightmare of our grief do you get to say you know how we feel. People say that I shouldn’t question God. Yea, well I do and I will. There is nothing harder than having to see your loved one’s body lifeless and cold and having to say good bye in front of hundreds of people that occupied that hospital and shared your heartache. Nothing about Alan’s death has been private or quiet for us. We appreciate how the community showed support, but I know it would have been easier to have grieved him in private. Our lives have been an open book since his death. Who am I dating? Did I get another tattoo? Commenting about my legal situation regarding his death. People can’t just leave us alone! All those busy bodies that have something to say should try to be me, even for an hour. I would gladly let them see and feel how this tragedy has been for us. I don’t ask for pity or for any advice on how to “move on” because honestly, no one can possibly understand. Even other widows will tell you this is not a “one size fits all” for us. Should I have moved on so quickly? I guess waiting until I am older and closer to my grave would be the right time to find love again. And who really finds love again? Maybe you just find happiness and that is what love looks like. You find someone else who makes you laugh again or shares an adventure with you. You see your child smile and laugh around another person because they make her happy. Who cares? Why should anyone care about our happiness? They certainly don’t care to help us during our sadness only to add their opinions where they know nothing about what is really happening in our lives. It hurts to see people comment about us, like they give a shit. Or the people who claim to have known Alan that never even met him or spoke to him. Those people just want attention through Alan’s death. Sad and ridiculous. Alan was a very private man, who had very few friends. His life meant so much to us, and I am blessed to have been with him for 16 years. I can still recall the night before he died and the conversation we had in our bedroom. I see his face and I feel his body close to mine when we went to sleep. We woke up and went about our day. The day was a nightmare, it really was. I see all his stuff in our room and bathroom. I smell his pillow and cry myself into a panic attack. Why us? Why him? I have said this before and will continue to repeat it….IT DOES NOT GET EASIER. Two years later and it hurts to remember that day. It hurts to see his name in stone. It hurts down really deep in the pit of your gut to be raising your child alone. To hear her talk about other kids and their dads, makes me wish I could make it all better for her. Am I enough for her? Am I doing this thing called “life” correctly without Alan? Most days are a blur, if I’m being honest. Still, I get up and I do it again for them. Another year is coming up, and so it goes.

Coffee for one

Alan and I shared a love for coffee. I would say, Alan was more the coffee connoisseur than I was, since he always took his coffee black, no creamer or sugar. I, on the other hand, like my creamer with coffee..lol. Alan said the only way to truly taste the coffee was without all the “tooty fruity stuff” mixed in it. Alan could drink coffee anytime of the day, if it was offered, he would take it. Lili would say, “I hate daddy’s coffee breathe.” He and I used to take Lili to the used book store for her to recycle old books and use her money to buy new ones. In the book store is a coffee shop called Calypso Café. He got to know the owner well, as he would try to stop while on duty, for a cup of coffee. I always knew when he went because he would come home with coffee pouches for us and our coffee maker. We would enjoy our morning coffee together on the weekends and when we traveled, would always try to find some exotic coffees around to experiment with. When my mom lived with us a few years ago, she too would drink coffee with us, so of course my coffee maker got a lot of use. We went through many coffee makers in our 16 years together, some better than others. As we got older, we totally loved looking at different types of coffee makers and coffees like we were little kids on Christmas morning opening gifts. It was a few weeks after Alan died that I decided to make some coffee. I remember filling up the coffee maker to the top, as I did before. Then, as I started to scoop the coffee into the filter I stopped and I put the scoop down and cried. I cupped my hands over my eyes as I cried long and hard. I didn’t need to make that much coffee and I then realized I would be the only one drinking coffee from now on. No more days of sharing a cup of coffee over good conversation with my best friend. Then I thought of ALL the coffee cups in the cabinets…do I really need all of them? So I stopped crying, made myself one cup of coffee and used the rest of the morning to clean out the kitchen cabinets while blasting some 80s rock music. “You CAN do this, Michelle.” I would hear that whisper in my ear while cleaning and re-organizing my cabinet. When all was said and done I now had a handful of coffee mugs that I could use and share but not so much that it would occupy too much space. I took the cups and other miscellaneous items to the goodwill then headed to Walmart to check out some coffee makers. I had been eyeballing the Keurig single cup, light blue one for some time. I don’t think it ever made sense or even felt right buying it before. I knew Alan would be opposed because he didn’t really like to have to do too much work to make a cup of coffee then he might complain that he would have to do the process over and over since he drinks coffee throughout the day. I was playing all these scenarios in my mind as I proceeded through the check-out line to pay. I got home and unplugged the old coffee maker, then removing it from the counter. I placed my new Keurig on the counter with this one thought in my mind… “Well, I guess it is coffee for one.”

If you don’t see the book you want on the shelf, WRITE IT!

There are few people I have met in my 43 years of life that have experienced the joys and sorrows that I have. Don’t get me wrong, I am not asking for a pity party over my situation. Since early childhood I have had trauma. My therapist, bless her heart, calls it a “Trauma Timeline” eluding to the fact that I have been through various challenges since childhood that they can all be quantified at my age. At various times in my life I have been through trauma so intense that I actually suffer PTSD for it. The diagnosis actually came about during my first marriage. Most trauma survivors do a good job of suppressing the trauma into deep areas in the brain. I became a pro at doing just so, until later in life certain triggers come about. You find yourself unaware of how damaging this event becomes to those around you that care for you. That’s the part that I didn’t realize until now. Every time I would go through tough times, I was angry at the world. I would lash out at those who loved me the most. I was just an all around horrible person. I never did this intentionally but I also never got help to help me understand the destruction I was causing. It wasn’t until the worst event in my life happened that I had to literally hit rock bottom and realize for myself how vulnerability really felt like and how lost your mind can get with the perfect dose of “I LOST MY SHIT.” I I felt the reality of my life growing further and further away. Like I was deep in space outside my rocket, just floating around but getting further and further from the safety of the rocket. The deeper I was going, the darker, literally and figuratively, my life was becoming. I found the perfect toxic person to feed me enough bullshit at that vulnerable time in my life when I needed someone to make my mind healthy and be supportive of my condition. There is a saying—HURT PEOPLE, HURT PEOPLE. Well, that couldn’t of been more truer in my situation. The woman I was just a couple of years ago, strong mentally and physically, self assured, confident and independent now was the shell of her. I became great at putting on different masks to help me cope with the different days of my life. I already had problems with my self image after having my babies, like most women do. I tried to stay healthy and active but my body just got comfortable being at a size I found to be too big for my liking. I lost the love of my life and best friend who was my moral compass, coach and #1 supporter in early 2020 as a result of a drunk driver. I will spare you the details, as most of you know them anyway, but the event was the tipping point of my self-destruction. I found myself in a constant state of confusion and lack of awareness with my current state of reality. I would not say I was a danger to myself or others, especially my child, but I could be easily swayed as I was without my other half that helped guide me and stabilized me for these such situations, now he was no more. I met someone a few months after Alan died. What is that Taylor Swift song Blank Space with the line, “You look like my next mistake…” He sure was, a big mistake at a time when I should have seen the warning flags. Poor me…or pour me…lol. I took the bait and found myself day after day for almost 10 months in a situation that I felt I was getting deeper and deeper into and at the same time losing myself and any hopes of recovering from my depression further from reality. He was jealous, insecure, needy and mean. He drank too much and turned into another person completely. I was the perfect weak and vulnerable target for his pinned up rage. It went from bad to worse behind closed doors. Why did I stay? What the fuck was I thinking? Well, I wasn’t thinking, at least not the way I should have been. I was lonely and alone and I was completely turned inside out with the death of my spouse. I should have come to my senses a long time ago but I really kept betting on the man that I loved when he wasn’t drinking and he would notice me and care for me. That was not the Michelle I was. I have never let anyone treat me the way he did or belittle me as often as he did. I was already beaten black and blue from the grief and depression so it was way to easy to keep beating me down. Christmas 2020 came and I made a solemn vowel to myself and my daughters that I would get help for my depression and grief. I cried almost daily, wiped my tears and pasted a smile on my face so I could function. I couldn’t keep up the charade. I sought help from the local hospital, expecting to be checked in as in-patient because of how horrible I felt from the inside-out. After the initial assessment I was placed in an out-patient therapy, three times a week, 3 hours each session. I was in therapy for about 3 months. This was my saving grace, my answered prayer and safe place that restored me from the inside out. I met women with similar situations that made me feel at peace with myself. The therapy was educational and fun and always welcoming. I talked, I cried, I laughed and I bonded with those who seemed almost sent by God to help me realize who I was. I remember there was a session when the story of Humpty Dumpty was brought up. As you know, he had a great fall and all of his men couldn’t put him back together again. I felt like humpty and I had a great fall. I tried to find all those pieces of me and others that love me started to also find pieces of who I was. I always thought that by finding those pieces and putting myself back together each time was the answer. No. The old Michelle that I was before my fall is gone. Not all of her, but some of my good and bad qualities died with Alan. I have to put myself together at my own pace and with new pieces. I don’t want to be how I was, not completely. I am transforming into this woman that has a new sense of purpose and direction. I am wiser, I have matured and I am determined to see myself and my girls happy and healthy in this new future we are waking up to now. I was reminded by a very close friend of the Michelle he knew that would never take any shit from anyone. She was in charge, she mentored and led men in the Army and jumped out of planes. She was intelligent and confident in her abilities and was admired by those around her. I remember her, and I will be parts of her again. I know how to lick my wounds and get back up. I have the intestinal fortitude to be a better version of myself and teach my daughters what it looks like to stay in this race. Alan trusted that if he left this world before me, I would take care of our lives and our children and I won’t let him down. The book of Alan and Michelle was written and completed. I pick it up from time to time, as it contains so many beautiful memories and references that I can use in my book. I have started some chapters in my own book now and hope my daughters will one day write about my life and my experiences as they close my book. For now, I am writing my story, word for word, hopefully inspiring to whoever wants to read it. I am just a woman on this path of life, determined to keep my head up and tackle it one day at a time.

Hero

Have you ever talked to someone who did a heroic act? What do most people that fit this category have in common? They almost always are humble, kind and totally modest. Most will never admit to being a hero and almost cringe at the title now given to them. Alan was this person, a hero. He would NEVER admit this truth and almost a year prior to his death, he was recognized for doing a heroic act while on duty. I remember that morning after the incident when he came home. It was very early in the morning when I heard him undressing in the closet. The sound of that damn Velcro from his vest was like music to my ears. It meant he was home and he was safe. I started to talk to him about his night, since it was New Year’s Eve and how busy it was. Being typical Alan, he said it was a busy night, no real details and a big long sigh after that. At this point he had his back to me, then he turned around and I saw his face and was shocked! I said, “BABY, WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE!!” It was red and looked like he had a serious sunburn. He was like, “Oh yea, I helped rescue this man from his vehicle that was on fire.” All matter of fact as he walked to take a shower. I had to pick my jaw off the ground and then ran into the bathroom to get further explanation. As my poor, tired husband showered I acted like a news reporter trying to get the scoop. He said it was a bad accident on the freeway, drunk driver going the wrong way, a family taking their son to the airport, the driver was in serious condition. Alan, and other bystanders helped to roll this vehicle back over and then he crawled into the vehicle, while it was on fire, and pulled the man to safety. I was like WHAT THE HELL BABE!! OH MY GOODNESS! WHAT???!!! He was so close to the fire that his face got burned. By this time I was in tears asking him if he was really okay. I waited until he dried off and I hugged him. It was a long hug and my tears flowed hard. I sobbed because he did something so selflessly, put himself in harms way but is here now to talk about it. What if I had lost him? That is exactly what I told him, what if I lost you? He just chuckled, picked my face up by the chin and kissed me telling me, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” I remember thinking “My God, he is a hero.” Afterwards I remember watching the video of what happened. The video not only made local news but also national news. My husband was on national news saving someone’s life. How amazing. This was a moment in our lives that would be remembered and told to our grandchildren. I think back now to his time in the Army. All the amazing moments he shared with other military members that I’m sure were dangerous and at times life and death. How many others have been witness to Alan as a hero? I know there have been other moments in his life where he saved others from death but for Alan, his modesty would never allow those stories to come to fruition. He preferred to share them with close friends that perhaps were witness to it or telling me some of the story but of course leaving out anything eluding to the fact that he was ever in harm’s way. My Alan was always the one in the room calm as a cucumber in most stressful situations. He rarely showed emotion that would lead you to believe he was stressed out or fearful. If he ever was, you could never tell. That got me thinking about the night he died. I often think about his last moments on this Earth. Was he scared? Was he in pain? Did he know he was dying? What was he thinking? What if, and I wonder run through my head a lot. What calms the storm in my head is what I know about Alan. Who he was and how he lived his life. Alan feared no man, feared nothing really. At least if he did he never showed it. That is what made him a good police officer, he was a very calm person. Alan didn’t fear death, you know why? Alan was a Christian, he was baptized just the year before, and loved God. He often sent me scripture and also attended a men’s group. Alan lived his life preaching the word of God because he knew how God worked miracles in our life. There were so many moments in our life where God was the only way for us and God made miracles for us. We both knew that. Alan knew if he died he would be in heaven and he would be surrounded by those he loved who had passed before him. I know this because we spoke of death. It sound morbid, yes, but for us it was a conversation that friends have. We both questioned our life and our death. We speculated about the afterlife and we enjoyed our conversations about heaven. We, like most, wonder what heaven will be like. I know, in his last moments on this earth, Alan was not fearing death. Alan was not in pain and Alan knew where he was going. Alan lived and died a hero….PERIOD. Alan, posthumously received the police officer cross for his distinguished service. It was an honor to receive this. Alan deserves so much more. He deserves to be honored on a daily basis. I talk about him every chance I get. I post memories of us all the time on social media. I will not rest until justice is served for the man who killed him. It was not an accident, it was a murder. Don’t get me started on this, maybe I will get the chance to blog about my feelings regarding the man who killed my hero, but right now, no. A hero lives on after they die, after we die, they become stories that we tell and their memory might fade but they will be forever etched in our memories. You are my hero, baby.

I’m BAAAACCCCK!

It’s been a few months since my last entry. A lot has happened to Lili and I. The one year anniversary has been the most important event that had the most obvious impact in our lives. I kept this internal countdown every month leading up to the anniversary. I don’t know if it was more of a survival countdown, like, okay I made it another month, or okay, we are getting closer to that day kind of countdown. Maybe both, right? Either way the day came and went. The most dread I had was my Lili realizing the day was coming and her telling me how the reality of not having her dad for a whole year was hitting her hard. In the beginning of this nightmare, Lili shut down completely to the point of concern. I never saw her cry, she stopped talking about her dad and refused to go to the cemetery. I didn’t know what to do, because quite honestly is there really a handbook for widows? There are resources, I get that, but everyone is unique and every death is not a one size fits all, so I was lost. I use the phrase, “I felt like I was walking through a pile of shit and I was sinking.” Fortunately, I feel better these days and the shit pile is not so deep! Lili has just recently started to talk more and more about Alan and cried more. There were moments, I will not lie, where Lili really lost it. It is the hardest thing to see and feel is your child totally broken and vulnerable. You hear the pain in her cry and your heart just sinks. In the beginning, I could do nothing but cry with her and get lost in the grief experience. I can say that today, with the medication and therapy I have been in, I can help her without losing it myself. I am or have gotten to the point of feeling the pain of Alan’s death but controlling how I react to it. My girls are both so amazing. Hannah has been an inspiration to me with her advice and her positive outlook. There have been numerous times I find myself calling her in tears because of something that happened and I don’t trust just anyone to know my hurt and risk criticism or judgement so I rely on my daughter to help me. She has never failed me through this grief process and I am so blessed to be her mom. Lili and I have grown very close too. I am very honest with her on decisions I need to make or tough situations that impact us both. I don’t like that she has matured so quickly from this tragedy. She has become a little woman right before my eyes because her dad was killed. She has now experienced what most kids her age won’t ever have to experience and it makes me sad. The flip side to that is she will grow up wise and with an appreciation for tough moments that she will know how to handle where others may not. I’m going to change gears for a minute. I recently went through a tough break up with a man I let into our lives assuming the best in him and his intentions. I will not go into details but I am getting my life back on track and focusing my energy on the path to recovery. My priority is again and will forever be my kids. I let my defenses down and my vulnerability was taken advantage of. Never again! I live and I learn and I am never going to do that again. I hope that I do find someone some day, a friend first and then see where that leads. I’m lonely and I miss having my partner in this life. It’s a very sad experience to go to bed alone and sometimes wake up and that side of the bed is still made. It helps when my Lili comes to sleep with her mama but I know there is going to come a time when she stops doing that and will be on her own, living her life. When I think about her leaving to college or starting her life outside of her home, I get so sad. I know I will be alone and I will have to survive the loneliness. I do start thinking about traveling alone or picking up a hobby that will occupy my time. The thought of going back to work does cross my mind too. I am currently enjoying this time in therapy and investing in my child’s well-being. I am beginning to focus on my life NOW not my life then. I see the road ahead of me, not looking back at the road I just walked through. Along the way I find myself making mistakes and sometimes letting myself go off the path, but I am back on that road. I keep going because I have no choice, it’s what I have to do and I have a little person depending on me. I was told today that I am now creating her “norm” and her environment. I have a huge responsibility to raise her to be a good person. I can’t let her down. I know Alan left this world knowing his daughter would be taken care of by me, so I can’t let him down either. I need to start setting goals again. I want to focus on a realistic future, even if I start off small and plan for month to month, something I want to accomplish or destination I want to discover. I feel the need to start making my happiness a priority even if it means being alone to do it. Liliana deserves to feel happiness as long as I can provide it. No one will make me feel unworthy again. I am a damn warrior! I am a survivor! I know my worth. I am a boss bitch in every sense of the word! I can and I will…PERIOD! Yes just like Arnold said….”I’ll be back.” Well I AM BACK!

Que Sera, Sera…(Whatever will be, will be)

So, it’s been a little over two months since I last blogged. A lot has happened in our lives. For starters, I have been vilified by the media…social media really. Love me or hate me, I’m still standing! Everyone loves a juicy story, filled with drama, but the “real” story never really sees the light of the day all because drama sells, right? Wrong…when you are the people this is happening to…nothing of any story written about you or your family is fair or is ever really truth because you can’t tell a true story in one paragraph. No one really knew our lives before Alan’s death. No one but the people living in this home, the home where love was the center of our world. Alan and I were friends since the first day we met all those years in 2004. A real friendship continues and eventually develops into deep love and admiration. Our friendship grew overtime and we fell in love, married and had a beautiful baby girl. Marital bliss? Happily ever after? Yes, in a sense. No one knows the pitfalls of marriage and kids, money, no money, moving, military life, death, work, all that involves living a life in a society hell bent on seeing families broken and divided. Alan and I shared life together with so many joys and sorrows, we endured so much together and eventually made a decision to part ways as friends. The love, see, it never left us. Our love poured over through Liliana, the baby girl that was a perfect mixture of Alan and I. We loved each other enough to stay friends and raise our baby in the most sheltered and private life, away from everyone’s judgement and criticism of what we were doing or what we would become after we divorced. Our lives together or apart then and now was for no one to judge, and shame on all of you (if the shoe fits) that had or have anything to say about us. Alan is dead, let him rest in peace! Lili and I are alive, trying to maneuver our lives now in our new “normal.” There is no right or wrong way to get through life when you have just lost the closest person in your life. It is hard and it sucks! Every single day is another misadventure…you constantly second guess decisions and try your hardest to keep a smile despite whatever has just happened either in your home or outside of the home that affects your well-being. People are not kind at all to me, and honestly, it has affected me. I am not asking for pity from any of you or social media or the police department. Quite frankly, I like that mostly everyone has left our side, to include family. Again, judge me and my decisions without really knowing or understanding the whole story and only you look foolish because at the end of the day, the people that matter are in the four walls that I call my home. Gold digger? Money-hungry? Greedy bitch? Fake tears? Just a few descriptions of what people think about me that Lili and I read. Yes, Liliana read almost everything that people said about me and the lawsuit as well as my love life. As much as I try to hold my head up and disregard the comments about people who don’t even matter to us, IT STILL HURTS! Our lives have not been private since Alan died. We go places and some people recognize us or know our names and it makes me cringe. I don’t know if they will embrace us or ridicule us. It’s horrible. Did people really forget the actual tragedy? Alan died in a very tragic way! He was at work and minutes from coming home to us and his life was taken from us. A drunk driver sat at a local bar and had 18 drinks before getting behind the wheel causing the death of a Veteran, police officer, man of God, friend and father. Alan was a good man….THE BEST. He was kind and he was humble. He worked hard and was so wise beyond his years in almost everything he did. He loved life, he loved his girls and looked forward to his second retirement where he could finally rest and travel the world in a big RV. He looked forward to growing old, surrounded by grand kids and eventually owning a home in his home country of Colombia. He shared so many dreams of his future with me and with those close to him, that his death is something I will never understand. That is the true story and ONLY story that people should talk about. The travesty of losing a man of his caliber because of a drunk driver. I know that will be overshadowed by how much money people think we have received and who I am dating or whatever else mentions me in the headline. It’s sickening, really. My daughters are trying to move past this tragedy, both of them have been affected by this in ways that you can only imagine. It’s a horrible nightmare that requires a lot of encouragement, love, therapy, and numerous set-backs. I am glad I met a good man that has been such a blessing to me and Lili. Apparently people believe and have invented stories about him and what our relationship was or is. Again, shame on you if you have talked about him or us. I feel whatever will be, will be. It doesn’t matter if I reveal all my personal life to the world, people will judge me regardless. Are we happy, yes we are. Maybe not everyday we smile or skip along as if things are perfect, but even in our darkest moments since Alan’s death, we have survived. We will survive because that’s the only choice we have. Money or no money, it doesn’t replace the man that had such of an impact in our lives, especially in the life of his children. He will never be here on this earth again and people need to be held accountable for that. He was a servant that gave his life in the line of duty and that comes with benefits to help families cope. Despite what we may have been going through, it shouldn’t matter to you or anyone what happens going forward. Life will never be the same for us. Eventually the articles will be buried by something else for people to talk about or judge. Eventually we will have our day in court for justice for Alan. Eventually Lili will grow up and try to forget the tragedy and continue to honor her dad’s memory instead. Eventually things will really feel normal. I am just grateful for the people I love the most that still call or text or hug me tight when all I can do is sob. God has currently surrounded me with the people he feels I need now. Lili is surrounded by people God feels she needs now. Alan’s memory and his life will always be celebrated. Que sera, sera……

FIGHT!

Fight! Funny topic to write about so let me get right to it. I was just talking to someone recently about an experience I had in the military. I was sent to a survival school in preparation for deployment and well, I got my ass handed to me during that experience. Up until that point or that situation, I had never been in any type of fight, unless you count with siblings or cousins, but never been beat up or punched. Little did I know, years later, for survival purposes, I would be hit so hard, that later I would understand it was for my own good. Well, I won’t elaborate all the details of that experience, but it made me a better soldier then and a better and more prepared woman now. I don’t ever consider myself a fighter, with fists and kicks and all that stuff, but I know, if it came to it, I would definitely rumble with the best of them, whether I won or not, there would have to be a real good damn reason for me to fight. Enough of the physical violence talk, I more wanted to talk about “staying in the fight” so to speak. As of lately, I have been so ready to just throw in the towel and literally keep my self under the covers, cry all day and wallow in self-pity because this single parenting business SUCKS. Tonight, especially, my kiddo and I could not say more than a few words to each other without yelling or screaming. We were at each other all day, for EVERYTHING! I seriously just wanted to go to my room, close the door and get under the covers and forget the day. I tried really hard to understand the anger, but most days it all just comes back to the same thing. That elephant in the room, that damn quarantine that has kept us all in and away from everyone and everything, and then just mere frustration from just about everything. My Lili has been angry at the world since her dad died and the best target for her is me. She is not in her routine of school, which was helping until Corona, then on the weekends we were starting to have family dinners and friends were coming over, which helped break up the long weeks of being home. Now, we are left with each other and these four walls. I know, we are trying our best to find that silver lining and for most people, I hear about the beautiful bonding going on…the family dinners and family game nights and all that “fun” family stuff, but call me selfish, but I would love that too, however, my “family” died on 1/31/2020. We are left alone in Alan’s home, with Alan’s things and Alan’s memories, honestly it has been a lot for both Lili and I. Yes, we defied the stay at home orders a few times just to get out of the house and breath the air outside and away from this. You can’t ever really imagine how hard it is until it happens to you and you are living this. It is easy to judge me and my decisions until you walk a “step” in my shoes, just one step, and you would take my shoes off fast. Don’t get me wrong, Lili and I have been talking more and laughing some and acting silly a lot, staying up watching movies and eating popcorn in bed, but we are in this ground hog day, where his memory suffocates us. Lili has a harder way of dealing with her grief and her outlet is anger. For me, I cry, most times alone, but other times, when it becomes too much, I just let it out. I prefer being home when that happens, but a lot of times it’s on the road and I will pull over to gather myself or just let the tears flow while I drive. Some days it becomes so unbearable to maintain a smile and keep my head up, but I have to. I don’t have the luxury of depending on a lot of people to “step in” for me. I don’t want a lot of people to “step in” for me, I have seen and read lately how some people think of me and it’s shocking that I have been judged by people who know nothing about me. It has been hard to trust lately and I find myself shrinking more and more on my circle of trust. I fight every day to keep my sanity and to keep my “family of 2” together. Just because you don’t see me disheveled publicly doesn’t mean that privately I am not a wreck. I hate that our grief was and is a public event. The funeral, as beautiful as it was, was on display for everyone to see. That will remain a memory for our family for the rest of our lives. We appreciate all the support, honestly we do, but it has been overwhelming and at times so difficult to manage. It’s so opposite of the life Alan and I built together, very private and very intimate. We shared only what we chose to for the public to see, but our private life and life that involved our kids, we kept to ourselves. It breaks me heart that people have chosen to dig up things about us that hurt us and our kids only to claim their 15 minutes of “fame” but for what reason other than to shame me and my family? Alan isn’t here to defend himself, it’s just us, and frankly I don’t have the energy to waste defending us and will never explain every detail of our lives then or now. Those that love us and know the truth about our lives are enough for my girls and I to have as our support, our shoulders to cry on and our shelter from these storms. The fight is here, I know it, I feel it. It is the fight that keeps me in this “game” and makes me understand how hard I have to take these beatings to fight to keep my kiddo happy and healthy despite her hurt or my hurt. It’s the pain after the arguments and screaming and crying that makes me get up and do just one more round. I always have one more round left in me. I found myself walking to the end of our acre, passed the fence line, to the very back and crying my eyes out. I turned around to look at this big, beautiful house and the 2 people left in it. I cried because it is now my responsibility to make sure this house, this dream house that Alan built, stays firm and lasts for these girls once I am gone. This was/is his legacy. Everything about it was what he dreamed and now I have to carry on that dream. It is hard and I sometimes feel like I am just one person, how can I do it. I pray a lot. God knows my heart and knows my pain more than anyone. I have moments of despair where I cry to God and ask him “WHY” and then I yell at Alan because he left me, because he left Lili. I get angry at myself for regrets and “what if’s” that I feel could have changed the course of our lives. All of it is pointless, really, because after I finish my crying and yelling, I look around and I am still in the same life God gave me and I have choices. Most of the choices are not fun to make alone, and some require a lot of work by me, but at least I have them, right? Alan did plan a head with many things in his life and the lives of our kids and for that, I am so grateful because things could always have been worse. God has recently put some good people in my life and Lili’s life that have made days brighter and given me hope. Some days I do feel like I take one step forward and 2 steps back, but I still keep going. Some days, like today, I do feel beat up like Rocky Balboa, LOL, but other days I feel like Conor McGregor, all mighty and strong, with a big chip on my shoulder after I kicked ass in the octagon. I will take the good with the bad and the days of anger and yelling because I know every days does end and another day will begin. I can’t take any day for granted, good or bad, because of how precious life really is. I am doing my best, despite how hard this really is, no real guidance or manual to tell me how to do it, just one step in front of the other. I’ll continue to keep an open mind and heart for what God has planned for me specifically and for Lili and I. I know some of the days ahead will be hard, because evil doesn’t sleep, but I just keep rolling with the punches and count my blessings. I thank God for the friends, new and old in our lives, making each day brighter with a sweet text or encouraging phone call. All that matters and you won’t ever really know how much I needed it in a time of despair. Come hell or high water, my heels are dug in for the fight.

ME

Prior to January 31, 2020, not much was known about me, Michelle Saenz McCollum. I spent most of my adult life away in the Army, on a path that would eventually bring me back home, along with a family in tow. I titled this blog “ME” simply to explain what I am going through today, have gone through and perhaps, insight into what may come. I remember the words I told my daughter, on that early Saturday morning as she woke up to her new life and the life that we would now live together and alone. I recall saying to her how our lives were now and forever different. This conversation had to be straight-forward and detailed, as I knew she could understand it and it would be a conversation she would remember for the rest of her life. I told her people would know us and your dad’s name would never be forgotten. It is true, if you look up my name or Alan’s, you are greeted by video clips, articles and images of our lives since January 31, 2020. You see pictures of my daughters from the funeral, of their solemn faces as they mourn their father, or the pictures of me as I mourn him and try to keep a brave face. None of this was something I dreamed would EVER happen to us, or to me. Alan and I lived as private as we could, until we couldn’t anymore because of circumstances. As I would presume, most of you reading this now know more than you probably expected to about our private lives. It’s a damn shame that you do and that our private life details overshadow the only and obvious reason we are in the news—-MY HUSBAND DIED, POLICE OFFICER ALAN DANIEL MCCOLLUM. Someone decided, in the middle or literally in the beginning of this nightmare to leak information that does not benefit this story one bit, only benefits their own popularity status because they were the first to create drama and attention about someone else. Sad and disgusting that whoever did that or is continuing to fan the flames of our lives doesn’t realize the pain it caused and continues to in my life mainly, but the domino effect in the lives of my children. Shame on you if you spread this information or talked about me or my family. Let me just add, why does any of that matter? Matter to you or anyone else other than to hurt and cause pain and anguish to a situation that is already bleeding with emotion? Alan is dead, he is gone and will never return, that’s my reality. He can not defend himself or his family anymore with these rumors and in some cases, total lies. I am left to take the punches, but I am not complaining, because I don’t shy away from a fight. I learned a LONG time ago, as a child, actually, that the best way and ONLY way to face a bully is head-on. Don’t hide behind a key board and talk about ME. Cowards never do find the virtue of courage, they stay hidden in the darkness and taunt others at their expense. Alan and I were no different than most of you married couples. We fought, we loved, we cried, we laughed, we lived life the best we could for 16 years as husband and wife, raising a family and juggling all of life’s struggles all the while. That is what you do, that is what most of us do, never once imagining that one of us would be grieving each other early in our lives. It’s a nightmare, as I continue to describe it, there is nothing at all enjoyable about this journey. I read all the articles and remarks that pertain to me and to Alan. I read how cruel people can be about me, a person you don’t even know, but found it real easy to cast judgement on through the power of social media. Social media is a platform that can really spin a web of lies, of hate, of betrayal and all sorts of evil and malicious intentions that can result, unfortunately, in circumstances that do not end well. Some people just don’t ever recover from the humiliation, while others profit from it. Don’t get me wrong, social media is by far, the greatest tool to distribute information in seconds to millions. It can destroy a person or create one within days, maybe sooner. It’s dangerous the affect that a few words, true or false, can inform or misinform the reader simply because who really regulates it? Most of the time the damage is done before it gets taken down or censored. I won’t entertain any of the articles about me or Alan, it’s not worth it. The damage is done, right? Society has judged me already. What gets me through this and will get me passed it one day is knowing that I know who I am. I know what life Alan and I lived behind closed doors. The truths that Alan and I told our friends and family are the result of our love for our kids and prayers that we needed to get through those rough times. Those truths are kept sacred, away from the people that “think” they know us. So, take a bow, you obviously got your rise by spreading gossip about me or my family, hope it was worth it to roll your eyes or judge me because your life is so perfect. It isn’t, no one’s life is spared from heart ache, lies, or things much worse that if brought out into the public would probably break you. I released myself from feeling ashamed or unworthy by what is being said about me, because I know the life I had before all of this. Alan and I created an amazing life for each other and our girls, demonstrating to them what real love looks like, the GOOD AND THE BAD. There was nothing we spared them from, nothing we hid from them, because it showed them trust and honesty among two people that really loved each other. Marriage is NEVER perfect. Those of you married for more than a day appreciate that, to know it takes commitment, trust, and honesty to make it work. Those are just a few qualities, but most of all, love and forgiveness. Alan and I met each other after previous failed marriages that resulted in children from those marriages. We made it work. It was not easy and at times it really tested our marriage because it was hard and it took a lot of work. I always tell my girls, “Anything worth it will always be hard because if it wasn’t hard than anyone could do it.” Marriage is not for everyone because not everyone has the patience or tolerance for one another. Now a days, it seems easier to just part ways, dissolve the situation and each other, despite the affect it has on children or yourselves. No one ever wins and it is painful and hard to recover from. We spent the last few years seeking guidance in our church leaders and in God, especially. That is what mattered to us, judgement from GOD, not some ignorant nobody on social media that doesn’t know us but decides to cast judgement because their lives are so perfect. BULLSHIT I SAY! Come on, we all know the bible story regarding casting the first stone, right? CAN ANY OF YOU CAST THE FIRST STONE? Stories or gossip, when you are the one it is about, it chips away at you one comment at a time. It’s hurtful and it compounds the already open wound you are trying to nurse. Not only did my husband die, but he died violently and he died as a public servant, on duty. So that night, as I told my baby about how different our lives now were, I was factoring it all in at once, now we get to grieve this in the public. I can’t tell you how hard that is. You are being observed all the time. What you are wearing, who you talk to, did you cry enough, did you cry too much, did you laugh, did you look scared or even spaced out….were your clothes appropriate enough, did you mention all the right people during a speech? Those are just a few things that immediately run through your mind as the cameras start rolling to the new life you were handed. In time, all “this” will be forgotten, especially by those of you who move on to the next gossip story. For us, my family and friends closely affected by this, we don’t get that privilege to move on, you see, we stay stuck in time to the day Alan was killed. My kids…… their minds have a traumatic event now forever on “repeat” because the death of a father never goes away, I know because I too grieved that years ago. Alan was my best friend and confidant, a father to my child and a man that most men will never amount to. I’m sure, even some of you that will read this will cast judgement on me just because I may offend some of you——you know, if the shoe fits. I realized that whether I do or don’t say anything, the world judges me just the same. I will be mocked, I will be ridiculed, I will be judged by everyone that doesn’t matter. The world, and those that don’t matter don’t get to dictate MY LIFE. Those that cast stones my way don’t get a say in my laughter or sadness or anything else that pertains to ME! At the end of the day, I have to make very hard decisions for myself and my minor child that don’t come with instructions. I have to pay my bills and maneuver through this new life without my life partner around to help me. It’s the hardest thing that has ever happened in my life and I get to do it all while on the biggest stage so the public can be witness. How lucky did I get, right? I don’t care about that, at least I feel I have already crossed that part of hell for now. I know it’s not over, and I know people don’t change their opinions of me. So what, I won’t change “ME” for anyone, ever. My head held high, shoulders back, and a confident chip on my shoulder, because Alan wouldn’t expect anything less. He married me for the spitfire he met that was determined to continue her career jumping out of planes and landing on that drop zone. I have walked the walk and talked the talk many times over, this too shall pass. My life has to go on, as I wrote before, I can’t look back, I am not going that way. In my moments of doubt and despair that help of my daughter, Lili and my older daughter, Hannah, get me through some rough patches. My family and close friends surround me with love and praise and remind me who I am. Me, Michelle, the warrior determined to continue this life journey with God as my judge and the blessings to live another day. I look forward to my journey, each and every day, because life is very precious. I am witness to that very statement and I know how powerful love can be, despite the good and bad of a marriage. I know who Alan was and will be remembered as. I am a role model to my girls, the only people that matter to me and I will always set an example of a strong woman for them to emulate because that is who I am, ME.

Yin and Yang

Back in the day, before the dependence of the computer and email and spell check, before all the new age technologies we are inundated with, we used to write letters, pass letters in class and use paper more often. When Alan and I first met, we would write letters to each other or buy cards for various reasons, like anniversaries or birthdays, but our favorite was Valentine’s day. This year, Valentine’s day was the worst reminder for me that I lost my soul mate forever and the years of receiving flowers and cards from the most amazing romantic was over for me. That hurt badly and that day will forever be a day for me like a constant reminder of the loneliness I feel and the alone state I am in. I was miserable this year for Valentine’s day. I did, however, find something a few days after Valentine’s day that was like Alan sending me my gift anyway. Alan, as I mentioned earlier, was a romantic at heart. He wasn’t always the best at gift giving, but man, did Alan know how to express himself on paper and later on in our relationship, on a WORD document or text. I would joke with him because when I would read the beautiful sentiment he would express to me, I almost wanted him to just say it to me to my face! I felt robbed of the experience of seeing his expression or his eyes looking at me while he said such beautiful words, but he would say, “No, sometimes the moment is best read and not said.” Whatever Alan, you were just a chicken, lol. That’s not true at all, Alan was the most fearless man I have ever met and I say that as fact, as even in death, Alan had no fear. Back to Yin and Yang; I have seen the symbol a lot, in stores or on items to represent something referencing “opposites.” 10 years ago, Alan wrote me a response to a love letter I sent to him. He didn’t want to just get me a card that had it’s own writing for Valentine’s day, no way, Alan had to address my response by expressing to me how heart-felt it was for me to take the time to tell him exactly how I loved him. I actually titled my love letter to him, “How I love you, let me count the ways…” Then I actually started with #1….I love you because. It was really cute and it was special. I won’t explain the whole response that I sent to him and him to me, but I will address the one particular Yin and Yang part that was such a great analysis of our personalities in our marriage. Okay, so this was his response:

4.     Your Patience- In Chinese philosophy, the concept of yin yang is used to describe how seemingly disjunctive or opposing forces are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world, giving rise to each other in turn. Now I am not saying anything along the lines of “opposites attract because I don’t see us as opposites but I definitely feel that we have different forces that come together to form a perfect union and strike an amazing balance and this would not be possible unless you have the perfect match or a soul mate if you will and this is what I have felt about us from the beginning.  My Patience is the opposing balance of being with someone that lacks patience or is more into instant gratification like you tend to be. 

It’s funny, because when I first read it, I actually got a little ticked off when he says I need “instant gratification” and I “lack patience.” I thought, no, that’s not me at all. Then I finished his love letter response to me and I read the response again and I paid particular attention to the part that says, “to form a perfect union and strike an amazing balance….the perfect match or a soul mate.” Everything else about that didn’t really matter, because I knew what he said there was the moral of it all. We did balance each other in so many ways. I was the hot-head most of the time and I like things done with a certain sense of speed and I did lack patience. Alan, though, was the calm, cool and collected one, laughing at me as I complained about things and got mad, he then would set the situation at ease, calming me down and making everything okay, because that’s what he did and that’s who he was. We knew each other’s faults and weaknesses and we embraced that with each other. Our love story was built brick by brick with Yin and Yang qualities. How boring to be with someone JUST like you, right? Alan and I had some likenesses that really brought us together making us like one person, but those opposite qualities or “forces” that made us unique, created that fire and ice that made “us.” I missed him on Valentine’s day and I dreaded being alone as I realized how many lovers in this world were happy and together and my lover was gone. I would never receive another bouquet of roses from him or his beautiful cards. I would never get to plan a gift to give him or a dessert to buy him, not ever and not again. This year, Liliana and I went to the mall the weekend before he died to buy him a gift. Lili actually asked me this year if she could buy him a gift, since she felt bad because the school gift she made and always makes seemed to always be for the mom and not the dad. She felt bad that dad didn’t get a Valentine’s gift and she wanted us both to have something from her. She was extra excited because this year the 49'ers were going to the Super Bowl and Alan LOVED the 49ers, so she wanted her gift to be something he would really like. We went to the mall and found a sport’s store that sold 49er gear. Lili picked out a cool blanket and a pair of socks for him as well as a candle. She was so excited to be able to give him his gift on Valentine’s day. She said she would hide it in her room until that day and would remind me every day about “his gift”. Alan died on 1/31/20, so Lili never got to give her dad his gift. A few days after his funeral Lili was alone in her room with the door closed. She crept into my room and threw the blanket and socks on my bed and with the look of a lot of crying and total sadness on her face tells me she doesn’t want them. It broke my heart, because I knew she was hurt and she cried about this hurt and now she didn’t get to see her dad open his gift. She was robbed of that moment and that makes me mad. It pisses me off how unfair that moment and many others have been for us just this year with Alan being gone. I think of so many more that I will experience with her that will be unfair and it hurt me to my core. I want so much to express that anger, but not yet. Lili and I have our talks and express our pain to each other without the public starring at us or the cameras capturing it for their story. No, we have to keep those moments private because that is all we have of Alan that people don’t get to share. Alan’s responses to my letter went to #20. He ended it really sweet and when I read it recently I had a real long and ugly cry, yes there was a lot of screaming and yelling because this part really hurt. It’s another unfair moment taken from me, especially. So, this is his #20 response:

20.     And on and on…..  Truly spoken also. I could go on and on and I need to do it more often because I have failed you if I make you feel unappreciated.  We are two very busy individuals with very demanding jobs and who knows how things will be in the future but I know that if we continue to be there for each other and be each other’s rock then we can get through anything.  I look forward to getting old with you and raising our beautiful daughters and I never want to be without you by my side.  You are my “Yang” and I will always be your “Yin”

There is not a future for Alan and I anymore. We won’t get older together like he wanted. He was robbed of the rest of his life to be able to raise his daughters in this unfair world. So, you see, how I feel most days is lost without my Yin. That symbol is meant to have the two sides together to form that complete circle and complete the meaning. What am I without him, other than Yang, that alone won’t ever be complete and just doesn’t make sense.

The Dance

Alan’s favorite country singer is Garth Brooks, the funny part is mine is George Strait. He likes Coke, I like Pepsi. It was always a cute inside joke for us when it came to personal likes and dislikes that we picked on each other but in a loving way, you all know this, especially when you have been with your partner longer than a day. As long as I had known Alan, he always loved Garth Brooks music and especially the song, The Dance. The dance, a very famous song by Garth, was absolutely going to be a chosen song to play during the slide show of my Alan, it was without a doubt, one of the first things I thought of as I sat in my office on the night/morning of Alan’s death. You see, that night, 1/31/2020, I stayed wired and awake or kind of in a trance, for the remainder of that night and into the morning following. Oh, does your mind do some crazy shit with you when you are in shock. I never felt like that, EVER, it was like I was a robot, or in a state of mind where your brain goes into survival mode to get you through this because you aren’t quite processing things right. I didn’t feel hungry or sleepy and I didn’t feel awake or asleep, I was just existing in those first few hours. I bring that up, because I don’t remember some things real clearly starting with the moment I looked out my front door glass window and saw the red and blue lights in my front yard. I think at THAT moment, I knew my life, as I knew it, was never going to be the same. I knew that my worst fears are about to come true when I open the door. I remember hearing Liliana down the hall singing in the shower as I took the next step towards the door to open it. It was a moment full of details that I won’t forget, but then things started to really get fuzzy afterwards. Again, your body in survival mode does amazing things to get you through it, but it also gives you temporary amnesia to the traumatic events that take place soon after. So, when I finally got home that next morning with Lili, I put her to bed in our bedroom, then I paced my living room floor, thinking and crying, then I cleaned my house, then I watched the clock only so I could patiently wait for the sun to come up and I could go for a run that next morning. I ran down my street, in the cold, crying the whole time. I didn’t know why I needed to run, and after about 2 miles or so, my lungs were hurting from the cold and my crying, I walked to my house, then took a shower. I remember closing my bathroom door and just collapsing on the floor. I sobbed and I begged God to take this away…make this be a dream, “Please God, not Alan.” I picked myself up, as I walked into the shower, I noticed Alan’s towel hanging above mine and I wept. I wept the whole time I showered, seeing all his toiletries on his side of the shower. “What am I supposed to do now, God.” I got out, got dressed and laid on the bed starring at our daughter. I watched her sleep, most nights so peaceful, but right now, as I looked at her, I could see her restless. She opened her eyes to look at me, already with tears in them. I reached out my hand to her and she gave me hers, we held hands and cried. I remember telling her how hard today was going to be. I told her I loved her so much and that there was going to be a lot of people here starting today. I told her I needed to get dressed and ready because I knew people were going to need to talk to me and I had to be ready. I asked her if she was hungry. I then got dressed. After feeding her I sat in my office, with my phone next to me, expecting that it would start ringing soon from the calls and texts. I then turned on my computer and that’s when the memory of “The Dance” came into my thoughts. It was strange and random, but I took out my notebook and I wrote that down…”The Dance.” I then put next to it, “Reminder—for Alan’s funeral.” So, that started the beginning of the worst days of my life, preparing for his funeral. Let’s rewind a bit, let’s say about 15-16 years before when I met Alan and we started to finally go out on dates. When we met, we were living in Northern Virginia, just about 20 minutes or so from D.C. Most weekends we would spend in D.C., club hopping, dinner, night life. It was fun and it was always an adventure for us. I had a group of friends I would hang out with, and Alan, well Alan was always kind of a loner. Alan was never the type to spend times with “the boys” or go drinking or clubbing, nothing like that. He met me wherever I happened to be and always stayed as long as I did, making sure I got home safe and almost always being the sober one..lol. Alan, to the date of his death, was NEVER a drinker. I can count, literally on one hand, the amount of times I ever saw Alan McCollum drunk throughout our time together. He never enjoyed drinking and actually hated the taste of beer. When I got into wine, then Alan and I would enjoy going to wineries together and wine with dinner, and of course wine at home, alone. But, my Alan, just appreciated being “in the moment” without anything to impair his judgement or that moment, so he preferred to stay sober. Alan, when he did get drunk those very rare moments in our relationship was a VERY GOOFY drunk and total social butterfly. It was hilarious, but so cute, to see him become the life of the party in those rare moments of his “liquid courage.” Alan cared a lot about his health and well-being so drinking, to him, was like polluting his body, so that was the main reason why he didn’t. It really brings a lot to perspective for me to have learned in the following days as the details starting to be revealed to me of his death. When I learned it was a drunk driver, man, did that hurt. It was a knife in my heart to know how Alan felt about alcohol and then this to be the cause of his death. “Why God, why??” So, back to our early days. I didn’t know until much later after some more dates and more getting to know Alan that he really HATED dancing. It was quite comical how before knowing this, I would drag him on the dance floor with me only to find out later he only did it to please me. He said he was always embarrassed dancing and never liked people watching him. I wouldn’t have ever guessed, seriously, because he would always have his cute smile as he “danced” with me. I put dance in quotes because he never really was good at it…lol, but I just liked having him out there with me, holding me, and watching me as he did. He did his best to keep up, even when I “led” during Salsa dancing or anything else where the man typically leads. He didn’t care, he did his best, all the time, to make me happy, embarrassed and all. As the years passed and our club days ended, we stopped dancing in public. We would dance, occasionally, in our kitchen or bedroom, to a slow song, or just dance to no music at all, but to hold each other anyway. I have this memory, it was about 5 years ago, after we moved back home, that I asked Alan for a big favor. It was more of a request of him. He always would say, “Okay babe, what is it?” So enthusiastically, really sarcastically, because any request of mine usually came with stipulations, I asked him if “we” could take professional dancing lessons to help “him.” The dances most people are into in South Texas are the two step and Tejano or cumbia-type of dancing. I told him I found a lady, a much older lady, to give us 5 private lessons. He rolled his eyes and initially didn’t really reply, just kind of let the conversation fade, hoping I would forget and NEVER bring it up again. But, I did, and I texted him a calendar reminder of the our lessons. As I saw him accept the dates, I smiled, because I knew, even when Alan hated some of the things I asked of him, he usually did them anyway. Alan loved making us happy, all of us. He rarely complained, and if he did, it was to me and not our kids or anyone else for that matter. Privately I knew his frustrations from work and from difficult people that pissed him off, but it was kept between us, as it should be for couples. We were each other’s “person” that we felt safe to talk to and to vent to and to reveal secrets to, that were painful. Men and women do always keep “some” things to themselves, everyone has to have a secret or two that is never shared, but, for Alan and I, we were like one person, I knew him and he knew me. The “grey” area wasn’t even a secret, we shared everything, so I know, for the rest of my life, I won’t ever find another “person” that I will ever feel what I felt with Alan. I know what people say, “Oh, you’re going to find someone else.” Yes, I do believe I will, at least I have hope I will, I really don’t want to be lonely forever, but if I don’t then I know a man was not meant for me and I’ll be okay with that. But, just finding someone, anyone can do that, but finding a person to reveal your soul to, that’s rare and for me, Alan was that person. So, we took those dance lessons, all five of them. Brenda, the dance instructor, was pretty hard on “Mr. Two Left Feet”…lol. My poor Alan, took the ridicule and torture from those dance lessons. After lesson five, he said, “Alright, we’re done, let’s go home.” He did it, for me, but we never really got to dance any more after that. I could tell how uncomfortable he was, even through the smiles, and I wouldn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable just for my selfish reasons. I realized that his weakness, there were not many, was dancing. Why would I force him to do something that made him uncomfortable when I could focus on things that we BOTH enjoyed and made him relaxed and happy. So, occasionally, if we did get invited to a dance, he would get me to go out on the dance floor, usually alone or with a crowd, and sit and watch me. His eyes never leaving me, just fascinated at watching his wife enjoy dancing. It wasn’t weird, after being married for so long, to do that. We knew our strengths and weaknesses in our marriage and we dealt with them. Dancing, is something I will always enjoy, and my memories of him, from years ago, trying to impress me by dancing, made me fall in love with him. It’s rare to find a man that is willing to make himself vulnerable to impress the woman he loves. Most of the time we are wrapped up in ourselves with being selfish or thinking too much about what other people would say about us to ever allow ourselves to be vulnerable in public. Alan didn’t care because he was determined to make me his girl, people watching or not, his moment to impress me meant he was going to have to do something that made him vulnerable and uncomfortable, but it worked. That’s love, really it’s simple, but it was the way he loved me, in the beginning, through dance. The dance.

I still believe

1. Have you all seen the new movie, “I still believe” yet? Lili and I watched it last night and let me tell you, it is a very powerful movie. I don’t know if it should have been the movie I needed to watch last night, considering the emotional roller coaster I have been on, but it was such a good movie with such a powerful message of faith, hope and you guessed it, LOVE. I also wanted to do a Part 2 to the post from a couple of days ago, because I read it again and I didn’t want to leave you all wondering about my walk with God. Alan’s death, by far, has been the single most trying moment or event in my life where I have found myself grieving almost 24/7. I’ve lost weight, I’ve lost hair, I’ve lost sleep, I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost hope and above all, I have lost the love of my life. I take one step forward some days, only to find myself taking two steps back by the end of the day because I am just overwhelmed or emotionally drained. I know, in my audience of readers right now, some of you have gone through something similar or something exact. So, I feel as though my candor on every aspect of the subject provides some peace to some of you, or maybe it opens up wounds for others. I will give just a little information about the movie so you can try to understand how profound an impact it had on Lili and I and why I have chosen it for my topic today. If you listen to any Christian music, you may have heard the name of Jeremy Camp and/or his music. I know I have, enjoying his angelic voice and touching lyrics. The movie is about his life in college, all based on true events, and the encounter with Melissa that changed his life and other lives forever. Melissa is a girl he meets his freshman year in college, and as boy meets girl, falls in love. Their love story starts the moment they meet, and continues until the moment of her death. Okay, I am sorry if I literally just spoiled the entire movie for you if you planned on watching, but that part has a lot to do with pretty much the entire reason for the movie and the impact of her life prior to her death. Their love story, although not identical to ours, does present some minor similarities that made me remember that first moment I saw the love of my life. That moment is how everyone describes it to be, like the world stands still except for you two. You lock eyes and stare into each other’s souls, almost confirming your destiny to be together. I am not trying to be all dramatic about it, but it is the honest truth. I won’t say I “loved” Alan the moment I saw him, like “Love” at first sight, but the immediate connection we both felt, was undeniable, and if he was here, he would without a doubt confirm that feeling. Jeremy and Melissa Camp went through the same type of “getting to know” each other dates and cute moments together that led to their love blossoming. I can recall our time right after we moved in together and all the “get-aways” we would take in and around the DC/VA/MD area to sight see and just enjoy each other, alone and together. Those special times is when we started to feel so much for each other and I thank God Alan and I had that together before deciding to get married and have a child. It was so important for our love as we matured with each other, that we had those alone moments. I did mention before how forgetful Alan was, right? Okay, well throughout the entire 16 years of knowing me, Alan will NEVER forget the first time he knew, without a doubt at all, that he knew he loved me and was going to marry me. We both joke about “our” moment, but all silliness aside, he will describe everything about his moment to anyone that asked. This is how he knew: We were driving home from a trip to Portsmouth, VA and we had the top down of my VW Bug. The sun happened to be shining on my face as he starred over at me. He says my face looked angelic and peaceful but it was in THAT moment, with the sun on my face, that he made up his mind and confirmed it with his heart, that he loved me. He knew I was “the one” and he made up his mind that I would be his wife. Now, if you ask me, I will tell you, and I will be truthful, Alan took my breath away when he opened the door to the rigger shed and I locked eyes with him for the FIRST time I saw him. Maybe I loved him then, I won’t say no….I WILL NOT ACCEPT OR DENY my feelings for him weren’t powerful in that moment. We both were married before, almost at the same ages, and had our kids about the same time, both girls, so a lot of our similarities bonded us. Jeremy and Melissa were both very young, but their destiny put them both on the same path despite their age and their inexperience in love. Love is the most powerful feeling and emotion that can do a lot to people. I think hate is a close second but has such different outcomes or affects on people but with still such power. I do believe and have always felt people, whether good or bad, are brought into our lives for a reason not a coincidence. With one person in particular in my life, because it was so traumatic, it actually started my walk with Christ. I know some of you reading this post may not be religious or believe in God or his Son, Jesus. I care that you don’t but I also don’t judge. Alan and I both believe in Jesus, the son of God, who died for our sins. We believe he died and rose again and sits at the right hand of the Father in Heaven. We believe once we die we have eternal life and will be in Heaven with our father and we will be sick no more, no pain, nothing but perfection. That is what we believe, what I still believe and what our daughters do as well. Miracles happen every day that are from God. God did not kill Alan in the tragic way that we know it happened, a drunk driver did. The drunk driver drove his truck that night causing the death of my husband and the horrible accident to Michael Love, resulting in his current physical inability to walk. God will heal Michael because I know Michael’s story doesn’t end like that. My prayers for his healing, along with the countless other believers, to include Liliana, confirm to me that Michael will be not only be walking, but will run one day. I still believe that, despite what some fears or doubts may plague my thoughts or his. The God that I know is a merciful God of love and of might and created the Heaven and Earth, why wouldn’t he heal this man, this amazing man, father and husband, because I pray for that? Why then, if I believe in Michael Love’s healing don’t I believe that Alan, being the amazing father and husband to our family be here now, healthy and happy? Alan was borrowed to us. Alan’s home was not here, it is in Heaven. When I wept for Alan’s body that I saw that night, the angels wept with me for my pain and sorrow but the rejoice of our angels in Heaven, the welcome home that Alan received was probably the most amazing thing ever. The heavenly sounds of the angels singing to open the gates of Heaven for Alan, the people waiting for him and the peace and love he felt comforts me now. I do believe God was right there with Alan as he took his last breath in this world, calming his fears if he had any. For 46 years, although we think was so young for Alan to leave us, God smiled proudly at the son he saw accomplish so much. I post so much pictures of Alan’s life, who can’t help but know and understand that he lived 3 times more of his life than most of us live in one life. He saved a life a year ago, and I know with his skills from the Army, he saved so many more when he packed their parachutes with the God-given skills he had. He spoke to so many people about God and invited them to church to ensure his place in Heaven when his moment came on January 31, 2020. Yes, don’t believe for a second I am not sad, I am human and my heart aches for Alan. God allowed me to meet this man, fall in love with this man, and experience life with him for all these years. Every day, for the last 16 years we were together even when we were apart because our love and our bond was so strong. We went through scary and rough times in our marriage that caused us to doubt our bond and our future, but in the end, we remained, husband and wife. In the end of the movie, Melissa is very sick (I won’t give too much of that away) but she tells Jeremy something that made me see so clearly about Alan’s life. Melissa believes her short life in this world still meant something and served its purpose. She uses the reference about stars because she loved anything having to do with the galaxy and the stars in the galaxy. She says, “You know the stars that shine the brightest—the ones with the shortest lives.” “When they die, they explode…the brightness outshines everything else in the galaxy…like a beautiful painting by God.” In that moment, I thought about how much I didn’t understand and still really don’t, about the short life Alan lived. Although I really don’t feel I will have a full understanding of “WHY” this definitely helped me confirm the enormity of his short life and how special he was to a lot of people. I saw his presence on this earth shine so bright at his viewing and funeral. People came from so many different places, have written to me, have called me, have poured out support in money, food, time, cleaning, talking to me, crying with me, spending time with us, mowing our lawn, why?? The reason was the impact Alan made on EVERYONE because his soul shined so bright when he was alive and now his death. He was a beautiful person and I am honored to have been witness to his brightness. Despite the days when I doubt and the days I am angry with God and the world for Alan not physically being here, I do feel him with me. Whether you believe in God or not, it’s not my position to judge you, I am only speaking from my experience, Alan’s physical body died on earth, but his heavenly soul went back home. There are nights I stay awake and blog or just pace my hallways thinking about him. I pray or I talk to God, sometimes I even talk to Alan. Those moments in prayer and in silence, I feel his presence. It’s real, I promise, the love of God for us and how much my Alan’s love is still felt by me and all of us. I still believe…..

It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all

You all know that time of the year, when you start to remember something special is coming up….like a birthday, anniversary, first kiss, etc., etc. Yes, an anniversary. Alan and I loved anniversaries, in fact, he got real lucky with all the important dates that he needed to stay in my good graces. September was the month that he dreaded…lol, no not really, but that he knew he would be spending a lot of time and money on. You see, we start with September 2nd, Lili’s birthday, then September 5, my birthday, then September 8th, our anniversary. Our immediate family birthdays actually start in August, with Carissa on August 15, then Lili, myself and our anniversary in September, then October 20th was Alan’s birthday, followed by November 15 for Hannah. It was all pretty easy and pretty perfect for us to remember those dates. In fact, when we were thinking of our wedding dates in 2007, we both agreed, almost instantly, that our love was so perfect, how about making the date just as so….09/08/07 or how Alan remembered it best 9-8-7! He really pushed for the date because if you really knew my Alan, he was FORGETFUL!!!! Sometimes it amazed me how forgetful he was that I even didn’t believe him most of the time because it was so CRAZY what he could forget. Like, take for instance, we would go see a new movie, and we LOVED going to the movies. A month later, he would text me and say, “Baby, there is this new movie we should really go see!” Then I would ask, what movie, and his reply would be the one we HAD JUST SEEN!! Or months later when the movie hit the television and he would want to watch it and get all excited because he THOUGHT we had not seen it yet….but NEWS FLASH, WE ALREADY DID! I would even tease him and “pretend” to be excited then we would start watching and I would shout out the next scene and then the next scene after that…lol. Boy would he get all bent out of shape mad at me!! LOL, but we would make up, he would smile or laugh, then everything would be right in the world. Alan liked how most of the things in our life made sense or were perfect to him, like the dates of certain events in our life that were meaningful. He loved things like that, and he loved making us happy. In fact, last year for Lili’s and my birthday, as well as our anniversary, we had talked a lot about going to eat at the Hemisphere Needle in San Antonio. I think it is called by another name, but it is that huge needle that you see as you drive into San Antonio. We would frequent San Antonio a lot, in fact, at least once a month, just to get out of the city and take Lili on adventures. Of course, Alan would document any place we would go with pictures. ***BIG NOTE TO SELF AND TO YOU THE READER——
TAKE A LOT OF PICTURES! OF EVERYTHING*** I say that because I really took advantage and actually would roll my eyes at the amount of pictures Alan would take of EVERYTHING. Funny pictures, pictures of me eating, or me with my mouth open, silly ones, but he always took serious ones that documented that time in our life when we were together, as a family. Now, that is all I have, are these numerous folders that he created of our life together, literally from the time we met. How precious is that? I mean, it is priceless and precious because I find myself looking at them and remembering times that I thought I forgot, and there they are. There he is. There WE ARE. I am so grateful that he was so thoughtful and I regret ever being a jerk to him about it. Please don’t be like me with pictures, take a lot of them and share them with everyone, because now it means a lot to me. You never know, right. So back to my “anniversary” topic for today. You know what has happened to me that last couple of days? Well, other than cabin fever from this virus pandemic, but I realized an anniversary was coming up. I have been so caught up or just in a fog that I forgot about my brother, Lupe’s anniversary of his death. Real quick, so you can understand, Lupe was my older brother by 5 years. 10 years ago, March 27, 2010, Lupe died of a massive heart attack. Ironically, that same year in October, Alan’s dad died too. It was a rough one for us 10 years ago and it hasn’t gotten better for me, as you can tell. Lupe was an amazing brother and father. He took care of me when we were growing up and was always so affectionate. It didn’t stop even after we grew up and I moved away because of the Army. In fact, Lupe and I would talk pretty much every day when I was gone. If something happened in my life or career, guess who I called. He was my best friend. He was the ONLY man I ever trusted and loved, and then loved me back unconditionally. When I met Alan, Lupe knew Alan would take care of me and he really grew to love him a lot and accept him into our family. It was a shame that Alan didn’t get to know him for very long before Lupe died. So a couple of days ago, Lili and I decided to go visit Uncle Lupe and her dad and make an afternoon of it. A few weeks ago I was driving home on a day that was sad for me and I was having a hard time. I started to think to myself, “God, what did I do to deserve the loss of not just one important man in my life, but the second one as well?” “Why would you take BOTH of them so young and BOTH OF THEM FROM ME!” I remember shouting loud and crying hard in my jeep when that ugly thought stayed in my head. I screamed and pleaded with God for something, anything, to help me make sense of the emptiness that I felt at that moment. The emptiness and loneliness and anger! Angry at HIM for leaving me here alone. Like, I could bear and have been for the last 10 years the loss of my brother, but WHY???? WHY ALAN TOO!!!!??? God, help me understand this because it makes NO SENSE to me that they are both in a better place? Really, so it was so bad here with me that you took them both? Am I that unworthy of such beautiful and pure love of these two men? Oh, I had a lot to say to God at that moment. I remember feeling like I was suffocating and I couldn’t catch my breath because I was crying so damn hard. I was also driving, and I called my aunt because I was not in a good place at that moment and I needed clarity. I pulled over, finally, to talk to her and I sobbed and I questioned this. WHY? What did I do? God, I will do better, I will be better, just do something, ANYTHING, perform a miracle, make us go back in time, if it has to be one of them, please just bring them both, or one of them back. PLEASE, please, PLEASE GOD. I am not lying, those were my pleas to God. It is painful to lose someone so close to you. It’s been 10 years and no, the time doesn’t make it easier, that is a crock of shit, for REAL. It makes it harder, at least for me it did when I would think of my brother not being here another year, another missed birthday for him and his kids, anniversaries, etc., and he’s NOT HERE! Now, as the death of Alan is so fresh to me and to our family I start to think….we are going to have anniversaries now. 1 year will pass that he is gone and I’m sure that will be the time for pictures and for everyone to dress up and, “Say a few words..” and give their condolences and say their “I’m sorry” lines, etc. But guess what, the other 11 months prior, WE WERE IN HELL, just in case anyone wanted to know. Hell has now become something I feel that I am in, every single day that I sit in this house, alone. The silence is deafening when your other half is not here. The quiet can drive you INSANE. I recently moved my bluetooth speaker into my bedroom so I can listen to my music when I run or when I am feeling like the quiet is suffocating me. You NEVER get over the death of your loved one. NEVER. I know this first hand from my brother, but the harder blow is now Alan. I am not looking forward to August through November this year. I am not looking forward to Christmas because right after Christmas is January and that will be one year without my Alan. The 8 week “anniversary” was this past Friday, of Alan’s death. Nothing has changed in my heart or in my head. I have a lot of time to go through Alan’s things and every day that I do, it drains me emotionally. I am done, nothing feels good, nothing feels right, it is just silent. His voice, his smile, his presence is not here and I hate going through another day knowing that. He should be here right now in our bed laying next to me and not my daughter who is afraid to be alone in her bed now because her dad is dead. I felt horrible but I didn’t want to wash the sheets these whole 8 weeks. I finally took them off today and cried the whole time. It’s stupid the “things” you cling to that were probably meaningless before, like the scent of your partner in your sheets or on the pillow cases. I knew it was time because I couldn’t smell him anymore and it made me mad and sad because now that is gone too. I have been crying a lot the last few days being home because of this stupid virus that is keeping everyone indoors. I know, it’s not stupid they are making us stay home, but right now, at this moment, it is DRIVING ME FUCKING INSANE because it gives me more time to think and be miserable. Lili and I finally decided to get out today, just for some air. It was nice, if even for an hour, to sit, together, and watch people skate at the skate board park down town. She mentioned to me that her dad and her used to come there a lot. I was shocked because I honestly DID NOT KNOW THAT. “FUN FACT” like Lili would say it….Alan had a long board not too long ago. Lili and Alan would get all mad AT ME because I apparently made Alan sell it. Really, I didn’t make anyone do anything, I merely suggested it only because I looked at it as something that could possibly hurt him and I was concerned! But, of course, they looked at it as mean and boring mom at it again! LOL, we laugh at it now, but she said he would bring his long board out there and skate! Like, WOW!! Okay, I wish I had seen that, but then again, I would be the party pooper telling them to stop, so I guess it was meant to be that way. She said they would laugh together and bond over moments like that. It made my heart happy to learn that but to know that she remembers and will ALWAYS remember, because that is what they did. Alan made moments with her always special and always about living in THAT moment. They were very close, I just can’t express that enough, so his death is very hard for us both. I’ll leave today’s blog with a broken heart again, as this is my “go-to” emotion these days. So, why the title to the blog today? It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all….because despite ALL THE HURT and heartache today, and ten years ago, I don’t regret that I loved them both. I will never regret it and will never forget and I only hope that my heart one day will love deeply as long as I am still breathing.

Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone but still miraculously my own.

9/8/2007—Our Wedding

James, Alan and Gael McCollum

When you start getting to know your soul mate, you start off as friends, at least that is how Alan and I started. Our love story began because I needed help and Alan was the man that was best qualified to assist this damsel in distress. I tell the story of my distress in the eulogy I gave during his service, so most of you know it pretty well. Fast forward into the years that our relationship was on another level and we moved in together. I know, there was nothing old-fashioned about how we should have done everything, you know, dating FOREVER, not living together, no sex before marriage (TMI), but we “just knew” it was meant to be, okay. We at least did take it slow on the marriage, we agreed to date and get to know each other for a long time before marriage. There were a lot of qualities Alan possessed that made me love him so much. One of them was his sensitivity. He would never admit to it, but Alan was a sucker for a chick flick and a romantic at heart. Alan and I fell in love because we had so many similarities in our life. Not just some of the obvious ones, when you saw us together, but some that were very personal to us. Alan rarely told anyone, outside his circle, of his past. Alan’s childhood, before the adoption of James and Gael McCollum was sad and it was scary. In the phase of your relationship with your soul mate when you “pillow talk” and tell each other those personal, skeletons in the closet kind of things, you gringe and hope for the best, because you just never know how the other will react. Will they accept, scars and all? Will you be shamed by the other because of them? Is it just too much baggage to accept? All those questions loom over you while you pour your heart out and leave yourself vulnerable to the other, hoping for acceptance and love. Alan’s story shook me to the core when I heard it. We cried together and we accepted each other’s childhood, because it was so similar and so heart breaking for us both. Although some of you do know both of our child hood stories, I am not sure I am ready to provide those details just yet. Just know, the man Alan became was ALL due to the upbringing and love by James and Gael McCollum. Alan would often tell me, “Babe, do you think I would have been a different man if my parents had not adopted me?” “Yes, I do.” I told him he was so very blessed that God chose these parents for him. They were such beautiful, kind and loving parents to Alan. They were gentle and generous and when I met them, I immediately fell in love with both of them. James was a very tall man, but the biggest teddy bear. I loved our conversations we used to have together. Gael was soft-spoken and smart, so opinionated and witty. The McCollum’s were both teachers in their careers, but when I met them in 2005, they were already retired. Alan met Gael because she was his 2nd grade teacher. The story is really quite touching and personal to them both. They collided into each other’s life not by coincidence but because God knew they needed each other. After having to repeat 2nd grade due in part to Alan’s primarily language being Spanish, Alan and Gael spent that second year together getting to know each other and then, Gael was in love with this little boy that was in foster care and needed his forever home. The McCollum’s adopted Alan and raised him as their own until he graduated and left for the Army. I know Alan tells me he broke his parent’s heart when he decided to leave to the Army because they expected he would stay and go to college in Reno, but Alan tells the reason like this. He said he felt it was his way to actually show them both his gratitude for all they did for him that the least he could do was do something for himself now and live independent and show them the result of their upbringing. He did not want to take more from them, like a college education, because he felt his childhood and then adolescent years were so good to him, he felt ashamed to continue to depend on them and any more expense they would give to get him through school, he just couldn’t do it. But, look what that decision did for us, we met because of his decision to join the Army! Everything surely does happen for a reason, I know this so well. Alan’s biggest regret was always being so far away from his parents as they both got older and had a harder time living in their home during the rough winter months. He felt horrible that he was young and able-body but not free to take the time to help them with the house during the rougher winter months. He was always away training or at the job but committed to important duties that made it impossible to take long time away from the mission. He really beat himself up for not being there when his dad passed away in 2010. I remember that year all too well, as I too lost someone very close to me. In March 2010 my brother died of a massive heart attack. It broke me. Alan helped me get through that horrible time in my life, just as soon as I felt myself getting better, his father died in October of 2010. It was then my turn to help Alan get through the broken heart and then help his mother with everything she needed to do as a widow. Jim and Gael were an example to us of what a true love story was. Alan wanted that for us. Alan emulated the examples of his parents to show me what love was. My husband made the entire 16 years together a true love story for me. That saying “Fairy Tales Do Come True”….YES THEY DO and DID FOR ME. Alan went through a rough time getting over the death of his father. It was hard on his career as well and soon after the death, Alan was going through a rough patch in his career that eventually caused us one last move from Northern Virginia to Arizona, where he retired in 2013. That is about the time he joined the police department and then his mother passed away. Those events created a whirl-wind of other events that was hard for us. It was a rough few years of our marriage with retirement, moving state to state with our kids, the deaths and then a new career for him. We dealt with a lot of stress in our marriage during that time. Despite the stress and heartache, Alan and I remained strong but were badly bruised and very vulnerable to people that were jealous of our marriage. It was hard to keep it all together and private, still, to this day, we did our best. We never claimed to have the perfect marriage but we also never let anyone into our marriage that wasn’t close friends or family that positively influenced us or prayed for us. Going back to James and Gael. Until I met Alan, I never knew anyone that was adopted. It was very special to me to see the love and compassion that the McCollum’s had for Alan. How these two people could love, unconditionally this little boy that was “Not flesh of my flesh nor bone of my bone” but looking at them together, you would have never guessed that Alan wasn’t their own flesh and blood. It was a special love and bond that was formed when the McCollum’s adopted Alan and made him their son. Alan never felt as though he wasn’t a part of their blood because they loved him so deeply and never made Alan feel otherwise. I wrote the title of this story as such so you can understand the love of the McCollum’s for Alan. They were the parents that God chose for Alan in his moment of need. They poured so much love and support into this little boy, even now, as I go through old photos of them, I see the love over and over. The smiles and hugs and genuine love in just the photos, convinces me of what true love looked like. Alan loved being a McCollum. He even has the McCollum family crest hanging in our office, displaying it with pride, because that is who he was. The beautiful love story of Alan and I didn’t just include us, it included his parents and our daughters. To truly have a love story, you have to include all the pieces that build that story. The beginning of Alan’s life story may have been sad and scary, but if you saw how the rest of his life unfolded because of who he became when God put him on the path with the McCollum’s, you would then understand the man you got to know later in his life. Alan was kind, compassionate and patient because of the people that raised him. Again, I thank God for allowing me those years to be a part of the McCollum family and experience the love of parents. I didn’t have “parents” like that. My mom raised me alone, so I appreciated the experience I was given to see a Mom and a Dad raise a child together and then the product of that who became my husband and father to my girls. It was a validation to me that true love does exist in so many ways. In parents, in husbands and in children because I was witness to all those examples. I wish it didn’t end and I could live in those moments forever because for that time, it was perfect.

………………………But Still Miraculously My Own.

Just keep it together, TODAY.

You know that old saying, “One day at a time,” me too. I have used it and re-used it too many times to count. It is a great saying, actually. It reminds all of us that if we focus on ONE DAY and not the week, or the month, or the future that consists of so many unknowns, we can prevent ourselves from becoming overwhelmed and anxious. Sometimes that advice, though, is harder to follow than most people think, I tell you from DIRECT EXPERIENCE these days. Almost every professional you choose to talk to after the trauma of the death will give you something to read or somewhere online to go to for information regarding your grief, “aids” to better assist you in understanding the stages of grief and how to work through it. It’s all helpful, I am not trying to downplay it by no means, but you know what I did with all of it? It is all stacked in one big pile, sitting in my room. As I am crying my eyes out, screaming into my couch cushion or yelling in my jeep and beating the steering wheel with my hands because I am so mad at the universe in that moment, I could give a FUCK about a pamphlet that explains to me how, why and when to grieve. I am in PAIN! I am in ANGUISH, I want to hit someone, I want to SCREAM, I want to RUN….and run away from everyone or just run and hide. My pain is not getting better, my sadness returns DAILY and I feel like I’m spinning my wheels! Why did this happen!! Why did this happen to HIM, why am I here, ALONE and why do his daughters have to live in pain too because their dad is dead???!!!!!! WWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYY??!!!! Just keep it together….just keep it together….just keep it together. One day I will sort through the pile, I promise, but not today. Today, because we are practicing “social distancing” I decided to tackle one area in the home that has Alan written all over it—-HIS GARAGE. Alan was so proud of the garage he picked out and wanted to have in our new home almost 7 years ago. I still remember him explaining the details of “his” garage to me. He had to explain it in different ways, because I still didn’t understand his idea of our garage being a metal building, that was called a garage and then the size of it all was pretty amazing. His eyes would light up when he would describe the size and then all the “stuff” that would fill up the garage. Right now, today, this garage is a clear reminder of my husband Alan. It is almost 1/3 empty because, well, he’s gone and so I have been trying to downsize the things in this garage that I don’t use or won’t ever use for that matter. It breaks my heart, really it hurts my heart to get rid of or sell anything of Alan, but the truth is, I have to eventually, or else the items will become rusty and old and then I won’t have any choice but to throw them away because they will be useless. It’s a horrible decision that I have to make, along with so many other decisions that I wish someone else could make for me because quite frankly they are painful and make me sad, make Lili sad and remind me that Alan is not coming home anymore to use these things I am selling of his and he will never be here again to enjoy them like he used to. There is NOTHING at all happy about being a widow. NOTHING. Everything, to include the title of “widow”, is a big FAT UGLY BOIL ON THE BUTT OF MY EXISTENCE RIGHT NOW!!!! LOL, that was a bit graphic and gross, but it’s what came to mind at the moment. So, going back to why I started talking about Alan’s garage. I have been putting off going through boxes and bins that housed all of Alan’s documents, pictures or memorabilia of him. Every day I go into our garage those damn boxes and bins welcome me, they sit in my view and I know they are there, they know they are there, but I refuse to even get close to them because everything that I dread is in there! Alan. His past, his childhood, his military stuff, his parent’s pictures, old photo albums, you name it, like a time capsule, all that is in there. So, today was the day. I took a deep breath and I opened the first box, then the second and then the bins. It took me about an hour to sort through most of it and start taking things into our home to prepare myself to thoroughly ingest it all, in private and in the AC because today was a hot one! It was rough. If you look at the hard drive that is currently attached to our home computer, you will understand how much pictures meant to Alan. Alan was a man that loved to organize things. He liked to be organized and he liked to be able to find anything of his, by means of his organization. So, all of his pictures, from when he was adopted by the McCollum’s until the day he died are on this hard drive, well maybe 98% of them. Some pictures are still in his phone that he didn’t get a chance to transfer to the computer, so it pains me to know I probably will never recover those pictures for him. His phone was given to me after the accident, however, it is locked and more than likely will remain locked. You know, I still haven’t turned off his phone account….I don’t know when I will, I just like keeping it active because it’s a stupid feeling that makes me think he is still here because his phone is still active. I don’t plan to keep it active forever, but ONE DAY AT A TIME, right? I will decide when it will be turned off, just not today. I went through some real gems in the pile of pictures today. I honestly don’t think I have ever seen a cuter little boy then Alan. I would always tell him how damn adorable he was, and that is the truth! You would agree if you saw him. From the cute smile to the freckles and thick hair, this “little” Alan was every bit as adorable as the now handsome man he became. In one picture, in particular, I put that picture and a picture of my Lili, side by side, and wow do they look alike. My Lili saw it and agreed, she is as cute as a button, looking just like her daddy, but as a girl. What had me in tears, from the moment I saw it, was a book that I had forgotten we created. It is called, “Couples A record book about us. “ How sweet is that? There are various pages in this book that you and your partner fill out together. It is every bit as cute as it sounds. The part, out of ALL OF IT that actually broke my heart was the page titled, “Our future.” You can tell, throughout the book entries, the parts that are my handwriting and the parts that were Alan’s handwriting. He had a very unique handwriting, my Alan, so I definitely can tell when he wrote his entries. Under the sub-title, “What he wishes for” Alan wrote the following: To love each other for the rest of our lives. To raise a child of our own. To grow old together. Well Alan, we did do all of those things you hoped for in our future because according to our wedding vows, it was “til death do us part” and that is where our future ended, on 1/31/20.

JUST KEEP IT TOGETHER, TODAY……..AND I DID, BABE, I DID.

Don’t look back, you’re not going that way!

I apologize for not posting in a couple of days, but my internet has not been working and so I guess that was a blessing in disguise for getting some sleep! Yes, I am proud to say I have slept at least 12 hours in 2 days, that is saying a WHOLE LOT considering what my lack of sleep has done to my health and “butt hole eyes”…lol. So, the title of my blog today…..”Don’t look back, you’re not going that way!!” I add the exclamation marks because it has felt like over the past 7 weeks and 4 days I am stuck looking back. I told someone early into the first few days of Alan’s death that I was living a real life Ground Hog Day or Twilight Zone because my mind goes back and stays on Friday, 1/31/2020. I remember everything from that day, from breakfast, to work, to all day texting with Alan, to my anxiety that day, to that night, at around 10:30 pm. I can tell you, I tried three times to get Alan to come home. I even asked him to stay home that day and play hooky with me, I have the text. Then two more times when I knew he couldn’t because too many people were off, I asked him to just come home early, just to be with us. “Why” he asked, “Are you okay?” My response, and it was true, “No, I’m not okay.” Did I have a weird feeling THAT WHOLE DAY——YEEEEESSS! I even cried at work, for no other reason than because I felt so sad. I didn’t know why, but I know I was anxious about something. The other two times he replied that he couldn’t because they “were short” people on the shift, because it was a Friday night, and because he was needed that night. So, do I look back, YES ALMOST EVERY DAY. Do I still cry, YES ALMOST EVERY DAY. Alan is gone, not away and will return later, like GONE AND NEVER COMING BACK. That is something my brain knows but my heart can’t seem to process it. So, I remember the first few days I felt like I was a zombie. Have you ever watched Charlie Brown?? I’m sure you have, at least during the holidays, but why I ask is because of the weird noise made from the teachers or adults as they respond or talk to the Peanuts Gang…you know that noise, that weird WAK WAK WAK WAK WAK…..It was the noise I heard coming out of everyone that talked to me in the first few days of Alan’s death. I couldn’t understand them, or maybe I just blocked it all out. I tried to listen carefully because I knew there were things that were important, like writing his obituary. When that day comes for you, for whoever it may be in your life that you love, make sure you are ready for that pain. You will be writing about the life of the person that you loved and spent pretty much every day with. That person that made you laugh, made you cry, made you safe, made you believe in yourself. The words you choose will be printed on this beautiful pamphlet that everyone will read so they can best understand and know your loved one personally, according to the person that knew them best. It also gets published in the newspaper and pretty much remains archived for any google search anyone does of his or her name. It’s an important task, so don’t take it lightly. So, listening was hard to do, but I tried my best during those few days. Then of course, you are asked, once the medical examiner is done with your loved one’s body, to pick out the clothes you want them to be buried in. Wow, have you ever discussed that with your loved ones when they were alive?? So then my mind started to think really hard and the decision I would make, again, would be lasting because this is what people will see them in, if you allow the casket to be open. It didn’t take me long to remember that yes, we had discussed this. You know when?? When we were in bed one night watching the news of an officer killed in the line of duty. Alan was a veteran, so he had a choice to be buried in his Army uniform or police uniform. He told me he would look sharp in his police uniform, so very matter of fact, he said, “Yeah, just bury me in that.” So, tears filled my eyes as I recalled that conversation that I knew AT THAT MOMENT of the conversation I would never EVER have to make that decision and I literally tried to forget we even talked about it, but here I was, sitting in my kitchen with a police officer tasked to take his uniform to the funeral home to bury my husband in. Wow, those were some very difficult days, I kept hearing (when I was listening) to people say to me or whisper to each other, “Wow, she’s so strong.” “Michelle, you are the strongest person I know.” “I don’t know how you are doing it..” I appreciate those statements, I really do, but even today, hearing them, I really don’t think I am. I think I had NO CHOICE but to put on my brave face and make decisions that had to be made because of the circumstances. If I had a choice, I would have chosen to just shut the world out and be left alone. That is not realistic, but that would have been my choice in case you really want the truth. So continuing with those days after Alan’s death, I was advised to get in to see my doctor. Why I wondered? I felt okay, my health was okay, but there was that important detail about sleep and about food. Also, while I stayed awake for almost 72 hours, I cried a lot. I was dehydrating myself as well as starving myself. Not intentionally AT ALL, I promise, but I was numb. I didn’t have an appetite and my brain was not processing this very well. I stayed consumed with all the things that I had to do and all the things that I would be doing for the rest of my life. I started to feel….I hate even saying it without feeling ashamed…but DEPRESSED. I stared at myself in the mirror one of those mornings where I knew I had to make a public appearance and thought…..JESUS MICHELLE——YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT!! I felt it too! My eyes were black and heavy with bags, my face was pale and skinny. My head hurt, hair hurt, everything hurt, to include my heart. So, because I like to research and understand everything that will help me process things, I read today about depression. You will be excited to learn, like I did, how scary depression really is. Depression is a common mental disorder. Globally, more than 264 million people OF ALL AGES suffer from depression. More women are affected by depression than men. In 2017, the world population was 7.53 billion. So, look at the numbers——264 million, 7.53 billion….quick what is the percentage?????? If I did the math right, that is roughly 28.5% of the world population that is depressed! That’s astounding to me. Maybe not to others, but I thought that was very high when the research also suggests that it includes all ages. It’s sad too, because you are factoring kids in there. I don’t want to be that population of depression. Nor part of the statistic. I remain drug-free throughout this journey, but I maintain my sanity through my walk with Christ and my responsibility to our child. Liliana is my saving grace and I don’t mean that jokingly, I damn well mean it LITERALLY. God knows my heart and knows what he was doing when Almost 12/13 years ago Alan and I prayed diligently for that baby. We spent countless appointments with a fertility specialist, then adoption agencies because we gave up, to get us to the point of pregnancy with her. We owe it all to GOD, no one else, for that blessing. From the day she cried in that hospital room in Fort Belvoir, Virginia on September 2, 2009, until just tonight as she asked me to read out loud the beautiful gratitude card she wrote just for me, I have been convinced God gave her to us because she would save me now. It sounds silly and I’m sure you doubt I really mean it, but have you felt my pain lately? Have you understood the sadness and grief of losing your best friend and then having to walk the journey that you once thought would be you and him, only to realize your path is darker and lonely without your partner to walk it beside you? Well, this little girl reminds me EVERY DAY who her dad was to her and to me. We were in the jeep a couple of weeks ago and a song came on that she remembered her dad dedicated to me in the car. We would talk and laugh and discuss things in the car, never really thinking she is listening all that intently to our conversations. Well, she was that day. That song, “In case you didn’t know” came on and Alan looked over at me, while holding my hand and with that beautiful smile and said, “This song is for you, babe” Lili tells me in the jeep, while I am sobbing, “God mom, daddy really loved you a lot.” Those little reminders from this little girl make me want to be better for her, do more for us and fight SO DAMN HARD for Alan when that day comes in court. Because she is so right, he loved me with all his heart and her. If you look at the picture that goes with this blog, it’s an example of the gratitude cards she has been writing me. I won’t show them all, because some things are private to us and she doesn’t like everything to be public, as it has been, these past few weeks. It actually has made us both real sad and angry to read about what people say towards our decision to pursue justice in various ways. Or about our personal life, which was personal, that is now the butt of a joke or locker room discussion. It is sick that some people feel we are fair game to talk about. Truth is, GET A LIFE, not my life, but get a handle on your own, unless it’s that perfect that you have to find faults in others. Our life wasn’t perfect but our love never skipped a beat. That’s what is important. That’s what Alan and Michelle McCollum stood for, LOVE. The title of the blog, Don’t look back, you’re not going that way——I try every day to focus on my unknown future and then the future of my girls. It’s still very foggy, I’m not going to lie. In the VERY beginning I would describe it as totally dark with no light in sight or understanding of what my steps would lead me to in the darkness. Every day I can feel the light from God’s little lamp lighting at least my feet so I can see my next step. I don’t see the end yet, but I know it’s there, because I have faith. Liliana, my family and close friends continue to support me along the journey. I don’t know what God has planned for me, but like I said in my eulogy, I AM READY, or getting prepared at least. Nothing about this new life is easy. It’s the biggest challenge I have ever faced on the biggest stage. Most challenges I had my best friend with me, Alan, so without him, I am relying on my own strength. I hate asking for help, but I know it’s there if I need it.

True love stories never have endings….

Today was a good day. Lots of excitement from this pandemic called COVID 19 (aka Corona Virus). I spent day 2 at the Navy commissary stocking up on supplies. I know some people think I am crazy, and honestly, I think I am too. I think everyone has their own 50 shades of crazy, some just decide to act on their crazy impulses while others can tuck them away without being noticed. Oh well, I don’t mind being called or thought of as crazy, it doesn’t bother me. Yes, I do “prep” or “hoard” and I don’t see ANYTHING wrong with that, actually, Alan and I both did….there, so we were a pair of crazies. Actually, this time, unlike other times when “we” prepped together during a natural disaster like Hurricane Harvey a couple of years ago, we got the essentials, stocked them away, and waited for the storm. Storm came, damage done, pick up the pieces, and we are back to normal. Unlike that natural disaster, this situation is unlike that type of “natural” anything. This flu-like sickness currently has no cure. What panics me is this new term that we have all come to casually refer to as “social distancing”…. fancy way of explaining to people to not be in large groups, stay with your circle of friends/family and nothing over about 10 people in a group congregating to avoid exposure and spreading this sickness. Anyhow, I can’t wait until we are done with it, like other sicknesses in the past, and move on to the next paranoia-type of situation that makes us all afraid and cripples our day-day life. Fear. I hate fear or feeling vulnerable from something or someone that makes me afraid. I fear a lot of things. Going back to my point earlier about this pandemic and my fear is this time, for this disaster, I am ALONE. I am also Liliana’s only parent. I am solely responsible for her, no one else. I am Mom and Dad now, she will be orphaned if something happens to me. Do you know how scary that is and how much worry that now adds to my day-day??!! Well let me tell you, it makes me physically sick to my stomach and one of may reasons I have not been sleeping well for the last 6 weeks…going on 7 weeks. Lack of sleep is another blog day..lol. So, I feel so special…well, not really, but I say that because I have 4 attorneys working for me and the Estate of Alan D. McCollum. I bring this up, because I am now responsible for ensuring the integrity of the “Estate” and for making informed and responsible decisions from now on. Again, quite the pressure on my shoulders. This “Widow” job SUCKS!!! Excuse me, can I object to being considered for the job??? I started to think and let me tell you, I do think a lot. I started to think and really panic after I let my thoughts consume me regarding my will that I now have to update and refresh because as I stated earlier, my daughter is depending on me, literally. Think about that for a moment. Maybe you don’t think of it as a huge responsibility or concern but when it becomes reality, I will guarantee you, you will understand FEAR. Simple, just hire you a good lawyer, let them do what you explain to them you want done, and VOILA…. no not really how it happens, but it does occupy your time when you start considering what you need or want done after YOU die. Alan’s death has kicked my ass all over the place…It has shaken the foundation I stood on for 16 years! Most days, most of the seconds/minutes and hours of most days, I am talking myself out of staying in bed all day, eating sugar, and binge watching because of all the “things” I now am responsible for doing or accomplishing because of Alan’s death. When Lili was in school, before this “extended” spring break because of the Covid 19 craziness, I got her off to school, then after I knew she was gone, I literally went to my living room couch and screamed HARD AND LOUD into the couch seat cushion and just let the cushion have it. I was…well still am, lost, mad, sad, fearful, doubtful, stressed, sleep-deprived, anxious, and just plain exhausted from what I feel I am not qualified to do. I feel so un-worthy to be a Mom and a Dad, or a “single” parent or “jack of all trades” since my new found title has landed on my lap—WIDOW. the couch screaming went on almost daily. The crying not almost daily—-DAILY. My eyes are always swollen and dark and sad. My cousin referred to my eyes and his eyes too as “BUTTHOLE EYES”….lol, that made me laugh but he knows those kind of eyes because he has them too (I will not discuss anyone else’s business on this blog so don’t ask). My cousin know deep grief like mine and I really appreciate his candor and compassion towards me during my nightmare. Okay, “squirrel” moment, but something that happened today just popped into my head about the term I used earlier “Jack of all Trades”….Lili is now in softball, on an actual team, doing AMAZING. Well, because of COVID 19, as I mentioned earlier, we are all practicing responsible social distancing, so Coach had only 3 girls from the team meet today to practice.. Us “Parents” are helping out by catching balls in the field for the girls. Lili is up to bat and let me tell you, until I saw it for myself, I couldn’t believe when I heard how good my “our” baby is! Ever parent believes their kiddo is good/great or at least convinces themselves of this and their child, but I am not exaggerating in the least bit. So, as “Mom” in the field helping to catch balls, I am also now “Dad” in the field trying to capture these softball moments by taking pictures and shooting video on my phone as she goes up to bat. Let me tell you, you try doing it…IT”S NOT EASY!! I’m sure Coach was a little frustrated with me multi-tasking but what choices did I really have? It almost made me cry trying to juggle those two jobs in that moment, but that is my life now. Do I miss Alan being there doing one or the other job with me, YES…..YES……Si….YES,……YEEEEEEEESSSS!! It’s not fair, God. It really is not fair. Not that I am mutli-tasking, because that part is not too bad, the hard part is Liliana telling me on the way home how sad she was that her dad is not here anymore and in her words, “God killing her dad.” Did that statement hurt deep—-YES. Did I just want to cry and hold her and want to almost agree with her…YES. Yes, I sometimes question God. It’s been a real love/hate relationship with God since 1/31/2020, at approximately 10:30 pm. To say Alan was a great dad does no justice to that statement because in EVERY sense of the term and speaking from someone who grew up without a dad and then with a step-father that was a monster, Alan was everything I had ever imagined a father should be. He didn’t just love his role as a father, he made it his priority and accepted being a step-father to Hannah too and took that role serious, always being the best at his job. Alan was my version of “Jack” from This is Us. Since I brought it up, Alan and I used to watch This is Us, and would always say it was the best therapy…lol, yes we both cried and laughed and “felt” every bit of that show in our souls. We love that show and as I watch it alone now, do you know how that show now makes me feel and put into perspective? Alan is Jack. Yes, I am crying right now. Think of the parallels: Jack is an amazing father that does NO WRONG and is such a hero. He was in the military, died very young and was idolized by their kids and pretty much everyone he met. 3 kids left behind. Those are some of the obvious similarities between Jack and Alan. This week’s episode had Randall imagining his life if Jack didn’t die. OH BOY did I cry my eyes out because I know Lili, Carissa and Hannah will be adults soon and will have that very thought “What will my life be if Alan didn’t die.” So, let me end tonight with the title of tonight’s blog, “True love stories never have endings.” Okay, we were together for 16 years, married for almost 13 of those 16 years. Every day was not sunshine and roses, we were the normal married couple with everyday stress from work, family, kids, and LIFE in general. We were never big arguers, mainly because Alan hated raising his voice or any confrontation, so most arguments or disagreements he always found a way to remedy the situation and get me to calm down. I hate to spend too much time on the negative, but I bring it up simply to demonstrate how we were not perfect. But when we were close to perfect with our deep love for each other and our public display of this love by how affectionate we were to each other such as occasional kisses, hugs, hand-holding, cuddles, it made me feel so special because I was Alan’s girl. Alan loved holding hands. I loved being on the receiving end of his affection. Alan, although described as quiet and reserved, NEVER held back when it came to openly and honestly showing me or his girls how much he loved us. I truly believe the title of tonight’s blog because I don’t feel I’ll EVER stop loving Alan nor will I ever find anyone even close to how he loved me. Our love story will one day pick up where it “paused” here on Earth and start up again in Heaven.

How does it feel to be a widow?

My life changed on 1/31/2020 at approximately 10:20 pm. I titled this first entry, “How does it feel to be a widow?” This feeling is not one that very many women will experience in their life. I was curious so I looked up the percentage of widows there are currently in the United States…guess how many? When I googled it, the quickest response I got was from a 2010 census, so almost 10 years ago the United States had 11 million widows, that number to me seemed real high. Actually it made me even more sad to know I now am part of this somber club of women just as lost as I feel and as miserable as I feel, walking around this earth. I didn’t say my entries would be pleasant all the time. Honestly, I haven’t been a very pleasant person since this all happened. I get mad going out in public when I am recognized. Before Alan’s death, I could spark up a conversation with just about anyone if I felt like it. I loved to smile and talk, past tense “loved,” but I noticed I don’t smile much and I refrain from any conversation with anyone. I don’t like to talk about Alan as being “gone” or “dead” or “passed on” or any other morbid term that reminds me that he is not with us anymore. I met Alan in 2004 at the age of 27, so I conclude that he and I were in a serious relationship with intentions of spending the rest of our lives together. That’s all true. Prior to marrying him, I had a marriage that lasted about 4 years with a man that was the epitome of narcissistic. The marriage was over before it started, but the result of that failed marriage was a very successful daughter, Hannah. Hannah is my first born and was in Alan’s life at about the age of 5 until his death a few weeks ago and Hannah now 19 going on 20. I may be all over the place with my thoughts on this blog, but don’t mind me, my brain was never like this before “D” day. I think I will refer to the day Alan died as “D” for death, okay? Before “D” day I could keep my brain focused on various tasks and appointments, deadlines and personal and professional tasks that would make the average mind spin off it’s axis. Since “D” day I find myself daydreaming, forgetful and lost. I have locked myself out of my home twice! So embarrassing that the second time I actually broke the window to get into my home because I was determined to get Liliana (my youngest daughter whom I will speak more about later) to her first official baseball practice. Why was it that important you ask? Liliana just experienced the worst thing in her little 10 year old life. Alan and Lili (her nickname) were very close, their bond was the most genuine love I have ever seen. She was getting ready for baseball with Alan, so you see, it meant a lot to her to be on a team now, so NOTHING was going to make us late to this practice. So, I chose a window that I knew was already slightly broken or cracked and took a big whack at it. My cousin David actually asked me, after I broke it and he helped me clean the debris, if it felt good. Actually it did, I am not going to lie. That experience would have NEVER happened before “D” day. I say that with 100% confidence because I have never been a person that lacked focus. Since I was about 17, I have always strive for perfection, for accuracy, for focus and for everything else that would make me the best of who I am. I leave my home with my brain focused, making mental notes of my wallet, my keys, my kids, EVERYTHING. That is who I “was” but today, I forget what I was doing or who I should have called or my keys when I leave the house. I am in this zone…okay, yes, like the Twilight Zone (some of you all may remember that show if you are old enough). It was a show where the main character was always put into a situation that was bizarre, spooky or just out of the ordinary, well that is my life today. I can tell you that I have cried so much in the last 6 weeks that it may be the most I have ever cried in my whole 42 years. That is not a lie or an exaggeration because this new life I am living is a real-life nightmare that begins with thoughts of Alan and ends with thoughts of Alan and most moments in between are him too. I think about him and us and our life over the 16 years. The last 7 years of the 16 with Alan he was a police officer. God, do you ever tell yourself, “I wish I could take that back.” I have to laugh because I know I have said that exact statement more that once in my life and although I tend to say it in my head, Alan heard that statement out loud as I made it when I felt that supporting his decision to join the police department was one I will live with in regret for the rest of my life on this earth. I remember that day like it was yesterday when Alan and I decided to move back home from Arizona where we were living. We went on a walk around our neighborhood and I, being restless in AZ and missing my hometown, planted this seed in his thoughts about possibly moving back home. Alan, almost always, agreed with me. We would discuss issues but almost always I could convince him of my choices. His only concern was what would he do in Corpus Christi? Well, that was a very big concern as he was nearing the end of his military career after 21 years as a parachute rigger. That career in the Army was almost impossible to transition to as a civilian, so the concern was real and it was going to require both of us to really come together to make an informed decision as it would impact our move and what Alan would consider his new career. We tossed around ideas about jobs and his main goal or objective was being in a new profession that he could possibly use his military experience and do something that he could enjoy, despite his age and limitations. So, he threw out the idea of being a police officer. I will be quite honest, I didn’t think he was serious. Alan was close to 40 years old and a little “weathered” if I can put it nicely. I would often play devil’s advocate with him letting him process pros/cons of major decisions. I mentioned his age as a big con, simply because a majority of his competition both physically and mentally would be younger men and women in their early 20’s with little to no experience in anything because of their age. He saw that as a pro and a con because he would be contributing 21 years of service to the country that almost paralleled the police department with structure, honor, duty, etc. Plus, as long as I had know Alan, he was always in shape physically. My Alan did amazing and was actually picked up on his very first attempt at submitting his application. It was a long process but I can recall Alan being so excited about the possibility of becoming a police officer and entering into a new profession totally out of his norm and very different from what he had known for the last 21 years. Fast forward to January 2013 when Alan started the police academy. This is where I will leave off for today. I am going to try to get at least 4 hours of sleep today, since yesterday I got about 3. I hope this journey you take with me will help you understand me, the life I have now, the life I had with Alan, our love, our heartaches, our happiness and bring everything into perspective for you. I don’t know if it will, but I am glad you are here to experience it with me.