Author: ddhollingsworth

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The Upcoming 1-Year Anniversary

We are days away from the 1-year anniversary of my husband’s passing. ONE YEAR!?!? 

I imagine some in my position would say that this past year was the hardest of their lives. I would not say that. 

I think the year leading up to Jamey‘s passing was undoubtedly the worst year of my life. The anticipatory grief, the heartbreak, and the realization that while I could feel God walking beside us, our prayers were not being answered the way we wanted them to be, was undoubtably the hardest year of my life. Watching the smartest, most talented, kindest, & wittiest man I’ve ever known disintegrate and become a mere shadow of himself was way harder than this last year.  But reader, please know that caring for him during that year was not the hardest thing I’ve ever done, maybe the most grievously foul, but not the hardest. That part was an honor. And I now, in hindsight, see that caregiving year as a weird blessing. Sadly, during this year, I have met and talked with other widows.  I have joined a club that no one wants to be a part of, but once in, there is no getting out.  But I now know that as awful as I think I have / had it,  I also now realize that it was a blessing that I had a chance to prepare, a chance to say goodbye, a chance to imagine a life in the future without him, a chance to even discuss a life without him with him. Not all, and maybe not even most, widows are afforded that opportunity.

I’ve read on various widow forums about how so many people have regrets. They regret conversations had or not had, actions taken or not taken etc. I have no regrets in that regard. We said all the sweet things. He knew he was leaving this earth well loved, & all he loved knew that they too were loved by him. He did not choose to leave us; this was not his, & certainly not my, plan. I am 100% living Plan B right now, and while this is not the way I planned my life to go at age 26, or 30, or 35, or 40, or even 45, I am finding joy on this new path too, a different kind of joy, but joy.

But this year has not been the hardest year of my life because Jamey loved me, loved us, so well in the 21 years we had together. Jamey provided for me and the girls, and he made and collected the best friends that continue to check on us and help me, and counsel me, and support me. And I’d like to say I’ve made and collected some of the best friends too, and they also continue to check on me, help me, counsel me, and support me. And friends from both sides of the aisle have talked me through and come over and helped with (AKA done) quite a few honey dos. Plus, we have family here & there who also love us as best as they can too, & we are thankful for all of it and everyone.

Without a doubt, I have kept myself extremely busy this last year. I have tried to fill the hole in my heart with activities, with house projects, with renovations, with travel, with new certifications, with exercise, with Bible study, with outings, with concerts, & of course because I live in the South, with football, & because Heidi is Jamey’s daughter, soccer games too. I have filled it with the good work that Jamey started with the Hollingsworth foundation. I have filled that hole by helping Halli prepare for college and navigate senior year, by helping our youngest navigate the complicated waters of entering high school, and all the trials and tribulations and hard choices that present themselves during that period of life. I have filled it with therapy, and I’ve certainly filled it with a bit of my own escaping as well. 

This year has not been pretty, but it’s not been the hardest year of my life. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve cried (a lot) but less than the year of dying. I’ve checked in and out a few times; I’ve gotten angry a lot, more than I should have, but I haven’t quit. People marvel and tell me that they don’t think they could’ve gone through this. The thing is, it’s not like you get a choice. You simply must move forward, because time waits for no one; life waits for no one.

I see myself still evolving, hopefully for the better, but not always. In some ways, a lot of ways, I feel myself reverting to the young woman I was before I met Jamey, just older, wrinklier, and a good bit wiser. I believe I’ve learned from some of the mistakes I’ve made this past year. But there are other mistakes that I’m sure I will continue to repeat for the rest of my life.  I mean human nature and all that. 

A cherished friend counseled me a few months back, and she said that she had a sense that Jamey was telling me to slow down. That makes sense on so many levels. Even together throughout our marriage, Jamey was definitely the more strategic, slower, more methodical thinker, and I was the energizer, the activator, the Make It Happen Captain partner. And so, I can relate to her / his advice, & I think this next year, I’m going to try and do just that, try and slow down. Emphasis on the word try. 

I stopped writing for a while, (5-months to be exact) but I miss it, & I hope to pick it back up again. Just writing this post feels cathartic. But solo life, solo parenting, gets so busy, and frankly it’s really, really hard managing it all, working full time, raising teens, heck, I’m kind of still raising myself, but I’d like to think I’ll pick the writing back up again. I do find it very therapeutic. But I also am still considering a new puppy in the Spring verses now, because as another friend, suggested, I don’t want to be potty training a puppy in the winter. I was born and raised in Miami, Florida, and you can happily take the girl out of Florida, but you can’t take the love of warmth and sunshine out of the girl, and I do not want to be walking a puppy in the dead of winter.  I’m also training to become a certified Pilates instructor. So, while I have hopes of slowing down and writing more, I’m not going to come to a halt; I can’t.  It’s not in my DNA. But I am going to try to slow down.

I’m also kind of mentally and emotionally preparing myself for the idea that this next year might be worse than the last. From therapy and from the Widow forums I read, the reality that it’s not just the first year without him, but forever without him will apparently really sink into my, our, bones this next year. So, I continue to ask for grace, and patience, and love, and forgiveness moving forward. Maybe I’ll write about it. 🤔😘

But back to the upcoming dreaded anniversary. I did not want to be in our home, nor did I want the girls to be in our home on the anniversary of Jamey‘s passing in our house. So, with the help of the bestest travel agent ever, we will not be. We are running far, far away, & I am hoping that we will make new and happy memories to layer on top of the anniversary of a horrible loss. I’m also trying to think of this escape as a new beginning, a rebirth. A celebration for sure that we’ve had major milestones (HS graduation, turning 50, etc.) this year, and that we too have survived a year without him. But I also want this trip to symbolize a rebirth into the women that God is shaping us into. I want it to be a time for the three of us to focus on ‘who do we want to be at this time next year’ and ‘what are the choices and decisions and actions that we need to take to become those women, women who Jamey would be proud of.’ Because while we still shed tears, and still have those moments of realization and shock that we are living our lives without him, no matter how ill equipped I feel, or they feel, to be navigating these waters without him, God knew this was in our future the whole time, and the Bible tells us we were fearfully & wonderfully made, Psalm 139:14. And while I may not be individually equipped for this path, He is with me, with us, & through Him all things are possible, Philippians 4:13.  God has sent so many wonderful friends and family members to support us, and He has supposedly given us the strengths and abilities to get through it, though sometimes I personally feel like Moses, and I keep questioning if just by chance, God is overestimating my abilities, Exodus 4:10. But I do trust the Lord more than I trust my own insecurities and the negative talk of the devil whispering in and undermining me in my ear. 

So, while this year hasn’t been the hardest year of my life, it hasn’t been the best or the easiest either, and I’ve certainly gotten way too familiar with some of the YouTube handymen do it yourself channels. And while I don’t have a crystal ball, nor have I been given the gift of foresight, I can only hope and pray and trust that this next year will be better still. 

Thank you all for walking this path with me and my girls. We could not have made it this far, with as few cuts and bruises as we have, without you. 😘

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Blessed

Some may have noticed that I haven’t felt like writing recently. I think it might be because as Spring approaches, I too feel like I am getting stronger and finding joy more frequently, and I think it’s easier for me to write when I’m sad or despondent, and I haven’t felt as sad or as despondent lately, which is a good thing. That’s not to say I still don’t get sucker punched with tears. Like when our oldest attended her ball, & I realized that there were two seats saved for me & Jamey, not just one for me. Or when I held out stupid hope that perhaps Jamey had arranged for a dozen red roses 🌹 be delivered on Valentine’s Day before he passed, but later realized that of course he hadn’t. 

But at the same time, I feel God’s hand patting me on the back & pulling me into a comforting embrace ALL. THE. TIME. For though there were two seats saved, I had already agreed to volunteer to help behind the curtain with all the girls getting ready to walk out onto the stage. So instead, I was able to share those two seats with my daughter and one of her best friends. And likewise, though I didn’t receive a dozen red roses from Jamey, I did have a dear friend surprise me with beautiful pink roses, & my girls in turn brought me a dozen red roses & one of the sweetest cards EVER crediting me with being a role model that melted my heart into drippy tears. Plus I had texts & messages from friends near & far checking in & on me all throughout the day, & as God designed it, I was slammed @ work that day too, which was such a blessing. 

I do not take for granted any of those kindnesses. And as I hope all are aware, plans for a joyous and festive celebration of life are underway for Saturday, April 15. But let me tell you how blessed I feel about that: Wives are being widowed all day, every day, from colorectal cancer, from car wrecks, from suicide, from violence, from freak accidents, the list goes on and on, but how many of those widowed wives have a stellar group of people helping them plan a celebration of life for their deceased husband? I would guess not many. I honestly do not know how anyone would cope with widowhood without faith & family & friends & community, but that is because I have those things & those people, & I am so, so thankful. 

Yes, it’s hard going to soccer games without Jamey sitting on the sidelines with me, but how special is it that my brother in law now comes to games & helps me cheer my daughter on? So yes, there is still sadness in my heart. There will always be sadness in my heart, but I’m focusing on the blessings in my life & all the love being poured out on me. I’m also consciously ready to give back to other widows, to offer an ear, a smile, share a tear or a cup of tea. We are not meant to live in this world alone. We were designed for fellowship. God has loved me well, & I in turn hope to share His love with others whose hearts have been ripped open too. 

But in the meantime, I’m focused on preventing anyone, man, woman, or child from experiencing this kind of loss as a result of colorectal cancer. I am so thankful for the Hollingsworth Colorectal Cancer Awareness board for rallying behind me and supporting Jamey’s mission of awareness. We have so many good things in the works for the month of March, colorectal cancer awareness month. I’m thankful for the city of Mountain Brook for declaring March colorectal cancer awareness month. I’m thankful they agreed to light the city fountain blue as an awareness tool. I am thankful that we are launching the Light it Blue yard lantern campaign to raise awareness for early screening, and I’m really, really thankful that the board is helping plan a celebration of life during Jamey’s birthday month. Truly, I’m nearly speechless when I think about how blessed I am to have such a special a group of people who loved my husband, perhaps as much as me, but in different ways, who are helping plan a beautiful & joyous celebration of life. 

So in honor of Valentines Week, I’ll close by saying blessings & love are all around us, if we just open our hearts & eyes to feel & see it, because God is good all the time.

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6 Months

6 months. Jamey has been gone 6 months today. We lost him in the early hours of July 19th, though we didn’t know it until 7 AM, and now it is six months later, another J month, January 19. A lot can happen in 6 months. For reference, I could take you on a quick, & I mean quick, trip down memory lane & tell you about how we met, hung out, started dating, & got engaged in a mere 6 months, but then my word count for this post would far exceed the time you have to read a blog like this. I will say that some people were kind of shocked that Jamey pulled the trigger so quickly, but I was even further swept off my feet by the fact that he was so absolutely sure about me & about us that he didn’t / couldn’t wait. And truth be told, that’s kind of how those Hollingsworth boys used to roll. His father proposed to his mother after just 6 months, & he has two brothers who did the same, & all had/ have happy & long-lasting marriages. Plus, the speedy quick trigger worked for me too, because I’ve always been of the mindset, when you know you know, ya know? Now I get that philosophy is not for everyone, but it worked for us, & I so enjoyed the whirlwind romance. And it was for sure, one of the best 6-month periods of my life. 

A selfie pre smart phones, Dany & Jamey during our 1st 6 months together.

But fast forward to today, & I have to say these past 6 months have been way less fun, & there has been nothing quick about them. I’ve decided that there’s a loneliness that comes with widowhood that just sort of settles in your bones. I mean it’s not just about missing your person; it’s also about missing the person you were with your person. It’s about no longer feeling seen or understood. It’s about doing the day to day alone & not having anyone to really tell & share it all with. Did something even really happen in the day if you don’t retell the story to someone who really cares that evening? And believe me, teenagers are not the best listeners and mine are really not that interested in my stories. Sigh.

Now I’ve had bad break ups before; we all have I’d guess. And I’ve done all the silly broken up girl things: drive-bys with sorority sisters, orchestrated happen-chance encounters, & of course, pre-smart phones, the call ☎️ & hang up thing. I’ve sat around wondering 💭 might so and so be thinking about me too. So yes, I’ve played the part of the sad & dramatic girl who had been jilted by love before, but widowhood is different. Because the thing is with all of those theatrics, there is always at least a chance of getting back together. But once someone passes through the veil to heaven, there’s no amount of scheming a girl can pull off that can fan a flame 🔥 & rekindle the romance. 

Jamey is gone, & until I cross through the veil myself, we aren’t getting back together. That reality doesn’t get easier to accept, but rather it makes me forlorn & wistful, especially on a dismal & rainy day in January. 

While I’m thankful for my job, my girls, & my friends, I so miss talking to Jamey at the end of the day. I miss his encouragement, & I miss his jibes & even his utter disbelief when I recount some ridiculous story about how again I managed to get myself into some mess, that only I could get myself into. I miss his dry wit; I miss our long conversations about politics & the state of the world. I miss his counsel about the girls, & I miss the peace of knowing we were coming home to one another every single night that one of us wasn’t traveling for work. There’s so much comfort in the routine, & there’s something beyond precious & powerful about being a part of a whole, whereas today, I’m just a floundering part. 

So, I encourage you all to tell your person how loved they are. Give them a squeeze & be thankful for their warm body full of life & love. Overlook their shortcomings & be thankful for your present moment. 

I know that my grief will surely lessen, or at least I’ll learn how to carry it better with the continued passing of time. Truth be told, there are days now that I do feel like I’ve gotten a better grip on it, & it feels a bit lighter which makes room in my heart to also feel joy & love & laughter. But on anniversary days & special occasion days, it all feels heavier, darker, sadder, & lonelier. 

But also, on days like today, I try to find my peace with the Lord for as I read in one of my grief meditations:

“Let God be the source of your hope and joy. Believe these words of Jesus in John 16: “I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy” (v. 20). Jesus continued: “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born, she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. “So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy” (vv. 21-22).

With that I’ll close and wait to see what the next 6 months does to make more room for healing & joy & love. 

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Grief & Squirrels

A cute and fuzzy distraction

*Disclaimer: I am neither a therapist, psychologist nor a psychiatrist. My only expertise about grief, is that I’m living through it. So, what I’m saying may not be helpful to anyone but myself, but this I know to be true; it’s working for me now, in this moment, but I can’t predict how it will feel in 6 months.

I have heard from well-intentioned friends, read online & been advised by many that a grieving widow should not make any big decisions for one year. One year. But one year can feel like a lifetime to just sit with an emotion. 

One of my daughters asked me during the end stages, hypothetically, ‘If Daddy passed, how long did I anticipate just lying in the bed being a zombie?’ I gave her my best guesstimate, which at the time I thought was a conservative estimate, but she was aghast that it would take me that long to pull it together. But for whatever it’s worth, I’ve not been a zombie this whole time. I don’t think life lets you zombie out. I don’t think I have ever had the luxury to just curl up in the fetal position and shut down. But in some ways, many ways, I think all of the responsibilities that keep you moving forward are a blessing. I mean who really wants to be a zombie anyway? And let me tell you from experience, just because you lose your husband, the world does not stop. Life goes on around you. Seasons come and go; children grow, & nobody’s waiting for a full year for me to sit on the bench & and then put me back in the game after a year.

But my personality is not a sit on the bench type of personality anyway. I am terrible @ waiting. I am a doer, and the grass rarely grows under my feet. 

But while grief has touched and changed just about every part of me, it has not changed that part of me; I guess it’s just who I am at my core.

Jamey used to always tease me about how I always acted like recipes were mere suggestions as opposed to directions that were meant to be followed. He was not wrong. And so, it should probably not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, that I have not just been sitting and waiting and zombieing out for the last six months.

Now I haven’t done anything drastic. I haven’t moved away. I haven’t sold my home. I haven’t quit my job. I haven’t gotten a tattoo, & I haven’t run away from home. But I have done a few things. 

For one, The Hollingsworth Colorectal Cancer Awareness Foundation, & its 11 board members, have been busy, which has been such a blessing & a positive force in my life. It’s fueled me to actively feel like I’m saving somebody else from this sadness. As a board, we have plans in the works to submit a proposal to the state office to declare March Colorectal Cancer Awareness month. We have designs to apply for an application to produce personalized license plates in AL to help spread awareness about the need to get screened for colorectal cancer @ 45 versus 50. And as you probably know, I’ve kind of stepped into the role of colonoscopy queen 👸🏻 in my writings & in all of my interactions. And there are plans underway for a joyous celebration of life in the Spring. (Evite & information soon to be shared.)

But I’ve also contracted for some home renovations, for while I intend to stay in our home, I also feel the need to modify things, so it’s not a home frozen in time like a memorial, but a home representative of our new Family 2.0. The girls & I ventured across the border for Christmas in Cancun, & I hope to bring a new puppy into the family by the end of 2023. 

But while each of those individual items are noteworthy and awesome in and of themselves, the best part about all of them collectively is the distraction that they provide. They are all bright, & beautiful shiny objects that take my eyes off the pain. And I happen to think that for me, right now, distraction is the most blissful antidepressant medication that can be prescribed. 

So, I guess only time will tell if I’m making things worse for myself later, by not sitting still, but for right now, I am enjoying the distractions. I am enjoying looking away from the pain, & when I do allow things to settle down, I hope I will feel stronger & be stronger, & be proud of the path I’ve walked & the woman I’ve become. But if not, I’m sure there will be another bright & shiny object or cute & fuzzy squirrel 🐿️ to distract me

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Goodbye 2022

*Disclaimer: I am writing and posting this blog from my phone in an airport. So please forgive all typos, and grammatical errors.

So, without question, 2022 was THE. WORST. YEAR. OF. MY. LIFE, & I am more than ready to kick it to the curb. 

I am truly hopeful that 2023 will be better. I’d like to think that there’s no way it couldn’t be better, but I don’t want to jinx myself, or challenge 2023 & have it say “Here, hold my beer.” 🍺 

And not only was 2022 AWFUL, I will say that it isn’t going quietly into the night. In the last few weeks of this wretched year, I was bitten by a dog on my face, a tree fell in my yard knocking out our power for almost 20 hours during one of the coldest spells I have ever lived through in Alabama (silver lining, that event forced me to really up my fire making skills,) 2 sinks leaked & flooded my cabinets, & if all that wasn’t yuck enough, I either twisted / sprained or developed some sort of infection in my ankle causing me to literally hobble home. 🤦🏼‍♀️

But there have also been some wonderful moments closing out this heinous year. The girls & I swam with a dolphin 🐬& snorkeled with turtles 🐢 in Mexico. Yes, we have cried, but together we have also laughed. Halli committed to the most perfect college for her & received a size-able 4-year scholarship. Friends have rallied around us & seen us through in a million little & big ways, & I am grateful. But grateful doesn’t mean I’m not ready to wash the remnants of 2022 off & down the drain, & I almost wonder if God is not trying to help me do just that too. 

When I went to Napa with friends in September it rained like it was Alabama for most of the trip, which is very unusual for that area. Then when we tried to run away from grief by going to Mexico 🇲🇽 for 🎄 Christmas; it rained for 4 whole days, again a very unusual weather pattern for that part of the world. And don’t forget the sinks I mentioned earlier & my poor flooded cabinets. So so much water!! I googled it, & it seems that water 💦 is referred to 722 times in the Bible, more often than faith, hope, prayer, and worship. But it doesn’t always symbolize the same thing. Sometimes it symbolizes difficulties in life (check.)

 “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you…” – Isaiah 43:2

Sometimes water is used to symbolize eternal life. Sometimes it symbolizes the word of God. Sometimes it symbolizes cleansing.

     “…let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” – Hebrews 10:22

Likely I’m reading too much into all this water, but when your world, your life, your heart, is ripped so tragically apart, I imagine it’s not all that uncommon to try & find meaning in things, because random is just too hard to accept. But though I share the same first three letters of his name, I was not gifted with the skills of interpretation like Daniel in the Old Testament, so what God might actually be saying to me is a bit fuzzy, but I’m leaning into the idea of cleansing. I’d like to think He is trying to rinse sadness & heartache & sickness away. I’d like to think, I pray, 2023 will be better. 🙏🏻

And with that, I wish everyone a very happy (& dry) new year, & I thank you all for loving my little Family 2.0 through this last year. 

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Advent, a Season of Waiting 

A silver lining about trying to run & hide from grief leading up to Christmas is that I purposely did not over commit myself to the busyness of the season. I only minimally decorated; the girls kept their gift lists short, because of a small kitchen project, no baking took place, & I most definitely did not send out cards. While I don’t intend to always be such a grinch, it was really all I could muster this year. Next year I think / hope it’ll be, not easier, but maybe more joyous. Our oldest will be “home” from college, & that ‘change’ will make it more festive, & maybe motivate me to do more, though to be honest, I kind of like this less. 

In some ways, maybe a lot of ways, I’m realizing that much of what I used to do, not just at Christmas time, but a million big & small things daily, all year, every year, I did because I was trying to make things a certain way for my life with Jamey. Not that Jamey mandated things be this way or that way, but because I think I was always trying to embody this family / couple ideal that we shared. I did the things, but so did he. I guess that’s kind of part of the deal of sharing your life with someone. The two of you motivate each other & hopefully bring out the best in each other. And with Jamey gone, one, my best maybe long gone, & two, with we three now living as Family 2.0, I don’t think my former vision is at all attainable, & I need a new ideal / dream / model to shoot for, or then again, maybe I don’t. Maybe that’s the real change that’s stemming from this cosmic shift in our lives. Maybe I need to stop squeezing the reigns so tightly, & let life & God lead me organically to the next … (fill in the blank) & just trust His timing & His nudging, & wait. 

But oh, how in the words of one of my favs, Tom Petty, the waiting is the hardest part, & I’m soooo not a good waiter. I like having a goal in my mind to work towards, but in this stage of life, I feel like God is reshaping me for something ahead that I can’t see. It’s like I too am in a period of Advent, waiting for a different notable person to arrive. I am waiting for the new version of me to materialize.   I feel like He is actively sanding off some rough spots here & there, adding a bit more wet clay there & totally morphing me, preparing me, for the next. And while I don’t know what the next looks like, I am trying to lean on God & have faith. For though I’m tripping & stumbling every day, I do believe He has surrounded me with some of the kindest, sweetest friends to help me stay, maybe not in a lane, because maybe I’m supposed to be changing lanes, but to at least stay strong & to stay in the race.  Truly, friends are a blessing from heaven & make life so much easier to not only bear, but enjoy. 

     Numbers 11:17, “And I will take some of the Spirit that is on you and put it on them, and they shall bear the burden of the people with you, so that you may not bear it yourself alone.” 

But back to that whole waiting part. Waiting stinks. I’m a doer; I’m Martha vs Mary, & I’m so bad at waiting. But in this season of Advent, waiting on the celebration of Christmas and Jesus’ birth, I can’t help but think I too am waiting on the new me.  I am reminded that I need not dread the waiting, but rather I should be waiting in excited anticipation. I need to wait while savoring the present. Wait in peace & to trust His plan, His ideal, His dream, His vision & know that He has already carried me this far, He’s not about to just drop me now. So, wherever you are physically, emotionally, or spiritually this holiday season, I encourage us all to savor the waiting & trust that “When the time is right, I the Lord, will make it happen.” Isaiah 60:22

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Celebrities with CRC and Taking Out the Trash

You know how when you are focused on one thing, one thing that for whatever reason God has said you can’t have, or that you at least can’t have right now, all you can see everywhere you look is other people who have that thing? Like when your maternal clock ⏰ starts ticking (do men even have paternal clocks???) and you want a baby so badly that your teeth hurt, but for whatever reason another month goes by and you aren’t pregnant again, but THE ONLY people you EVER see are all the beautiful pregnant ladies of the world?? Or how, in my case, I seem to be surrounded by the cutest older couples around every bend walking & holding hands, literally, absolutely anyplace I ever go when I venture out of my house.  It’s like our minds just like to focus on whatever will torture our psyches the most. 

My dreams, my plans, of growing old with Jamey, puttering around & helping each other fill in the blanks to a shared story, or being this eccentric old couple rocking out at some concert we are much too old to attend, all went up in smoke with cancer. It seems so very unfair. But all the why’s & what ifs that keep me up at night are all asked in vain. But now I’m wondering, is it just me? Is it because I’m hyper focused on colon & colorectal cancer that I hear about it ALL the time?? Does it seem more common to anyone else but me?? I mean Kirstie Alley? Really? Rebecca from Cheers was a victim too? It’s insane! This is a preventable disease! But it’s also kind of a taboo one. No one likes to talk about the symptoms, everyone wants to, excuse the pun, poo poo, any oddities dealing with their bathroom habits, but you know what is even less fun to talk about? Dying! Dying is way less fun to talk about. It’s also way less fun talking about how your daughters no longer have their daddy to cheer them on & off the soccer ⚽️ field, or to watch them graduate high school, or to talk to them about boys, or to have their daddy talk to boys about treating them right, or way off into the future, how they won’t have their daddy to walk them down the aisle at their wedding.

I’ve heard there are 5 stages to grief, (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, & acceptance) but that you don’t really move through them in a linear line, you bounce around in and out of them like a person with attention deficit disorder. Well, I’ll share, up until recently, I don’t think I’ve really spent any time in the anger stage. Maybe I’ve been able to avoid it because my friends have loved me so well. But spoiler alert, I think I’m starting to dip my toes in that miserable pool of emotion. I’m angry. I’m angry that my husband, who always teased me about being a closet hypochondriac, didn’t do every single thing in his power to make sure he didn’t leave us alone. I’m angry that he didn’t even tell me anything was wrong for at least 6 months, because I know without a shadow of doubt, I would have Googled that mess & nagged until he literally got his toosh to the doctor. I’m angry that I’m alone. I’m angry that when I look at the trash can & think someone needs to take that outside, that it takes me a second to realize that someone is me. It’s all me. Everything falls on my shoulders all alone from now  until forever. I’m mad. I’m angry, & I’m sad. 

But the only thing I seem to be able to do with that anger is swing the fire 🔥 out of some kettle bells, yell at cars in traffic, & use it to fuel ⛽️ my message about getting screened. Yes, the prep stinks (actually quite literally 😂) but it is sooooo much better than the alternative. If you love someone, anyone, a person or a pet, or someone, anyone, again person or pet, loves you, GET SCREENED. Supposedly all signs are suggesting that by 2030 colorectal cancer will be the leading cause of cancer deaths for people under 50. Now by 2030 I’ll be fortunate if I’m still here, but by 2030 both of my two beautiful daughters, because now they have a family history, should have been screened a few times. But they wouldn’t be, nobody would be, if we didn’t talk about it & make it as common place as getting your annual physical or your twice a year dental 🦷 cleaning. I totally get that Heaven is going to be Agh-mazing, but those people & pets left behind sure would miss you here on earth. So if nothing else, don’t do it for you, do it for the love of someone else.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take out the trash.

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12/4 – The anniversary of another one of the worst days of my life… 

So, I guess I’m figuring out, because I’m smart like that, some days are harder & more poignant than others. Obviously, Thanksgiving was particularly hard. I cried more that week than I had in maybe a month, & that made me feel guilty on top of sad. Guilty, because for the month prior, I had felt pretty O.K., even happy at times. But here we are at another significant day, but maybe only to me & me alone, December 4. 

It was a year ago today that I think I really started to realize my husband, my best friend, ‘my person’ who I bounced EVERY idea off (bless him for always listening), confessed every sin or social faux pas to, was freaking dying. I mean I “knew” the odds were against us before, but I had led such a Horatio Alger like life before, I truly believed we’d get the miracle I’d been praying for. I mean of course we would, right? Spoiler alert: We didn’t. I even tried to point out to God what was in it for Him, if He saved Jamey.

In prayer, I proposed that I, one who is rarely ever short for words, would go on a marketing campaign for God that would go kind of like me espousing His amazing & perfect gift of healing, so you too (person listening to my proposed marketing plan) must just keep the faith & keep believing, because God can save you too! Ha! As if God needed me to spread His miracle message!! The audacity of my dumb self-astounds even me, but still, it’s true. I thought that. But my ridiculous & small-minded project plans for ‘saving Jamey & spreading God’s miracle of healing message,’ were clearly NOT God’s plans, & it was on December 4, I started to come to terms with that. 

After a series of events that I don’t fully recall right now, but I could probably look back over our Caring Bridge posts to find (but I think rereading those right now would feel like a punch in the gut) I took Jamey to the ER for the first time during our cancer journey. (Believe me, it was NOT the 1st time I took Jamey to the ER in our marriage, as there were numerous ⚽️ injuries in our early years, Supper Club zip line escapades, & a bag of broken bones over the years that had him riding shot gun on the way to whatever the closest ER wa at the time. And the fact that he was in the passenger seat also spoke volumes to his health, as he always preferred to drive versus ride. Not sure if that speaks more to my driving skills or his need to be in control, but that’s the way it was. 😂) 

I remember calling one of my besties that morning to ask her where I should take him & if she concurred, we were ER worthy. Even calling her that morning broke my heart, because she answered all perky & happy thinking, I was going to ask her to go for a walk that day, not for an ER strategy, & then I hit her from left field & started sobbing into the phone. I remember Jamey putting up NO resistance to the idea of going to the ER, which was also particularly worrisome, because he was THE most stoic man I had ever met, & I expected him to balk at the idea. But what I remember even more, is Jamey not even being able to get out of the car to walk in under the portico, but instead he had to crawl to a bush to vomit 🤮from the intensity of the pain. I remember having to park in a kind of sketch spot & Jamey of course, having bigger more painful things on his mind, not noticing that I had to walk to & from said sketch location alone, & how that too was a dawning realization for me that I was losing my protector, my body guard. I remember realizing now, all I had got protection was God & His angels, and I wasn’t just thinking about that hospital visit, but for life. I was starting to realize that I was entering a new ‘alone’ phase that I really wasn’t all that familiar with.  But on December 4, 2021, when I had to walk back & forth to get things, (blanket, water bottle, pillow, etc.) from my car in the dark, on my own, I did so while quoting scripture in my head, my version of holy pepper spray. 

Next, I remember, that once he was discharged, he settled in to watch Alabama play (& beat GA 24 – 41,) while I tried to decorate our first ever artificial Christmas tree, because though I was fighting like hell to maintain some sort of normalcy for our girls, I did not have it in me to haul in & set up a real tree all by myself. And believe it or not, I remember pouring a strong drink that night & finishing it before one of Jamey’s oldest friends called me to check in. His innocent ‘how you doing?’ broke the damn of everything I’d been holding in for the last few month, & I let my tears & wails go. Later I learned that though I had holed myself up behind closed doors to talk to him, the whole family heard me sobbing & hollering in anguish, that ‘my husband was dying.’ Not my finest care partner moment, but alas, it happened. 

The next day I awoke with not only a pounding headache, but a phone call from the same bestie checking in on me, because Jamey had called her the night before to tell her I was cracking under the pressure, which led to an epic Rage Room girl’s night out. But oh what a freaking fateful & awful night December 4 was last year, & how even remembering it now, a year later, it still stings. 

But believe it or not, on this December 4, though we three Hollingsworth girls miss Jamey like mad, I am at least comforted knowing he is fully healed in heaven.  He was in sooo much pain, and so much discomfort, and things only got worse from 12/4.  I’ve said this before, but I still wish it: if only the dying process could be more like turning in your keys when your lease was up, & not all the pain &💩 suffering. Dying is so undignified, & it’s gut wrenching to watch a cherished loved one go through it. But again, as I’ve also said before, as awful and heart breaking as it was to walk alongside Jamey as he moved to the light, there was absolutely no other place I would have rather been than by his side. In a weird and twisted way, standing by him during that horrific journey, was truly one of the greatest privileges and honors of my life, no matter how much it hurt us both. 

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Decisions without Jamey

Several people have asked me recently, if it is hard for me to make decisions without Jamey. For sure, it is, but I do think one weird positive about cancer, is that Jamey kind of trained me a bit. His 10-month fight was kind of like the saddest apprenticeship ever. But now that he has left me to carry on, I’m starting to tweak things big & small & make them my own. Home improvements we talked about but put off? I’m doing. Meanwhile while his laser focused mad dishwasher management skills are sorely missed, I’ve revamped our loading protocols. (Jamey, if you’re able to read my journal entries, go ahead & skip this next sentence. I may or may not run the dishwasher from time to time when every cubic inch of space has not been maximized. 😱) 

But just like I think if you are quiet enough, and still enough, and listen hard enough, you can feel the nudging of the holy spirt in your heart, so too I think I can hear the answer to “What Would Jamey Do?”  And while no person completely knows the workings of another’s mind, after being in relationship and marriage for 21 years +, I do think I can likely guess, with at least 90% accuracy, what Jamey would do in most situations.  But just like when he was alive, that doesn’t mean I always agree with ‘What Jamey Would Do.”  I mean do any 2 people ever always agree 100%??? I know there are currently a few decisions on the table where he & I would disagree, but here I am, living this life without him, and so I carry on, listening to his voice in my head, considering his opinion, and moving forward, albeit a bit sideways & wonky from time to time. But now that I am the only one left standing, like we used to say to our girls, they, but in this case, Jamey, has input but not say.  The final ‘say’ in decisions at this point in time, are mine and mine alone, but so too then are the consequences & repercussions. All I can really do is to keep praying through decisions & to keep leaning on my trusted & wise friends for counsel. But am I getting them all right? I doubt it. Have I made a few mistakes already? 💯! But I’m trying. And I’d like to think someone would at least give me an A- for effort. (Have I shared already how I love high marks & gold🌟 stars?) 

Would I rather be making decisions & weighing the pros & cons with my partner in crime? Absolutely! But that is not the path God has set before me to walk. And while I don’t necessarily love this whole ‘going it alone’ business, I am thankful for the village who is quite literally picking me up & carrying me down the road when I do I stumble, or feel lost, or confused or overwhelmed, because I am literally all the emotions these days. 

And as for what I have done so far, so far, I haven’t made any major decisions that Jamey & I hadn’t at least already discuss. Granted, I may have pulled the trigger and set a few of those decisions into motion faster than I know he would have, (the grass doesn’t really grow under my feet much,) they are not decisions or choices that we hadn’t already talked about.  Towards the end, we even discussed some hypothetical big decision things he thought I should do in the event…so in a way, he left me with an outline, not a sentence outline, and not a paper, but an outline.  I wish it were more of an instruction manual, but it’s not, which is fine by me, as I tend not to follow instructions very well anyway.  (Jamey used to say that I treated recipes more like suggestions or inspirational guides, as opposed to mandatory steps. Can you tell that I am NOT a baker?  LOL!) However, I do wish that I could see through the veil and converse with Jamey like the character in Sixth Sense, but if I said that I did that in this blog, you’d likely be more than reading this post, you’d be calling the authorities.  LOL!  

But for those of you helping me hold up my little family of 3 up these days, thank you. And please, keep it up, because I’m still peddling fast and furiously with training wheels. 

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Thankful for much, even the suck..

So, here we are, facing the 1st of the Hallmark holidays without Jamey, Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving used to be kind of a big deal for us, because it was the 1st big family gathering Jamey & I, several years ago, finally felt equipped & ready to host on our own. Early marriage we always trekked it back down to Florida to be with my parents & grandparents, but once we lost my grans & moved into a house with a little more elbow room, we were ready to host. Now that’s not to say we did do so seamlessly, as it took us a few years to get the hang of it, but we did it & loved it. 

However, we most certainly learned a few things along the way. We learned that if Jamey was intent on smoking the bird 🦃 in the Big Green Egg, Thanksgiving lunch @ 12:00 PM was not a good idea, because it meant he (we) had to stay up most of the night monitoring the temperature, & you can’t stay up all night without imbibing 🥃🍺🍷 at least a wee bit, so subsequent feasts were all dinners versus lunches. I learned that it’s really over kill to deep fry the onions on your back porch in your new Fry Daddy for the green bean casserole, & store bought, fried & dried, onions are really delicious when comparing the ROI. Yes, lots of tweaks were made over the years. We even moved the festivities out to Smyer Lake one year, where the kitchen appliances may not have been as nice, but the ambiance was top drawer. But then Covid 🦠😷 side swiped our newly acquired hosting hats, & we had to settle for a low-key family of 4. Oh, how innocent & naive I was to think that Thanksgiving with just the 4 of us during a pandemic was rather somber & sad. I mean what I wouldn’t give to go back in time & relish it more, appreciate it more, cherish it more, & imprint every minute of it into my wretched memory more. Just writing that makes me sob big hard tears that I’ve been managing to keep at bay for longer & longer periods of time as of late, but I guess it just goes to show you that grief lives in a deep dark well that never runs dry. 😥 But despite the tears, I’m truly thankful for the many, many happy memories. I just sometimes still can’t believe that they really are just memories, and that realization sucks, but life goes on for the rest of us.

Our “feast” this year will be small & mostly ordered from a local delicatessen, but we will get by & try to focus on the many, many good things & countless blessings in our lives. For example, our oldest has been receiving college acceptances & both girls just might be able to squeak out an all A report card. And friends! Oh my goodness our friends! Friends continue to show up & support us in the most unexpected & beautiful ways, whether it be by coming to the the 18th Annual Finish The Fight Iron Bowl Kickoff Casino Party last week, or by stomping out my boa that may or may not have caught fire 🔥 recently, or by leaving THE. MOST. DELICIOUS. loaf of “Rosemary Remembrance” bread on our front porch. (It was sooo good; I’ve even asked for the recipe & I don’t bake, & I’ve never made 🍞 bread in my life!) The kindnesses & support are nothing short of phenomenal, & I’m so thankful! But the suck is never too far off. In the last 2 weeks, 2 dear & longtime friends have shared with me that loved ones in their inner circles have been diagnosed with CRC. It feels like it’s everywhere, but my daughter says it’s just because I’m hyper focused on CRC. Maybe so, but I’d be negligent if I didn’t put in a plug here for everyone reading this now, if you haven’t yet, schedule your colonoscopy sooner versus later. I don’t want anyone else to feel compelled to write a grief blog, maybe some sort of happy blog, but let’s prevent anymore pathetic grief blogs.

I’ll close out this post on Thanksgiving Eve, with a PSA that’s not about colonoscopies: Love on your honeys. Squeeze ‘em tight. Don’t sigh or fight if someone overcooks, undercooks, or forgets to cook anything. Just squeeze their hands & give thanks to God, & try with all your might to remember & appreciate it all. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

P.S.  Apologies for not posting last week.  I was running around with my hair on fire (It was apparently out of control!) and pealing in everywhere I went on two wheels. Then throw in one of your besties visiting from out of town, a fundraiser to “Finish the Fight” with a dozen or so friends all gathered in one place, and journaling / blogging was just not happening. 😊