6 months has come and now it is almost gone.
Almost 7 months since I have talked to the love of my life.

Some of my widow friends have told me that around this time, I'll start to feel the magnitude of losing him.
It's like someone turned on the water and then walked away.
And that same person has started to push a dagger through my chest and this person is slowly centimeter by centimeter pushing that dagger closer and closer to my heart.
I'm almost speechless.

That fear of forgetting him is more present than ever. I feel like the memories of him are being pushed out by the grief. But I can't bring them to the surface because it kills me. It kills me because I know that we will never make any new memories ever again. The morning of November 6th, 2009 was the last memories of him I will ever have.

I spent Memorial Day weekend in Washington DC with my widdas. I love being with them. When I am with those women, I feel almost normal again. I know that when I am with these other women no one is looking at me like a bad accident. I am able to laugh and not feel bad. And when I talk about what I am going through, I know that I am talking to someone who has gone through it, or is going through it too. It was amazing to be able to reconnect with some of the other widows from the Florida get-a-way as well as meet other widows. I was able to hear about other love stories and know that I am truly not alone. I don't know where I would be without them.

While we were there we went to Arlington. Being there was really hard. Right when I stepped off the bus, I felt like my heart was so heavy. It was hard to breathe at times. We went to section 60. Section 60 is where service men and women are buried from Iraq and Afghanistan. Being there was so hard. Even though Michael is not there, it felt like he was all around me. Seeing so many head stones there was unbearable. Being there reminded me, some how, that Michael is really gone. It was emotionally draining.

But now I am back at my home in Florida. I feel so alone here. I don't have friends here. No one here just calls me out of the blue to see how I am doing or to see if I want to meet up for coffee. The one and only time I really went out with friends was back in March. No one, besides my close friends, talked to me. No asked me to see what I was up to. It was soo weird. And the one and only person who talked to me (besides my close friends) asked me if I was dating yet! How awkward! I was already nervous about going out, and that made me want to stay locked up in my house forever. I hate being treated with kid gloves. I hate that its different now. But I also hate when people say stupid things. This is a huge reason why I just want to run away. Just go somewhere I don't know anyone. But then again, I would probably just feel the same way that I feel now. I know for a fact if Michael were here he would be telling that I need to put myself out there, that I need to make the effort. He's right, but it is just so hard when I have a hard time making the effort to get out of bed.

Michael is my best friend and he is gone. It didn't matter the situation, I could always tell him what was going on. It didn't matter if he was in Iraq and it was 3 am in the morning, I could write him and know that I would get a response from him. And the same went for him as well. He was my teammate in this game of life.

Accepting this and moving forward with my life is so difficult to do. I have truly forgotten to live without him.

tangled

Lately, I have been lost. Consumed in my thoughts and I cannot seem to find the right ways to untangle them to make everything make sense. Therefore I have not been able to write much. Lately I have been really effected by the garbage from some certain people in my life. It just makes it even more evident that I need to do some spring cleaning in the friendship department. These few people who I have in mind probably don't even have a clue that what they have done through their actions and words have so deeply effected me. Losing Michael has caused me to grow a backbone, in a sense. I don't put up with crap from people, and I have made it know when I don't like something.

I have learned that my days here are numbered. Life is too short to have people in your life who are just going to bring you down.

I have been finding myself desperately trying to keep myself distracted. I won't go to sleep until my eyes can no longer stay open. I will read until I wake up with the book on my chest in the middle of the night. I try to fill my day with mindless bull shit (honestly, I cannot find a better word for it) to keep me occupied. Maybe that's why my head has been such a mess lately. I just don't want to think about my husband being gone forever. However, I will have moments of clarity. Where I realize everything. It could be something as simple as his smile or the sound of his voice or the fact that he never took off his wedding ring. Then it will just trigger, like a hole being punched through my chest, I can't breath and my eyes fill with tears. My husband, my beautiful husband is dead. I will never get to touch his perfect body again. Kiss his beautiful lips. Hold his hand that fit into mine like a puzzle piece.

Sometimes I really just want to scream.

society sucks

Lately I have been feeling angry. I'm not mad at anyone in particular, besides the obvious (the man who killed my husband), but I'm just plain mad. I am mad that I am 23 years old and I am a widow. Not a wife, not a married woman. Society doesn't let me have that title anymore. In legal forms, I HAVE to now put that I am single. Although, in my head, I am clearly not single. I hate that. For the first couple of months, it didn't even occur to me that I was technically, no longer married. I just continued checking the "M" box under martial status. I think it really donned on me that my title has completely changed was when I was closing on my house. I was sitting there about to sign my life away and the lady from the title company looks at my left hand, and then back to me, almost in a panic asking me if I was married. I said yes, but I am a widow. I think she was happier because she did not have to go through and redo all of my paper work than we was sympathetic that I am this young, and a widow.

That word still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Widow. It's a word that makes you think of this picture when you hear it. Not a 23 year old woman. I guess if I can no longer say that I am Sgt Michael Martins wife, then I can live with being Sgt Michael Martins widow. I will carry around that title just as proud as I carried around the prior one.

I know I have said this before, and I am sure I sound like a broken record to some people, but I hate hate hate it when people tell me that I am so young and that I will find love again. That is not what I want to hear!!! I don't know what I want to hear, and I am sure I will never be happy with hearing anything, but I just don't want to hear that. People can be so dumb sometimes. Like the friend of mine, who told me she was cheating on her husband, when I found out that mine was never coming home. Or the countless amount of people who came up to me and told me that Michael was in a better place. Yes, I agree, heaven is a million times better than here, but I have always considered that to be something you say to someone who had just lost their uncle who has battled a horrible disease for a long time. You don't say that to someone who just lost their husband when there was nothing wrong with them. I'm sorry, I am selfish, but I would have picked the better place for Michael to be is with me.

I remember wanting to write something about this subject a month or two after everything happened. I swear I had a list of ridiculous things that people have said. Now, I can only remember those few. And that would be why I am so thankful for my brain shutting down.

Strong

When you hear about something as tragic as someone losing their husband it definitely breaks your heart. I hear people all the time tell me that they cannot imagine what I am going through. That I am so strong for getting things done and doing the necessary things. Some people have even told me that if it were them, they don't know how they would get up and out of bed. How they would be a total wreck. Ultimately, I do not know what to think when people tell me these things. The first thing I feel is guilt. Should I be in bed all day? I'm not, do I not miss my husband or am I just not as effected as someone else might be? Then after I really think about it, I get pissed because that person (without realizing it) made me feel guilty for not mourning my husband the way they would.

I have come to three conclusions as to why I have not done said acts. First, Michael and I have spent about half of our relationship/marriage away from one another. So it is not totally a new thing to not be around him 24/7. Second, I really have not been alone much. The few times that I have been by myself I am typically in bed. I try not to be because I know if I do so, I will be an effin' mess. Finally, I am literally a walking shell. I look like Allison, I talk like Allison, but I am really not Allison. I lost myself when I lost Michael. My brain has officially taken over and reverted to autopilot. The majority of the time I am numb. I know that Michael is gone. I feel my blood boiling underneath my skin when I think that I will never be able to touch his perfect face again or taste his kiss or smell his essence, his being. When I actually let myself take this all in, then I am a mess.

I think for now, I will let my brain do its job and keep me numb for a little while longer. I have the rest of my life to feel this blood boiling pain.

I love you so much Michael. Just remember, no star in the sky will burn longer than my love for you.

Much love,
The shell of Allison Martins :)