Lucky, Grateful, Bittersweet

“I feel extremely lucky, extremely grateful, and a little bit bittersweet too.”

~Wentworth Miller

The mixture of luck, gratitude, and bittersweet is how I best describe my life. Each one plays a part in who I am today, but since the death of my husband and the subsequent deaths of my mom and dad, bittersweet is the hum that is always playing in the background. For every new experience I have, there is the longing for the people I want to share it with who are no longer with me.

It took time from the initial shock and devastation of Mike’s death before I put myself out in the world, exploring places that I hadn’t visited before. Mike had been more of a homebody once we moved to Arizona, so we didn’t travel much. I began to explore, primarily on my own, enjoying the natural beauty of my adopted state. Traveling north on the I-17 from Phoenix was like leaving the state as the geography changed with the higher elevation. I became more fearless with each trip, which may have come from the misconstrued thinking that having survived the worst experience of my life, nothing bad could happen to me. Sometimes, I would take day trips, while other times, I would stay at a hotel for the weekend. I also explored Phoenix, especially downtown and the Desert Botanical Garden. Like my mom, I would talk to people at different places I visited, sometimes making friends along the way.

I was also lucky to spread my creative wings as I became involved with the performing arts of film and music. In 2016, I emailed the Phoenix Film Festival to ask about volunteering. I used my photography email, one of three emails I had. They asked if I would be interested in volunteering to photograph the event. Although I had never done event photography before, I said yes. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. It exposed me to a whole new world of independent films and filmmakers. Over the years, I’ve met some wonderful people: the volunteers who return yearly and the people who make the films: writers, directors, and actors. It has given me a new appreciation for all the hard work it takes to create a movie from inception to the festival circuit and distribution. Photographing live music events has given me a deeper understanding of the joy and the grind of being a working musician trying to gain success in a challenging business. Independent musicians must put in a lot of time and money in the hopes of building a career. Once again, the circle of people that I’ve met through this experience has been rewarding.

I would rather have Mike here with me in a heartbeat, but I’m grateful for his support when he was alive, especially with my creative pursuits. Besides photography, I made several quilts, experimented with painting, and even wrote a novel inspired by “The X-Files.” Mike was especially encouraging with the last endeavor. I went to a writer’s conference in Vermont while Mike stayed home with the kids. That was an eye-opening experience as I got to go to workshops with published authors and meet aspiring writers. I also spoke with a coroner in Washington, DC, where the story was set, locking my bedroom door so my youngest couldn’t get in the room while I was interviewing him. I had to step into my closet with the phone so the doctor I was talking with couldn’t hear my son’s whining. My parents also encouraged me with my photography after Mike died. Every time that I spoke with my dad, he would tell me that he had been at the doctor’s office, and my photographs would fit right in with what was on the wall. He encouraged me to try to sell them to buildings, though I had no idea of how to do that. My mom always told me how proud she was of me and how I reinvented myself after Mike died. I miss hearing her saying that so much!

 Several years before Mike died, I stopped getting bills for his life insurance policy. After a few months without any invoices, I contacted the insurance company to check if it was paid in full. They had made an error on their end. Because of their mistake, we would split the missed payments, so we only had to pay half of the outstanding balance, and the monthly payments resumed. I feel so lucky that I was on top of the bills and that we didn’t lose the life insurance. It definitely made my life easier financially when Mike died. I know that not everyone is that fortunate, and I’m grateful for the resources to care for my expenses and plan for my future needs.  I was also thankful to find a financial planner who was compassionate and patient with me during the first months of the fog of grief when I would lose the thread of what she was saying within twenty minutes.

The bittersweet will always be woven into the beauty of life. It is the cost of loving deeply. I have been lucky to have many new experiences, which I couldn’t have imagined when I began my journey without Mike. Each has helped me grow in confidence to become who I am now. I’m also deeply grateful every night that I have food to eat, a house to live in, and a bed to rest my body no matter what the day has brought. Even on tough days, I know tomorrow is a new opportunity to start fresh.