Mi Vida Salvadoreña

Irony

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Fri, 14 May 2010 03:43:00 +0000

Time flies I guess! We are quickly coming upon the one year mark and that shocks me. Tonight I went out to a movie with someone I have been spending more and more time with lately. It's platonic at this point but the company is welcome and we have a lot of fun together. Anyway, as I was driving home I had to find a new radio station to pick up the signal from my iPod and what was playing on the radio but "Comfortably Numb." I haven't heard Pink Floyd since the funeral... I laughed and cried at the same time because it felt like he was letting me know he is still up there checking in on me. Of course he would let me know this tonight of all nights. God I really miss him sometimes.

Food for thought

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 02:24:00 +0000

In about an hour from now, it will be 9 months to the moment that I heard of my husband's death. Today, it feels like it was yesterday. I have been nervous and anxious all day, and there are other factors creating these feelings as well... but I know that my loneliness and feelings of loss are playing a huge role in my mental state.

Sometimes, I really am fine. I accept the idea that I must move on and am taking the steps to do so by making plans for the future. This is healthy and I'm feeling good about where I am with that. I'll get to the point where I can finally believe this idea that I'm really going to be okay, and then I'll have a day (or a few days) like this. It knocks me flat and I end up feeling like I've taken about 20 steps back.

I start doubting myself, finding fault, becoming self-conscious and needy... and that's just not me... or at least it wasn't before a few years ago.

I really hope that I can get beyond this fragility soon. Ever since he went back to El Salvador I feel like I've questioned and questioned and questioned. I know that I had trust issues before him, but they are ugly and I want to let them go. I remember a time when I would confront feelings like jealousy with a kind, "thanks and goodbye, this is not what I'm looking for," because I was just not looking for games and drama. Now, my insecurities make me brood and hold on, hoping that the feelings will go away instead of actually doing something about it... and I still find myself actually thinking about the ridiculous things that his landlord alluded to, which I fundamentally know were lies... but those insecurities come into play again and for a while, I will actually wonder......

I don't like it one bit.

There has to be a way to get back to myself. I know I'm not broken.

Smoothing things out

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 19:35:00 +0000

We started going to Ele's Place when we returned from El Salvador and it has been a good experience so far. My situation is very different from a lot of the other spouses, but it is good to have that time set aside to talk. La Hija seems to enjoy it, and that's the most important part.

I am already planning my next trip down south. I miss it there. I miss my family and I miss the gentleman I spoke of in my last post. We have been talking regularly since my departure and our friendship has only grown. La Hija asks for him every day and talks to him regularly as well. Our relationship is a breath of fresh air. We are silly and laugh so much, but we tell each other everything... we are in very different places in our lives, but that seems to be ok at this point.

My late husband's sister is not doing well psychologically. She had been having problems since her brother died and they have not gotten any better. She was put under hospital observation last weekend after having some sort of sevre breakdown. I hope that things begin to smooth out for her. I could certainly tell that something was wrong when I was visiting the family. She secluded herself and her daughter for most of the day and began to think that the family members who were helping her were really out to get her. A few times she sat me down to talk about what I knew about my late husband's death and would not let the subject go until I was sobbing. A few times I tried to talk to her about getting some help (talking to someone or taking to a doctor about depression medications) but she said she was fine, even though I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't. It's sad.

I have been making an effort to start referring to my husband as "my late husband," which is probably pretty obvious by the last paragraph. I was trying to figure out what to call him. I feel like it's unhealthy to keep referring to him as my husband, especially if I am thinking about moving on emotionally. Calling him my husband means that I have *not* and *cannot* move on, at least in my mind. The only other term I'd remembered was "ex" and that doesn't seem to fit either (I realized this during the conversation I had with the immigration officer upon my return lol), so I actually had to look up how people refer to their deceased spouses on the internet! I felt so silly and ridiculous doing it, especially after I saw the term "late" because I coudln't believe I didn't remember that! Anyway, it seems to be working, but I have to remind myself all the time.

I'm back!

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 23:18:00 +0000

The trip was amazing and I an opportunity for a lot of reflection, growth, and emotional progress. There were many surprises, not the least of which was my ability to open my heart to the possibility of another relationship. I don't think that this would be possible in a general sense, and by that I mean I have absolutely no interest in "dating" and the like, but I became very close with someone while I was there and very much enjoyed that connection.

There was a motif to the trip, seemingly echoed by everyone around me, and frequently repeated in my mind: The past is the past. Move on.

There were some dicey moments. The first time I went back to Sonsonate, for example, I broke down just from driving the same streets I used to drive with my husband. It was a vivid reminder of how close we came to making our life together work, and it was just all too much.

In the irony of all ironies, during another breakdown (actually two) I was comforted by my husband's ex. I imagine he was rolling over in his grave at that one! While it wasn't the most comfortable experience in the world for me, it was kind of her, and her presence meant that La Hija was getting to spend some time getting to know her brother, which was excellent.

I was not ready to leave, for so many reasons, and I know that Mi Vida Salvadoreña will continue. The plan is to return in July for 2 more weeks. I am saving my pennies already. I need more time there.

I have many stories and will write more soon.

Silencio

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 02:28:00 +0000

Somehow I made it through six months and his 31st birthday with my mind intact (or as intact as in ever was)... When we return from El Salvador we are going to start going to these group meetings for families who have lost close loved ones. There are separate group meetings for pre-K kids and adults who have lost spouses/partners, so it will be great that La Hija will be in a position to know that she is not the only one whose daddy is in heaven. I called to get some more info about the organization and the meetings and became very upset at the prospect of actually sitting down with other people who have lost spouses/partners. It dawned on me that I really just haven't been dealing with it. I've thrown myself into work, into school, into keeping my child happy, into enjoying a budding friendship, into any and everything imaginable except dealing with the fact that my husband was murdered. I can talk about it like it has no effect on me, I can push it out of my mind or remove myself from it so much that I don't have to deal with the emotions that go along with it. I know that going down to El Salvador, buying and having his gravestone installed, and spending my first extended visit down there without him will all serve to help me realize (with more clarity) that he is gone, but I think that going to these group meetings (I'm guessing it's akin to group therapy) will help me deal with it even more... my biggest fear is that not dealing with it will eventually build up and cause a true break.

Emotional development

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 16:08:00 +0000

Well, last Friday was my birthday, and it also marked the 5 month date of my husband's death. Such a strange combination of emotions I had that day.

My mother told me she heard Wish You Were Here on the radio the other day and started sobbing in the car. She says she will never be able to hear that song again without crying. I know Mi Amor's death impacted her, but I did not know how much until now.

I have been exploring my emotional options as of late. I had a few drinks with a male friend who I had not seen since the beginning of college and it was a good experience. It felt nice to be out, to be social, and to be talking with an attractive man. This was a safe outing, however, and there was no pressure for it to be anything more than just drinks, so I kind of took the easy way out with that one.

I don't know what I am and am not ready for emotionally, however. I have a friend with whom I have a very strong mutual connection and attraction and this friendship has been filling a void as of late. I am so conflicted, though. The part of me that wants so badly to live in the moment says, "just relax and have fun with it!" but there is another part of me that can find a million and a half reasons why I should take about 10 steps back.

I woke up yesterday morning to find that I'd taken off my left-hand ring (it is not my wedding ring... I could not put that on after my husband died... but I wear a ring in place of my wedding ring that my aunts gave me in memory of him). I freaked out a first and started searching the bed, trying to figure out what had happened to it. To my surprise, it was on my right hand. This really bothers me for some reason. A few people have suggested that perhaps it was Mi Amor telling me to let go and move on.

I wonder, though, is there a "proper" time to wait? It has been only 5 months, but it feels much longer since the last time I spent any time with him was at the end of last January. My love for him has not diminished in the least. If anything, it has grown and developed over the months since his death. I have let go of most of the anger and have stopped trying to find answers to questions that will never be answered. I easily and regularly focus on the positive memories we made and can see his actions in such a different light now. I feel secure in saying that I will love that man for as long as I walk this earth and no other man will ever, or should ever try to change that.

Part of me feels ready to, at the very least, open myself up to the possibilities, yet another part of me is absolutely terrified of that prospect.

We shall see.

Four Months

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:43:00 +0000

Today it has been 4 months... the longest and shortest 4 months of my life. I have been trying to figure out a way to put our whole story into words, and am finding it very difficult. Sometimes, as useful and magical as words are, they fail to accurately illustrate the subtle complexities of very emotional events. I will think for a while, and then I will write.

I need to hear your stories!

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 04:27:00 +0000

I have started another blog called Faces of Immigration. I know that some of you out there in the blogosphere have had some dealings and difficulties with immigration, and I would love to hear your stories and post them on the new blog. There are so many people with so many stories, but we all have a few things in common: fear, heartbreak, and loss. Too many people look at the immigration issue from afar, without any clear understanding of the personal element behind these laws.

This needs to change.

The Stages of Grief

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 00:03:00 +0000

As I come upon four months of living without Mi Amor, I find myself increasingly analytical--most particularly with respect to my emotional state. I no longer cry every day, but some days are still very teary. There have been a few days where I realized at the tail end of the day that I had not spoken to anyone about him--not even La Hija. There are moments, fleeting moments, where I forget that I've experienced such a deep and soul rending loss. Seconds where I feel calm and happy without trying.

They say that there are steps that people go through in the grieving process. I identify with some of it and have been conscious of some of these steps over the past few months. Others do not resonate so strongly.

Denial and Isolation.
At first, we tend to deny the loss has taken place, and may withdraw from our usual social contacts. This stage may last a few moments, or longer.

This a strange one for me. I had not seen Mi Amor for four months at the time of his death, although we'd talked almost daily, except for when he was training out at sea. I'd spoken to him around noon on the day he died. My phone rang at around 10:30 pm and I was excited to get to talk with him again, except when I giddily picked up the phone he was not on the line. It was his sister. All she said was he was dead. Oh yes, I protested, but she just kept saying, " I am your sister, he is dead... he is dead. I am your sister, he is dead." I don't know how long we were on the phone, but I do remember repeating "Nononononononono" over and over again. I also do not remember who told me what happened. I do not know if I learned any of the details in Spanish or if I was in the dark until my Tio (who I did not know before this) called and made sure I understood by telling me everything in English. I still did not believe it until I walked into Mi Abuela's house and saw the casket there. No, not until I took a few steps closer to it and saw his face, and even then it was unreal. I had panic attacks every night in El Salvador because the AC kept waking me up with the intense notion that we were back in the old house together and someone was knocking on the door.

I do not know when it became real to me, but eventually it did. Part of the reason it became real was because I told people, even people I didn't know. Everything reminded me of my loss and I somehow found the fact of my husband's death appropriate, and in fact necessary, to bring up at the most random of moments.

I did not isolate myself, and have made every effort to combat the desire to do so. For this, I know I am much better off.

Anger.
The grieving person may then be furious at the person who inflicted the hurt (even if she's dead), or at the world, for letting it happen. He may be angry with himself for letting the event take place, even if, realistically, nothing could have stopped it.

I was angry, and am still angry at times. Angry at myself, at him, at his attorney, at our governments, at the still unknown killer(s), at the police, at our families, at his fondness for beer, at his fearless determination, at his bosses, at the gangs, at L.A., at Vegas, at the entire state of Michigan, at just about everything that I could somehow link with the path that got us to the point we were at. I've never been one to allow my anger to take over, and seldom think of it as a productive emotion, but I allow(ed) myself to feel it and let it go.

Bargaining.
Now the grieving person may make bargains with God, asking, "If I do this, will you take away the loss?"

Now this I don't get. I understood from the very moment that his death sunk in, there was nothing I could do to change this. There was no reason to bargain. He was dead and La Hija and I were not, and that was the long and the short of it. No more time together, no more calls, no more kisses, no more kids, no more hugs, no more arguments, no more laughter, no more "us." It was done. There are no take-backs in death.

Depression.
The person feels numb, although anger and sadness may remain underneath.

I'd been depressed for a while, since he first left for El Salvador, actually. Quite possibly even since my pregnancy. I do not remember the last time I felt "right." I was briefly back to my old, chipper self during the final weeks of our last time in El Salvador, but our necessary return just sunk me back down. What was so scary to me, is how disturbingly familiar that pit in my stomach felt when I heard of his death. I thought to myself not again! for so many reasons. We'd worked so hard for so long and faced setback after setback. That sense of disappointment and despair came back like an overplayed pop song. You know all the words and tend to get them stuck in your head, but you're miserable for the duration of their mental playback.

I do not know if I was any more depressed than I had been for a while. I was more aware of a sense of resignation--an acknowledgment of the fact that our best would not cut it--that we'd tried hard and fell short.

Acceptance.
This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply accepts the reality of the loss.

I am getting to this point. Slowly. I want to feel "normal" again. I want to be free from having to fight off tears for insane things, like the sound of La Hija's old crib mobile, random songs, and spying older couples holding hands in the street. I want to accept that my life is going on, and that does not negate my love for him. I want to open myself to the possibilities of a happy future, even without him by my side. I want to get to the point where I don't feel like I must be alone if I can't be with him. I want to remember my silly, flirtatious side. The side that enjoyed laughing and joking with people and having a good time. I do not feel completely cut off and sinking in the mire, but I don't feel quite whole yet either.

Perhaps I just need more than five steps. This seven step model is a better fit.

Es Oficial!!

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 17:38:00 +0000

Tickets have been purchased and La Hija and I are headed down to El Salvador again for Nuevo Año! Originally, I'd thought I needed to return by January 5 for school, but it turns out we aren't back in session until the 19th! That brought down ticket prices about $350 each, so I bought our tickets last night after speaking with Mi Prima.

I had not heard Mi Prima's voice since we left El Salvador after the funeral, so we were both so excited. A bunch of hysterically happy women screeching in Spanglish. It was hilarious! So, La Hija and I will be there for a full 17 days, and I couldn't be happier. I'd asked if that was too long and Mi Tia said we could live there forever--I told her to be careful what she wishes for :)

This is a huge bright spot for me. I know it will be difficult, but the holidays will be difficult in general. I am just so thankful that I will continue to spend holiday time with Mi Familia--both American and Salvadoran.

Over a year?

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 14:29:00 +0000

It's amazing to think that I've had this blog for over one year now. Amazing how drastically life can change in that short a period of time. Mi familia invited me to continue the yearly trip to El Salvador for Nuevo Año. Tickets are very expensive at this point, so I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to swing it, but feels good that there is the possibility for the tradition to continue.

This weekend I arranged for two coins that Mi Amor had given me to be made into pendants for me and Mi Hermana. I thought that would be a good gift for Navidad. I have very few material possessions left from Mi Amor because most of our stuff was stolen in the day between Mi Amor's death and our visit to la casa. This is difficult for me because I know the strength of my emotional attachments to my father's belongings (He died when I was two. It is my hope that La Hija will have actual memories of her father, where I have none), and I have so few items to pass on to our daughter. I have maintained that the material items are not important, because ultimately they are not. This realization does not take away the feeling of violation, nor does it make it any easier to not have any more than a few shirts to pass on.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful long weekend.

An unsent letter to Mi Amor's immigration attorney

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 16:36:00 +0000

I thought I should tell you that my husband was killed at the beginning of June. He was shot seven times and left lying in the street. Luckily we were all informed quickly and I was able to fly down for the funeral. He looked peaceful and, although he was shot once in the head, his face was not harmed.

I also thought I should tell you that I am angry. I am angry that no one took him seriously when he said he was afraid for his safety if he returned to El Salvador. His age and appearance made him a target. I am angry that there was "nothing that could be done" to keep him here. I am angry that I am a 32 year old widow and that our daughter will have so few memories of the father who gave everything for the chance to be with his family again. I am angry that we had to be pecked at by a heartless vulture of a lying landlord who stole most of our possessions. Mostly, I am angry that we struggled for so long and came so close to being together again only to have some idiot thugs snatch away our dreams.

My only hope is that our loss can be an eye-opener to the realities of your clients' situations. When someone professes a fear of returning home, claims they are afraid of the gangs and their penchant for random murders, I hope that you will listen.

(maybe someday I will send it)

What I remember

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 18:05:00 +0000

The other day, I had a sudden flash of a memory. The small, round scar on his chest, surrounded by otherwise baby-smooth skin. It was not discolored, just raised, and I don't remember the story behind it.

He had many scars, both physical and emotional, and I always tried to be gentle with him. Their stories often horrified me--it was so often unfathomable that such a sweet, kind, and funny man endured so much trauma in his life... traumas so intense that they left their marks all over his body and mind.

I tried my hardest to heal the wounds that festered underneath his hardened skin, and for the last few years of our time together, I think I was at least somewhat successful.

But I remember those scars, and their stories... his smooth caramel skin... the warm, earthy smell of his hair after he'd come home from a long day of work... the strength of his rough, worker hands and how they made me feel so safe when they held mine.

And I also remember the little nagging fear that I'd lose him... that he wouldn't come home one day... that no one would know where he was.

I remember waking up nights when he had not yet come home, frantic with worry, unable to go back to sleep, just waiting and waiting for the sound of our truck... the sound of the door... anything to tell me that he was okay.

I remember the combination of relief and anger I'd feel upon his return, the desire to scream at him and hug him all at once... and how exhausted we both were those days: he from work and I from tossing, turning, crying, and praying all night.

There are so many things I remember, yet there are still so many things I do not know. The last month or so of his life, even though we spoke daily, feels like such a mystery to me--and one that will likely remain so. I only hope that while I reinforce the memories, the mystery fades.

Through all of the chaos

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 17:13:00 +0000

Somehow I am finding some sort of comfort these days. The tears are less frequent and, while I still have no clue where we are headed, I know that we will be okay.

Three of us in the family have been having dreams about Mi Amor, and strangely enough, he seems to be wearing the same sort of clothes in everyone's dreams. Last week at some point I had a dream about him (he was wearing a black and white striped shirt)... in my dream he came back and said he was still alive, that it was all a big misunderstanding and that everything was fine and I didn't have to worry. The next day I got an email from Mi Prima saying that her husband woke up the night before and thought he saw Mi Amor, in a black and white striped shirt, walking around by the window outside the house. That same night, Mi Primo had a dream of Mi Amor, wearing the same thing, where he was trying to explain about and describe the people who killed him. I have not had any of those eerily vivid dreams since, and I'm not complaining about that. I woke up so confused that for a second I wanted to try to call him.

I have been regularly talking with a good friend of Mi Amor and Mi Primo. He is such a comfort to me and he makes me laugh. There are so few connections to Mi Amor here, other than our daughter of course, so it is nice to speak with someone (an adult) who knows how I feel and what a good man he was. Plus, I get to practice my Spanish, which is a great thing.

Earlier this week I sent out a couple of packages to Mi Familia. I'd put together some photo albums, mostly of Mi Amor and La Hija, threw in a few framed recent photos of La Hija, and my mom and I embroidered some cloth napkins for them to hang or put on tables or whatever. It feels good to have finally gotten them out.

Two weeks ago I got a new job teaching Lit at a voc. ed. school. It has been a lot of fun so far and it's nice to get back to work. I hope that I will be able to pick up some more classes next quarter and eek out a living between that and subbing. I'm staying with my aunt most of the time and have decided to put La Hija in preschool/day care out here. I've been looking for places so we could live on our own, but it would be a huge struggle to make ends meet, so my aunt has said we can stay as long as we need and want to. Thank God for my supportive family.

There is more I want to talk about, but I need to sort it all out in my head before I write it down here.

The long road...

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 21:07:00 +0000

I am still struggling with this. I want to be able to say that it's gotten a bit easier, but I can't. My aunt (or technically, my second cousin) passed away last week and the funeral was on Sunday.

I was a ball of anxiety, jumping the whole drive there every time someone's breaks went on. A bundle of nerves.

At the interment, La Hija (who came along) was talking with her Nuh-Nuh about what was happening and I heard my mom say, "She is in heaven now, with your daddy," and it took all my strength not to lose it.

The things that struck me most, at least the detached and objective part of me that takes over when it's too much for me to handle, is how drastically different funerals are in El Salvador. Beyond the two day, pre-burial, almost shiva-like, in-home viewing and visiting period, the funerals there are just so much more... real. There is no attempt at hiding or prettying up the grave-site. No tarp over the dirt, no trying to hide the hole, no fancy contraption to lower the casket. There was a hole, a mound of dirt, some slabs of cement, some rope, and four men. I watched as they lowered his casket into the ground, praying no one would let the rope slip. Mi Compadre was watching them like a hawk, making sure everything was done properly. The last thing I saw was them lay the cement slabs down on top of the casket. Then, a family friend (very close to a Tio to me) and one of Mi Amor's closest friends (who sang "Wish You Were Here" at the grave site per my request... talk about a meltdown for me--it was one of our favorite songs during the time we spent apart) took me aside and told me I should leave because I needed to let it go and there was nothing else to see.

It was all so raw, but in some ways I think it was better. We pretty up death to make it less scary for us, but I'm not scared of dying, death, or the afterlife. My problem is missing people once they're gone.

One month...

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 01:14:00 +0000

It was one month ago today... four weeks as of Saturday--but who's counting?

I am.

Te amo siempre, Mi Amor. Te amo mas de la que tu sabes.

Contemplations on healing

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 22:48:00 +0000

As I approach the one month marker of being without Mi Amor, I find myself growing more emotional, more nostalgic, and more determined to make sure that El Salvador and our family there stay an important and regular part of our lives. Mi Amor has a son, almost four years older than La Hija, whom I have never had the pleasure of meeting in person. I have asked Mi Hermana if she would help facilitate a meeting between us during out next visit so that Mi Amor's children can forge a relationship. I have also decided to keep up the tradition of sending him birthday and Christmas gifts, in memory of his father. I do not know how I feel about the possibility of meeting his mother, as she was the source of so much pain for Mi Amor, but I am civil and kind enough to put that aside in order to have a relationship with Mi Hijastro.

I am saving up to buy a headstone for Mi Amor's grave. Mi Tia paid for the funeral, the casket, and the burial--I wish I could find a way to show her how much I appreciate her kindness in taking care of him... of us in that manner. Part of me would like to offer to repay her once I have the money, but she told me Mi Amor asked her a long time ago to buy him his caja, and so there was a sense of keeping a promise in her acts. One day, something will come to me and I will know what to do.

I still speak of him in the present tense and I can't imagine how I can speak of him otherwise. One thing I know for certain is that I am a lucky woman. I met, loved, and was loved by my soul mate. Few people in the world can say that.

What happened...

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 06:15:00 +0000

This is not an attempt to scare anyone away from El Salvador. I love that country and the people in it. This is something that could have happened in any major city in any country in the world.

I have taken most of the following from a journal post. This is what happened:

On June 6, 2009, as he was working at his taquirea, my husband was killed. Someone came up behind him as he was preparing food for some customers and shot him seven times. Seven. Once behind the ear, two in the arm, and four in the torso. Seven.

Crime of opportunity, the police assume. His watch was gone, there was no money on him. They made sure to leave his ID, though. Thank God for that. My worst fear was that something would happen to him and no one would ever know.

He was an amazing man. Hard working and loving beyond words. Everything he did, he did for us so we could make our dreams a reality. He knew it was dangerous where he was, but went there anyway because he made good money there and he just needed to make it through until September when the next boat left.

La Hija and I were to head down in August so we could finally have our civil ceremony down there and have both of our governments recognize our marriage... so we could start working on getting him back into the states.

I spoke with him the day he died... I told him I love him, and I am so thankful for that.

Now, I am numb. I try to keep it together for La Hija, but that isn't always possible. Every once in a while, when I realize I will never hear is voice again, never feel his touch, see his smile... when I realize that the one person I could tell anything, the one person I went to when I needed to breathe is no longer there, I feel lost and scared. And then I look at our daughter and see him and realize I need to get it together and take care of her.

I just miss him. I really miss him.

This event in my life, as horrible as it is, will in no way keep me from going back. In fact, I think it may just make me fight that much harder to get there, since it will have to be on my own. I will return to spend time with my family. Perhaps someday I will return and work at one of the private schools. I will return though. That much, I know for a fact.

The Fright of an Open Future

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 04:37:00 +0000

The thing that keeps me up nights, the thing that I am having such a hard time with at this point, is the uncertainty. We had all of these plans. I knew where we were headed. A civil wedding in August to "legalize" our marriage. Finishing school. Teaching in El Salvador. Another baby in two years. A house, a garden, a business. Returning to the US when we had the money for an attorney.

It's all just... gone. I'm staying in school, and teaching in El Salvador is still one of the ideas I'm tossing around, but everything else... all those other plans... all those fantasy images have to fade because they can't happen.

At night, though, they come back to me and make me smile because they images were so lovely... and then I remember we buried him and I've spent as much time with him as I was allowed. There is no future with Mi Amor and that I'll have to make my own way.

This is what keeps me up.

Thank You.

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 05:24:00 +0000

We are home and I am exhausted. I will write about it--put it into words with the hope that it will help clear my head.

Thank you for your words of support. I am so touched by how people have reached out to me and feel so blessed to have the sort of encouragement and kindness in my life.

Right now, I feel the hardest part is over and now I just have to figure out where to go from here.

One thing is for certain: this is not the end of mi vida Salvadoreña. This I promise to myself, Mi Amor, La Hija, and all of mi familia en El Salvador.

...

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 08:20:00 +0000

I don't know what to do. I can't sleep. I feel so useless. So lost. So confused.

We had plans.

I talked with him today.

I can't stop crying. Can't stop thinking. Can't figure out why this is happening after we got so close.

How do I explain this to our daughter? How do I press on through this?

The language barrier is so frustrating. I need an explanation. Need to know what the hell happened, although I'm quite sure I don't want to know.

All these dreams... all these plans... everything went *poof* and my vision of our future is impossible. No more time together... no more hugs and kisses... no more laughter... no more children together... no growing old with him.

It just doesn't make sense... and I'm so tired.

Not much more to say.

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 06:47:00 +0000

I don't know how much more I will be able to write here. Mi Amor's sister just called and I heard little more than muerto.

I don't have any more information than that right now.

This is not what was supposed to happen.
This makes no sense.

I am waiting for phone calls so I can go down there.
Trying to figure out whether or not to bring La Hija.
Trying to figure out what to do without my other half.

My mother was widowed at 30.
This was not supposed to happen.
We were going to make it
We were going to overcome.
Figure it out.
Have our family.

I will update when I can.

Honduras

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 28 May 2009 19:24:00 +0000

I am worried about my Honduran blogger friends... is everyone ok??

It's worth a shot

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 21 May 2009 11:02:00 +0000

Dear readers, if any of you have legal contacts in El Salvador please email me privately ASAP. I have some important questions to ask. Thank you.

One of these days...

noreply@blogger.com (aighmeigh) — Thu, 21 May 2009 00:44:00 +0000

One of these days, we'll get it right.
We'll get it together
Together
And find strength and peace
In our years
Of sacrifice
And faith.
And together we'll prove the world wrong
And laugh in the face of this seemingly insurmountable difficulty.

We will survive this
Although today it may not seem so.
Although today we cry and scream
And tear our hair out
Because of the pain
Because of the fear
Because somehow, for some reason, it is always a terrible surprise
When we take our three... four... five steps back.
A surprise that steals your breath
And leaves you asking
Why, why, why?
Why now?
Why us?
Why this?