One Year After

January 14th, 2024

In loving memory of Ryan Lubitz
May 31st, 1980 - January 14th, 2023
Forever in my heart

One year ago today my life was shattered. All the people who love Ryan have been forever and irrevocably changed. 2023 was the year of my devastation and also my year of rebirth.

Life is more quiet now. Some of the turmoil has settled and my mind is a bit quieter. The damage still lives in me, but it has transformed into more of a dull ache than a raging, searing pain. I still think about Ryan everyday. I think about what happened everyday. I don’t think that will ever stop.

I hadn’t really been thinking about the upcoming anniversary in any particular way, but my body knew. My anxiety has been terrible. I have been feeling sick, nauseated. I knew the day was coming and my body knew too. It’s like my body remembers the trauma of that day and is sending me warning signs. Danger, it says.

I couldn’t figure out what I should do to mark this day. How do you mark the worst day of your life? A friend offered this advice: “What if you reframed the day, not to remember the tragedy, but to reflect on how far you’ve come in just one short year”. I like this very much and am taking it to heart.

There is a strange new sense of tranquility now, something I’ve never experienced before. Tranquility lives here now, along side the grief. She brings me peace even when the raging, searing pain makes a reappearance. And it do, from time to time.

I can feel a greater capacity stirring inside of me. A greater capacity for love and for life that I didn’t have before. A greater sense of compassion for myself and others. I think this sense of peace and quiet is what is bringing me the ability to open my heart more. To know more about the depths and magnitudes of life.

The fog of anger has cleared a bit, and I can allow myself to remember the good times. I can allow myself to miss him. My heart is slowly opening again. Forgiveness is something that will take more time. I want to forgive him. I’m working on forgiving him, but it’s not an easy undertaking.

I haven’t wanted to write. I have less that I need to get out and more that I need to hold close to my heart.

I keep trying to get back to who I was. To be able to look in the mirror and know the woman looking back at me. But the thing is, there is no going back. Pretending that could ever be a possibility is a futile endeavor.

Things I Have Learned

Life is fragile and people are fragile. Be careful with the ones you love. Cherish the lives that are connected to yours. You will lose them someday. You will feel grief and loss. I will feel it again too. Losing Ryan has taught me this in the most brutal, personal, and profound way imaginable.

Everything changes. Sometime extremely abruptly and violently. Each and every one of us will experience massive change and upheaval in our lifetimes. The only constant is that everything changes, and everything dies.

Being resilient and flexible are of the utmost importance. I’ve always tried not to be too attached to any physical thing because I always knew I could lose everything at any moment. I didn’t consider losing the most important person in my life, however so when it happened, I was utterly ruined. Somehow, I am finding my way through by being resilient, flexible and stubborn as hell. I am relentlessly clawing my way back into life. A different life, but still, my life. I won’t give up even on the days that I really, really want to.

I wouldn’t be the person that I am today without Ryan. He is forever in my heart.

Six Months After

Six Months After
Six months after feels like there should be some fort of milestone, but there isn’t. There is no timeline for grief. Even when I feel like I’ve made some progress and I feel better, something knocks me down and I’m right back to the day I lost Ryan. Six months. Wait, hold on, what just happened? I feel like I blinked, and six months of my life passed me by.

Tired
I am so tired. So tired of so many things. Of being unbearably sad everyday. Of having no place to call my home and having very few options to remedy the situation. Of having crippling anxiety that makes it hard for me to make a simple phone call. Of wanting to meet people, to connect, but being completely unable to. Of the bad dreams. Of the anger. Of feeling betrayed. Of being stuck. I feel like I’m being smothered, suffocating. Like there’s no room anywhere for me to exist. Of feeling like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. Of feeling so alone. Of feeling so lonely even when I have people around me. Of being so confused and not understanding. Of trying so hard to claw my way back into the world. Of being the “I’m so sorry, I can’t even imagine” girl. Of feeling like people don’t want to spend time with me because I’m such a downer. Of not being able to move forward in any way. I am so tired of being so tired all the time.

PTSD is a Bitch
I could never have even imagined what it would be like to have PTSD. This is the stuff you read about. People make movies about this stuff. And yet, it’s happening to me. It’s amazing to me that I can even write and share my experiences at all. I still can’t read for any length of time. I can’t remember much of anything about anything. I’ll watch a show and have no idea what I watched the next day. I feel unintelligent. My brain is broken. The smallest of tasks are exhausting. Driving has become challenging and downright dangerous because my mind wanders to far off places completely unannounced. I almost rear ended someone the other day. The flashbacks and the dreams are no joke. I finally found a therapist that I really like and we are starting EMDR next week. Managing my PTSD and finding a way to function better is priority #1. I am hopeful that there is relief coming soon.

I’m Not Brave
I don’t love being called inspirational or brave. I’m not brave. I didn’t choose to have chronic illness that is debilitating or PTSD because of what has happened in my life. Brave is choosing to do something even if it scares you. What I’m doing is attempting to survive what I have been given. None of this is a choice. By saying I’m brave or inspirational, it makes me feel like I am even more separated from others. There’s nothing special about me because of what happened to me. I know that there are no bad intentions in these comments whatsoever, but really, I’m just doing my best to carry on.

All of the Shoulds and the Shouldn’ts
Sometimes, without even knowing it, people judge how others are grieving. Sometimes they do know they are judging and continue doing it anyways. I am here to tell you that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. There are only different ways. Everyone goes through a unique experience of grief and there is no room for judgement. Like, there are negative a million spaces available for judgement. Your current wait time is never times infinity. My grief belongs to me, it is a part of me and will be for the rest of my life. Nothing anyone says or does can ever change that. I do question the things I say. Of course I do. Should I say this. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I won’t censor my experiences based on the expectations of others or societal norms. There are definitely things you are not supposed to say. People tend to not talk about the anger, the sense of betrayal and the fear. And yet, here I am, telling the truth, making it public for anyone to see. Not caring if there is disapproval because you simply cannot know until you know. It’s impossible. I am fulfilling the basic human need to feel seen. If I can help anyone along the way who is traversing an impossible loss and/or trauma, then I am happy.

The Things I Will Not Become
An asshole. I have felt the bitterness sneaking in. I have felt the need to blame others and lash out. I have witnessed others using their grief to abuse other people in a multitude of ways. I am a kind person though and I will not let this change me into something I’m not.
Fearful. Moments of fear are definitely on the agenda for me now. I understand that, but to the best of my ability, I will not let that paralyze me or stop me from following my new path. I will live and I will allow joy to expand as I work through all of this.
A victim. The worst thing I could ever have imagined has happened to me. I am a victim and I am a suicide survivor. Being a victim does not mean that I will use it as an excuse to become smaller, to shrink away. To feel sorry for myself. I am in this 100%. I am here to fight, to love, to grow and to create. I am fierce, even in my grief, even in my trauma, and in my relentless pursuit of becoming who I am in the aftermath.

The Darkness and the Light

Over the Mountains

Over the Mountains
Five Months Later

As I’m heading over the Colorado mountains with my husband’s ashes at my feet, as the road rushes up to meet me, I have to wonder if this has always been my story. Was my life building towards this moment the minute I met Ryan? I don’t really believe in fate or destiny, but I have to wonder if there was some kind of countdown to this moment. There will always be a before and after now and I will forever look at our lives together in a different light.
__________

Was I always meant to be here at my Grandparents house when the last time I lived here was 38 years ago? I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter because here I am. I doubt that my grandparents thought that this home they bought would serve as a safe haven for me 60 years later. I am grateful for them and for this funky, slightly falling apart house.
__________

This is the lonely time. The time I have been dreading. The time when the messages stop coming and I feel like I have disappeared. This is the quiet time when my mind is all but quiet. My thoughts race and everything comes crashing in. This is the time I can never go home again.
__________

Today I remembered that I love you. I have been consumed by anger up until now. Anger for what you did. Anger for not letting me in. Anger for leaving me. I was detached, in shock up until now. Then I looked at the photos and remembered that I love you. I saw all of the amazing and wonderful things we did together. I saw your beautiful, smiling face and I remembered.
__________

At 43, I felt like I knew myself pretty well. That was the before. This is the after. I am frequently confused about the direction my life is heading. Fear, anxiety and grief feel like they are a part of me. I still feel like I’m living in a dream. I am reaching for something that no longer exists. You know that nightmare feeling where you are trying so hard to reach something and you just can’t quite get to it? I still have hope though. I want a little farm house with a big studio and a little bit of land for my dogs to run around. A place where I can have a big, beautiful garden. Maybe some chickens. Ideas about my future are just slightly coming into focus. The fog is lifting slightly and clarity is making it’s way towards me. I know that I still have a long road ahead of me, but I am ready to fight my way through. I will not only survive this, I will thrive in the wake of the greatest loss of my life.

Self Portrait - Determination

Four Months After

“I am not what has happened to me. I am what I choose to become.” - Jung

Four Months After
121 Days Later

It doesn’t seem like much time at all. It isn’t really much time at all, but it seems like an eternity. As I take care of the loose ends of my life here, my life with Ryan, I’m finally feeling some movement. Some idea stirring. Some idea of who I might be in the aftermath of this. I feel more open. More in tune. More awake. More myself. I am experiencing my life in dualities. Nothing is one thing or another anymore.

I am movement
I am stagnation

Sometimes I have to remind myself that he’s dead.
Sometimes I make myself remember that day.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that he even existed.
That’s how immense the hole is that he left.
That’s how unreal it is still.

I am presence
I am absence

I wish I would dream about him more. I had three vivid and disturbing dreams in the days after he died. In the last one he said: “just wait, I have something to tell you,” as he slowly closed a door. I have had vague visions of him in my dreams since them, but I’m still waiting to learn what he had to tell me. Maybe that dream will never come.

I am reality
I am dream

I would frequently tell Ryan that we must live in the moment because we could die tomorrow. Let’s take that trip, let’s east the expensive sushi, let’s buy that thing we have been wanting for forever. I was sitting on the bathroom floor, struck through with another wave of grief and I realized that one of us really did die. Of course, I knew this, but the realization that one of us ACTUALLY DID DIE was another gut punch. I think to some extent, I’m still in shock. I’m fully aware of what has happened, but there are these moments where it all becomes more true. Maybe every time I get rocked by these earthquakes, I get a little closer to a place of acceptance. I hope so.

I am memory
I am future

Grief is for all intents and purposes a solo gig. No two people grieve in the exact same way and yet we all grieve similarly. We can find camaraderie among others who have lost, but ultimately, we are all alone in our very specific experience of grief. I have so many people who are caring for me and loving me through all of this. They can empathize, they can feel my pain and they are experiencing their own grief for Ryan. All of this is a great comfort, but ultimately, I am still alone. When Ryan died in the way that he did, he took so much of me with him. I feel like so much was taken from me without so much as a word. I wasn’t consulted on the matter whatsoever. He made a choice that has changed my life permanently. There is loneliness in that even when I am surrounded by people.

I am solitude
I am companionship

Grief is the most human of experiences. Sometimes, I feel more alive. Like there is an energy pulsing through me that I never knew before. I think it’s the intensity of the emotions that I am feeling. The constant and contradictory opposites that I feel every day.

I am power
I am fragility

I wonder why he died, and I lived.
I wish I could return to that day, to the days before and watch it all back in slow motion. Maybe I would better understand what happened. But would it really even matter? It wouldn’t change the outcome.

I am ignorance
I am knowledge

I am fear
I am hope

I am nature
I am the void

I am maker
I am destroyer

I am ugly
I am beautiful

I am shame
I am confidence

I am relentless
I am weak

I am desolation
I am rebirth  

I am victim
I am advocate

I am energy
I am apathy

I am confusion
I am clarity

I am darkness
I am spark

I am all these things and so much more. I feel every emotion with such intensity and presence of mind. As I travel through this rocky landscape of grief, I know this to be true: I will survive this. I will come out stronger, more determined then ever before. I have hope.

Community

I am truly amazed by the outpouring of love and support that I have received throughout the last couple of months. It has been the only light in this darkness. I am humbled and so, so grateful. In all honesty, I don’t know if I would be here without the support of my wonderful community.

I’m pretty sure my parents saved my life. They dropped everything they had going on in their lives in Grand Junction and drove to me the minute they found out what happened. They have been with me ever since. They have been with me during breakdown after breakdown. They did everything for me as I struggled through shock and grief. They are still here today as I try to create some semblance of a life for myself. I am able to somewhat function now, but I still need their emotional support.

I am so thankful for my sister who got on a fight from England the moment that she could. She stayed up nights with me while I drunkenly sobbed, feeling that my life was over. Shes back in England now, but she messages me everyday and often makes me talk even when I don’t want to, which is pretty much all the time. She does research for me from afar, finding benefits I can apply for and other emergency help organizations. She offers me humor when I don’t want to laugh and her beautiful heart when I feel like I’m drowning.

I am so thankful for my best friend. She made me get out of bed when I felt like I was dying. She took care of my finances, she made all the calls that I couldn’t make. She freed my parents from those burdens so that they could focus on me. She cried with me and grieved with me. She was the first one on the scene after Ryan died. She sat with me on my patio for 12+ hours while the coroner and the investigator completed their work. She stayed after to clean my house and make it ready for my parents. She brought food and lots of wine whenever I needed it. Just having her sit with me time and time again was another life saver. Having her tell me that she can’t live without me somewhat pulled me out of my trauma, depression and severe grief. She is my soul sister and I am so fortunate to have her in my life.

I am so thankful for one of my oldest friends who drove like a crazy person to get to me the second she found out. She brought humor and levity to the worst day of my life. She stayed with me all night and we watched Labyrinth just like when we were kids. You know who you are sister! Big loves!

I am so thankful for every single person in my community who helped me during this time. For every person who brought food. For every one of you who sent messages of love and condolences. For every single person that I never even met, but reached out with offerings anyways. For everyone who offered me body work, knowing about my struggles and offered your healing treatments. For every person who bought my art, making the financial burdens easier. For everyone who still checks on me. You make me feel like I’m not forgotten. For everyone who has been touched by this kind of grief in their own lives. No one can know what this is like unless you have gone through it and I appreciate so much the camaraderie that I have found in all of you. The lovely people I have met through this impossible experience of losing the one I loved the most.

To everyone who has been there, who has shown up, I am so thankful. All of you together saved my life and gave me hope. You fortified me with your love and gave me the strength to carry on. Your love and kindness is everything. Thank you!

Empty Spaces - From April 27th, 2023

As I continue to pack for my unanticipated move, I am noticing beauty in the empty spaces. A sense of quiet resides in these spaces, something still in the midst of so much chaos.

Ghost - From April 25th, 2023

I Feel Like a Ghost

I wander from room to room in a place where I no longer live. I dismantle my life piece by painful piece. Has this always been my life? Will it always be?

I made this self portrait in the beginning of mine and Ryan’s relationship. I found this piece as I was going through all the things. We were both still in college, sharing an apartment. Funny how work from so long ago is suddenly so relevant.

Three Months After

Three Months After
Random, Incohesive Thoughts on Grief

“Imagine living with a scream inside you.
And the scream is yours.
And no one else hears it.
That is grief.”
@untanglegrief

I never thought that I would be starting my life over at 43. I loved my life with Ryan. The uncertainty of my future is unsettling to say the least. My sense of security has been stripped away and I feel like I have no foundation. Ryan was my protector, the one who took care of all the things I couldn’t. He was there for me even when my struggles with chronic illness got really hard. Sometimes I wonder if it was just all too much. I have always been so thankful for his strength in the face of difficult situations.

After 17 years of marriage, we had things figured out pretty well. Being together for half of our lives created a balance for us that just worked. I feel like half of me has been torn away, leaving me to question who I even am.

I will never know what happened to him that day. I will never know what went wrong.

On days that I feel alright, I feel bad for not feeling bad.

Sometimes I trigger myself on purpose, just so I can be reminded, so I can feel something.

It is unfathomable that Ryan can just be gone. He was a constant in my life for over 20 years and he is somehow just gone. So suddenly and so completely. I can’t get my head around it. A part of me left with him and I am floating, untethered into a uncertain future and it’s terrifying.

I am constantly flooded with unwanted, unannounced emotions. Anger, sadness, fear and guilt flood my mind and my body on a regular basis, sometimes all at once. The loss of control over my life and myself are unnerving to say the least.

I have a fear. I’m scared that people will judge me for what happened. I’m afraid that somehow it is my fault. If I would have just done some things differently. If I could have stopped him. No matter how many people tell me it’s not my fault, no matter how much I know that this is rationally true, I can’t escape the fear. The guilt.

I have been working on my own fear is death for a long time. Through my work, I have explored death and become more comfortable with it. Perhaps I was really working on my fear of death for Ryan.

Grief is a roiling in the soul. When it comes, it comes hard with little regard for its host.

He seems like a ghost now. A far off memory of some dream. How can half my life seem so cloudy and unreal.

Grief is a stranger. Grief is alive. A creature brought forth by immense loss.

For everyone else, life goes on, but not for me, not yet anyways. I wish the whole world would just stop and take notice of his departure. But that’s not how it works. I want him back more than anything I have ever wanted, but that’s not how death works.

Sometimes I’m crying and I don’t even notice until a tear leaks from my eye and falls slowly down my cheek.

I feel small, tiny. Weightless.

This isn’t just emptiness, I feel like I’ve been zombified. I can’t think straight. I can’t concentrate and I often forget things right away. I feel like this is happening to someone else. Like I’m watching all of this unfold from someone else’s eyes. It’s bizarre and disturbing.

I miss his beautiful smile
I miss the comfortable quiet
I miss his jokes
I miss being loved unconditionally
I miss his quiet presence
I miss laughing hysterically with him
I miss him next to me every night
I miss how he made me feel safe
I miss how he took care of me
I miss how I took care of him
I miss how hard it was
I miss how easy it was
I miss his smell
I miss his hugs
I miss him calling me kitten
I miss calling him mister
I miss me always cooking
I miss him always cleaning up
I miss working on the garden with him
I miss meals with him
I miss how handsome he was
I miss how much he loved our Summer dog
I miss his support
I miss his nearly perfect memory
I miss how smart he was
I miss the things that could have been
I miss what we were working on together
I miss making plans with him
I miss how well we worked together
I miss all of who he was
I miss him everyday

I have to write about this. I have to tell my story, as a reminder that I’m still alive. I’m still here.

I have been photographing my plants in my window. They create shadows with sharp edges and are partially obscured by the curtains. They remind me of how I feel. They remind me of how it feels to be spending the last days in the home that we shared for 9 years together. Our dream house, no longer.

From my Last Days series, 2023

Two Months After

Ryan and I were really just kids when we met. 20 year old college students. I think I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. Those huge blue eyes. That infectious smile and laugh. The kindness and calmness in his demeanor. We had lived more years together than we had apart. There are no words to describe how much I miss him. How intense this pain continues to be.

I want my husband back.
I want my life back.

Every morning, I wake up and think he’s there in bed with me. Then I remember. I am constantly wanting to tell him something. Then I remember. I’m so tired of waking up, tangled in my sweaty sheets and my grief.

We weren’t finished. There were still so many things we wanted to do. We had plans. He had just ordered a new truck. We had just adopted a new dog. I don’t think it was premeditated. There was no indication that this was coming. The shock of it is unimaginable. How could this happen to us? It still doesn’t feel real. I think if he could, he would take it back.

I can’t even imagine yet the ways in which I am changed, but I am forever changed. The depths of this grief are vast. There is still so much to decipher, to understand and so much that I never will.

Not only did I lose him, I feel like I’m losing everything. Without his income, I have less than a year until I will have to sell my house. I get nothing from his life insurance because there was a suicide clause. I have no health insurance until my Medicaid hopefully comes through. With my health the way it is, I can’t work except for on my art when my body allows. This is my home and I’m losing it. I suppose it It doesn’t matter where I live anymore. I have no home without him. I do have some hope that I can keep my house. I have some ideas I’m working on l and I hope that by sheer will, stubbornness and resilience, I can somehow make it all work.

Ryan was a selfless person. He cared deeply for his family. He told me several months before he passed that he missed them and we made plans to see them as soon as we could. He cared deeply for me and offered me help and support throughout every moment of our marriage. He had this impeccable sense of perceiving the character of others. He didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted fully.

Ryan was a thoughtful man and a quiet man. He was so intelligent and he was so funny. We thought each other were hilarious and he made me laugh every day. Some days, I feel like I might survive this massive loss. I might be able to continue on, somehow, some way. I see a pinprick of light. It’s small, but it’s there.

Ryan, the love of my life, my best friend, my favorite person, I miss you terribly and I will love you forever. There will never be another like you.

The Last Time

It’s been one month today. It seems like it happened yesterday, but also, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a very long time. It still doesn’t seem real. I have only left my house once. It’s been one month and it’s Valentine’s Day. We always did something special together. So many beautiful memories.

This is the last photo I took of Ryan and the last photo of the two of us.

Three Weeks

It has been three weeks since I lost my husband Ryan. Time has become irrelevant as I continue to feel like I’m living in a dream that I can’t wake up from. It still doesn’t feel real. Every morning, I stay in bed as long as I possibly can because I don’t want to face another day of this. Everyday tasks seem impossible. I’m proud of myself if I can take a shower and make my bed. If I can make any food to eat for myself, it’s a good day.

One of the hardest parts of this is being completely baffled as to why he did this. He was happy. There were no signs of depression or anxiety. He never spoke of wanting to hurt himself and never, ever spoke of wanting to die. He finally had a job that he loved. He loved me, I know he did. There were no signs. We agreed on basically everything, had the same values and he was kind. I couldn’t ask for a better partner, we had a good, no great solid marriage. There were no signs. He loved our house and our dogs and riding his Harley. He loved spending time in nature. We loved traveling together and going on adventures. There were no signs. This is the hardest part, I think. It was so sudden, so absolutely outside of his character. I am so confused and completely broken. How could this happen to him, to me, to us? He is my best friend and the love of my life. I have no idea how to even do life without him. We had been together for 21 years, more years of our lives together than apart.

As per my MO, I will continue to share my story as it moves forward. This is cathartic to me to get it out and I’m finding so many others who have gone through similar tragedies. Thank you to all who have reached out to share your stories. It makes me feel less alone and I hope maybe my story will help someone out there to feel less one too.

The Ocean

I had a dream shorty after you died. We were on a glorious beach like we have been so many times before. You were sitting a bit above the ocean on our towels, while I went hunting for treasures. When I looked back up, you were gone. No sign of you anywhere. I went searching. I combed the beaches and I swam the ocean looking for you. I asked the front desk if they had seen you. Did you check into our room already? That must be where you are. The consierge took me to look and see if you had checked in, but you had not. You were not in the room. He took me to search the resort. I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. No explanation, no sign of you. Where did you go? Where did you get lost? I keep looking, keep searching, but you are nowhere.

Heartbreaking Loss

On Saturday, January 14th at around 10am, my dear husband Ryan Lubitz took his own life. We are beyond devastated. I wanted to let everyone know about this deep loss in case there is anyone we haven’t notified yet. More information will be coming about his memorial service.