Oh. Shit.

A friend just graciously pointed out that I spelled my incorrect name equally incorrectly. That's right. Talent. At the end, when Brube was dying, I would do anything for a laugh. I decided to start changing my name on facbook "like the kids do!". I went through about five different psuedonyms before settling on Rosenstud (shout out to Dacia -- Wooo!). The day after Bruce's death it struck me that this was perhaps wildly inappropriate. I had just lost the love of my life and I needed to claim him by retaking his name. Over the next several days my Life Coach and I attempted to take back my actual name. We failed over and over. Finally I searched the facebook FAQ and found that I must remain Rosenstud for a year. I wondered why I was having such a hard time googling my own blog name. After all, I'm the one who named it, I post, and occasionally have the good sense to edit. There you have it folks. Thewidowrosestud. So, I supppose I'll be copying and pasting all of these damn posts to a new blog with the correct name. Sorry, loves, my bad. Love, The WidowRoseNstud.

Excerpt from My Crazy Six Page Letter to My Favorite Dead Husband

Written while sitting in an empty (of live people) cemetery reposing upon a giant blue IKEA bag. Awesome hack, by the way. "Dear Brube, I am stretched on your grave and would lie here forever [insert strangled sob here] if we hadn't created these two amazing little human being beings that I still have to care for. Because, when they aren't with me, which is rare, I am drawn here to you. I can't be in the car alone and not come to you. I can't believe that it is Friday, May 18, 2012 and I am sitting. On. Your. Grave. The first time I came was shortly after you had been buried. I sank to the ground and sobbed, "Brubie, I miss you so much. I'm so sorry that I couldn't fix you. I tried so hard. I need to understand why you had to leave me. You are always the one who helps me figure these things out and now I'm alone. I need to understand!" It wasn't until two more visits that I realized I was actually talking to your feet. You would have enjoyed that. Let me keep talking to them without interrupting me. You would have waited until I was done and given me a slightly exasperated, good natured shake of your head. It took every ounce of my love for our children to resist the pull to dig down with my bare hands and rest my head on your shoulder (feet) and never get back up. I'm starting to lose track of my visits now. Perhaps this is number four or five. It doesn't matter. I gradually feel less inclined to burrow next to you. Partially because your body is not embalmed and you must be majorly uncuddlable by now. But, dammit, I still would give almost anything to rest my head, just one more time, upon your sweet shoulder like I did as you died, pausing, silently to stroke your beard until I was ready to get back up and live once more." There were a lot more strangled sobs that were not included in brackets. I am finding that strangled sobs are reluctant to be constrained by them. Love, The Widow Rosenstud

The Bloggess

I'm totally excited to go meet Jenny Lawson The Bloggess today. Her book is amazing and she is a little bit of my idol. I also think she might be a figment of my imagination, but I'm totally cool with that. I like to say totally a lot. Blame the Valley Girl movement of the early eighties. Anyway, reading her book has made me laugh out loud, for real. And, going through this shit I'm mired in...well, let's just say that's pretty damn near a fucking miracle. Jenny has also made me get back in touch with my inner sailor. More on that later. So, laying in bed the other night - not just any bed, but my dad's bed (Dad who died four months before Brube) snuggled up next to my five year old, with the fourteen year old on the other side of her - I was snorting and crying tears of hysterical laughter while reading in the dark, praying that my kids wouldn't wake up. Then I got to her chapter that was comprised entirely of sticky notes left for Victor and suddenly I was sobbing. So, there you have it. Let's Pretend This Never Happened literally made me laugh and made me cry. It's awesome and you should all read it. Also, how fucking amazing is it that I'm going with one of my best friend's current wife AND his ex wife. Julie D is one of my most amazing sisterfriends and I'm so grateful to have her in my life. She's literally saved me more than once. Not many friends will dose a dying man every hour with morphine and crawl in bed next to you while you lie next to him waiting for him to die. Well, actually, in my life there are quite a few. But anyway, I'm unbelievably lucky to have all the D's (current and former) in my life. By the way, D's, if you want a super cool secret squirrel name for my blog let me know. Thanks to Jenny, The Bloggess, for giving me the courage to write some of this painful shit down. I'm a wimp. It hurts and I don't want to.

Bold New World

It's scary and filled with joy and pain. Creepy crawly things I now have to man up and try to stomp upon myself. Well, that's a lie. I gently redirect creepy crawlies to the door. Have to get them safely home to their mamas, after all.

It's filled with decisions that I have to make alone.

It's filled with soft places to catch me when I fall.

It's bright and sharp and sometimes it really hurts.