This blog is going to come out a little bit sloppy; but more than being sloppy, it’s an attempt to get things out of my head and heart, and keep it real.

I lost my husband almost 3 weeks ago, 18 days ago to be exact. I know I still have a long way to go in the grieving process, however, I’m hoping getting my thoughts out here might help someone else, somewhere along the way.

My husband and I weren’t perfect, we weren’t a perfect fit at all times; we were capable of fighting, like cats and dogs, but we were also capable of loving one another like no one‘s business.

Payton was one my best friends,and at the end of the day, I wouldn’t have traded my time with him for anyone else. He saw me for me, and he loved me for me. He never made me feel less than beautiful or loved, he made me feel like the best thing he’s ever had.

Funny thing is, we were…scratch that…I was judged because of when and how I came in to his life this last go round; I was judged by his family, or at least part of them, because he married me almost directly after a divorce. I was seen as his mistress and was told this directly.

What they didn’t see, and what they will never understand, is that I looked for, and loved this man for the better part of 20 years (And by all accounts at his end, he did the same). I was in a bad place many years ago when we met. We were coming out of bad marriages and I was very afraid of the relationship possibilities with him at that point, to say I self-sabotaged the relationship would be putting it mildly. I lived to regret it, and I regret it to this day.

I don’t regret marrying someone I loved with everything in me. I only regret the time I lost with him because of fears caused by other people.

That’s all I know to say for now, I wish you the best.

~a