Tag: mental-health

A Letter to Tim at Nine Years

Dear Tim,

Today it’s been 9 years since you drew your last breaths on this earth.

I realize I’ve now been a widow longer than I was a wife, and that fact is mind blowing.

The kids talked to me in advance about this day, and so I asked them this year what they wanted to do today. Their choice was to wear something of one of your favorite sports teams.

Today was the opening of the World Cup.  Of course I thought of you immediately when I saw that on the calendar.  You would have been absolutely loving it, and I know you would have had plans to watch all the games!

I planned a regular full day of work today because I worked a short day yesterday to volunteer at field day (an activity I KNOW you would have loved!)  and I’m heading out west tomorrow to celebrate Anne’s PhD!  It means a lot to me that I can get out there for this celebration since we missed her wedding when you were in the hospital.  

I tried to schedule today as a normal day, but today is never normal. I felt so very tired, and so heavy all day today. I felt like I was trying to move through the day through thick fog. This evening, I was so glad to have my mom and my big sister here with us. And yet it was still heavy. Kiddos had big emotions today. I have to accept that it is unavoidable.

I think you’d be proud of us all though.

I am so grateful that after 9 years we were still able to get a big group to celebrate your memory with us at the 2026 Memorial Sporting Event, and that in your memory, we empowered communities through the power of food! Our events were early this year (due to the World Cup) but we got to witness a W for the Nats and a tie for DC United.

Next month, for Rosie’s birthday gift, we are going to see Alex Warren in concert. You would have loved taking these guys to a pop concert. Interestingly, this artist sings a lot about his parent’s (and especially his dad’s death) and I think is a big part of what draws our kids to his music.

I’m still navigating raising this crew without you. Your greatest legacy. I miss you with all my heart. I hope you are at peace. And I can not wait to see you again.

Love Always, MaryBeth

A selfie I loved from the moment you sent it to me.

“But it feels like an eternity
Since I had you here with me
Since I had to learn to be
Someone you don’t know
To be with you in paradise
What I wouldn’t sacrifice
Why’d you have to chase the light
Somewhere I can’t go?
As I walk this world alone”

-Alex Warren

Eight years

Today was the last day of school for our kiddos. When I first saw the 2024-2025 school year calendar, that jumped off the page at me. The date always does. Today is also eight years from the day Tim took his last breaths.

My oldest had several more conversations with me this year about today’s date, and June as a whole, with the memories (and lack), Father’s day, and all the feels around this month. My youngest had a lot of feels around it this year as well. I was so glad they both talked openly with me about their feelings.

But I admit, its still hard for me to sit in it. My truest nature wants to fix it for them, wants to make them feel better. Even though I know I can’t. When it comes up, I know all I can do is listen, and sit in the silence, hear what is unsaid, and validate how they are feeling. My dad didn’t die when I was 5, 4 or not yet 1. I can’t pretend to know exactly how they feel. But I can imagine. And I can hold space for what I don’t precisely know.

A theme I observed in conversations with the kids about this was a feeling of wanting to talk about it sometimes, of wanting to “be asked how I am doing,” to have the suck-y feelings validated. I’ve noticed this in my dealings with adults about Tim’s death. There is often a sense of “relief” that the kids have fewer memories and would have correspondingly fewer painful/grief feelings. I do not think this is accurate. Grieving the life you never got to have is real too. I also know the language and the communication surrounding Tim’s death is difficult in the best scenarios, but I am beginning to understand just how avoidant many people are with the subject of death, as though it might be contagious.

There’s also a thing I’ve heard repeatedly about how difficult the second year after a traumatic loss is… particularly as others start moving on, and reach out less… I think that’s how it is for the kids now.. as they come into ages where they want to process their grief, they are expected to be over it by now, or worse, for it to be insignificant for them.

The best I could do was to share with them the experiences I have with people expecting me to be “over it.” I also told them that they have an experience most won’t have for many, many years, and so it can be hard for others to know how to imagine, empathize, or relate.

There are still many moments that take my breath away, just how much I miss him. I’d say the most notable shift this year is in the questions from and processing with the kids.

Photo below is me and his legacies with the DC united “Tim Gaige forever a fan” brick, in between games at this year’s Tim Gaige Memorial Sporting Events. I can hardly imagine a thing Tim would have loved more than walk-between back-to-back sporting events.

” You’re the loss of my life.” Taylor Swift