This is a screen shot of my conversation with my cousin, Julie, who was trying to convince me to listen to a recent podcast she found.  
​

Again with the urging.
​  

And finally, my concession and quiet relief that there is this person whom I’ve never met and likely will never meet whose awareness of loss is comparable to mine.  

​I was standing over a sink of dirty dishes, crying.  No, sobbing.  For those of you who know me, you know that it wasn't the dirty dishes that had me upset (or dirty “anything” for that matter).  The root of my catharsis was poignantly stated as follows from the podcast, Terrible, Thanks For Asking!

“Did you know that grief isn’t just crying?  That grief isn’t just a facial expression or a physical act?  Did you know a grieving person can do a lot of things like laugh and go to movies and grocery shop and raise a child all while bleeding to death internally?”  

Grief is “a bruise I get to push, a pain that reminds me that what I had was real.  It is the price I pay for loving deeply and letting myself be loved.” 

Nora’s story is a heartbreaking one.  I am actually thankful that my story of loss isn’t a carbon copy of hers.  However, with regard to marriage, husbands, and children, we are painfully similar. 

These ideas and metaphors for grief aren’t new to me, but I wouldn’t have understood them before Travis.  And I don’t expect many of you to either, and that’s okay.  My pre-widow self wouldn’t have been able to comprehend.  Sometimes I still have trouble wrapping my mind around what I feel and how I’ve changed.

If Trav were to walk into our lives right now, would he even recognize me?  And not because I’ve gained 26 since February (losing the same 12 pounds twice since then), or have officially become “The Frump” who dons her I-quit-life-pants on a daily basis.  What would he think?  What would he say about me going back to school?  Would he be proud that I earned my principal certification or would he remind me of how we promised each other we’d never go back to school because it was “so dumb!”?  Would he be so disappointed that I signed Thurgood up for Soccer Shots?  Would he laugh at how I never have a response to Tallulah’s girliness or how I’ve painted nails more times in the past year than I have in my entire life?  Would he like the most recent lipstick color I bought?  What would he think of the guy I went on a date with?  Yes, folks.  Dating.  That’s a different post for a different time. 

As I begin to lose myself in the WWTD, What Would Travis Do, rabbit hole and trying to force my memory to conjure up a response that sounds like him, I recall an actual comeback of his. 

“I’m not going to care what you’re doing.  If I’m not here one day, if I’ve gone on to hang out with God and to prepare a place for you, I would want you to know that whatever you do here—while you’re still here—laughing, crying, remarrying, staying single—whatever, it’s up to you because I know I’m going to have you again.  So, I’m not worried about it.  Trust me.  I’m not worried about it.  This is earthly stuff.  You never, ever have to wonder What would Travis think about this? or What would he think about that?   The answer is yes.   If you think it’s okay and you’re okay with it, then I think it’s okay and I’m okay with it.” 

I know this should bring me peace, but my gosh!  The pressure.  He trusts me in his absence to make decisions regarding our children?  Our finances?  Career?  That was one of the great things about being married—joint decision making.  Having an executor, even if I occasionally exercised veto power, provided an added sense of relief.  Security.  What if I mess something up, like the kids?  Speaking of which, I have yet to head out to the cemetery since this little incident.  #momfail

I’m learning my grief comes and goes, as does my bitchiness.  Sometimes I’m certain that my bitchiness has eaten my grief and with their powers combined, has given life to this new Ashli who cries and rages out when there are no more cookie dough pieces to be found in HER gallon of Blue Bell’s Cookie Two Step.  While grief is my uninvited friend, I am still trying to figure her out.  She’s never really gone, but some days, or even weeks, she takes up residence in my heart and mind.  She knows my innermost thoughts, and she has a way of hurting my feelings like no one else can. 

While an assortment of feelings comes and goes, the one thing that remains is this overwhelming sense of thankfulness.  Thankful for…time, blue eyes, a hairline elbow fracture, friends, neighbors, friends who are neighbors, parents, in-laws, Blue Bell, Weight Watchers, king size beds, Netflix, air conditioning, country music.  The list goes on and will continue to grow, preventing me from ever reaching the end.    And that’s what makes it easy to never stop giving thanks. 

If you have 20 minutes, please take a listen to Nora's story.  You'll understand grief and your widow friend a little better.  

https://www.apmpodcasts.org/ttfa/2016/11/sad-nora-and-the-secret-baby/

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
16 Rejoice always, 17 pray continually, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I love you.

Someone asked me how we met today.  I got to tell our entire story.  That'll show 'em.  I love that you are still as close as a question from a stranger.

Oh, Trav.  I'm missing you.  Before last month, I hadn't watched this video since your funeral.  Minutes before you took your last breath, your parents and I listened to it play on my phone.  I've watched this video now numerous times, too many to count, for the past several weeks.  

Ugh, do I miss being married to you.  You edify me.  You remind me that I'm enough.  You make me laugh.  You encourage me.  And I can't bring myself to use the past tense of those verbs because when I stop wallerin' in self-pity and I think of what you would do or things you've said to me, those past lessons and moments of tough love are relived.  You edify, remind, encourage, and make me laugh all over again.  In real time.  While I may not have you anymore, I feel badly for every other woman who has never had their husband speak about them or think about them the way you spoke and thought about me.  I know most people probably aren't overcome with insane jealously when they look at me or my situation, but they should be.  

And our kids?!  Our kids will know with certainty that you loved them and you were proud of them and fought to stay here with them.  There are kids who get their daddies everyday who will never know that.   It sounded like you channeled a bit of Mufasa in the video.  I'm sure that's what you were going for.  Although your voice may not be as buttery as James Earl Jones', your impact as a daddy and as a husband, while short lived, is lasting.  I'm so thankful for you.  The lessons you taught.  The lessons you will teach our kids.  The lessons I'm still learning from you.  Thank you, Travertine.  I miss you.  I love you.   "I'll always be your girl, Travis." ​

Apart from the 13 pounds, not much about my physical appearance has changed.  My hair is still short, and on a windy day, I resemble Edward Scissorhands.   My smile, although sometimes forced, remains toothy.  My clothes are still very (as you would say) “librarian.”  Wearing makeup is a hit or miss…usually a miss.  For all intents and purposes, I am still Ashli.  But I am not YOUR Ashli.  She’s been gone for 6 months now.  Life is so different.  The days are different.  I wish you’d text or email asking what I want for dinner.  The nights suck.  I fall asleep finally because I’m so exhausted from sobbing.  On the weekends…I just have to take the kids and get out of the house. 

I want to talk to you so badly.  No.  I want to listen to you so badly.  I want you to tell me something good—Rufus and Chaka Khan style.  I want you to tell me what you’re doing.  What you’re thinking.  I find myself constantly thinking about what was going on this time last year.   This time last year you were recording every Astros game.  You watched every one of them.  I haven’t watched ESPN since November.  No Mike and Mike in the morning.  No Sportscenter afterward.  No SC Featured.  No E:60.  No OTL.  I didn’t even realize it was draft time until day 2.  These things mean so little to me when you’re not around to excite over them.  I’m dreading football season.  Who will I watch the Cowboys with?  I’m sitting on the chaise crying over the 2016 NFL season. 

And I know you’re laughing at me the way you did when I broke Jordan’s Disney ornament, or when the strap to the sandal I wore to our wedding broke, or when you ‘fessed up that you didn’t like our dishes.  And I miss that.  I miss you being around for every day, mundane stuff.  Filling up our DVR with hours of Astros footage.  Making dinner because you have this new found love for cooking.  Unwrapping Jolly Ranchers and nursing them for far too long.  Flossing your teeth at the table.  You are in every room of this house and then again you’re nowhere to be seen.  I don’t want to clean out your side of the closet.  I don’t want to empty your drawers, I don’t want to take the remaining candy out of your nightstand.  And I know you’d say, “Then don’t,” but I just wish you were here to say it. 

Half a year has already passed.  How?  I sometimes feel like I haven’t left this bed in 6 months.  But I’ve been to the other side of the world.  I’ve become better about getting out and not diving into self-pity.  However, there are nights like tonight when sleep eludes me and sorrow overwhelms me.  Time drags.  It’s like the clock hates me and wants me to wallow in the days without you.  I miss the talking so much.  More than anything else.  No one consoled, joked, admonished, praised, reminded, uplifted, or taught me as well as you did.  I know that you’re not at all concerned with any of these things, but it makes me feel a little better to share them with you as if you didn’t know (SPOILER ALERT):

-Mike and Rachel don’t get married, yet.  He’s going to prison for 2-3 years and he expects her to wait for him.   I’m guessing she’s pregnant and will have a baby, or Mike will find a new girlfriend while he’s locked up. 

-Mockingjay ended just as terribly as the book suggested.

-I haven’t watched any of the recorded episodes of Blacklist, so I get back to you on this one.

-Bernadette is pregnant and Raj is dating two girls.

-We’re studying the 5 Love Languages in class and guess what?!  My primary language is not gifts!  I know, right?  Words of affirmation and quality time.  Gifts was 3rd.  We had it all wrong.  Thank you for the gifts. 

-The babies are talking up a storm.  We pray for you every night.  This evening we drove past the cemetery.  They poured the slab for your stone.  Should be soon. 

-I took Thurgood to go get his haircut.  No more, “Good morning ladies!” for us when we walk into church.  You wouldn’t like how short it is, but considering how disappointed I was initially, you would’ve reminded me that it’ll grow back. Thurgood says all three syllables of Tallulah’s name, although sometimes it comes out as, “Kahlua.”  He loves Ninja Turtles so much.  The suggestion of putting anything else on TV brings him to tears.  The past several days he hasn’t gone anywhere without his horsies, turtle, and dinosaur.  I thought we were going to have a mommy-son date night and go buy some new animals.  Tallulah crashed it and tagged along.  We went to the tractor supply store.  We won’t be going back.  Aside from the kids dragging out every animal and car figurine, the prices were outrageous (But man, are those some sturdy horses!  I ran over one of them in the drive way.  Not a scratch). 

-Lulah dances.  Everyday.  Sometimes Samba.  Every time she says, “Shake your booooty!”  Anytime someone comes home, she races to the door screaming.  She wraps her arms around their leg and closes the door behind them.  She loves school.  Today she was standing on the pew during chapel, and she fell and hit her cheek.  She loves to dance, but she hasn’t a graceful bone in her body.  She likes to play judge and jury.  She made me sit in time out and apologize for disciplining Thurgood.  She calls out for you when she’s inconsolable and she knows why we go to the cemetery.  She points to my tattoo (I got a tattoo, by the way.  It’s a tiny cross on my wrist.  Several people have mistaken it for a mole) and says, “Daddy.”  “Yep.  Daddy is with Jesus,” is the reply.   

-I feel like everything is weak lately.  My drive.  My parenting.  My worship and study.  My thankfulness.  My sick dance moves.  My self-control.  It’s all there, but not in full-effect.  It’s just weak.  If you wouldn’t mind putting a bug in God’s ear for me please.  I’m sure you already have.  I miss you Trav.  I hope you get this letter, but I know you’re busy being awestruck.  I love you.  You’re still my LOML.

LOML,
I went on an overnight girls’ retreat and post-birthday celebration with the bible study girls. Here’s what we did:

We all met at Christi’s and loaded into two cars.

We listened to hit songs from 1999 (Dru Hill…what happened?)

We ate chicken fried steaks that span the length of the serving plate.

We warmed s’mores over a firepit with a less-than-efficient roasting branch.

We played an electronic version of headbands.

I learned I need to watch Friends.

Linse was the first one asleep. And going against the laws of sleepovers, she didn’t get Sharpied or creamed.

Ashley and I were bunkmates. The beams holding up the mattress on our bed gave out in the middle of the night. Undoubtedly, it was deafening and awoke the entire cabin. Well, the other 7 ladies at least. I wouldn’t know. I was sleeping soundly. Thankfully for my bunkmate, the other ladies saw fit to wake up, relocate our mattress, and check to make sure no one was injured.

We grabbed pie for breakfast. While at the pie shop, Ashley bought me postcards that have our favorite line from When Harry Met Sally on them. I’m glad she wasn’t mad at me about the night before.

We went antiquing. This may come as no surprise to you, but I don’t like it. After wandering Round Top for an hour, we all met back at the car, and I confessed my disappointment. I was ashamed. I wanted to go in there like Joanna Gaines and leave with a car packed full of potential. Instead I lacked the vision needed to purchase two hundred year old silverware, kerosene lamps, and outdated maps of the world. Ashley suggested we go eat Mexican food and head to the outlet mall on 290. Woo hoo! Love that girl. I hope she’ll still consider being my bunkmate on the next girl’s trip. Not a failed trip after all.

The girls told the wait staff it was my birthday. The waiter placed the sombrero on Christi’s head instead of mine. Makes sense that they would place the birthday hat on the oldest member at our table. Once that misunderstanding was rectified, said waiter spooned whipped cream on my face…totally should’ve been Linse.

Once we made it back to Katy, all of the girls loaded their stuff into their cars and headed home. Christi’s house is so close to the cemetery that I won’t usually go to one without going to the other. I stopped and parked on the side of the road, like always, and entered through the side gate. I noticed something red at your plot. When I got there I saw a picture of you with the babies, and a heart arrangement with a note that read, “You are beautiful Ash. Happy Birthday. Love you always.” It was the most painful and wonderful birthday wish I had received.

There was nothing particularly wrong with this first birthday without you. In fact, I was loved on more than I have been in previous birthdays by those around me. I had a blast hanging out with the girls and enjoyed shopping more than I should, especially when I’m trying to lose weight. Still, things just aren’t as good without you. This place is so lackluster with you gone.

Another year older. I'm learning that grief ages you. I'm in bed by 8:30 most nights. I couldn't figure out how to pay one of our bills online the other night, and lately I seem to have a hankering for Luby's. I'm thankful that the next time I see you I will show no signs of aging. Last night at dinner, Christi, TJ, and I met a couple who are evangelists from Colombia. We visited for a moment and as they left, the man yelled out, “If I don’t see you again here, I’ll see you in Heaven. I love you.” It made me happy. I have to remember that the agony I feel now will be nothing more than a blink. I cannot wait to see you again. I love you.

After you died, I wanted so badly to dream about you.  I wanted to see you moving and hear you talking.  I didn’t dream about you for weeks.  It bothered me because the most random thoughts or experiences in my day would find their way into my dreams.  However, my most recurring thought couldn’t make an appearance.  I finally dreamt about you this week.  We were on vacation in Mexico, which is the last place we traveled together.  We were staying in a resort off the beach.  It was owned and operated by the Cartel, who looked a lot like 1990s Los Angeles gang members.  They called us Mr. and Mrs. Homes, brought us towels and drinks, and carted us around in a golf cart.  I dream about you now regularly.  In my dreams, you always find a way to run off.  Last night you told me you were going to go take care of some business and we parted ways in a Japanese subway station.  I wonder if you ever want to see me.  Or if you are able to see me.   Do you remember how Thurgood used to smile and excite over seeing Barbie on Toy Story when the song “Dreamweaver” would come on?  Dreamweaver.  I miss you, Trav.  Maybe I’ll see you tonight. 
Ashi

I know you're not here, on this site or even in this world, and you're not the slightest bit concerned with posts made on Facebook, but I wrote this for you October 19, exactly a month before you were called home. It's been less than 16 hours and I'm being overstimulated with all the new realities that are beginning to set in. I wish I could've seen your face when you entered glory. I love knowing that you'll get to see mine. I miss you Travis. I don't think this post will make me feel better, but maybe it can be a showcase of who we are together to a couple who isn't sure of how great they can be.

October 19, 2015
“And the next thing we knew, they all had flown off, and to this day that lake is somewhere over Georgia.”

I’m watching Fried Green Tomatoes. You’re coughing and turned away from me on the bed, and I’m sitting in the rocking chair next to you, grading papers. I love this chair. I took care of our babies from this chair. And I’m taking care of you from it, too. Maybe I should call it the Take Care Chair. Only one other person left to take care of from this chair. 
This chair. This chair. I don't want to have to be next in this chair.

I watch the blankets on our bed rise and fall with each of your sweet breaths. You are obsessing over containers for your salts. You do that from time to time. Obsess. You’ll get online and search and research and pore over reviews. It drives me nuts, but I know if there ever comes a day when you’re not here, I will miss those endless nights of googling.

I love you, Travis Tinnin. I don’t want to do all, or any of this without you. Who will talk me off the ledge when I start to sweat the small stuff? Who will teach Thurgood to never quit and Tallulah not to walk through a door that’s not being opened for her? Who will stay up late talking about life’s mysteries with me? Who will laugh at those inappropriate jokes and made up song lyrics that I would only share with you? No one else in the world would laugh hysterically about a role reversal for The Little Drummer Boy. You make me better. You make me wiser. You make me stronger. I love and live so much better.

God is using you to show me who He is, to show me His turnaround power. He uses you to love on me, to encourage me, to strengthen me. You are my easiest victory and my greatest challenge. I knew I had you from the moment I met you. I am fighting every day to keep you.
​
Ephesians 5:25

I began the following post about an 2 hours before Trav took his last breath. His passing was the most painful, the most precious, the most confusing moment of my existence. There is still so much you don't know about him. So much I want to tell you. So much I hope you already got from him.
Visitation and service hours and location will be posted on our Facebook page tomorrow. They will be here in Katy on Saturday and Sunday, respectively. Thank you for everything. Everything. We love ya'll. I love y'all. So much.
9:15 AM
It's been 38 hours since Travis told me he loved me out loud. This is the second longest he's gone without saying it since he first told me. The first time was when it slipped out of his mouth 5 months before we began dating...officially. I had been dating someone else all throughout college. While I don't believe in chance, the night Trav and I met was serendipitous in several ways. (Trav would chime in right about now and say, "Good word.") The first night we met was the night Travis told me that I would not marry "that guy." True Trav honesty. I didn't realize he was a man on a mission. This life-changing phrase slipped out of his mouth during one of our conversations about breaking up with said boyfriend. To be such a word wizard, these are my most favorite words of his.
Trav hasn't held a conversation since Monday. He told me twice on Tuesday that he loved me. I have heard it multiple times a day for years now. Yesterday, I asked him about a hundred times, "Do you love me?" I was begging, and still am, to hear it one more time. Around 9:25 PM, I told him again. "I love you, Trav." He didn't open his eyes or his mouth. Instead, he pointed at his chest, drew a heart in the air, and held up two fingers. This was the greatest gift of my day. What a mercy during these days. Last night he kept grabbing my shirt, pulling me towards him, cupping my face and kissing me. No words necessary.
There is so much I want to tell you about Travis that I'm worried you don't know. There are so many sayings and mannerisms that are uniquely Travis that I dread no longer hearing or seeing. So allow me to fill you in.
Did you know that when Travis was a senior in high school, he went to state in OAP? Did you know he won best actor while there?
Did you know that Trav went to NYU for dramatic writing? While there he worked at Starbucks and drove a yellow taxi? Yes, likely the only white person you may have seen driving a taxi. While at Starbucks he became unlikely friends with Adam after bumping into him and threatening to "take matters outside." I'm glad he took it easy on you, Adam.
Did you know that Travis proposed to me when we were off playing "refugees" in Temple at my parents' during Hurricane Ike. It was a day before his 24th birthday.
Did you know that Trav has written numerous plays, some of which have been poor-man copyrighted and reside in our closet sealed.
Did you know that, before Tuesday, Travis had not gone a day in our marriage or engagement without telling me I was beautiful. Even if it was a lie that day.
Did you know that I begged Trav not to outdo me on our wedding vows the day we were married. He said he wouldn't, but I knew he was incapable of writing something that wasn't perfect. Out of fear, I tried my hardest to write something eloquent and thoughtful. It took up a page and a half. Trav stuck to his word and wrote three lines.
Did you know that Trav prefers to eat gummy bears by beheading them, and then dismembering? Do you know how long it takes to go through a bag of gummies when you eat them so meticulously?
Did you know that every cute pair of shoes I own were picked out by Travis. He'd argue that every cute item of clothing was picked out by him.‪#‎ithoughtstripeswerecool‬
Did you know that Travis bought me my first handbag after leaving my wallet and cell phone at work numerous nights in a row?
Did you know I sold my son's name to Travis over a furniture set? We weren't even pregnant, and I promised he could name our first born son Thurgood if I could have a furniture set. Needless to say, I got the furniture. He got the name. Love my furniture...head over heels with my Thurgood.
Did you know that we missed our honeymoon flight to Disney where we had dinner reservations waiting for us that night. He went to another airline counter, purchased new tickets in the wake of our wedding expenses, walked over to me and said, "I can either prepare to never live this down or be the hero. I choose to be the hero."
Did you know that the main reason people are turned off by Travis is because they don't know what to do with the truth.
Did you know that Trav knew that spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ was his primary job on this earth?