Boy, I tore into my bathroom remodeling project today with a vengeance. I have been quite nervous thinking about it. I've been wondering if I can handle it all by myself. I like to say that I used to just be Chuck's assistant with this kind of thing. Actually, I was more like his partner. He did the majority of the functional work. I did most of the planning, measuring, painting. We each had our own responsibilities and tasks we were good at and it seemed to work out great for us.
Needless to say, I had to take on his role in this latest project. I worked on it for 10 hours today. It is nowhere near done but it is coming along nicely so far. I got so much more accomplished in one day than I ever thought possible. What really surprised me though is how things seem to just be working out as planned! Usually we run into all sorts of unexpected hassles. I've only had one thing give me a hard time...but it wasn't because of anything I did.
While texting Brandon today, I kept him informed of my progress. I told him Dad must have taught me well because I was pleased with everything so far. I told him how, before I got started this morning, I asked Dad to somehow help me along. I think he did. He must have!
When he was close to dying, I told him not to worry about the work that needed to be done on the house. I told him I would get it done somehow. I told him we would be okay. I told him I would make him proud.
I think I did just that today!
And I didn't even need those two pennies in my pocket! (That only makes sense if you know the whole story from the beginning.)
It will feel good to go to bed knowing I've gotten so much accomplished. Knowing that getting out of bed today was worth it. I haven't felt that way in a long time. Even though I'm really exhausted from working so hard, I think I kind of like it.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
"Don't you cry tonight"
As I pulled into the cemetery for a brief visit today, I listened to this song:
Don't Cry by Guns N Roses
Talk to me softly
There's something in your eyes
Don't hang your head in sorrow
And please don't cry
I know how you feel inside I've
I've been there before
Something's changing inside you
And don't you know
Don't you cry tonight
I still love you baby
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry tonight
Give me a whisper
And give me a sigh
Give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye
Don't you take it so hard now
And please don't take it so bad
I'll still be thinking of you
And the times we had...baby
And don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry tonight
And please remember that I never lied
And please remember how I felt inside now honey
You got to make it your own way
But you'll be alright now sugar
You'll feel better tomorrow
Come the morning light now baby
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry tonight
Baby maybe someday
Don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry
Tonight
There's something in your eyes
Don't hang your head in sorrow
And please don't cry
I know how you feel inside I've
I've been there before
Something's changing inside you
And don't you know
Don't you cry tonight
I still love you baby
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry tonight
Give me a whisper
And give me a sigh
Give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye
Don't you take it so hard now
And please don't take it so bad
I'll still be thinking of you
And the times we had...baby
And don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry tonight
And please remember that I never lied
And please remember how I felt inside now honey
You got to make it your own way
But you'll be alright now sugar
You'll feel better tomorrow
Come the morning light now baby
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
And don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry tonight
Baby maybe someday
Don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry
Tonight
I know Guns N Roses doesn't sound like the typical type of music one would listen to in relation to grieving. But just look at the lyrics. These are the kind of things that I would imagine Chuck would say to me if he could.
But of course, he can't. Or can he...in his own way?
Because as I got near the back of the cemetery, I finally saw the deer that hang out there. At first I only saw one. I stopped the car and just sat there watching it. Then as I drove slowly on, I noticed another one on the other side of the tree.
I got out and was able to walk back towards it without it taking off. I got close enough where I could have gotten a pretty good picture if I had taken a decent camera with me. (When am I EVER going to learn to not leave the house without a camera?!)
Yeah, I know. It's just nature. 5:00 is a typical time for deer to come out and eat. But it put a little smile on my face.
It doesn't matter why they were there. What matters is my personal perception of why they were there. And I would like to think that Chuck was acknowledging and confirming the thoughts going through my mind at that moment. He was saying to me, "Don't you cry tonight. I still love you, Baby."
I still love you, too. I always will.
But of course, he can't. Or can he...in his own way?
Because as I got near the back of the cemetery, I finally saw the deer that hang out there. At first I only saw one. I stopped the car and just sat there watching it. Then as I drove slowly on, I noticed another one on the other side of the tree.
I got out and was able to walk back towards it without it taking off. I got close enough where I could have gotten a pretty good picture if I had taken a decent camera with me. (When am I EVER going to learn to not leave the house without a camera?!)
Yeah, I know. It's just nature. 5:00 is a typical time for deer to come out and eat. But it put a little smile on my face.
It doesn't matter why they were there. What matters is my personal perception of why they were there. And I would like to think that Chuck was acknowledging and confirming the thoughts going through my mind at that moment. He was saying to me, "Don't you cry tonight. I still love you, Baby."
I still love you, too. I always will.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
A Father's Love
I remember Daddy's hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy's hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back for something done right.
There are things that I've forgotten that I loved about the man,
But I'll always remember the love in Daddy's hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'.
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.
I remember Daddy's hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I'd live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy's hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'.
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.
And reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy's hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back for something done right.
There are things that I've forgotten that I loved about the man,
But I'll always remember the love in Daddy's hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'.
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.
I remember Daddy's hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I'd live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy's hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'.
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.
~"Daddy's Hands" by Holly Dunn
Today should be a relatively easy one...for me anyways. At least that's what I thought when I woke up this morning. I mean, I always feel tremendous sadness and grief for every person who is hurting because of Chuck's death. But today, Father's Day, I honestly felt more pain for his children than anyone. Mother's and Father's Day, to us, were basically just another one of those Hallmark holidays. We really didn't make a big deal out of them. But it has always been nice to still be acknowledged on those days.
It's bad enough that the kids, at least my two boys, have been inundated with countless ads and commercials for the last few weeks. I honestly don't think they ever paid much attention to this kind of stuff in the past. And maybe it's just me being hyper-sensitive to these things now, but it appeared to me that they would get quiet or even walk out of the room altogether at the mention of Father's Day on tv.
Compared to our anniversary a mere 6 days ago, for sure this day would come and go as most other days do. I bought him a card last week, as I do every year. I visited my own Dad for awhile and decided I would stop by the cemetery to place Chuck's card on my way home. I would stand there and reflect for a few minutes and then go about the rest of my day. Simple enough, right?
I knew the cemetery would be quite a busy place today. Pulling in there, I had this odd urge to scream out the window to anybody who would listen, "I'm not here visiting my Father! I'm here to honor my kids' Father...my Husband!" I love my Dad dearly but I couldn't help but think about how wrong it was that I lost my husband before either of my parents. I should have had way more "practice" visiting other people at cemeteries before I started going to my husband's grave.
Of course I kept my mouth shut. I didn't shout anything out the car window. It sure felt good to acknowledge that I felt that way though. And to accept my feelings for what they were.
Pulling up closer, I glanced towards the dying roses and heart balloon I placed there earlier this week. And what I saw literally took my breath away for a moment. Others had been there today! There was a pretty decorative pot of flowers sitting on the marker and another small arrangement stuck in the ground right next to it. It surprised me at first. And then my heart just melted. All I could think of was, "Look at how much this man was loved." Another thing that came to my mind was the possibility that other people do, in fact, come out here from time to time. Just because they don't always bring flowers doesn't mean they don't come out here. Perhaps the only evidence of their visit, if it were possible to see, would be the tears that have been soaked up by the ground. God knows I've left plenty of them there.
The pretty flower pot was left by his Mother...along with a beautiful card. How sweet and endearing that she made a trip to the cemetery on Father's Day. It reminded me that she sees him as not only the loving son he was, but as the Father of her grandchildren. That touched me in ways you can't even imagine.
The other arrangement was left by his daughter Nichole. I have to say that this came as a complete shock to me. (Those that know Nichole and the chaos surrounding her might understand why I feel this way.)
For a brief moment, my heart and my feelings towards her softened a little bit. That doesn't mean I agree with or accept her behavior, but for the first time I can respect that she, too, is stumbling along the path of grief. She also lost a part of her life that can never be replaced.
He only wanted her and her daughters to have the best life possible and he would've gone to any length to give that to her. He just couldn't accept that she needed to want and achieve that on her own. Until the very end. He finally accepted that he had done all he could for her. While he may have been disappointed by many of her actions, I have no doubt that his love for her -- his only daughter -- never wavered. It created a rift between us on many occasions. But that was truly one of the reasons I admired and loved him from the very beginning. Nothing could change the love he felt for his kids.
So I came home today looking at that whole situation with a different set of eyes. For a little while, I saw some things in a different light. It proved to me that there will always be new lessons to learn. There is always another angle to look at a situation. I'm learning that you have to be willing to open up your eyes and keep an open mind...but in the end you still have to be true to yourself and your beliefs. Most of all, you have to remain true to what's inside your heart and give others the courtesy to do the same.
Perhaps Nichole stops out there as often as I do. Honestly, I didn't think she would even be able to find his grave if she tried. But maybe, just maybe, she sits out there for an hour on a nice day. Maybe she talks to him. Maybe she places her fingers on the letters of his name. Maybe she looks up to the sky and questions why. Maybe she kneels on the ground and kisses the only concrete proof of his existence goodbye.
I hope she does. I hope she and her Dad still have that relationship. The same kind of relationship I still have with him. A changed relationship...but an enduring and everlasting one.
I certainly am not ready to forgive her for so many things. I'm only human and it's not that easy sometimes. Her Dad probably never stayed angry with her long enough to need to forgive her. But that's okay. It's more than okay. That's the way it should be between a parent and child. At least a good parent.
And he was a good Dad. To all of his kids. Sure, he lacked patience sometimes. Other times he felt like he needed a break. He yearned for some time for just himself or for us as a couple. What parent hasn't felt that way? But his kids were his heart. No matter what went wrong in life, as long as his kids were safe and secure, all was right in the world. He was like a big, strong papa bear. He would fiercely protect his kids if needed. But he was also the most gentle soul you could ever hope to meet.
And I'm proud of the Father that he was and of the legacy he left behind.
Thank you, Chuck, for giving me our sons and thank you for the impression you've left on all of our lives. Through your children, grandchildren and future generations, your legacy lives on.
Happy Father's Day, Baby. To one of the best.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
This is a Another First
It really kind of shocked me.
For the first time ever (since he's been gone), today I actually wished, or at least thought I wished, it could have been the other way around.
If you have a spouse or a significant other in your life right now that you truly love, try to imagine what it would be like if they died tomorrow. I know it's not the most pleasant thing to think about. But don't we think about those things from time to time? I always thought I wanted to be the one to go first. I didn't ever want to experience that kind of pain and heartache.
A few weeks after Chuck died, (if I keep saying those words..."Chuck died"...maybe I will come to realize and accept that it's really true), I started to think in a different way. I realized how painful it would have been for him. I started to think about how in the world he would have handled it.
I just couldn't wish that amount of pain on anybody, let alone the one who owns my heart.
As much as I felt sad that he would miss out on so many things he looked forward to, at least he didn't have to try to find his way in this world all alone...again. I have no doubt that he would have found a way to deal with it. After all, he was one of the strongest people I've ever known. But I also know that he loved me so much that he would have been lost without me.
Just as I am lost without him. He would have handled it just as I am. He would have done the necessary things in life. No more and no less. As far as how either of us would have handled it farther down the road? I can't answer that. I can only take each day as it comes.
I would hope that he would have a renewed interest in life. I would hope that he would discover things that he enjoyed on his own. I would even hope that he would do things that he wouldn't have otherwise done if I were still here. I would definitely hope that he would live his life to the fullest and get as much enjoyment as possible out of every day. I would hope that he would have the attitude that life is too short, you never know what tomorrow will bring, so you might as well enjoy yourself while you can. (In many ways, he already lived his life that way...which brings me great joy.)
So I loved him so much that I would give anything to never cause him this amount of pain. I've thought that 100% wholeheartedly since that awful day.
Until today.
Today I would have traded him places. In a heartbeat. Maybe not permanently. But can't we just switch places every now and then? Can't we share the burden? The heartache? The pain and tears? After all, he did tell the minister in our premarital counseling that he would die for me. Would he trade places with me if he could?
Of course he would. He wouldn't want me to cry. To hurt. To ache and long for him with every ounce of my body and my soul. He would carry that burden. For a hundred more years if he had to.
He didn't have that choice though.
I can only imagine if I were the one lying in that hospital bed on that fateful day. He would have cried and curled up next to me while I remained the stoic one. He would have begged and pleaded with God to please take him instead. He wanted to live. He wanted that more than anything he has ever wanted before. Knowing him as I do, he would have wanted to live more for us than even for himself.
He never wanted to cause pain for anybody that he loved. That's just the kind of person he was.
I honestly don't know what I believe. I know what I want to believe. It gives me hope. But I do know that if he has a choice right now...to sort of hang around and look over me...the kids...to look over all of us until he knows that we will be okay, well he will feel compelled to hang around for an awful long time. Even if he were promised a better and more beautiful world and existence than we could ever imagine, he would choose to stay back until all of his loved ones are either okay or there with him.
If that's the case, I'm holding him back. I want to let him go...but only for his sake. I want to let his soul soar. To be free from all of the worries of this world. I just can't yet. I still need him too much.
Yet he knows I'm strong. He knows I'm capable. He knows I will figure it all out.
As much as I would have done anything in my power to protect him from any kind of pain, he would have done the same for me many times over. That's why he fought it so hard. That's why he struggled. I think he almost got to the point of acceptance. But I held him back.
I'm not going to hold you back any more, Baby. It's okay. Just go. Just fly. Go see and experience all that you've ever wanted. You are free now. I can't ever completely release you. But I can give you the freedom to roam. Just check back in on me every now and then, okay?
I'm trying to learn to let go. Letting go is the best gift I can give to you. No matter how much I let you go, I also know that you are always there...just a heartbeat away.
We will always be a part of each other's souls. So no matter how far away you go, no matter how much time passes, I know we will never be far apart. You are right here with me. You are in my heart. Nothing can ever change that.
And as much as it hurts to be here without you, I don't think I would trade places with you. I wish you could be here to see all that could have been...all that will be. But I wouldn't want you to hurt. You see? The minister didn't ask me that day if I would have been willing to die for you. But if he had, the answer would have been yes. Without any hesitation. Without a doubt.
I would have done anything for you.
That's what true love is. That's what we had. And will have eternally.
The memory of your voice. Your smell. Your touch. Those memories may fade with time. But the feeling of your love will never leave me. It's like a scar on my heart...but a good scar.
I will love you always. And your love for me will keep me going....
Always.
For the first time ever (since he's been gone), today I actually wished, or at least thought I wished, it could have been the other way around.
If you have a spouse or a significant other in your life right now that you truly love, try to imagine what it would be like if they died tomorrow. I know it's not the most pleasant thing to think about. But don't we think about those things from time to time? I always thought I wanted to be the one to go first. I didn't ever want to experience that kind of pain and heartache.
A few weeks after Chuck died, (if I keep saying those words..."Chuck died"...maybe I will come to realize and accept that it's really true), I started to think in a different way. I realized how painful it would have been for him. I started to think about how in the world he would have handled it.
I just couldn't wish that amount of pain on anybody, let alone the one who owns my heart.
As much as I felt sad that he would miss out on so many things he looked forward to, at least he didn't have to try to find his way in this world all alone...again. I have no doubt that he would have found a way to deal with it. After all, he was one of the strongest people I've ever known. But I also know that he loved me so much that he would have been lost without me.
Just as I am lost without him. He would have handled it just as I am. He would have done the necessary things in life. No more and no less. As far as how either of us would have handled it farther down the road? I can't answer that. I can only take each day as it comes.
I would hope that he would have a renewed interest in life. I would hope that he would discover things that he enjoyed on his own. I would even hope that he would do things that he wouldn't have otherwise done if I were still here. I would definitely hope that he would live his life to the fullest and get as much enjoyment as possible out of every day. I would hope that he would have the attitude that life is too short, you never know what tomorrow will bring, so you might as well enjoy yourself while you can. (In many ways, he already lived his life that way...which brings me great joy.)
So I loved him so much that I would give anything to never cause him this amount of pain. I've thought that 100% wholeheartedly since that awful day.
Until today.
Today I would have traded him places. In a heartbeat. Maybe not permanently. But can't we just switch places every now and then? Can't we share the burden? The heartache? The pain and tears? After all, he did tell the minister in our premarital counseling that he would die for me. Would he trade places with me if he could?
Of course he would. He wouldn't want me to cry. To hurt. To ache and long for him with every ounce of my body and my soul. He would carry that burden. For a hundred more years if he had to.
He didn't have that choice though.
I can only imagine if I were the one lying in that hospital bed on that fateful day. He would have cried and curled up next to me while I remained the stoic one. He would have begged and pleaded with God to please take him instead. He wanted to live. He wanted that more than anything he has ever wanted before. Knowing him as I do, he would have wanted to live more for us than even for himself.
He never wanted to cause pain for anybody that he loved. That's just the kind of person he was.
I honestly don't know what I believe. I know what I want to believe. It gives me hope. But I do know that if he has a choice right now...to sort of hang around and look over me...the kids...to look over all of us until he knows that we will be okay, well he will feel compelled to hang around for an awful long time. Even if he were promised a better and more beautiful world and existence than we could ever imagine, he would choose to stay back until all of his loved ones are either okay or there with him.
If that's the case, I'm holding him back. I want to let him go...but only for his sake. I want to let his soul soar. To be free from all of the worries of this world. I just can't yet. I still need him too much.
Yet he knows I'm strong. He knows I'm capable. He knows I will figure it all out.
As much as I would have done anything in my power to protect him from any kind of pain, he would have done the same for me many times over. That's why he fought it so hard. That's why he struggled. I think he almost got to the point of acceptance. But I held him back.
I'm not going to hold you back any more, Baby. It's okay. Just go. Just fly. Go see and experience all that you've ever wanted. You are free now. I can't ever completely release you. But I can give you the freedom to roam. Just check back in on me every now and then, okay?
I'm trying to learn to let go. Letting go is the best gift I can give to you. No matter how much I let you go, I also know that you are always there...just a heartbeat away.
We will always be a part of each other's souls. So no matter how far away you go, no matter how much time passes, I know we will never be far apart. You are right here with me. You are in my heart. Nothing can ever change that.
And as much as it hurts to be here without you, I don't think I would trade places with you. I wish you could be here to see all that could have been...all that will be. But I wouldn't want you to hurt. You see? The minister didn't ask me that day if I would have been willing to die for you. But if he had, the answer would have been yes. Without any hesitation. Without a doubt.
I would have done anything for you.
That's what true love is. That's what we had. And will have eternally.
The memory of your voice. Your smell. Your touch. Those memories may fade with time. But the feeling of your love will never leave me. It's like a scar on my heart...but a good scar.
I will love you always. And your love for me will keep me going....
Always.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Smile Because It Happened
All day long my thoughts have gone something like this.
"13 years ago today, at this exact time..."
...we were decorating the hall.
...I was at the salon getting my hair done.
...we were at the church getting ready.
...I was walking down the aisle.
...we were dancing to our song.
...we were cutting the cake.
...we were listening to the ill-prepared toast by the best man.
By this time now, we were legally husband and wife. At that point in our lives our hearts and our souls were already bound together. It had been that way long before our wedding day.
We were already a couple for almost 7 years (nobody could accuse us of rushing in to marriage), we had a mortgage and two kids together. We used to joke about how we did it all backwards. We had even been officially engaged for almost 4 years. Actually, as unromantic as it is, the thing that finally pushed us to set a date and get things rolling was an issue with health insurance! I have no doubt we would have still taken the plunge eventually. Life was just so busy (and so damn expensive) to take time out to plan a wedding. I was glad to have a reason to finally do it.
I remember thinking that a marriage certificate wouldn't change a thing. I mean, we'd already been leading the life of a typical married couple for so long, what difference would there be besides a change in my last name? Boy -- how pleasantly wrong I was! Maybe it's not that way for some people but the ceremony, the vows, that "piece of paper" did make a difference. I've always been big on symbolism though. It took our relationship and our love for each other to a level I never knew existed. I remember looking around the reception hall while talking to my brother-in-law Jerry. "Where is my husband?", I asked him. That one question put a huge smile on my face. That's when it hit me! My Husband! How wonderful it was to be able to call him my husband!
So much of my day has been spent going back and forth between the past and the present...and all of the years in between. When I first woke up this morning, our anniversary was the first thing on my mind. I couldn't help but wonder how this day might have been different if things were still "normal". Walking in to the house after work, I wondered if there would have been a bouquet of flowers waiting for me? Or perhaps a few single red roses? Or maybe just a card he picked up at the last minute on his way home from work. I know for sure I would have smelled breakfast cooking. He would have went all out and made his delicious homemade potatoes because of the special occasion. He probably would have even washed the breakfast dishes for me. Uh, with the reminder that NOW I "owed" him...and he will take his "payment" later on tonight...thank you very much!! :) (That's my feisty old man!)
Then the day would have most likely went on quite normally. Maybe a few extra kisses in passing. A few additional pats on the butt! Maybe we would have gone out to dinner. And he would have definitely justified spending the extra money on the "good" beer.
A normal day. Except for the fact that I woke up this morning knowing I would visit the cemetery today, arriving with a bouquet of roses and a card. Except for the fact that I would be left to reminisce about the happiest day of our lives all by myself. Yeah, it was a normal day except for the very noticeable absence of my husband.
Maybe it wasn't so normal after all. I pulled in to the cemetery at exactly 3:58 PM. I didn't plan to make that drive at the exact time I was preparing to walk down the aisle of the church 13 years ago. It just worked out that way. As I pulled in with that bouquet of roses, I couldn't help but think of the irony of it. "Here comes your bride, Chuck." That's what I thought. Here comes your bride.
Today I celebrated the day of our marriage...our vows before our friends, our family and God. Celebrate? After such a loss, is "celebrate" the right word to use? Yes, it is. While I am definitely sad and mourning what could have been, there is still cause for celebration. Our life together might be over...but that doesn't mean I have to treat it as if it never happened. Our relationship didn't end with his last breath. It definitely changed...but something that is so ingrained in to my soul will never end. Not until I take my last breath.
So, this is to you Chuck.
Thank you for choosing me to be your wife. For showing me what life and love are all about. Every day I look at the picture of you that was taken immediately after our wedding ceremony. I never realized, until now, how happy you were that day. How our marriage meant as much to you as it did to me.
I'll never forget that day, shortly after we were married, when somehow the subject of 50-year anniversaries came up. You told me that it saddened you that we would never get to celebrate our golden anniversary. I asked you why and you explained that, due to your age when we married, it was unlikely. I had faith that we would make it to 50. (Of course I joked about how you would be too senile to realize it!) Realistically, we wouldn't make it to 50. But we both assumed we most likely make it to 25. 30? Maybe even 40!
We had to fit it all in to 12 and a half years. Even knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change a thing. The heartache I have to live with for the rest of my life is worth it. I would do it all over again.
Well, Babe. I survived the day. The hardest one of all in the last 7 months and 4 days. You are still making me strong.
And, I even bought the "good" beer! So, here is a toast to "Us". The "Us" that has always been, the "Us" that still remains, the "Us" that carries on in our children, and the "Us" that will live in my heart forever.
Like the saying goes, "Don't cry because it's over...smile because it happened." That is how I'm living today. I'm smiling because it happened. Because you happened. Because we happened.
Here's to you, Babe.
Thank you.
I miss you.
I love you.
And Happy Anniversary.
"13 years ago today, at this exact time..."
...we were decorating the hall.
...I was at the salon getting my hair done.
...we were at the church getting ready.
...I was walking down the aisle.
...we were dancing to our song.
...we were cutting the cake.
...we were listening to the ill-prepared toast by the best man.
By this time now, we were legally husband and wife. At that point in our lives our hearts and our souls were already bound together. It had been that way long before our wedding day.
We were already a couple for almost 7 years (nobody could accuse us of rushing in to marriage), we had a mortgage and two kids together. We used to joke about how we did it all backwards. We had even been officially engaged for almost 4 years. Actually, as unromantic as it is, the thing that finally pushed us to set a date and get things rolling was an issue with health insurance! I have no doubt we would have still taken the plunge eventually. Life was just so busy (and so damn expensive) to take time out to plan a wedding. I was glad to have a reason to finally do it.
I remember thinking that a marriage certificate wouldn't change a thing. I mean, we'd already been leading the life of a typical married couple for so long, what difference would there be besides a change in my last name? Boy -- how pleasantly wrong I was! Maybe it's not that way for some people but the ceremony, the vows, that "piece of paper" did make a difference. I've always been big on symbolism though. It took our relationship and our love for each other to a level I never knew existed. I remember looking around the reception hall while talking to my brother-in-law Jerry. "Where is my husband?", I asked him. That one question put a huge smile on my face. That's when it hit me! My Husband! How wonderful it was to be able to call him my husband!
So much of my day has been spent going back and forth between the past and the present...and all of the years in between. When I first woke up this morning, our anniversary was the first thing on my mind. I couldn't help but wonder how this day might have been different if things were still "normal". Walking in to the house after work, I wondered if there would have been a bouquet of flowers waiting for me? Or perhaps a few single red roses? Or maybe just a card he picked up at the last minute on his way home from work. I know for sure I would have smelled breakfast cooking. He would have went all out and made his delicious homemade potatoes because of the special occasion. He probably would have even washed the breakfast dishes for me. Uh, with the reminder that NOW I "owed" him...and he will take his "payment" later on tonight...thank you very much!! :) (That's my feisty old man!)
Then the day would have most likely went on quite normally. Maybe a few extra kisses in passing. A few additional pats on the butt! Maybe we would have gone out to dinner. And he would have definitely justified spending the extra money on the "good" beer.
A normal day. Except for the fact that I woke up this morning knowing I would visit the cemetery today, arriving with a bouquet of roses and a card. Except for the fact that I would be left to reminisce about the happiest day of our lives all by myself. Yeah, it was a normal day except for the very noticeable absence of my husband.
Maybe it wasn't so normal after all. I pulled in to the cemetery at exactly 3:58 PM. I didn't plan to make that drive at the exact time I was preparing to walk down the aisle of the church 13 years ago. It just worked out that way. As I pulled in with that bouquet of roses, I couldn't help but think of the irony of it. "Here comes your bride, Chuck." That's what I thought. Here comes your bride.
Today I celebrated the day of our marriage...our vows before our friends, our family and God. Celebrate? After such a loss, is "celebrate" the right word to use? Yes, it is. While I am definitely sad and mourning what could have been, there is still cause for celebration. Our life together might be over...but that doesn't mean I have to treat it as if it never happened. Our relationship didn't end with his last breath. It definitely changed...but something that is so ingrained in to my soul will never end. Not until I take my last breath.
So, this is to you Chuck.
Thank you for choosing me to be your wife. For showing me what life and love are all about. Every day I look at the picture of you that was taken immediately after our wedding ceremony. I never realized, until now, how happy you were that day. How our marriage meant as much to you as it did to me.
I'll never forget that day, shortly after we were married, when somehow the subject of 50-year anniversaries came up. You told me that it saddened you that we would never get to celebrate our golden anniversary. I asked you why and you explained that, due to your age when we married, it was unlikely. I had faith that we would make it to 50. (Of course I joked about how you would be too senile to realize it!) Realistically, we wouldn't make it to 50. But we both assumed we most likely make it to 25. 30? Maybe even 40!
We had to fit it all in to 12 and a half years. Even knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change a thing. The heartache I have to live with for the rest of my life is worth it. I would do it all over again.
Well, Babe. I survived the day. The hardest one of all in the last 7 months and 4 days. You are still making me strong.
And, I even bought the "good" beer! So, here is a toast to "Us". The "Us" that has always been, the "Us" that still remains, the "Us" that carries on in our children, and the "Us" that will live in my heart forever.
Like the saying goes, "Don't cry because it's over...smile because it happened." That is how I'm living today. I'm smiling because it happened. Because you happened. Because we happened.
Here's to you, Babe.
Thank you.
I miss you.
I love you.
And Happy Anniversary.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
One Hug Can Say So Much
My Grandpa is a great man. It seems like he never changed throughout my whole life. From my very first memories of him...up until a few years ago, he looked the same, sounded the same, acted the same. Recently he's had some health issues that have taken their toll on him physically but he still has the same great personality and attitude he's always had.
My Grandpa has always been a man of great faith. Unwavering faith. He has always been a church goer but he isn't the preachy type. He applies his faith to his every day life and, because of that, is always a great comfort to those around him. It seems he visits hospitals as much as he is at home. Whether it's a baby being born, awaiting a surgery, or expecting a death...Grandpa is always there. He's been there through all three of those things for me...some of them, more than once. He always has a gentle hug to offer. During that hug, he always whispers in to my ear. "Love you, gal." Those words have a way of making one feel that everything will be okay. It's a quiet sort of strength that he passes on to those around him.
Chuck always looked up to my Grandpa. When talking about him to someone who never met him, he would always say, "Bob is such a good guy." Then he would go on to describe how much he knows, how much he is still able to do at 80+ years old. You could always tell how much he respected and admired Grandpa.
Of course Grandpa was one of the first to visit Chuck after he got released from the hospital. He came over and sat here and talked with us...his focus mainly being on Chuck. As a matter of fact, I almost felt like an intruder at the time. Chuck talked a little with Grandpa about his feelings...about how he wanted to handle what time he had left. I think he felt more comfortable talking to Grandpa than anybody else.
Before he left that day, Grandpa offered to say a prayer. It was obvious that prayer really touched Chuck. And then he hugged Grandpa goodbye. Chuck hugged him tight. He didn't let go for quite some time. It was such a sight to see. Two of my favorite men offering and receiving love and strength without any words.
Grandpa came back over the night before Chuck passed away. He sat with him, held his hand, and talked to him. He talked about that hug. He talked about how, for the first time in 20 years, Chuck was the last to let go. Grandpa felt something that I could only watch from the sideline. He must have felt something awesome in that final hug.
I know Chuck was scared when he hugged Grandpa. He must have been terribly afraid. I don't believe he was only holding on tightly to the man he loved and adored so much...he was also holding on to all of Grandpa's faith and beliefs. He was clinging to hope. He was touching pure love. While it brought him almost to tears because it was the first step of letting go and the first of many goodbyes, I'm sure it also had a reassuring and calming effect on him.
We always assume that we will have to watch our older relatives go before us. It's really something to think that Chuck will be among many others welcoming Grandpa when it's his time. And they will hug. A hug of reunion instead of goodbye. And I'm sure Chuck will have a smile on his face, a knowing look in his eyes, and a heart brimming with appreciation and love.
My Grandpa has always been a man of great faith. Unwavering faith. He has always been a church goer but he isn't the preachy type. He applies his faith to his every day life and, because of that, is always a great comfort to those around him. It seems he visits hospitals as much as he is at home. Whether it's a baby being born, awaiting a surgery, or expecting a death...Grandpa is always there. He's been there through all three of those things for me...some of them, more than once. He always has a gentle hug to offer. During that hug, he always whispers in to my ear. "Love you, gal." Those words have a way of making one feel that everything will be okay. It's a quiet sort of strength that he passes on to those around him.
Chuck always looked up to my Grandpa. When talking about him to someone who never met him, he would always say, "Bob is such a good guy." Then he would go on to describe how much he knows, how much he is still able to do at 80+ years old. You could always tell how much he respected and admired Grandpa.
Of course Grandpa was one of the first to visit Chuck after he got released from the hospital. He came over and sat here and talked with us...his focus mainly being on Chuck. As a matter of fact, I almost felt like an intruder at the time. Chuck talked a little with Grandpa about his feelings...about how he wanted to handle what time he had left. I think he felt more comfortable talking to Grandpa than anybody else.
Before he left that day, Grandpa offered to say a prayer. It was obvious that prayer really touched Chuck. And then he hugged Grandpa goodbye. Chuck hugged him tight. He didn't let go for quite some time. It was such a sight to see. Two of my favorite men offering and receiving love and strength without any words.
Grandpa came back over the night before Chuck passed away. He sat with him, held his hand, and talked to him. He talked about that hug. He talked about how, for the first time in 20 years, Chuck was the last to let go. Grandpa felt something that I could only watch from the sideline. He must have felt something awesome in that final hug.
I know Chuck was scared when he hugged Grandpa. He must have been terribly afraid. I don't believe he was only holding on tightly to the man he loved and adored so much...he was also holding on to all of Grandpa's faith and beliefs. He was clinging to hope. He was touching pure love. While it brought him almost to tears because it was the first step of letting go and the first of many goodbyes, I'm sure it also had a reassuring and calming effect on him.
We always assume that we will have to watch our older relatives go before us. It's really something to think that Chuck will be among many others welcoming Grandpa when it's his time. And they will hug. A hug of reunion instead of goodbye. And I'm sure Chuck will have a smile on his face, a knowing look in his eyes, and a heart brimming with appreciation and love.
I Can't Forget
I wonder if the flashbacks ever go away completely.
About a month ago I wrote about those final hours. I wrote about how the memories haunt me every single day. Putting it in writing must have been what I needed in order to tuck those memories into the back corner of my mind. Happier memories have now been rising to the surface which has been a welcome relief from the torture of wondering. Wondering if I did all I could, if I said the right things, if I brought him the comfort he needed.
I don't know what happened as there seemed to be no trigger but, BAM! This morning at work (I seriously must have too much time to think while working...that's when it always happens) I started replaying the whole sequence of events in my mind again. Once that tape starts rolling there is absolutely no stopping it.
After getting to the end I started mentally talking to him again. "Please, Chuck...please know that I didn't want you to go. Telling you that it was okay was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. And the most unselfish thing. It's what you needed to hear. I wanted to scream at you...beg you to stay. Even just a little bit longer. You were already fighting it far longer than you should have. That's why you suffered so much. I couldn't stand to see you suffering another minute. Yet it almost killed me to let you go. I had to. I had to let you go."
He must have known. He had to know that I wanted him to be here as much as he wanted to be here. Why am I so hung up on worrying that he thinks otherwise? If our spirits do live on, surely he can feel what's truly in my heart now, right?
It surprised me how it all suddenly came back as if I were still thinking about it every day. It was as if I've never tried to let it go at all yet. Maybe I just need to keep going over it repeatedly in order to work through it. Maybe it still seems so unreal to me that this is the path I must take towards acceptance. Maybe it is part of the healing process.
Or maybe I'm just subconsciously scared of forgetting it. As painful as it is to remember that day, I still don't want to forget it. I don't want to forget a single moment spent with him.
About a month ago I wrote about those final hours. I wrote about how the memories haunt me every single day. Putting it in writing must have been what I needed in order to tuck those memories into the back corner of my mind. Happier memories have now been rising to the surface which has been a welcome relief from the torture of wondering. Wondering if I did all I could, if I said the right things, if I brought him the comfort he needed.
I don't know what happened as there seemed to be no trigger but, BAM! This morning at work (I seriously must have too much time to think while working...that's when it always happens) I started replaying the whole sequence of events in my mind again. Once that tape starts rolling there is absolutely no stopping it.
After getting to the end I started mentally talking to him again. "Please, Chuck...please know that I didn't want you to go. Telling you that it was okay was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. And the most unselfish thing. It's what you needed to hear. I wanted to scream at you...beg you to stay. Even just a little bit longer. You were already fighting it far longer than you should have. That's why you suffered so much. I couldn't stand to see you suffering another minute. Yet it almost killed me to let you go. I had to. I had to let you go."
He must have known. He had to know that I wanted him to be here as much as he wanted to be here. Why am I so hung up on worrying that he thinks otherwise? If our spirits do live on, surely he can feel what's truly in my heart now, right?
It surprised me how it all suddenly came back as if I were still thinking about it every day. It was as if I've never tried to let it go at all yet. Maybe I just need to keep going over it repeatedly in order to work through it. Maybe it still seems so unreal to me that this is the path I must take towards acceptance. Maybe it is part of the healing process.
Or maybe I'm just subconsciously scared of forgetting it. As painful as it is to remember that day, I still don't want to forget it. I don't want to forget a single moment spent with him.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday the 13th
Okay, I know today is actually Saturday the 13th but bear with me here.
June 13th brings about a couple of birthdays in the family. It's also close to Father's Day and our anniversary. It's the beginning of summer and nice weather. Unfortunately, June 13th will now always be tied to negative memories because of last year...Friday, June 13th, 2008. That was the last June 13th Chuck lived to see. (For this first year, that has been my first thought every morning..."this time last year".) It was to be a special weekend last year because Father's Day and our wedding anniversary both fell on that Sunday.
The day started off normally enough. At the time, we were dealing with so many pressures and issues with my stepdaughter. Our whole summer was chaotic because of her. She pulled her same shit that day and got Chuck really upset. Really, REALLY upset. I won't go into all of the boring details because it would make this post very long.
After a long day of her either not answering the phone or hanging up on him, she decided to call me at a time when she figured her Dad would be sleeping. Well, he was. But he woke up. He wanted to talk to her. She started screaming at him and hung up on him...again. He had so much anger in him over the whole situation and we all know how that can go. Sometimes you take it out on whoever happens to be there at the time. On the ones you love the most.
Long story short, we got into a huge argument. He got so irrational and, well, he just kinda went crazy. Bad. It was really bad. I made the mistake of calling the cops...not thinking about the outcome of that decision. I just wanted them to calm the situation down. Instead, they took him to jail. Because of the charges against him, there was no bail set. We had no choice but to let him sit there until he appeared in court Monday morning.
He spent his last Father's Day and our last anniversary in jail.
We worked through a lot over the phone that weekend. We finally accepted that there was nothing we could do to change the situation. We vowed we would definitely make up for it "next year" on our anniversary. God, his voice on the phone broke my heart. He sounded so broken. Here he was, trying to be the good guy...the good Dad, doing everything in his power to help his daughter get her life in order. Instead he was being punished while she ran free, shirking all of her responsibilities as a mother.
He finally appeared in court Monday morning. We were prepared to post a hefty bond, come home, and worry about future court appearances. That wasn't to be either. He wasn't allowed to come home. As a matter of fact, we weren't allowed to see each other...or even talk to each other. He had to live at his Mother's house while I stayed home with the kids. For at least 3 weeks. And he had to wear an ankle monitor. All the while, Nichole was still running around the city without a care in the world. Or as Chuck used to say (quoting Kid Rock), "sippin' whiskey out the bottle...not thinkin' 'bout tomorrow." I took responsibility for my part in the mess and so did he. Not Nichole though. Why should she? In her eyes, she did nothing wrong.
We stayed away from each other (for the most part) for a couple of days. We finally decided it was bullshit and I basically moved in with him at his Mother's house. We were determined that no judge was going to tell us that we couldn't be together. Of course he was nervous about getting in trouble for it but he was willing to pay the price. Our time together meant that much to him.
I'll never forget the day we met with our lawyer. Chuck explained the circumstances to him and then, all of a sudden, he broke down and cried. That's the first time I've seen him cry since his oldest son passed away several years ago. He told the lawyer that he just wanted to be back with his family. He told the lawyer how we've never spent more than a night or two away from each other in our 20 years...and that was only when one of us was in the hospital. He talked about how he had to miss our annual trip to the lake...something he looked forward to. (Yeah, that's another thing he missed out on because of that weekend.)
In the end, everything worked out in Chuck's favor. All of the charges were dismissed and all we were out was the cost of the lawyer. Oh, yeah. And that last Father's Day. Our last wedding anniversary. His last chance to go to the lake. He missed out on a lot. But we kept reassuring each other that it would be okay because we always had next year.
In that time he was at his Mom's and the few months he was home before he became sick, well those were the best 3 months we've had in many years. We reconnected in a big way. We remembered why we fell in love in the first place. Our kisses had a new found passion about them. Our intimacy got so much more meaningful. We had a greater appreciation for each other and our every day life together. Our marriage was stronger. We were less quick to anger and forgiveness came much easier. Sure, we still had issues with Nichole. But now we were on the same side of the battle line. We supported and stood behind each other. We were able to talk about things we normally would have argued about. We were, once again, what a married couple should be...a team.
They say everything happens for a reason. If I could go back, my first thought is that I would never have called the cops that night. But maybe...just maybe...I wouldn't change a thing. I treasure every day I had him in my life. But those three months were as close to perfect as a relationship can get. He also got to spend some quality time with his Mother which meant so much to her.
It doesn't mean I still don't regret that whole situation. But as much as we missed out on that summer, we gained so much more. Our final memories together were some of our best. I only wish we could have had time for more.
June 13th brings about a couple of birthdays in the family. It's also close to Father's Day and our anniversary. It's the beginning of summer and nice weather. Unfortunately, June 13th will now always be tied to negative memories because of last year...Friday, June 13th, 2008. That was the last June 13th Chuck lived to see. (For this first year, that has been my first thought every morning..."this time last year".) It was to be a special weekend last year because Father's Day and our wedding anniversary both fell on that Sunday.
The day started off normally enough. At the time, we were dealing with so many pressures and issues with my stepdaughter. Our whole summer was chaotic because of her. She pulled her same shit that day and got Chuck really upset. Really, REALLY upset. I won't go into all of the boring details because it would make this post very long.
After a long day of her either not answering the phone or hanging up on him, she decided to call me at a time when she figured her Dad would be sleeping. Well, he was. But he woke up. He wanted to talk to her. She started screaming at him and hung up on him...again. He had so much anger in him over the whole situation and we all know how that can go. Sometimes you take it out on whoever happens to be there at the time. On the ones you love the most.
Long story short, we got into a huge argument. He got so irrational and, well, he just kinda went crazy. Bad. It was really bad. I made the mistake of calling the cops...not thinking about the outcome of that decision. I just wanted them to calm the situation down. Instead, they took him to jail. Because of the charges against him, there was no bail set. We had no choice but to let him sit there until he appeared in court Monday morning.
He spent his last Father's Day and our last anniversary in jail.
We worked through a lot over the phone that weekend. We finally accepted that there was nothing we could do to change the situation. We vowed we would definitely make up for it "next year" on our anniversary. God, his voice on the phone broke my heart. He sounded so broken. Here he was, trying to be the good guy...the good Dad, doing everything in his power to help his daughter get her life in order. Instead he was being punished while she ran free, shirking all of her responsibilities as a mother.
He finally appeared in court Monday morning. We were prepared to post a hefty bond, come home, and worry about future court appearances. That wasn't to be either. He wasn't allowed to come home. As a matter of fact, we weren't allowed to see each other...or even talk to each other. He had to live at his Mother's house while I stayed home with the kids. For at least 3 weeks. And he had to wear an ankle monitor. All the while, Nichole was still running around the city without a care in the world. Or as Chuck used to say (quoting Kid Rock), "sippin' whiskey out the bottle...not thinkin' 'bout tomorrow." I took responsibility for my part in the mess and so did he. Not Nichole though. Why should she? In her eyes, she did nothing wrong.
We stayed away from each other (for the most part) for a couple of days. We finally decided it was bullshit and I basically moved in with him at his Mother's house. We were determined that no judge was going to tell us that we couldn't be together. Of course he was nervous about getting in trouble for it but he was willing to pay the price. Our time together meant that much to him.
I'll never forget the day we met with our lawyer. Chuck explained the circumstances to him and then, all of a sudden, he broke down and cried. That's the first time I've seen him cry since his oldest son passed away several years ago. He told the lawyer that he just wanted to be back with his family. He told the lawyer how we've never spent more than a night or two away from each other in our 20 years...and that was only when one of us was in the hospital. He talked about how he had to miss our annual trip to the lake...something he looked forward to. (Yeah, that's another thing he missed out on because of that weekend.)
In the end, everything worked out in Chuck's favor. All of the charges were dismissed and all we were out was the cost of the lawyer. Oh, yeah. And that last Father's Day. Our last wedding anniversary. His last chance to go to the lake. He missed out on a lot. But we kept reassuring each other that it would be okay because we always had next year.
In that time he was at his Mom's and the few months he was home before he became sick, well those were the best 3 months we've had in many years. We reconnected in a big way. We remembered why we fell in love in the first place. Our kisses had a new found passion about them. Our intimacy got so much more meaningful. We had a greater appreciation for each other and our every day life together. Our marriage was stronger. We were less quick to anger and forgiveness came much easier. Sure, we still had issues with Nichole. But now we were on the same side of the battle line. We supported and stood behind each other. We were able to talk about things we normally would have argued about. We were, once again, what a married couple should be...a team.
They say everything happens for a reason. If I could go back, my first thought is that I would never have called the cops that night. But maybe...just maybe...I wouldn't change a thing. I treasure every day I had him in my life. But those three months were as close to perfect as a relationship can get. He also got to spend some quality time with his Mother which meant so much to her.
It doesn't mean I still don't regret that whole situation. But as much as we missed out on that summer, we gained so much more. Our final memories together were some of our best. I only wish we could have had time for more.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Dear Hallmark
Yesterday I went to the store to buy some graduation cards. While there, I realized that my stepson's birthday was only 2 days away. So I was on a quest to find a card for Eddy. I knew it wouldn't be easy to find just the right card but it was damn near impossible.
There were a lot of things to consider. I wanted to find a card that his Dad would have most likely picked out for him. But I didn't want to put a damper on his birthday by sending him a card for a "son". Would he appreciate that or would it upset him? I didn't see any cards labeled "stepson" either. So I moved on to the general section. "For someone special" sounded about right. It should be easy to find at least one there as there were several to choose from. Yeah, several pink ones, flowery ones, just plain old girly ones. I did finally find one that seemed acceptable. (Maybe I should have just browsed the "belated" section...because it will never get to Phoenix by tomorrow!)
Task accomplished, right? Not quite.
Is it morbid that I felt the need to buy an Anniversary and Father's Day card for Chuck? I mean, I bought one for his birthday and Valentine's Day. He would say it's a waste of money. Cards aren't cheap these days. (And the 99 cent cards just won't do.) It's always been easy to pick out cards for him. We both liked the simple ones that got right to the point. Of course, I usually filled up the rest of the space inside...and sometimes even on to the back...with a long note to him.
It's not easy anymore. Not because it makes me sad. Not because it reminds me of special occasions in the past. But because they all talk about our future together. Or about how we will always be there for each other. Or about how far we've come and what we've got to look forward to. Hallmark doesn't make cards for the deceased. They make cards for "missing you". They make get well cards and sympathy cards and "I'm sorry" cards. Maybe it IS too morbid. At least for Hallmark. Or am I just the only one who places laminated greeting cards at a gravesite?
Maybe I should write a letter to the card companies. I've invested a lot of money in their products over the years. (I have a box full of cards that me and Chuck have exchanged in the last 20 years.) I'm not really being serious about writing a letter. They would think I'm nuts, I'm sure.
Maybe I'll just invest in some card paper and start printing my own. That would be the simple solution, wouldn't it?
Oh, and just to let you know, I did finally find all of the cards I needed after spending 45 minutes in the card aisle! Thank you, Hallmark!
There were a lot of things to consider. I wanted to find a card that his Dad would have most likely picked out for him. But I didn't want to put a damper on his birthday by sending him a card for a "son". Would he appreciate that or would it upset him? I didn't see any cards labeled "stepson" either. So I moved on to the general section. "For someone special" sounded about right. It should be easy to find at least one there as there were several to choose from. Yeah, several pink ones, flowery ones, just plain old girly ones. I did finally find one that seemed acceptable. (Maybe I should have just browsed the "belated" section...because it will never get to Phoenix by tomorrow!)
Task accomplished, right? Not quite.
Is it morbid that I felt the need to buy an Anniversary and Father's Day card for Chuck? I mean, I bought one for his birthday and Valentine's Day. He would say it's a waste of money. Cards aren't cheap these days. (And the 99 cent cards just won't do.) It's always been easy to pick out cards for him. We both liked the simple ones that got right to the point. Of course, I usually filled up the rest of the space inside...and sometimes even on to the back...with a long note to him.
It's not easy anymore. Not because it makes me sad. Not because it reminds me of special occasions in the past. But because they all talk about our future together. Or about how we will always be there for each other. Or about how far we've come and what we've got to look forward to. Hallmark doesn't make cards for the deceased. They make cards for "missing you". They make get well cards and sympathy cards and "I'm sorry" cards. Maybe it IS too morbid. At least for Hallmark. Or am I just the only one who places laminated greeting cards at a gravesite?
Maybe I should write a letter to the card companies. I've invested a lot of money in their products over the years. (I have a box full of cards that me and Chuck have exchanged in the last 20 years.) I'm not really being serious about writing a letter. They would think I'm nuts, I'm sure.
Maybe I'll just invest in some card paper and start printing my own. That would be the simple solution, wouldn't it?
Oh, and just to let you know, I did finally find all of the cards I needed after spending 45 minutes in the card aisle! Thank you, Hallmark!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
It's the 11th of the month again
Damn, why does the 11th have to happen every month? Can I start a petition to have it totally removed from the calendar?
Today marks 7 months since the worst day of my 37 and a half years. And to top it all off - it's raining.
A couple of times I have gotten halfway through the 11th without even realizing it was "the" day...the...anniversary? (There must be a better word to use in place of that. After all, aren't anniversaries supposed to be happy occasions?) And this time thing. I can't really explain it. If you've experienced a similar tragedy you might understand. On one hand, I can't believe it's been over half a year since Chuck died. On the other, it feels like it's been 7 decades since I last saw him, touched him, kissed him, and so on. I say that so often but it boggles my mind.
I remember in the beginning, when I first started connecting with other widows (I still hate that word and the connotations that go along with it), I couldn't imagine being as far out as they were. I wondered how it would feel to not be in that raw phase of early grief. (Some would say that I am still in that phase.) I couldn't imagine being at 2 months or 4 months. And 6 months? God it would certainly feel like a lifetime before I would be at that point!
But here I am...7 months later. Some things have changed a lot. Some things are still very much the same. One thing that is constant is that my grief evolves and transforms into something different every single day and I never know what tomorrow will bring. In the beginning, I went back and forth between wanting to hole up at home and desperately wanting to get out into the world and distract myself. It was a very frantic feeling. Now for the last few months I've calmed down considerably. I get out every now and then. Mostly I'm content to stay home and interact with a few people that I'm closest to. I can sit quietly and relax without getting overly depressed. I don't have an urgent need to escape all of the reminders I'm surrounded by at home.
December was a difficult month. I had to go through the first 11th of the month, Christmas, Chuck's birthday and New Year's Eve. When I look back now it is all a blur and I'm still amazed that I got through it all. Of course, I'm pretty sure I was still in complete shock at the time. I anticipate this December being much more difficult. But June, this month, could possibly be the toughest month of all. Our wedding anniversary, Father's Day and our annual (much anticipated) week without the kids at the end of the month. Just like December, I will get through it.
One thing I've learned is that the days I anticipate being the hardest usually pass by pretty smoothly. It's the ones I don't prepare for that tend to hit the hardest. So maybe June won't be so bad after all. What do I know though? I've never been through this before. I can glean advice from others who have gone before me but everyone travels their own path...in their own way. There is no one-size-fits-all manual. I'm learning as I go. Sometimes I fight it, kicking and screaming every step of the way. Other times I realize I am grasping the concept of quiet acceptance. I am trying to go through the healing process with as much grace as possible.
So, yeah, today is the 11th. It will pass by and roll into the 12th. Will I miss him any less on the 12th than I do today? No, I'm quite sure I won't. So it really is just another day on the calendar. It's just another day that I have to live without him. It's also another day I can take all that I have learned by loving him...and losing him...and apply it to my life. This experience can either make me a better, more loving and stronger person...or I can allow it to make me hopeless, depressed and bitter. I can't remain neutral through it. That's not possible. So I must make a choice. Today, on June 11th, I choose to honor his memory by remaining positive. After all, he loved me because of my kind, caring and gentle ways. Why would I want to be a different person than the one he loved so much?
Today marks 7 months since the worst day of my 37 and a half years. And to top it all off - it's raining.
A couple of times I have gotten halfway through the 11th without even realizing it was "the" day...the...anniversary? (There must be a better word to use in place of that. After all, aren't anniversaries supposed to be happy occasions?) And this time thing. I can't really explain it. If you've experienced a similar tragedy you might understand. On one hand, I can't believe it's been over half a year since Chuck died. On the other, it feels like it's been 7 decades since I last saw him, touched him, kissed him, and so on. I say that so often but it boggles my mind.
I remember in the beginning, when I first started connecting with other widows (I still hate that word and the connotations that go along with it), I couldn't imagine being as far out as they were. I wondered how it would feel to not be in that raw phase of early grief. (Some would say that I am still in that phase.) I couldn't imagine being at 2 months or 4 months. And 6 months? God it would certainly feel like a lifetime before I would be at that point!
But here I am...7 months later. Some things have changed a lot. Some things are still very much the same. One thing that is constant is that my grief evolves and transforms into something different every single day and I never know what tomorrow will bring. In the beginning, I went back and forth between wanting to hole up at home and desperately wanting to get out into the world and distract myself. It was a very frantic feeling. Now for the last few months I've calmed down considerably. I get out every now and then. Mostly I'm content to stay home and interact with a few people that I'm closest to. I can sit quietly and relax without getting overly depressed. I don't have an urgent need to escape all of the reminders I'm surrounded by at home.
December was a difficult month. I had to go through the first 11th of the month, Christmas, Chuck's birthday and New Year's Eve. When I look back now it is all a blur and I'm still amazed that I got through it all. Of course, I'm pretty sure I was still in complete shock at the time. I anticipate this December being much more difficult. But June, this month, could possibly be the toughest month of all. Our wedding anniversary, Father's Day and our annual (much anticipated) week without the kids at the end of the month. Just like December, I will get through it.
One thing I've learned is that the days I anticipate being the hardest usually pass by pretty smoothly. It's the ones I don't prepare for that tend to hit the hardest. So maybe June won't be so bad after all. What do I know though? I've never been through this before. I can glean advice from others who have gone before me but everyone travels their own path...in their own way. There is no one-size-fits-all manual. I'm learning as I go. Sometimes I fight it, kicking and screaming every step of the way. Other times I realize I am grasping the concept of quiet acceptance. I am trying to go through the healing process with as much grace as possible.
So, yeah, today is the 11th. It will pass by and roll into the 12th. Will I miss him any less on the 12th than I do today? No, I'm quite sure I won't. So it really is just another day on the calendar. It's just another day that I have to live without him. It's also another day I can take all that I have learned by loving him...and losing him...and apply it to my life. This experience can either make me a better, more loving and stronger person...or I can allow it to make me hopeless, depressed and bitter. I can't remain neutral through it. That's not possible. So I must make a choice. Today, on June 11th, I choose to honor his memory by remaining positive. After all, he loved me because of my kind, caring and gentle ways. Why would I want to be a different person than the one he loved so much?
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