Merry Christmas, Michael,
This is our first Christmas without you here. It has been a struggle. I was determined to celebrate this Holiday. I have often wavered, and I have backed out on that promise more than once. For weeks I have pretended that the Holidays don't exist, and I have done everything I could, to live in a world where Christmas wasn't coming.
I imagine this Christmas is so very different for you than it is for me. While I was in church this past Sunday, I closed my eyes and saw visions of you celebrating the birth of Christ in Heaven. I could just see you there, pure joy on your face, surrounded by the saints, worshiping the Baby Jesus. I could imagine you, sometime in the future, leading me to Christ and me falling at His feet in worship. And, Michael, how I longed to be with you there. I cannot even imagine what joy and ecstasy you must feel to celebrate this day, the birth of our Lord, right there with Him. Do the angels sing sweetly? Is there laughter and great celebrations? Is it beyond anything we could ever dream?
But here on earth, here in this life, the contrast is almost unbearable. Here on this earth, the pain is all encompassing. I should be comforted that you are there, that you are at the throne of God, yet the absence of you is larger than even the air that I breathe.
I have dragged myself through this. I have divorced myself from this earth. Losing reality in the world of mourners on the computer. Losing my temper, losing my self. Missing you is overwhelming. I see your face, I feel the absence of your body. Mourning you clings to me like mold on old bread. I cannot escape the sadness.
Today in the shower, like so many other days, when I finally mustered the motivation to drag myself into the shower, I cried. I cried and I cried and I screamed until I thought "I'm going to melt and disappear down the drain". I ran the warm water over me and begged for your touch. I pleaded with you to just hold me. Just be here, to kiss me, to put your arms around me. I bargained and I pleaded with God to let the warmth of the water be the warmth of your arms. But when I opened my eyes,there was no you, but there was blood. There was blood covering the front of my body, blood pooling in the bottom of the shower. When I reached my hand up to wipe my face, to discover where this vital fluid was coming from, my hand came away, holding the blood that was freely flowing out of me. And I begged "please, let me be dying, let me die, Lord. Let me be with Michael again. This would be easy, oh please, please, take me to him". But the blood was only from my nose, and the bleeding stopped, and I lived. But for that moment I had hope...hope that I could be with you again.
I lost my temper with Tru. I am so easily angered these days. He won't mind me, he fights with me over every single thing, no matter how big or small. Today, it was because in twenty degree weather, he didn't want to wear his winter coat. It was a major battle that escalated into war. And it scares me that he defies me, and it hurts me that he wouldn't act like this with you, but he takes his anger of your being gone out on me and I don't know what to do? I"m failing him, Michael. You left a beautiful little boy behind and our anger and pain has turned him into a monster at times, a monster that I don't know how to handle.
When we got to the store and I parked, I held him on my lap. I told him that I'm so very sad because I miss you so much, and I know that he's very sad and angry too. I told him how much I love him and how glad I am that I have him (even though I offered to give him away on Face Book today). I told him that we should each try to help the other and that I needed him to help me by not arguing about things like coats and what he should eat. And that I would try not to yell at him for just being a little kid.
He's asleep now, dreaming of Santa. Mickey helped me to get the stockings filled and the presents are under the tree. It's not the tree that we had when you were here. There are no piles of presents carefully wrapped and color coordinated, because I couldn't bring myself to shop. But there's a tree, and Santa ate his cookies and he left toys for Tru. There aren't three different kinds of pies baked and waiting for Christmas dinner, but I will make one pie tomorrow. There are no gifts under the tree addressed to you, and no gifts for me from my husband. There will be no sweet and romantic Christmas card from you on my pillow when I go to sleep. I won't get into the bed and put my hand on your head and tell you that I love you. But there is a warm, sleeping little boy in there. Snuggled up on Popi's pillow dreaming of Santa.
This has been a hard week, Baby. But, it's almost over. And just like this week, this Holiday will soon pass. So will the months, and the years, and one of those days, it will be the day that I will see you again, and we will once more celebrate our Saviors birth together. And I hope that by that time, Tru will be able to look back and remember happy Christmases and a happy Mawmo who laughed and wrapped presents and baked three different kinds of pies for him. I hope that he will remember the joy of this day. I hope that he will remember the Christmases that the three of us once shared.
And, so tomorrow, I will try to laugh. I will try to play with his toys with him, and not yell because I'm missing you so much. I will try to find some joy and I will try to tell him stories of you and stories of why we really celebrate Christmas.
And so, this is Christmas, Baby. Merry, merry Christmas to you.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Mistletoe and Widows Weeds
Dear Michael,
The Holidays are fast approaching. There are Salvation Army Santa's ringing their bells, Christmas music being piped through the mall. Lights are lit on the Plaza, the stores are brimming with bargains that reek of merriment and joy, and the kids are all excited about the magic of Christmas. Everywhere people are rushing to the stores and the television plays classic Christmas movies....the movies we grew up with, the ones we always watched late at night while eating crackers and cheese and drinking wine.
The ghost of Christmas past is haunting me. It shows me scenes from our life together. I see the lights on the house, the trees that were decorated in three different rooms, the house smells of cookies and cheesecakes that I've been baking and there are presents to wrap and put under the tree. I hear the love and laughter that echoed through our home. I see you coming in from the cold, smelling like snow, and I feel the coldness of your ears as I welcome you home with a kiss and a hug under the mistletoe.
Then the ghost of Christmas Present appears to torture me, to show me what my life has become. The tree is up and lit..but there are no decorations on it. They still sit in the boxes strewn around the living room floor. I've only bought one gift, it's not wrapped..heck, I haven't even paid the bills this month, I haven't combed my hair today. Our little guy is tired of watching the endless Christmas movies that I play for him, hoping to somehow infuse this sadness with some Christmas Spirit. Depending on canned laughter, characters in a movie and slapstick comedy to somehow spread some Christmas Cheer into his life. But, I think even at five, he sees the contrast between the happy people in the movie and us.
We went to the Christmas Play at the Baptist Church with the neighbors,(when they said to take care of the widows and orphans, Tru turned to me and said "You're a widow".) we look at the lights on the neighbors houses (our house remains unlit), and I decorated your grave. I made you a grave blanket. It was beautiful and sad and I wanted to make it for you. I could hear you tell me "G, you can just do anything".
I made you your Christmas present this year, and it was a grave blanket! And I took pictures of it and when I put the pictures on the internet for all to see....it suddenly hit me! My husband is in there! My sweet, wonderful husband is in that grave covered by greenery, covered by dirt. My beautiful, wonderful, warm, loving husband was buried 6 months ago. And the reality of it is like hot coals in the pit of my stomach. And I beg this ghost of Christmas present to leave me, to bring back the Ghost of Christmas Past.
I am determined to get through this, Michael. I close my eyes and I move forward. Going through the motions, ignoring the fact that the Holidays will come. I focus on other tasks. Tomorrow, my goal is to put up the tree. I HATE that tree. I HATE the lights and the baking and the cards I'll send out. I HATE that you are not with me here. I HATE this missing you and I wait for the waves of pain to pass so that I can bake cookies and order Christmas presents on line. So that I can do this thing. So that I can TRY to make a memory for Tru that's good and happy, so that he doesn't look back on this Christmas and remember nothing but the pain.
There are times I yell at you and ask if you realize what you left me to? Do you see me falling apart? See the house a mess, the laundry piling up? Do you see me wearing these tired old pajamas and forgetting to comb my hair? Do you see me walking around like a zombie..the life sucked out of me and all my energy drained along with my happiness? Do you see how scared I am? How I'm afraid of everything now? Do you even recognize me now? (Because I hardly recognize myself). Or do you see me surviving? Do you see that so far, we're still living, still moving forward? Do you look at me and know that I will make it and that this life is only for a moment and eternity is waiting with all it's glory and wonder and love?
And what of the Ghost of Christmas Future? Would it show me that I'm still in this house of mourning? Still wearing my widow's weeds? Will it show that things never got better? Or will it show me a future where Tru has grown into a man you would be proud of? Will it show me that God has used this pain and my life to His Glory? Or will it show me that even though I never stopped missing you, I found a way to live my life, to find some happiness in this existence that God has destined me to?
I miss you so much, Michael. I need you so badly and you seem so very, very far away right now. If I could have just one wish, I would wish you here with Tru and me for just one day. One Christmas morning. Just one more Christmas of finding a Christmas card on my pillow when I come to bed, one Christmas morning of waking up next to you, one Christmas morning of watching together as our little guy opened his presents. If I could have just one wish Michael, it would be to have just one more of your sweet, wonderful kisses under the mistletoe. Just one more.
I love you, Baby Boy.
The Holidays are fast approaching. There are Salvation Army Santa's ringing their bells, Christmas music being piped through the mall. Lights are lit on the Plaza, the stores are brimming with bargains that reek of merriment and joy, and the kids are all excited about the magic of Christmas. Everywhere people are rushing to the stores and the television plays classic Christmas movies....the movies we grew up with, the ones we always watched late at night while eating crackers and cheese and drinking wine.
The ghost of Christmas past is haunting me. It shows me scenes from our life together. I see the lights on the house, the trees that were decorated in three different rooms, the house smells of cookies and cheesecakes that I've been baking and there are presents to wrap and put under the tree. I hear the love and laughter that echoed through our home. I see you coming in from the cold, smelling like snow, and I feel the coldness of your ears as I welcome you home with a kiss and a hug under the mistletoe.
Then the ghost of Christmas Present appears to torture me, to show me what my life has become. The tree is up and lit..but there are no decorations on it. They still sit in the boxes strewn around the living room floor. I've only bought one gift, it's not wrapped..heck, I haven't even paid the bills this month, I haven't combed my hair today. Our little guy is tired of watching the endless Christmas movies that I play for him, hoping to somehow infuse this sadness with some Christmas Spirit. Depending on canned laughter, characters in a movie and slapstick comedy to somehow spread some Christmas Cheer into his life. But, I think even at five, he sees the contrast between the happy people in the movie and us.
We went to the Christmas Play at the Baptist Church with the neighbors,(when they said to take care of the widows and orphans, Tru turned to me and said "You're a widow".) we look at the lights on the neighbors houses (our house remains unlit), and I decorated your grave. I made you a grave blanket. It was beautiful and sad and I wanted to make it for you. I could hear you tell me "G, you can just do anything".
I made you your Christmas present this year, and it was a grave blanket! And I took pictures of it and when I put the pictures on the internet for all to see....it suddenly hit me! My husband is in there! My sweet, wonderful husband is in that grave covered by greenery, covered by dirt. My beautiful, wonderful, warm, loving husband was buried 6 months ago. And the reality of it is like hot coals in the pit of my stomach. And I beg this ghost of Christmas present to leave me, to bring back the Ghost of Christmas Past.
I am determined to get through this, Michael. I close my eyes and I move forward. Going through the motions, ignoring the fact that the Holidays will come. I focus on other tasks. Tomorrow, my goal is to put up the tree. I HATE that tree. I HATE the lights and the baking and the cards I'll send out. I HATE that you are not with me here. I HATE this missing you and I wait for the waves of pain to pass so that I can bake cookies and order Christmas presents on line. So that I can do this thing. So that I can TRY to make a memory for Tru that's good and happy, so that he doesn't look back on this Christmas and remember nothing but the pain.
There are times I yell at you and ask if you realize what you left me to? Do you see me falling apart? See the house a mess, the laundry piling up? Do you see me wearing these tired old pajamas and forgetting to comb my hair? Do you see me walking around like a zombie..the life sucked out of me and all my energy drained along with my happiness? Do you see how scared I am? How I'm afraid of everything now? Do you even recognize me now? (Because I hardly recognize myself). Or do you see me surviving? Do you see that so far, we're still living, still moving forward? Do you look at me and know that I will make it and that this life is only for a moment and eternity is waiting with all it's glory and wonder and love?
And what of the Ghost of Christmas Future? Would it show me that I'm still in this house of mourning? Still wearing my widow's weeds? Will it show that things never got better? Or will it show me a future where Tru has grown into a man you would be proud of? Will it show me that God has used this pain and my life to His Glory? Or will it show me that even though I never stopped missing you, I found a way to live my life, to find some happiness in this existence that God has destined me to?
I miss you so much, Michael. I need you so badly and you seem so very, very far away right now. If I could have just one wish, I would wish you here with Tru and me for just one day. One Christmas morning. Just one more Christmas of finding a Christmas card on my pillow when I come to bed, one Christmas morning of waking up next to you, one Christmas morning of watching together as our little guy opened his presents. If I could have just one wish Michael, it would be to have just one more of your sweet, wonderful kisses under the mistletoe. Just one more.
I love you, Baby Boy.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Forgiving God
Dear Michael,
So many times I have wished that my walk with the Lord could be one of ever deepening faith, peace, and surety. That when I reach "that point" in my faith, the point where I feel the nearness of Christ, the point where my faith is absolute, I wish that I could stay there. Stay in His shelter, stay in His light.
But I have had a tumultuous walk with my Savior. My faith has grown by leaps and bounds only to be crushed upon the rocks on the shore. I have loved and trusted deeply and I have doubted and drifted too. I have loved Him and I have been so angry at Him that I couldn't bear to think of trusting Him with the most trivial matter, because He had let me down once too often.
I have been so angry with God, Michael. Tomorrow it will be six months since He took you away from me. I have been furious. I have felt betrayed. I had finally learned to trust Him with my relationships. I had trusted him to protect my heart, and He broke my heart harder than it has ever been broken. But, even in my anger, I knew that I needed Him.
It's been so hard to wrap my mind around how God could do this. How could my loving Savior have taken the one thing I had waited my whole life for? How could He have given me my hearts desire, and only 2 years and 9 months later, He took it from me?
When I look back at my life, when I look at the pain, the loss, I can trace most of those hard times back to my own decisions. And I take responsibility for making those decisions. Those heartaches were not God's failing. Those things were of my own making. Most of those times, I was living contrary to God's desires in my life, and the outcome could be foretold.
But, what about when you're walking in God's word? When you believe that you're finally in a place where you can best serve Christ, when you are praising Him and trying your best to live your life according to His covenant and you suffer anyway? That's so much harder to wrap your heart around. And it's those times, I believe, that test your faith more than any other. It feels like God's cheating somehow...not playing by the rules.
And I have screamed "foul" into the Heavens. I have told God that He is a cheater, a liar, that he betrayed me and hurt me and has a sick sense of humor. And simultaneously, in my small inner voice, I beg, "please protect me from the enemy while I'm so furious at You, please, Lord, keep my heart and my soul and my mind safe from the enemy because I'm alone and I'm hurting and I'm vulnerable and scared". And I convince myself that it's me (talk about a sense of self importance) that has the right to forgive God!
I am so very glad that I serve a Master who is big enough to forgive me, that has a sense of humor and will open His arms and welcome me into them when I ask Him to forgive me for being such a spoiled brat, for throwing such a tantrum.
Do you see, Michael, what a precious gift Jesus trusted me with? He knew all along that you would come home to Him when you did. And yet He trusted me to love you and cherish you in those last years. He gave me this beautiful gift to love and to treasure. He gave you to me. He gave me 2 years and 9 months of having had just a glimpse of His unconditional love through you. He chose me among all women to be loved by you.
But it's not easy to give back a gift such as you, a gift that was adored and cherished. And because God is faithful and true, and He still loves me,He has opened my eyes through this, the hardest days of my journey. Because today, He showed me something I should have already known. Today as the church sang "How Great Is My God", He opened my eyes and said "Michael Fisher Lives". Baby, He didn't take you FROM me, he took you TO Him! Michael Fisher lives! And I will see you again. Because Christ loves, because Christ died, I will be with you once more.
Today, my journey led me on a path that is easier walked. Just for today, I can rest beside His still waters and I can lay back and look into the Heavens and say "There is my redeemer. There is the one who loved me so much, that not only did He die for me, but he gave life to me. Not only did He send me the gift of my beautiful husband, but he gave life to you abundantly, he gave life to you again".
I have been on this journey for six months tomorrow, Michael. It has been hard, it has been up hill. I have stumbled and fallen, I have bruised my feet and my soul, but today there was a green pasture. I know that there are more hills to climb, I know that there will be more pain and more searching. I know that there will be more lonely nights when I search for you and for Jesus and I will think that I will never again find either of you. But, I also know that even when I don't FEEL Him, even when I don't SEE him, the Teacher watches my every step. He raises me up and sets me back on the path.
Michael, I know that you are with Him. I know that you have seen the throne, that you have gloried in Christ in Heaven. And selfishly, so very selfishly, I would want you to leave there and come back to me, come back to this flesh. But, I love you so much and now I am starting to realize that I love you too much to hurt you like that. I am coming to realize that I must learn patience and trust in God's perfect timing until He returns to take me to Him also.
Blessed be the name of the Lord, He gives and takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord, blessed be His glorious name.
So many times I have wished that my walk with the Lord could be one of ever deepening faith, peace, and surety. That when I reach "that point" in my faith, the point where I feel the nearness of Christ, the point where my faith is absolute, I wish that I could stay there. Stay in His shelter, stay in His light.
But I have had a tumultuous walk with my Savior. My faith has grown by leaps and bounds only to be crushed upon the rocks on the shore. I have loved and trusted deeply and I have doubted and drifted too. I have loved Him and I have been so angry at Him that I couldn't bear to think of trusting Him with the most trivial matter, because He had let me down once too often.
I have been so angry with God, Michael. Tomorrow it will be six months since He took you away from me. I have been furious. I have felt betrayed. I had finally learned to trust Him with my relationships. I had trusted him to protect my heart, and He broke my heart harder than it has ever been broken. But, even in my anger, I knew that I needed Him.
It's been so hard to wrap my mind around how God could do this. How could my loving Savior have taken the one thing I had waited my whole life for? How could He have given me my hearts desire, and only 2 years and 9 months later, He took it from me?
When I look back at my life, when I look at the pain, the loss, I can trace most of those hard times back to my own decisions. And I take responsibility for making those decisions. Those heartaches were not God's failing. Those things were of my own making. Most of those times, I was living contrary to God's desires in my life, and the outcome could be foretold.
But, what about when you're walking in God's word? When you believe that you're finally in a place where you can best serve Christ, when you are praising Him and trying your best to live your life according to His covenant and you suffer anyway? That's so much harder to wrap your heart around. And it's those times, I believe, that test your faith more than any other. It feels like God's cheating somehow...not playing by the rules.
And I have screamed "foul" into the Heavens. I have told God that He is a cheater, a liar, that he betrayed me and hurt me and has a sick sense of humor. And simultaneously, in my small inner voice, I beg, "please protect me from the enemy while I'm so furious at You, please, Lord, keep my heart and my soul and my mind safe from the enemy because I'm alone and I'm hurting and I'm vulnerable and scared". And I convince myself that it's me (talk about a sense of self importance) that has the right to forgive God!
I am so very glad that I serve a Master who is big enough to forgive me, that has a sense of humor and will open His arms and welcome me into them when I ask Him to forgive me for being such a spoiled brat, for throwing such a tantrum.
Do you see, Michael, what a precious gift Jesus trusted me with? He knew all along that you would come home to Him when you did. And yet He trusted me to love you and cherish you in those last years. He gave me this beautiful gift to love and to treasure. He gave you to me. He gave me 2 years and 9 months of having had just a glimpse of His unconditional love through you. He chose me among all women to be loved by you.
But it's not easy to give back a gift such as you, a gift that was adored and cherished. And because God is faithful and true, and He still loves me,He has opened my eyes through this, the hardest days of my journey. Because today, He showed me something I should have already known. Today as the church sang "How Great Is My God", He opened my eyes and said "Michael Fisher Lives". Baby, He didn't take you FROM me, he took you TO Him! Michael Fisher lives! And I will see you again. Because Christ loves, because Christ died, I will be with you once more.
Today, my journey led me on a path that is easier walked. Just for today, I can rest beside His still waters and I can lay back and look into the Heavens and say "There is my redeemer. There is the one who loved me so much, that not only did He die for me, but he gave life to me. Not only did He send me the gift of my beautiful husband, but he gave life to you abundantly, he gave life to you again".
I have been on this journey for six months tomorrow, Michael. It has been hard, it has been up hill. I have stumbled and fallen, I have bruised my feet and my soul, but today there was a green pasture. I know that there are more hills to climb, I know that there will be more pain and more searching. I know that there will be more lonely nights when I search for you and for Jesus and I will think that I will never again find either of you. But, I also know that even when I don't FEEL Him, even when I don't SEE him, the Teacher watches my every step. He raises me up and sets me back on the path.
Michael, I know that you are with Him. I know that you have seen the throne, that you have gloried in Christ in Heaven. And selfishly, so very selfishly, I would want you to leave there and come back to me, come back to this flesh. But, I love you so much and now I am starting to realize that I love you too much to hurt you like that. I am coming to realize that I must learn patience and trust in God's perfect timing until He returns to take me to Him also.
Blessed be the name of the Lord, He gives and takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord, blessed be His glorious name.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
All I want for Christmas
Dear Michael,
I have given this a whole lot of thought and I've decided that I'm gong to embrace the Holidays. I am going to do the things that either we didn't have time to do, or that I enjoyed doing that you didn't. I'm going to go walking at the Plaza and drink Hot Chocolate..maybe I'll take Tru and Mickey for a carriage ride on the Plaza. I'm going to go to Longview Lake and see the lights for the first time in 20 years. I"m going to make a wonderful memory for Tru because he deserves happy childhood memories.
I am not going to keep reminding myself that my husband is no longer here to celebrate with me...I have reminders enough as it is. And I'm going to remember that I am celebrating the birth of my Savior. I am going to celebrate HIM. Because of His birth, I will see you again and see all the other's who I love so much that will be celebrating Christmas with Christ. I will miss you, my sweet love, every single day for the rest of my life. For the rest of time, I will have a hole in my heart that's exactly the size of yours, but I WILL celebrate Christmas.
I WILL decorate the tree and bake and wrap gifts. I WILL play Christmas music instead of death songs for the Season. I will laugh and sing and cry and scream. I WILL pick myself up when the missing you overwhelms me. I will beg God to send you home again. I will beg God to take me to you. I will worry about the budget, and spend too much. I will weep at your grave. I will send Christmas greeting cards. Whatever I have to do, I will do it, because from the time our lives came together, I worked at showing you how to love Christmas, and if losing you takes away Christmas, it will be one more loss. And Michael, I can't stand another loss.
This won't be an easy undertaking. But, I'm going to do my best to prepare. I'm going to do my best to find things to laugh about. I'm going to do my best to surround myself with people who are laughing (even if I have to watch Dick Van Dyke reruns) and I'm going to do my best to survive this. To make a new tradition. A tradition of celebrating Christ. A tradition of celebrating the greatest gift that He ever gave me. The gift that I will treasure more than life. He gave me the gift of knowing your unconditional love. And why, on this day when we celebrate the gift of God, why would I not also celebrate the gift that he gave me to hold in my hands, if even for a moment?
Like I said, this will not be easy. As I sit here typing, the tears are streaming down my face. I miss you every single moment, Michael. Every single breath I take is labored with longing to have you back with me again. I will still wish and pray that the magic of Christmas would bring you back to hold my hand and walk with me in the snow. But I WILL do this. I WILL love Christmas again this year. Until death takes me, the Christmas of my childhood, the Christmas of my children and the Christmas mornings that were ours will always live. Death and this separation will not steal this from us, Baby. I promise you that.
And Michael, you've got to promise me that you will wrap me in your arms, that you will ask Jesus to send His angels, because, Baby, I will need an Army to do this. I have to find the strength that you gave to me when you were here, I have to find that now.
Because all I want for Christmas is you!
I have given this a whole lot of thought and I've decided that I'm gong to embrace the Holidays. I am going to do the things that either we didn't have time to do, or that I enjoyed doing that you didn't. I'm going to go walking at the Plaza and drink Hot Chocolate..maybe I'll take Tru and Mickey for a carriage ride on the Plaza. I'm going to go to Longview Lake and see the lights for the first time in 20 years. I"m going to make a wonderful memory for Tru because he deserves happy childhood memories.
I am not going to keep reminding myself that my husband is no longer here to celebrate with me...I have reminders enough as it is. And I'm going to remember that I am celebrating the birth of my Savior. I am going to celebrate HIM. Because of His birth, I will see you again and see all the other's who I love so much that will be celebrating Christmas with Christ. I will miss you, my sweet love, every single day for the rest of my life. For the rest of time, I will have a hole in my heart that's exactly the size of yours, but I WILL celebrate Christmas.
I WILL decorate the tree and bake and wrap gifts. I WILL play Christmas music instead of death songs for the Season. I will laugh and sing and cry and scream. I WILL pick myself up when the missing you overwhelms me. I will beg God to send you home again. I will beg God to take me to you. I will worry about the budget, and spend too much. I will weep at your grave. I will send Christmas greeting cards. Whatever I have to do, I will do it, because from the time our lives came together, I worked at showing you how to love Christmas, and if losing you takes away Christmas, it will be one more loss. And Michael, I can't stand another loss.
This won't be an easy undertaking. But, I'm going to do my best to prepare. I'm going to do my best to find things to laugh about. I'm going to do my best to surround myself with people who are laughing (even if I have to watch Dick Van Dyke reruns) and I'm going to do my best to survive this. To make a new tradition. A tradition of celebrating Christ. A tradition of celebrating the greatest gift that He ever gave me. The gift that I will treasure more than life. He gave me the gift of knowing your unconditional love. And why, on this day when we celebrate the gift of God, why would I not also celebrate the gift that he gave me to hold in my hands, if even for a moment?
Like I said, this will not be easy. As I sit here typing, the tears are streaming down my face. I miss you every single moment, Michael. Every single breath I take is labored with longing to have you back with me again. I will still wish and pray that the magic of Christmas would bring you back to hold my hand and walk with me in the snow. But I WILL do this. I WILL love Christmas again this year. Until death takes me, the Christmas of my childhood, the Christmas of my children and the Christmas mornings that were ours will always live. Death and this separation will not steal this from us, Baby. I promise you that.
And Michael, you've got to promise me that you will wrap me in your arms, that you will ask Jesus to send His angels, because, Baby, I will need an Army to do this. I have to find the strength that you gave to me when you were here, I have to find that now.
Because all I want for Christmas is you!
Friday, November 9, 2012
Here Without You
Dear Michael,
Since you first went away, I wondered and worried about what I would do if I got sick without you here. I almost feared it as much as the anniversaries, Holidays and other special occasions. I didn't know what I would do with Tru, how I would take care of him and myself. Who would feed us, clean up after us. Most of all, who would feel sorry for me and say "poor little muchacho"?
I started coming down with this "plague" the night your cousin came to visit from Washington, D.C. I thought it just HAD to be allergies. But then I woke up hacking and coughing and I knew I was sick. But, being the optimist, I figured 24 hours and I'd be done. Then I woke up this morning feeling even worse, and reality started to sink in....I'm sick! I'm really, actually sick and this stinks and I'm here without you.
You were so wonderful to me when I was sick. You would stop at the store and get me Freska and cup o soup (chicken flavored) and you would take care of Tru while I slept on the couch and the two of you would watch t.v. As long as we were near each other, that's all that mattered to us. You didn't even mind me coughing all night and keeping you up. The one time I went and got on the couch to keep from waking you up, you said you'd rather I just stay in the bed with you. That was just us. We always wanted to be together.
I remember you telling me that you would be perfectly happy if you just had the three of us. You just wanted your family near you. You didn't need anything else. But Sweetie, now I'm here without you and no one says "poor little muchacho", no one gets me soup, no one covers me up when I'm cold or feels my forehead for a fever. And Michael, I feel really, really scared and I feel really, really sorry for myself.
I'm not afraid of this virus, and we have managed to eat and survive. Tru has been fairly decent, although he's not sympathetic at all. But what I am afraid of, is getting really sick. I mean cancer sick, or stroke sick or hospital sick. Who will even care? I mean, I know my kids and grand-kids would "care" but who would stay with me? Who would worry about me like you did? Who would sleep on the cot in my hospital room and check on me through out the night and hold my hand when I'm scared? Because when you left, I lost my person. I lost my strength. I lost the one who would hold my hand and make me brave.
I have this vision of my future self. A little old white haired lady, so frail that there's barely a bump beneath the sheet, all alone in the hospital bed or nursing home bed. No one there to sit with me. Just alone with the sounds of the machines and the noise in the halls made by the nurses running up and down with their carts, trying to get their assignments done before shift change. The sound of the patient in the room next door yelling out nonsense words. I've seen this woman before. I've seen so many women like this when I was the nurse running up and down the hall. And now, I can see me as that little lady.
We had a deal, you know. We had a deal that we would be that cute couple in the nursing home. That we would scoot our beds next to each other, and when the time came, you would take my hand and say "Come on, G, let's go home". That was the deal, Michael. But you left. And now, I'm here without you, Baby, and I'm the little lady with the white hair who's all alone.
Since you first went away, I wondered and worried about what I would do if I got sick without you here. I almost feared it as much as the anniversaries, Holidays and other special occasions. I didn't know what I would do with Tru, how I would take care of him and myself. Who would feed us, clean up after us. Most of all, who would feel sorry for me and say "poor little muchacho"?
I started coming down with this "plague" the night your cousin came to visit from Washington, D.C. I thought it just HAD to be allergies. But then I woke up hacking and coughing and I knew I was sick. But, being the optimist, I figured 24 hours and I'd be done. Then I woke up this morning feeling even worse, and reality started to sink in....I'm sick! I'm really, actually sick and this stinks and I'm here without you.
You were so wonderful to me when I was sick. You would stop at the store and get me Freska and cup o soup (chicken flavored) and you would take care of Tru while I slept on the couch and the two of you would watch t.v. As long as we were near each other, that's all that mattered to us. You didn't even mind me coughing all night and keeping you up. The one time I went and got on the couch to keep from waking you up, you said you'd rather I just stay in the bed with you. That was just us. We always wanted to be together.
I remember you telling me that you would be perfectly happy if you just had the three of us. You just wanted your family near you. You didn't need anything else. But Sweetie, now I'm here without you and no one says "poor little muchacho", no one gets me soup, no one covers me up when I'm cold or feels my forehead for a fever. And Michael, I feel really, really scared and I feel really, really sorry for myself.
I'm not afraid of this virus, and we have managed to eat and survive. Tru has been fairly decent, although he's not sympathetic at all. But what I am afraid of, is getting really sick. I mean cancer sick, or stroke sick or hospital sick. Who will even care? I mean, I know my kids and grand-kids would "care" but who would stay with me? Who would worry about me like you did? Who would sleep on the cot in my hospital room and check on me through out the night and hold my hand when I'm scared? Because when you left, I lost my person. I lost my strength. I lost the one who would hold my hand and make me brave.
I have this vision of my future self. A little old white haired lady, so frail that there's barely a bump beneath the sheet, all alone in the hospital bed or nursing home bed. No one there to sit with me. Just alone with the sounds of the machines and the noise in the halls made by the nurses running up and down with their carts, trying to get their assignments done before shift change. The sound of the patient in the room next door yelling out nonsense words. I've seen this woman before. I've seen so many women like this when I was the nurse running up and down the hall. And now, I can see me as that little lady.
We had a deal, you know. We had a deal that we would be that cute couple in the nursing home. That we would scoot our beds next to each other, and when the time came, you would take my hand and say "Come on, G, let's go home". That was the deal, Michael. But you left. And now, I'm here without you, Baby, and I'm the little lady with the white hair who's all alone.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
With Great Love, Comes Great Pain
My Sweet Michael,
It's been 5 months since I last kissed your face. On the 5th year anniversary of the first time you told me you loved me (yes, I kept track of those dates), I received my widows ring in the mail. On that beautiful day 5 years ago, I would have never dreamed that today, I would be your widow instead of your wife.
But Baby, in those five years, we had the fairy tale. We had love, we had adventure. We faced trials and we triumphed. In five years we made so many memories that I will spend the rest of my life reliving them. You were my great love. You were the person that my whole life was lived towards loving. You were my soulmate, my breath, my life and my world. And with great love, comes great pain.
Losing you has been the most painful thing in my life. I have wondered if I would die from the agony. There have been times that the pain became so crushing, that it took my breath away. Days that just waking up took all my energy and going to bed took all my resolve.
In this world of grievers that I now find myself living in, the one phrase that we all say at one time or another is "I don't want to live without him". And we mean it. At that time, more than anything we want to be with our lover, we want the pain to stop. But, really, what we mean is not that we want to die, rather we want you to come back to the life that we loved.
Then comes the time we realize that our lover won't come back and we seriously consider that our dying is the only way that we will ever be whole again. We have to find a reason, a reason to keep living. Other than for our children, or our friends, we have to find a reason to keep living for the love that we so desperately miss.
And so I choose to honor you by living. I honor you by being the person to carry the memory of you, as only I knew you. I honor you by keeping alive the love that was yours. I know that as long as I live, that there will be someone who loved you above all others. As long as I live, you will live also. And I honor you by grieving.
My grief says that you are worthy of being mourned. My grief says that my love continues and that the world was better with you in it. My grief is my gift to you, my husband. The only gift that I can give you now.
The seasons are changing and time is passing. I still wake up and look around and realize that the world has continued to turn. I look forward and see the Holidays coming quickly, I see the dark, rainy days of winter looming ominously, bringing the depression that we always feared with it. I see endless days and nights of missing you and the exhaustion of surviving all this reaches to my bones.
But, I will pray that I can look at only today. I pray that I will have the strength to pray and to put my feet on the ground and live. I will pray that I can keep your memory alive in our little guy. That he can someday be the man that his Popi was. So be patient with me Baby. I'm only just learning to feel my way in this world. But I promise I will try. I promise I will live until it's my turn to come to you once again.
And so I live and I grieve and I mourn. I do this because I had my great love and am honored to be the one chosen to bear this pain.
I love you, Michael. I love you with every breath I take.
It's been 5 months since I last kissed your face. On the 5th year anniversary of the first time you told me you loved me (yes, I kept track of those dates), I received my widows ring in the mail. On that beautiful day 5 years ago, I would have never dreamed that today, I would be your widow instead of your wife.
But Baby, in those five years, we had the fairy tale. We had love, we had adventure. We faced trials and we triumphed. In five years we made so many memories that I will spend the rest of my life reliving them. You were my great love. You were the person that my whole life was lived towards loving. You were my soulmate, my breath, my life and my world. And with great love, comes great pain.
Losing you has been the most painful thing in my life. I have wondered if I would die from the agony. There have been times that the pain became so crushing, that it took my breath away. Days that just waking up took all my energy and going to bed took all my resolve.
In this world of grievers that I now find myself living in, the one phrase that we all say at one time or another is "I don't want to live without him". And we mean it. At that time, more than anything we want to be with our lover, we want the pain to stop. But, really, what we mean is not that we want to die, rather we want you to come back to the life that we loved.
Then comes the time we realize that our lover won't come back and we seriously consider that our dying is the only way that we will ever be whole again. We have to find a reason, a reason to keep living. Other than for our children, or our friends, we have to find a reason to keep living for the love that we so desperately miss.
And so I choose to honor you by living. I honor you by being the person to carry the memory of you, as only I knew you. I honor you by keeping alive the love that was yours. I know that as long as I live, that there will be someone who loved you above all others. As long as I live, you will live also. And I honor you by grieving.
My grief says that you are worthy of being mourned. My grief says that my love continues and that the world was better with you in it. My grief is my gift to you, my husband. The only gift that I can give you now.
The seasons are changing and time is passing. I still wake up and look around and realize that the world has continued to turn. I look forward and see the Holidays coming quickly, I see the dark, rainy days of winter looming ominously, bringing the depression that we always feared with it. I see endless days and nights of missing you and the exhaustion of surviving all this reaches to my bones.
But, I will pray that I can look at only today. I pray that I will have the strength to pray and to put my feet on the ground and live. I will pray that I can keep your memory alive in our little guy. That he can someday be the man that his Popi was. So be patient with me Baby. I'm only just learning to feel my way in this world. But I promise I will try. I promise I will live until it's my turn to come to you once again.
And so I live and I grieve and I mourn. I do this because I had my great love and am honored to be the one chosen to bear this pain.
I love you, Michael. I love you with every breath I take.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Into the Darkness
I awaken to the darkness, lost and searching
as if in a dream from which I can't emerge.
Where once there was light and joy,
I find only confusion and sadness.
I search for you and for me,
but somehow we were lost on that day.
Do you remember our joy,
the happiness that surrounded us?
All the memories come rushing back,
I see you smile from your picture,
you raise your hand in a toast
and you smile the smile of life and warmth.
When you left, you took everything that was me.
I stumble through the days
like something ancient,
bones creaking, heart breaking.
I search for your smell,
for a hair left in your comb,
I look at your things
trying to find affirmation that you were real.
Your love haunts me from the grave,
it teases me, saying "this once was yours"
you reach out and touch me,
but it's only in my dreams.
I'm caught in this tug of war,
life pulling, death beckoning,
screams from my soul to inhabit both realities.
And yet I make it through the day,
not stronger, not happier,
but breathing, waiting,
until I can go back into the darkness once again.
as if in a dream from which I can't emerge.Where once there was light and joy,
I find only confusion and sadness.
I search for you and for me,
but somehow we were lost on that day.
Do you remember our joy,
the happiness that surrounded us?
All the memories come rushing back,
I see you smile from your picture,
you raise your hand in a toast
and you smile the smile of life and warmth.
When you left, you took everything that was me.
I stumble through the days
like something ancient,
bones creaking, heart breaking.
I search for your smell,
for a hair left in your comb,
I look at your things
trying to find affirmation that you were real.
Your love haunts me from the grave,
it teases me, saying "this once was yours"
you reach out and touch me,
but it's only in my dreams.
I'm caught in this tug of war,
life pulling, death beckoning,
screams from my soul to inhabit both realities.
And yet I make it through the day,
not stronger, not happier,
but breathing, waiting,
until I can go back into the darkness once again.
Monday, October 8, 2012
The Primal Scream
Good Morning, My Sweet Michael,
Oh, how I miss you! Do you ever get tired of hearing me say that? Do you ever wish you could cross this wide abyss and tell me to get off my butt, clean the house, quit eating junk food and be "me" again? But then, I know that you never expected me to just jump up and dust myself off. You knew how painful this would be for me..that's why you told me, that last night, that you weren't afraid to die...you were only worried about me.
The days have melded into weeks and the weeks into months. It seems sometimes as if it's been one long, horrible day. Standing in church yesterday, singing a hymn that I especially love, I felt you holding my hand like you always did. I felt you telling me to praise God. And for the first time since you've been gone, I lifted my hand in praise. It was painful. I felt so broken. I felt so pitiful and for the first time, I asked God to heal my bleeding, festering wounds. To heal this broken heart.
I've become a master at stuffing tears inside. Telling myself "not now, make the bed, not now, you've got a meeting, not now, a woman is in labor". But last Thursday from out of nowhere, this creature inside me clawed it's way to the surface.
I was doing the dishes. I had a meal to make for a sick friend. As I was standing there thinking of things I needed to get done, I felt this creature erupt from my body, taking over and consuming me. This scream, this horrible, pitiful, painful scream came from somewhere inside me...somewhere I didn't even know existed. It knocked me to my knees.
I had no power over it. It was primal, it was physical and it indwelt my body. I was on my knees, my face in the dishwasher full of dirty dishes and I just screamed! The exertion was so great that I couldn't even stay on my knees. I fell to the floor and gave birth to this primitive, untamed, unfettered being.
I felt like I was out of my body. Like I was looking down on myself and my mind was independent of my body. Thinking of making the lasagna, thinking of the mailman coming to the door, thinking of inconsequential things as I screamed! I screamed at God for taking you. I screamed at you for leaving me. I screamed at the pain and the fear and the loneliness. I kicked the cabinets. A puddle of tears and snot and spit forming under my face on the kitchen floor.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't function, I screamed until my vocal chords were swollen and stopped producing sound. I screamed until my lungs were burning and my nails had cut into my palms. I gave life to this hurting, dying creature.
And as suddenly as it came, it was gone. It was like surviving a tornado. The storms come and the wind makes a fearful noise like a freight train bearing down on you. There is damage and fear and when it's gone, when the silence surrounds you, you think "I survived. I survived this and I'm still here".
When this horrible tempest had passed, I stood up, wiped my face and I made the lasagna. I finished the dishes and I got dressed. I went out into the world and I did the things I needed to do. I felt empty and spent and exhausted, but I did it. I did it for you and for Tru and for me.
And Michael, I knew that you were with me. I knew it was you that kept me safe, that sheltered me from the damage. And I knew that you understood. I knew that you guided me. And I'm safe.
My love for you has not ended, it hasn't even abated. The memory of your touch has not left my body. Your voice is still in my head and your smell is etched in my soul. I love you for eternity, Michael. And Baby, I miss you so very, very much.
Oh, how I miss you! Do you ever get tired of hearing me say that? Do you ever wish you could cross this wide abyss and tell me to get off my butt, clean the house, quit eating junk food and be "me" again? But then, I know that you never expected me to just jump up and dust myself off. You knew how painful this would be for me..that's why you told me, that last night, that you weren't afraid to die...you were only worried about me.
The days have melded into weeks and the weeks into months. It seems sometimes as if it's been one long, horrible day. Standing in church yesterday, singing a hymn that I especially love, I felt you holding my hand like you always did. I felt you telling me to praise God. And for the first time since you've been gone, I lifted my hand in praise. It was painful. I felt so broken. I felt so pitiful and for the first time, I asked God to heal my bleeding, festering wounds. To heal this broken heart.
I've become a master at stuffing tears inside. Telling myself "not now, make the bed, not now, you've got a meeting, not now, a woman is in labor". But last Thursday from out of nowhere, this creature inside me clawed it's way to the surface.
I was doing the dishes. I had a meal to make for a sick friend. As I was standing there thinking of things I needed to get done, I felt this creature erupt from my body, taking over and consuming me. This scream, this horrible, pitiful, painful scream came from somewhere inside me...somewhere I didn't even know existed. It knocked me to my knees.
I had no power over it. It was primal, it was physical and it indwelt my body. I was on my knees, my face in the dishwasher full of dirty dishes and I just screamed! The exertion was so great that I couldn't even stay on my knees. I fell to the floor and gave birth to this primitive, untamed, unfettered being.
I felt like I was out of my body. Like I was looking down on myself and my mind was independent of my body. Thinking of making the lasagna, thinking of the mailman coming to the door, thinking of inconsequential things as I screamed! I screamed at God for taking you. I screamed at you for leaving me. I screamed at the pain and the fear and the loneliness. I kicked the cabinets. A puddle of tears and snot and spit forming under my face on the kitchen floor.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't function, I screamed until my vocal chords were swollen and stopped producing sound. I screamed until my lungs were burning and my nails had cut into my palms. I gave life to this hurting, dying creature.
And as suddenly as it came, it was gone. It was like surviving a tornado. The storms come and the wind makes a fearful noise like a freight train bearing down on you. There is damage and fear and when it's gone, when the silence surrounds you, you think "I survived. I survived this and I'm still here".
When this horrible tempest had passed, I stood up, wiped my face and I made the lasagna. I finished the dishes and I got dressed. I went out into the world and I did the things I needed to do. I felt empty and spent and exhausted, but I did it. I did it for you and for Tru and for me.
And Michael, I knew that you were with me. I knew it was you that kept me safe, that sheltered me from the damage. And I knew that you understood. I knew that you guided me. And I'm safe.
My love for you has not ended, it hasn't even abated. The memory of your touch has not left my body. Your voice is still in my head and your smell is etched in my soul. I love you for eternity, Michael. And Baby, I miss you so very, very much.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Embracing the Beast
Hi Baby,
Today Tru brought home a picture he had drawn at school. It had him with his arms out and smiling, next he drew me, and I also had my arms out and was smiling. Then he drew you. You had your arms down and you were all colored over with blue paint. I asked Tru what his drawing was about? He said that he and I were smiling because we were happy. He said you were covered in tears because you miss me. I said "You mean because Popi misses US"? and he said "No, Mawmo, because he misses YOU".
I've been reading a book on grief from church. It says you should "embrace your grief". That grief is something you should "experience" not "go through" or "get over". You should have courage to mourn publicly, that the person who is willing to cry publicly is showing a willingness to "heal".
So, they want us to "embrace the beast" because that's what grief really is, Sweetie. It's a monster...it slashes, and claws and tears at my heart. It raises it's ugly head and and sends me reeling into retreat. There are times that I think I've escaped the beast...but it's impossible... it's only hiding, waiting to attack..maybe I'm driving down the highway listening to a song, maybe it's while I'm trying to mow the grass, or when I try to tell a funny story about you...it just blindsides me because this beast doesn't fight fair.
Our little guy is learning to read and write! He is so smart and amazing. He can write my name now including our last name. He is always asking me how to spell something, walking around with a paper and pencil. I know you would be so proud of him. I know you would help him do his homework and make sure he gets it right.
The beast brings guilt. Why didn't I cherish you more? Why didn't I make time for "date days" after we were married. Did I tell you often enough and make you feel loved and happy? Was there more I should've or could've done? Why did I spend New Year's morning fighting with you about something stupid? I didn't know it would be the last New Year's and before half the year was over, you'd be gone. Did I bother to try to dress myself up the last time we went out for dinner? The night before you died? Or did I just run a brush through my hair because I was exhausted from your hospitalization and my hectic schedule?
After my meeting today, helping a client get ready for her birth, I stopped at the hobby shop and bought some silk flowers and that little plastic cone thing to stick in the ground..you know the cemetery flower things? I drove to the cemetery, took the flowers, a candy bar, my ice tea and cigarettes and camped out by your grave (I HATE that word). It was such a pretty day, and I sat there on the grass making flower arrangements for you and Grandma and Grandpa. Pretty, cheerful fall arrangements. You used to like watching me make things.
As I worked, I talked to you about all the things that are going on around here. I talked to you about the kid, I talked to you about the house and my recent birth. And I thought I'd outlived the beast. I thought I could visit you without the pain. But, I was wrong. I laid down next to you and put my arm across you and I cried and I begged you to come home. I asked you why you left me when you promised you would never leave me? I asked you how you could've gone so easily when we had so many things left to do? I cried the cry of the mortally wounded.
I could hear you say "just come on home, baby, it's getting late" and I knew you would be worried because it was time to pick up your little guy. I knew that if you were here, you'd be reminding me that I had to work tonight, so I needed to "just come on home". So, I packed up my stuff and I left you there yet again.
And so I embrace the beast.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
My "New Normal"
Hi Baby,
I haven't written for awhile, because honestly, I don't know what to write. Life is happening. Things are being done, days go by and I miss you. I've been holding back the tears. Doing stuff..I'm not sure what stuff I've even done?
There have been 4 babies born since you've been gone..or is it five? The neighbor took the cat to the vets for me today because she's peeing blood and I just don't have the time or energy..I'm not sure which it is? (and now she's hiding and pouting, so unless I find her, I won't be able to set the motion detectors). The check engine light came on in your truck today. I called Larry and he gave me some advice. I have new clients, I finally gave in and made an appointment for Tru to see the pediatrician about his behavior problems. Last night I spent the entire night by myself in our house for the very first time ever. I suppose this is my "new normal"?
I hate that phrase you know. To me it sounds like an oxymoron. How can this "new" life ever be "normal"? When you were here, life was normal. When you were here, we were a family. When you were here, you irritated me, loved me, made me laugh, held me up, helped me grow and you put your arms around me and you hugged me real tight. That was normal.
The American Royal Barbecue is coming up. We always went to that. You got free tickets from a vendor and we went and we ate stuff and you drank too much free beer and I drove us home. That was "normal". The Kansas City Marathon is coming up. You went and got the signs, set them out, woke me up at "o'dark thirty" and we went together and stood in the cold in the early morning and pointed to where to turn for the Half Marathon or the Full Marathon. That was normal.
In our old life, we parented together. When Tru had a melt down, you controlled him, calmed him and involved him. In our "new normal" I parent alone, I'm putting him on drugs and I'm probably totally screwing him up. In our old life, he was a happy little boy with two parents who loved him. In our "new normal" he is an angry kid who has lost his beloved Popi , his Mawmo has fallen apart and he sits in your empty chair and he talks to you. This is our "new normal".
In our old life, I talked to you in person, I talked to you on the phone, I emailed you every day. In my "new normal" I talk to you when you're not here, I listen to old voice messages you left and I write a blog that you will never read. In our old life, I thought about you all the time. In my "new normal" I try not to think of you. In our old life, I cared...in my "new normal" I could care less.
When people tell me I need to find my "new normal" I think they mean well. I think they mean it as a form of encouragement. "New Normal" really sucks, Michael. I don't want a "new normal", I want my old, normal, run of the mill, happy life.
I miss you so much, Michael. My soul has been torn in half, my world has been destroyed. My faith has been rendered powerless. In our old life, I believed that God would grant me the desires of my heart. I believed I could ask him to protect those I love. In my "new normal", He's the God who turned a deaf ear when I begged him not to take you. He's the God who gave you to me and then took you away.
And now, I sit alone at night, crying hot, hurtful tears. Sitting here in grief and disbelief. Begging God to turn back time and bring you back....just for a minute...to bring you back and let you hold me tight, let you tell me that it's all going to be okay. And this, Baby, this is my "new normal".
I haven't written for awhile, because honestly, I don't know what to write. Life is happening. Things are being done, days go by and I miss you. I've been holding back the tears. Doing stuff..I'm not sure what stuff I've even done?
There have been 4 babies born since you've been gone..or is it five? The neighbor took the cat to the vets for me today because she's peeing blood and I just don't have the time or energy..I'm not sure which it is? (and now she's hiding and pouting, so unless I find her, I won't be able to set the motion detectors). The check engine light came on in your truck today. I called Larry and he gave me some advice. I have new clients, I finally gave in and made an appointment for Tru to see the pediatrician about his behavior problems. Last night I spent the entire night by myself in our house for the very first time ever. I suppose this is my "new normal"?
I hate that phrase you know. To me it sounds like an oxymoron. How can this "new" life ever be "normal"? When you were here, life was normal. When you were here, we were a family. When you were here, you irritated me, loved me, made me laugh, held me up, helped me grow and you put your arms around me and you hugged me real tight. That was normal.
The American Royal Barbecue is coming up. We always went to that. You got free tickets from a vendor and we went and we ate stuff and you drank too much free beer and I drove us home. That was "normal". The Kansas City Marathon is coming up. You went and got the signs, set them out, woke me up at "o'dark thirty" and we went together and stood in the cold in the early morning and pointed to where to turn for the Half Marathon or the Full Marathon. That was normal.
In our old life, we parented together. When Tru had a melt down, you controlled him, calmed him and involved him. In our "new normal" I parent alone, I'm putting him on drugs and I'm probably totally screwing him up. In our old life, he was a happy little boy with two parents who loved him. In our "new normal" he is an angry kid who has lost his beloved Popi , his Mawmo has fallen apart and he sits in your empty chair and he talks to you. This is our "new normal".
In our old life, I talked to you in person, I talked to you on the phone, I emailed you every day. In my "new normal" I talk to you when you're not here, I listen to old voice messages you left and I write a blog that you will never read. In our old life, I thought about you all the time. In my "new normal" I try not to think of you. In our old life, I cared...in my "new normal" I could care less.
When people tell me I need to find my "new normal" I think they mean well. I think they mean it as a form of encouragement. "New Normal" really sucks, Michael. I don't want a "new normal", I want my old, normal, run of the mill, happy life.
I miss you so much, Michael. My soul has been torn in half, my world has been destroyed. My faith has been rendered powerless. In our old life, I believed that God would grant me the desires of my heart. I believed I could ask him to protect those I love. In my "new normal", He's the God who turned a deaf ear when I begged him not to take you. He's the God who gave you to me and then took you away.
And now, I sit alone at night, crying hot, hurtful tears. Sitting here in grief and disbelief. Begging God to turn back time and bring you back....just for a minute...to bring you back and let you hold me tight, let you tell me that it's all going to be okay. And this, Baby, this is my "new normal".
Saturday, September 15, 2012
And So We Danced
The first time we danced together, it just didn't work so well...in fact, the first couple of times was pretty bad. It's not that you didn't know how to dance, nor was it that I couldn't follow (normally), but there was some weird little step that you did when we were slow dancing and I just couldn't get the hang of it.
When we were getting ready for our wedding, we took private dance lessons, and we learned to dance together, ballroom style, but we still couldn't just cuddle up and slow dance. Then came Pres. Obama's inaugural dance and I SAW it-I saw that funky little step that you did! It was the Black version of the two step! And, so we danced!
We danced at our wedding, we danced to the Blues, we danced everywhere there was a band and a dance floor. We even danced in parking lots and grocery store aisles (well, mostly I danced and you just tried to humor me so we could get out before we were thrown out). The best times were when we danced in the living room. Tru would come and get between us ("scuse me guys, scuse me, I need to get in here") and so we danced.
There was the time that you danced with your tennis-racket shaped bug zapper (that you just absolutely had to have). I remember it so clearly. You had on boxers, a t shirt, black ankle socks and black flip flops! We had watched "Purple Rain" and at the end of the movie (of course) they played Prince, Purple rain. You were dancing to that song with your bug zapper, chasing a fly! You were so funny! The first time I saw the bug zapper after you were gone, I cried and cried.
You always took me dancing for my birthdays and our anniversary (all two of them). Once we got started, we stayed on the dance floor most of the time the band played. I loved being in your arms, I loved flirting with you while we danced (we also had so much fun laughing at the weird way other people danced! So not like you, but so like me!). I can still remember you saying "don't worry about what I'm doing, you just keep doing what you're doing and I'll be there". I didn't know how in the world we could dance if we weren't in sync, but somehow, it always worked out. I guess maybe it was like that in our marriage (and even in our courtship), we weren't always on the same step, we had different styles, but it worked, somehow, it always worked.
Tonight, Tru and I popped popcorn (you always did that and brought it to me on a paper plate instead of the bowl..I don't know why, and I never asked) and we watched a movie. At the end of the movie, there was dance music. Tru got up and did his "hip hop" routine. Remember how it used to always crack us up when he did that?. A slower song came on and he said "Mawmo, dance". I told him I couldn't dance. He said "Yes you can Mawmo, you and Popi always danced and I'll dance with you now, Mawmo" and so we danced. He was me and I was you. I know you were in this room. I could see you. You were wearing your blue plaid shirt (the one that was your favorite) you had on your jeans, and your flip flops with socks. You danced with us. You were so real, you were so here with us.
I started going to a grief support group at church this week. It's just incredibly sad. One of the things in the book (you know I HATE those kind of books and I always skip ahead) was that you are supposed to "accept your loss".That makes me so angry!!! I don't want to "accept my loss". I did not wait 50 years to find you, Michael, just to "accept" that I've already lost you. I refuse, I absolutely refuse to accept anything about this horrible, painful season of our life.
You are here, I feel you here, I hear your voice, I smell your neck and I see your face! I may not be able to touch you, I may not be able to ask you to mow the lawn tomorrow (remember, you cancelled the lawn service this year because "we" were going to do it ourselves and now "we" is "me" and I don't even know how to start the darn mower) but I know you're here, Michael. I know you're here. You promised to never leave me and so I refuse to "accept my loss". I go on living for you, missing you, dreaming of you and grieving every single day. I keep doing everything as if you were here, Michael.
And so we will dance.
When we were getting ready for our wedding, we took private dance lessons, and we learned to dance together, ballroom style, but we still couldn't just cuddle up and slow dance. Then came Pres. Obama's inaugural dance and I SAW it-I saw that funky little step that you did! It was the Black version of the two step! And, so we danced!
We danced at our wedding, we danced to the Blues, we danced everywhere there was a band and a dance floor. We even danced in parking lots and grocery store aisles (well, mostly I danced and you just tried to humor me so we could get out before we were thrown out). The best times were when we danced in the living room. Tru would come and get between us ("scuse me guys, scuse me, I need to get in here") and so we danced.
There was the time that you danced with your tennis-racket shaped bug zapper (that you just absolutely had to have). I remember it so clearly. You had on boxers, a t shirt, black ankle socks and black flip flops! We had watched "Purple Rain" and at the end of the movie (of course) they played Prince, Purple rain. You were dancing to that song with your bug zapper, chasing a fly! You were so funny! The first time I saw the bug zapper after you were gone, I cried and cried.
You always took me dancing for my birthdays and our anniversary (all two of them). Once we got started, we stayed on the dance floor most of the time the band played. I loved being in your arms, I loved flirting with you while we danced (we also had so much fun laughing at the weird way other people danced! So not like you, but so like me!). I can still remember you saying "don't worry about what I'm doing, you just keep doing what you're doing and I'll be there". I didn't know how in the world we could dance if we weren't in sync, but somehow, it always worked out. I guess maybe it was like that in our marriage (and even in our courtship), we weren't always on the same step, we had different styles, but it worked, somehow, it always worked.
Tonight, Tru and I popped popcorn (you always did that and brought it to me on a paper plate instead of the bowl..I don't know why, and I never asked) and we watched a movie. At the end of the movie, there was dance music. Tru got up and did his "hip hop" routine. Remember how it used to always crack us up when he did that?. A slower song came on and he said "Mawmo, dance". I told him I couldn't dance. He said "Yes you can Mawmo, you and Popi always danced and I'll dance with you now, Mawmo" and so we danced. He was me and I was you. I know you were in this room. I could see you. You were wearing your blue plaid shirt (the one that was your favorite) you had on your jeans, and your flip flops with socks. You danced with us. You were so real, you were so here with us.
I started going to a grief support group at church this week. It's just incredibly sad. One of the things in the book (you know I HATE those kind of books and I always skip ahead) was that you are supposed to "accept your loss".That makes me so angry!!! I don't want to "accept my loss". I did not wait 50 years to find you, Michael, just to "accept" that I've already lost you. I refuse, I absolutely refuse to accept anything about this horrible, painful season of our life.
You are here, I feel you here, I hear your voice, I smell your neck and I see your face! I may not be able to touch you, I may not be able to ask you to mow the lawn tomorrow (remember, you cancelled the lawn service this year because "we" were going to do it ourselves and now "we" is "me" and I don't even know how to start the darn mower) but I know you're here, Michael. I know you're here. You promised to never leave me and so I refuse to "accept my loss". I go on living for you, missing you, dreaming of you and grieving every single day. I keep doing everything as if you were here, Michael.
And so we will dance.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Births, Birth Days and Birthday
Happy Birthday, Baby. This was the one that we looked forward to. As soon as you turned 62, you were planning to retire. We were finally going to have more time to spend together, more time to do the things we talked about...just MORE TIME! There was never enough time..not enough time to sleep in, not enough time for date days, not enough time to travel. Now, there is NO TIME! Remember when I told you that we needed to start being just a little miserable because being so happy, time was just going too fast? That before we knew it, time would be over? I just never dreamed it would be over before your 62nd birthday.
Tru, Gena and I met Larry (your very best friend even now) and his family at Gates Barbeque. LaFonda's was closed on Monday and Larry said you used to meet your brother at Gates all the time..the original one down in the "hood". I took my computer and showed them the video of you playing baseball last season. I just wanted to crawl into the computer so I could be where you are.
We gave Larry one of your watches. I had Tru give it to him and tell him "we'd like for you to have Popi's watch". Larry loved and misses you so very much. I know that he tries to help Tru and I in honor of your love and friendship. He took his watch off and put yours on.
After dinner, Larry went with the three of us to the cemetery . Tru ran relays for us (which was a good way to get him to work out some of that energy) and Larry had a beer and I had a glass of wine to toast you for your birthday.
As we were leaving the cemetery, Tru ran back. I started to yell at him because he wasn't minding, but before I could, he ran straight to your grave and knelt down and placed a kiss on your grave. I said "you're forgiven" and Larry said "Absolutely forgiven".
Gena, Tru and I then went to the ball park. Your brother Robert was playing. It's always so good to be with your friends and family. I feel like I've come home when I'm with them. I miss them all so much. It was a perfect night to be at the park. Everyone watched the video of you and all of them remembered your birthday.
All day I had been saying that I was going to have a birth on your birthday. I could just feel a baby coming. I knew that you would send me a birth. Sure enough, no sooner than we got to the ballpark, I got a call from a mama who wasn't even due for another week (first time moms usually go over their due date). This little boy wasn't born on your birthday, he was born on Sept 11 but mom's contractions started on your birthday. A beautiful little boy, a beautiful birth. Twenty seven hours without sleep, working hard to help mom and I left the birthing center tired, sore and missing you. I still can't get used to being at a birth without getting texts from you, without calling you for an update when I get a chance to take a break.
You loved what I do. You loved that I helped women have their baby. So, I knew that on your birthday, you would send me a birth. Thank you for that gift, Baby Boy. I miss you more every single day. Every day I want you back, but I know that this year you celebrated your earthly birth day with Jesus. I know that you had your dad and your grandpa and all those friends that have gone before you to celebrate your birthday. I imagine that there was a giant baseball game, that Buck O'Neill, Babe Ruth and all the other "greats" played in. And I know that you sent me a birth on your birthday. I know that you still love me from so far away. And I know that I'm selfish enough to wish you back here to celebrate your birthday with me.
Happy Birthday, Baby. Happy, Happy Birthday.
Tru, Gena and I met Larry (your very best friend even now) and his family at Gates Barbeque. LaFonda's was closed on Monday and Larry said you used to meet your brother at Gates all the time..the original one down in the "hood". I took my computer and showed them the video of you playing baseball last season. I just wanted to crawl into the computer so I could be where you are.
We gave Larry one of your watches. I had Tru give it to him and tell him "we'd like for you to have Popi's watch". Larry loved and misses you so very much. I know that he tries to help Tru and I in honor of your love and friendship. He took his watch off and put yours on.
After dinner, Larry went with the three of us to the cemetery . Tru ran relays for us (which was a good way to get him to work out some of that energy) and Larry had a beer and I had a glass of wine to toast you for your birthday.
As we were leaving the cemetery, Tru ran back. I started to yell at him because he wasn't minding, but before I could, he ran straight to your grave and knelt down and placed a kiss on your grave. I said "you're forgiven" and Larry said "Absolutely forgiven".
Gena, Tru and I then went to the ball park. Your brother Robert was playing. It's always so good to be with your friends and family. I feel like I've come home when I'm with them. I miss them all so much. It was a perfect night to be at the park. Everyone watched the video of you and all of them remembered your birthday.
All day I had been saying that I was going to have a birth on your birthday. I could just feel a baby coming. I knew that you would send me a birth. Sure enough, no sooner than we got to the ballpark, I got a call from a mama who wasn't even due for another week (first time moms usually go over their due date). This little boy wasn't born on your birthday, he was born on Sept 11 but mom's contractions started on your birthday. A beautiful little boy, a beautiful birth. Twenty seven hours without sleep, working hard to help mom and I left the birthing center tired, sore and missing you. I still can't get used to being at a birth without getting texts from you, without calling you for an update when I get a chance to take a break.
You loved what I do. You loved that I helped women have their baby. So, I knew that on your birthday, you would send me a birth. Thank you for that gift, Baby Boy. I miss you more every single day. Every day I want you back, but I know that this year you celebrated your earthly birth day with Jesus. I know that you had your dad and your grandpa and all those friends that have gone before you to celebrate your birthday. I imagine that there was a giant baseball game, that Buck O'Neill, Babe Ruth and all the other "greats" played in. And I know that you sent me a birth on your birthday. I know that you still love me from so far away. And I know that I'm selfish enough to wish you back here to celebrate your birthday with me.
Happy Birthday, Baby. Happy, Happy Birthday.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
What not to say to the widow
Since you left, I have had the strangest things said to me. Some things piss me off, some things make me laugh (not funny-ha ha!), some things make me cry and once in a while, someone says just the right thing and for a few moments, I feel like I can survive the loss of you.
Most people just don't know what to say. They don't mean any harm, they want to make you feel better. Other people are just ridiculously stupid and still others think they are giving sage advice.
Here are some of my favorite things to NOT say to the widow (yes, these things have actually been said to me)
Remember, if you don't know what to say, a hug, a handshake or the offer to say a prayer is always appreciated.
Most people just don't know what to say. They don't mean any harm, they want to make you feel better. Other people are just ridiculously stupid and still others think they are giving sage advice.
Here are some of my favorite things to NOT say to the widow (yes, these things have actually been said to me)
- At the visitation "you know, all the women were in love with your husband". How do you answer that? "gee, that's nice dear"? or how about "Isn't that sweet, but HE was in love with ME"?
- It's been three weeks...you should be getting used to this by now! Well, now I know! In 3 weeks, I should be used to having my entire life ripped apart. And all before the life insurance and the death certificates are even delivered.
- Don't worry, Honey, there are lots of nice guys out there! Well, since it's been 3 weeks and I'm used to it and there are nice guys out there..what am I upset about?"
- I'm sorry for your loss. Now, I know people say this because they don't want to say "I know how you feel". But come on, after hearing this over 800 times, it just doesn't seem very sincere. It's a catch all phrase. This can be used if your house burns down, your dog gets run over or you get fired from your job. Tell me you thought my husband was a wonderful person, tell me I'm not alone, give me your number and tell me I can call when my grass needs mowed or my drains back up, or my laundry needs done. Share a wonderful memory with me of something my husband did. Or just tell me you're sorry for my pain.
- Gee, I sure hope your luck changes! This one I had to laugh at! A stupid clerk in a store that had lost my freezer (because of course the freezer was going out in the middle of all this), after I told her my husband had just died, we'd lost all his income, benefits and social security. I wanted to say "Thanks sweetie, cause if it doesn't, what's next? Having my body covered in purulent boils and my house falling into a giant sink hole?
- If you are an ex girlfriend, lover or spouse...please do not tell the widow "I loved him a long time ago, but I understand your pain because I loved him too"! Need I say more?
- You should be thankful for the time you had. Yes, I am thankful, I am thankful for every single precious, wonderful moment. Are you telling me I shouldn't be grieving, just counting my blessings?
- You're lucky, at least you got to experience real love. Some people never do. Yes, I am blessed, every single day that he was with me, I felt blessed. But would you tell the mother who had lost her child "just be grateful you had a child"? Or the person who lost a parent "just be thankful you had a mother"?
- You need to go on with your life. Excuse me, but right this minute, I can barely think of getting through the next hour. My heart has just been shredded and you're telling me to "get on with my life"
- The Lord will see you through this. I love the Lord, but right now, I'm pretty unhappy and am feeling pretty betrayed by God. He just took the most precious person in my life. I'm angry and it's kind of hard to think the Lord is going to see me through this when I'm still blaming Him for taking my husband.
- You just need to get busy. Today, it took all my strength to brush my teeth, put on the clothes I've worn for the past three days and make it to the couch. In a few days, I'm hoping to have the strength to bathe. Is that busy enough? Because, really, it's all I've got in me.
- You're going through the (name a stage)part of grief, this is normal. Do not tell me what stage of grief I'm in. I don't care what you call it, to me, it all feels like pain.
- Was there a will? Why, were you expecting to be in it? Otherwise, why would you ask?
- Are you going to sell your house? My husband isn't in the ground, his shoes are still beside my bed, no, I'm not planning on selling today.
- Here's my number. If you feel lonely, give me a call, we'll do dinner. If this is a same-sex person, this is a nice gesture, HOWEVER it is never okay to hit on the widow in the receiving line at the visitation.
- You're strong, you'll get through this. Why, because no one has had to talk me in off the ledge?
Remember, if you don't know what to say, a hug, a handshake or the offer to say a prayer is always appreciated.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Til death us do part
August 29, 2009 7:00 PM. I take my uncle by the arm, tears streaming down my face. The doors open and I walk in. I'm wearing a dress I designed from the description you gave me of how you imagined I would look on our wedding day. The music is playing..Angels brought me here by Guy Sebastian. Our friends, family and loved ones are seated in white fabric covered chairs. Chinese lanterns hang from the ceiling and glow with soft light. The pastor (my brother in law) stands at the head of the aisle. But, all I see is you. My beautiful, handsome love who is about to become my husband. I feel like God has blessed me among all women. You are the man I have waited 50 years to find.
August 29, 2012 7:00 PM. I spread the quilt on the ground, light the candles and start the music playing. The night is warm, but finally starting to cool as the sun goes down. I have a picnic basket and have brought a bottle of chilled champagne that we saved from our wedding. Three long stemmed red roses from me for our third anniversary and a pink one from your little side kick, Tru.
A deer runs out of the woods for just a minute and stops to gaze at me. Finding me uninteresting, he darts back into the woods. The deer are getting braver because the drought has killed the vegetation. They come looking for food. A jogger runs slowly down the road and looks at me like I'm the strangest person he's ever seen or maybe he sees me as an apparition.
I stop for a moment and just try to breathe. I have dreaded this moment for the last three months. I fill two glasses with champagne and toast you and me and our marriage. My new laptop is playing songs from our wedding and Old School Soul. Smokey Robinson, Patti LaBelle, Marvin Gaye. All the songs that we have danced to. The songs that we listened to, snuggled up like two kittens, holding hands and gazing into each others eyes.
I lay down on the blanket and look at the clouds in the sky. The sunset is spectacular. Sun beams radiate out from the sinking sun. The first pinks of dusk are starting to show. Soft clouds float across the sky. Right above me is a cloud that looks just like you. I see your face so plainly..your young face..the one I've only seen in pictures. It doesn't fade and change into other shapes. The clouds around it are moving, but the "Michael Cloud" doesn't move. Your arm is raised in a toast. I lay still, afraid if I move or breathe, the cloud will be gone. I close my eyes for just a moment and the cloud has faded into wisps of white fluff.
It's getting dark and I know that you don't like me to be out after dark. But, one last song. "Our Song" the one we first danced to. The one that we danced to at our wedding. "I love your face" by Smokey. I stand up and close my eyes. I feel the grass and the bumpy ground with my bare feet. I raise my arms and I dance with you. I can feel you so warm and so wonderful in my arms. I can feel the softness of your skin as I kiss you on the neck. I hear you whisper "just look at me G, and keep dancing". The tears fill my eyes and I dance..the finale, the turns, arms up, and bring my hands down the side of your face perfectly as smokey says "I love your face" for the very last time.
I slowly gather up the blankets, glasses and champagne bottle. I blow out the candles, but I play one more song "We saved the best for last" by Kenny G. I tied the cross I brought you to the roses and leave the champagne glass there with them. The tears come more freely now because I know that I have to leave you here. As I walk away, I turn to look at your grave one last time and to say "Happy Anniversary, Baby Boy". It's been the best three years of my life.
August 29, 2012 7:00 PM. I spread the quilt on the ground, light the candles and start the music playing. The night is warm, but finally starting to cool as the sun goes down. I have a picnic basket and have brought a bottle of chilled champagne that we saved from our wedding. Three long stemmed red roses from me for our third anniversary and a pink one from your little side kick, Tru.
A deer runs out of the woods for just a minute and stops to gaze at me. Finding me uninteresting, he darts back into the woods. The deer are getting braver because the drought has killed the vegetation. They come looking for food. A jogger runs slowly down the road and looks at me like I'm the strangest person he's ever seen or maybe he sees me as an apparition.
I stop for a moment and just try to breathe. I have dreaded this moment for the last three months. I fill two glasses with champagne and toast you and me and our marriage. My new laptop is playing songs from our wedding and Old School Soul. Smokey Robinson, Patti LaBelle, Marvin Gaye. All the songs that we have danced to. The songs that we listened to, snuggled up like two kittens, holding hands and gazing into each others eyes.
I lay down on the blanket and look at the clouds in the sky. The sunset is spectacular. Sun beams radiate out from the sinking sun. The first pinks of dusk are starting to show. Soft clouds float across the sky. Right above me is a cloud that looks just like you. I see your face so plainly..your young face..the one I've only seen in pictures. It doesn't fade and change into other shapes. The clouds around it are moving, but the "Michael Cloud" doesn't move. Your arm is raised in a toast. I lay still, afraid if I move or breathe, the cloud will be gone. I close my eyes for just a moment and the cloud has faded into wisps of white fluff.
It's getting dark and I know that you don't like me to be out after dark. But, one last song. "Our Song" the one we first danced to. The one that we danced to at our wedding. "I love your face" by Smokey. I stand up and close my eyes. I feel the grass and the bumpy ground with my bare feet. I raise my arms and I dance with you. I can feel you so warm and so wonderful in my arms. I can feel the softness of your skin as I kiss you on the neck. I hear you whisper "just look at me G, and keep dancing". The tears fill my eyes and I dance..the finale, the turns, arms up, and bring my hands down the side of your face perfectly as smokey says "I love your face" for the very last time.
I slowly gather up the blankets, glasses and champagne bottle. I blow out the candles, but I play one more song "We saved the best for last" by Kenny G. I tied the cross I brought you to the roses and leave the champagne glass there with them. The tears come more freely now because I know that I have to leave you here. As I walk away, I turn to look at your grave one last time and to say "Happy Anniversary, Baby Boy". It's been the best three years of my life.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Empty Home Coming
Teresa and I took our little guy and her grandson and we went camping. Can you even imagine? Two old ladies and 2 little boys. We drove past the hotel where we spent our honeymoon. Past the place where we had dinner, past the historic street where we walked hand in hand and bought wine and stopped to look in the little shops.
We drove 5 hours to a rented cabin at JellyStone Park. We camped, we played mini golf, swam and I made one heck of a campfire to roast marshmallows on. Yogi came to our campsite and gave Tru and Tylor balloons and cookies. Tru let his balloon float into the air because he was sending it to you in Heaven.
Last night I felt you so near me that it took my breath away. It just over whelmed me with your realness. I could feel the way you would put your hand on my hip and scoot up next to me. Spooning with me. I could feel every part of you. I felt the panic over taking me and I had to push it away...push the thoughts of you away from my mind before I was engulfed in the pain, before I found myself in a rented cabin miles from home and sobbing uncontrollably.
We came home today and the closer we got, the further you seemed away. The reality of you being gone, of no one being there to even care when or if we got home, loomed larger and larger with each passing mile. I dreaded our empty home and the absence of you. It's such a lonely feeling to know that there is no one who anticipates your arrival. No one to tell all our adventures to. No one who cares. No one to help carry the suitcases up the stairs.
Today was the 3 months anniversary of your death. That's 1/4 of a year! A Fourth of a year, Michael! Do you know how long that is when you're missing someone? When you have cried every single day for a quarter of a year?
Every day that I had you here with me was a blessing. I don't know that I always treated every day as a blessing, but in my heart, every single day is precious. Oh, Sweetie, if I could only have you here with me. If we could only do it one more time. I relive the nights when you would lean over me and kiss me good night before you went to bed. I would put my hands on the side of your face and look into your yes and say "I love you SO MUCH!". I think of the times you would tell me "I love you so much. Never, ever forget, no matter what, never forget how much I love you".
Tru wrote me a letter because I was crying with missing you. I had him read (because of course he can't write, but I knew he put his heart into it, and HE knew what it said). He read: Dear Mawmo, I love you very much and I will take care of you. I know you're sad because Popi is gone. Popi is in Heaven, but I'll take care of you". You always told him that if anything ever happened to you, he was supposed to take care of Mawmo for you.
For three months I have avoided leaving our house. I thought that it was because I didn't want to be further from you. Further from our home, further than I already feel. Now I know the truth. It wasn't being gone that I was afraid of. It was the empty home coming.
Three months, Michael! It's been three months!!!!!
We drove 5 hours to a rented cabin at JellyStone Park. We camped, we played mini golf, swam and I made one heck of a campfire to roast marshmallows on. Yogi came to our campsite and gave Tru and Tylor balloons and cookies. Tru let his balloon float into the air because he was sending it to you in Heaven.
Last night I felt you so near me that it took my breath away. It just over whelmed me with your realness. I could feel the way you would put your hand on my hip and scoot up next to me. Spooning with me. I could feel every part of you. I felt the panic over taking me and I had to push it away...push the thoughts of you away from my mind before I was engulfed in the pain, before I found myself in a rented cabin miles from home and sobbing uncontrollably.
We came home today and the closer we got, the further you seemed away. The reality of you being gone, of no one being there to even care when or if we got home, loomed larger and larger with each passing mile. I dreaded our empty home and the absence of you. It's such a lonely feeling to know that there is no one who anticipates your arrival. No one to tell all our adventures to. No one who cares. No one to help carry the suitcases up the stairs.
Today was the 3 months anniversary of your death. That's 1/4 of a year! A Fourth of a year, Michael! Do you know how long that is when you're missing someone? When you have cried every single day for a quarter of a year?
Every day that I had you here with me was a blessing. I don't know that I always treated every day as a blessing, but in my heart, every single day is precious. Oh, Sweetie, if I could only have you here with me. If we could only do it one more time. I relive the nights when you would lean over me and kiss me good night before you went to bed. I would put my hands on the side of your face and look into your yes and say "I love you SO MUCH!". I think of the times you would tell me "I love you so much. Never, ever forget, no matter what, never forget how much I love you".
Tru wrote me a letter because I was crying with missing you. I had him read (because of course he can't write, but I knew he put his heart into it, and HE knew what it said). He read: Dear Mawmo, I love you very much and I will take care of you. I know you're sad because Popi is gone. Popi is in Heaven, but I'll take care of you". You always told him that if anything ever happened to you, he was supposed to take care of Mawmo for you.
For three months I have avoided leaving our house. I thought that it was because I didn't want to be further from you. Further from our home, further than I already feel. Now I know the truth. It wasn't being gone that I was afraid of. It was the empty home coming.
Three months, Michael! It's been three months!!!!!
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Where is my God?
It seems like only yesterday that I was telling you how close and how near God felt. He was moving mightily in our children's lives. Our two youngest (grown) children were in church, were getting their lives together. My business was growing quickly. baseball season was here. It was as if I could FEEL God right there in the car with us.
It's not that I only feel close to God when things are good. I know He's been with me through so many difficult, hurtful times in my life. But, where is He since He took you?
I cry out to Him to comfort me. I beg Him to guard my mind and my heart from the enemy while I'm so vulnerable. I plead with Him to let me feel His presence, but I still feel so abandoned. I feel numb and empty and hollow inside.
I go to church looking for Him there. I cry when they play the music. I still feel you sitting next to me in worship..I still see you in your casket at the front of the sanctuary. That was the last place I saw your face. The place I kissed you, held your hand and lowered you into your casket and sealed it shut. I feel you there. I feel the pain there. But, I don't feel my Lord there.
Maybe God knows I'm angry with Him? I know that He's big enough to withstand my temper tantrums. I know that He loves me, but where is He? Has my pain so totally consumed me that there is no longer enough room to feel His love and His Mercy?
Yet, He sends me wonderful friends and even strangers to tell me of His love. It seems that whenever things are hardest, He sends me someone. He sent me Louise when I had the bacon crisis. He sends me Beth to hold me at church. He sent Sherry to sit beside me and pray. Just yesterday in the Office Depot store, He sent me a stranger. An older black lady that I felt drawn to talk to, and she prayed and talked to me about God right there in the middle of the store.
Today was a hard day. Today Tru started Kindergarten and you weren't here. I know that you would've taken the day off work to drive him to his first day. Today was an all day long ugly cry day. Today I felt as if I couldn't go on without you. The pain is crushing me. Now that the numbness and the shock have worn off, it leaves me with bone crushing, excruciating pain.
So, I cried all day. I gave up, I begged God for His presence and still, I couldn't find Him. I decided to go to the church to try to find Him there, but Bryan (our friend and handyman) came to fix some things for me and I couldn't go. I kept thinking where can I find God? Where can I find Michael? I wanted to go to the cemetery, but I knew that I would only find more pain. And, it was time to put on my happy face and go get your little guy from his first day of school
God is my Shepard. He is the great Counselor. He is my Comfort. He is a Faithful Friend. He is Teacher, He is Father, He is Protector. But, He also feels so far away right now and the pain of missing you AND my Savior feels like torture to my soul.
It's not that I only feel close to God when things are good. I know He's been with me through so many difficult, hurtful times in my life. But, where is He since He took you?
I cry out to Him to comfort me. I beg Him to guard my mind and my heart from the enemy while I'm so vulnerable. I plead with Him to let me feel His presence, but I still feel so abandoned. I feel numb and empty and hollow inside.
I go to church looking for Him there. I cry when they play the music. I still feel you sitting next to me in worship..I still see you in your casket at the front of the sanctuary. That was the last place I saw your face. The place I kissed you, held your hand and lowered you into your casket and sealed it shut. I feel you there. I feel the pain there. But, I don't feel my Lord there.
Maybe God knows I'm angry with Him? I know that He's big enough to withstand my temper tantrums. I know that He loves me, but where is He? Has my pain so totally consumed me that there is no longer enough room to feel His love and His Mercy?
Yet, He sends me wonderful friends and even strangers to tell me of His love. It seems that whenever things are hardest, He sends me someone. He sent me Louise when I had the bacon crisis. He sends me Beth to hold me at church. He sent Sherry to sit beside me and pray. Just yesterday in the Office Depot store, He sent me a stranger. An older black lady that I felt drawn to talk to, and she prayed and talked to me about God right there in the middle of the store.
Today was a hard day. Today Tru started Kindergarten and you weren't here. I know that you would've taken the day off work to drive him to his first day. Today was an all day long ugly cry day. Today I felt as if I couldn't go on without you. The pain is crushing me. Now that the numbness and the shock have worn off, it leaves me with bone crushing, excruciating pain.
So, I cried all day. I gave up, I begged God for His presence and still, I couldn't find Him. I decided to go to the church to try to find Him there, but Bryan (our friend and handyman) came to fix some things for me and I couldn't go. I kept thinking where can I find God? Where can I find Michael? I wanted to go to the cemetery, but I knew that I would only find more pain. And, it was time to put on my happy face and go get your little guy from his first day of school
God is my Shepard. He is the great Counselor. He is my Comfort. He is a Faithful Friend. He is Teacher, He is Father, He is Protector. But, He also feels so far away right now and the pain of missing you AND my Savior feels like torture to my soul.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Our bed and those sleepless nights
When you were here with me, you went to bed early and I went to bed late. You took Tru to bed with you. Later, I would carry him to his bed so that I could have you all to myself for a little while.
You used to tell me that you felt like we never slept together because I would come to bed only hours or minutes before you had to get up. Why did I waste those opportunities? Sometimes I would be so tired, but the thought of having to carry the little guy to bed, or needing to fix the coffee maker or pack your lunch, would keep me sitting right here...playing mindless computer games. But, I knew that you were there. I knew that I could come into the bedroom at any time and you would be there.
So many times, after procrastinating and then finally coming to bed, I would wrap around you, put my left hand under your t shirt so I could feel your stomach, and I would put my right hand on your head so I could feel your curls. I don't know why I did that, but it just felt right. I just wanted to hold onto you. Hold on until I felt safe. I wanted to feel your warmth and smell your warm sleep smell. I wanted to hear your sleep sounds. I wanted to hear you say "I love you" even though you were sleeping. And I would sigh like I had finally come home. I would thank God for the miracle of having you in my life. The last time I put my hand on your stomach was right before I sealed your casket. So, I stay up.
Now, I have times that I want to come to bed early (mostly out of boredom and also because there is escape in sleep) but I feel like a traitor going to bed early because I didn't go to bed early when you wanted me to. So I stay up. And because the thought of coming to bed and once again finding it empty is just more than I can bear most nights. So, I stay up.
I stay up playing mindless computer games, searching for friends on Face Book that can't seem to sleep either..searching for anything that will delay the inevitable. I stay up until I am exhausted. I stay up until I think I've used my quota of tears for the day. I stay up until I have a (false) hope that I can fall asleep.
I dreamed of you the other night. I dreamed that you were somehow back and you made love to me. I told you how I had treasured the last time we had been together because I thought those memories would have to last me forever. You just kissed me and said "Let's not talk about sad things now. Let's just be together". My tears woke me up. So, I stay up.
Remember how we used to come home from a long trip and when we got in bed, one of us would always say "I love our bed"? Remember how when we bought the house right before we got married, we prayed in the bedroom for our marriage. We prayed that our bedroom would always be a source of love, comfort and safety. We prayed that our bedroom would be a refuge? So, I stay up.
Your alarm used to go off every morning at 3:15. A week after you were gone, after your funeral, the alarm went off. I waited for you to hit the snooze button, but of course you didn't. Now, I still wake up every morning at 3:15. You used to get ready for work, get your coffee and come sit on the side of the bed (when we first got married I asked you to always wake me up to say goodbye) and you would tell me you were leaving and that you loved me. So, I stay up.
And I wonder, "will I ever sleep again"? So, I just stay up!
You used to tell me that you felt like we never slept together because I would come to bed only hours or minutes before you had to get up. Why did I waste those opportunities? Sometimes I would be so tired, but the thought of having to carry the little guy to bed, or needing to fix the coffee maker or pack your lunch, would keep me sitting right here...playing mindless computer games. But, I knew that you were there. I knew that I could come into the bedroom at any time and you would be there.
So many times, after procrastinating and then finally coming to bed, I would wrap around you, put my left hand under your t shirt so I could feel your stomach, and I would put my right hand on your head so I could feel your curls. I don't know why I did that, but it just felt right. I just wanted to hold onto you. Hold on until I felt safe. I wanted to feel your warmth and smell your warm sleep smell. I wanted to hear your sleep sounds. I wanted to hear you say "I love you" even though you were sleeping. And I would sigh like I had finally come home. I would thank God for the miracle of having you in my life. The last time I put my hand on your stomach was right before I sealed your casket. So, I stay up.
Now, I have times that I want to come to bed early (mostly out of boredom and also because there is escape in sleep) but I feel like a traitor going to bed early because I didn't go to bed early when you wanted me to. So I stay up. And because the thought of coming to bed and once again finding it empty is just more than I can bear most nights. So, I stay up.
I stay up playing mindless computer games, searching for friends on Face Book that can't seem to sleep either..searching for anything that will delay the inevitable. I stay up until I am exhausted. I stay up until I think I've used my quota of tears for the day. I stay up until I have a (false) hope that I can fall asleep.
I dreamed of you the other night. I dreamed that you were somehow back and you made love to me. I told you how I had treasured the last time we had been together because I thought those memories would have to last me forever. You just kissed me and said "Let's not talk about sad things now. Let's just be together". My tears woke me up. So, I stay up.
Remember how we used to come home from a long trip and when we got in bed, one of us would always say "I love our bed"? Remember how when we bought the house right before we got married, we prayed in the bedroom for our marriage. We prayed that our bedroom would always be a source of love, comfort and safety. We prayed that our bedroom would be a refuge? So, I stay up.
Your alarm used to go off every morning at 3:15. A week after you were gone, after your funeral, the alarm went off. I waited for you to hit the snooze button, but of course you didn't. Now, I still wake up every morning at 3:15. You used to get ready for work, get your coffee and come sit on the side of the bed (when we first got married I asked you to always wake me up to say goodbye) and you would tell me you were leaving and that you loved me. So, I stay up.
And I wonder, "will I ever sleep again"? So, I just stay up!
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
100 Daily Deaths
People seem to think that after the funeral, the death is over and the healing begins. But what they don't realize is that it's only the beginning of the deaths. Everyday, there is another death.
Today I realized I don't know where the main water shut off is....DEATH
I'll never go to the Peanut again......DEATH
I'll never freeze my butt off tailgating at a Chiefs game again....DEATH
I won't sit in the blazing sun in some podunk town watching you play in a tournament....DEATH
I'll never sniff your neck and make you laugh.....DEATH
I'll never put spray n wash on your "drars"....DEATH
I will never listen to you play the "tuba" in the bathroom in the morning.....DEATH
The handle in the master bath shower is broken, I don't know how to fix it.....DEATH
You will never sit in church and fan me during a hot flash......DEATH
No one will ever be in love with me again.......DEATH
When I'm late getting home, there is no one to call and say "where are you, G? it's late".....DEATH
During a birth, there is no one sending me text messages cheering me on........DEATH
I have to put together the pictures for your tombstone........DEATH
I will never dance with my husband again..........DEATH
I am no longer connected to your culture..............DEATH
I am losing who I was because of who you were.........DEATH
The house is a mess and no one cares or helps me clean it up.......DEATH
No one will ever call me "G" again..........DEATH
Sports don't play on the t.v. anymore..........DEATH
There is no one to take care of me if I get sick........DEATH
There is no one I want to dress up for or that will think I'm beautiful like you did.......DEATH
There is no one to go looking around when I hear a noise at night.......DEATH
There is no one to be proud of me, no one to impress......DEATH
Each time I spend some of your life insurance money..........DEATH
Each birthday, each holiday, every weekend........DEATH
No one cares what time I come to bed at night........DEATH
No one calls to wake me up in the morning........DEATH
There are no emails to say "good morning" or "I love you" when I wake up.......DEATH
There are no notes on my computer or on my pillow at night.......DEATH
No one fusses at me when I'm late because I procrastinated too long.....DEATH
My car is on empty, no one cares............DEATH
No one take my car for an oil change.........DEATH
I have to take the trash out on Sunday nights.............DEATH
No one cooks bacon on Sunday morning...........DEATH
It doesn't matter what panties I wear, or what I sleep in.............DEATH
No one will ever kiss me on the lips again......DEATH
No one will ever hold me, make love to me or look at me naked like you did......DEATH
No one will ever know me the way that you knew me...........DEATH
No one sits on the front porch with me and says "I love our life"............DEATH
I will never love another person the way that I loved you!..............DEATH
You thought you were "useless" because you couldn't do certain things with your pacemaker. You thought you couldn't even fold the towels right, but I didn't need you for those things. I needed you for all these things that cause me to grieve over and over as my list grows.
I need to smell you, I need to lean against you, to snuggle up to you, to argue with you, to make up with you, to be proud of you, to bask in your love. Those are the things I need you for. Why didn't I say all this when you said you were useless? Why didn't I tell you that you were the air I breathe? Why didn't I tell you that you were the blood that pumps through my heart? Why didn't I tell you that without YOU, there is no ME?
Today I realized I don't know where the main water shut off is....DEATH
I'll never go to the Peanut again......DEATH
I'll never freeze my butt off tailgating at a Chiefs game again....DEATH
I won't sit in the blazing sun in some podunk town watching you play in a tournament....DEATH
I'll never sniff your neck and make you laugh.....DEATH
I'll never put spray n wash on your "drars"....DEATH
I will never listen to you play the "tuba" in the bathroom in the morning.....DEATH
The handle in the master bath shower is broken, I don't know how to fix it.....DEATH
You will never sit in church and fan me during a hot flash......DEATH
No one will ever be in love with me again.......DEATH
When I'm late getting home, there is no one to call and say "where are you, G? it's late".....DEATH
During a birth, there is no one sending me text messages cheering me on........DEATH
I have to put together the pictures for your tombstone........DEATH
I will never dance with my husband again..........DEATH
I am no longer connected to your culture..............DEATH
I am losing who I was because of who you were.........DEATH
The house is a mess and no one cares or helps me clean it up.......DEATH
No one will ever call me "G" again..........DEATH
Sports don't play on the t.v. anymore..........DEATH
There is no one to take care of me if I get sick........DEATH
There is no one I want to dress up for or that will think I'm beautiful like you did.......DEATH
There is no one to go looking around when I hear a noise at night.......DEATH
There is no one to be proud of me, no one to impress......DEATH
Each time I spend some of your life insurance money..........DEATH
Each birthday, each holiday, every weekend........DEATH
No one cares what time I come to bed at night........DEATH
No one calls to wake me up in the morning........DEATH
There are no emails to say "good morning" or "I love you" when I wake up.......DEATH
There are no notes on my computer or on my pillow at night.......DEATH
No one fusses at me when I'm late because I procrastinated too long.....DEATH
My car is on empty, no one cares............DEATH
No one take my car for an oil change.........DEATH
I have to take the trash out on Sunday nights.............DEATH
No one cooks bacon on Sunday morning...........DEATH
It doesn't matter what panties I wear, or what I sleep in.............DEATH
No one will ever kiss me on the lips again......DEATH
No one will ever hold me, make love to me or look at me naked like you did......DEATH
No one will ever know me the way that you knew me...........DEATH
No one sits on the front porch with me and says "I love our life"............DEATH
I will never love another person the way that I loved you!..............DEATH
You thought you were "useless" because you couldn't do certain things with your pacemaker. You thought you couldn't even fold the towels right, but I didn't need you for those things. I needed you for all these things that cause me to grieve over and over as my list grows.
I need to smell you, I need to lean against you, to snuggle up to you, to argue with you, to make up with you, to be proud of you, to bask in your love. Those are the things I need you for. Why didn't I say all this when you said you were useless? Why didn't I tell you that you were the air I breathe? Why didn't I tell you that you were the blood that pumps through my heart? Why didn't I tell you that without YOU, there is no ME?
Friday, August 10, 2012
Where do all the tears come from?
Hi Baby,
Tomorrow it will be twelve weeks. Twelve weeks of missing you.
The tears come less frequently now. Maybe that's the body's way of self preservation? I'm not sure why it's so? I know the hurt is still there, the missing you is still there, the disbelief is still there, so why do the tears come less frequently?
But when they come, and they do come, they fall in rivers. I don't think tears are made in the eyes at all. I think tears come from deep inside you, from your gut. They bend you over, causing you to clutch your stomach in agony. I think tears pass through your heart, twisting just a little as they go. I think tears flow up your throat, cutting off your air, causing that deep aching in the back of your throat. And then, when your body is so full that you think you will never breathe again, they spill out of your eyes, your nose, your mouth. They flow with such force that they pull the sobs, the retching, horrible sobs from the pit of your soul so that you think you too might die from the effort of it all.
People seem to fear the tears of someone's grief. At the first catch in your voice, they change the subject (in a way that they think is ever so subtle) trying to get you to smile. I think that the civilians of the grief world believe that if they don't see your tears on the outside, that you must be "okay" (what the hell is "okay" anyway?). But those of us who carry this constant pain, we know that if we can just shed a few tears, it will be like letting the pressure off a too hot radiator. We think that maybe, just maybe we won't explode, spewing hot tears over everyone. Over innocent bystanders.
Loved ones, wonderful, sweet, supportive friends try to keep me busy. Try to make me laugh, get me to have fun (like fun is even remotely in my universe) and I love them for it. I love them so much and I know that they're the ones who have kept me surviving, but I WANT to cry. I want to have an entire day to myself to just cry and cry and cry. I want to order pizza and chocolate and spend the day in my pajamas, watching sad tear jerker chick flicks and cry until I can't cry anymore. I want to cry until I believe that you're really not coming home. I want to cry until I can accept that I won't roll over and find you on your side of the bed. I want to cry until I can pick myself up and go on, to accept that my life will be spent waiting to be with you again. Because right now, my heart still doesn't believe it, Michael.
Baby, I'm still waiting for you to come home. I love you and miss you so much.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Time, Technology and Tears
Hi Sweetie,
It's been 11 weeks today. Where did the time go? For the first time, I had to actually look at a calendar and count the weeks. I can't believe it's been 11 weeks since that most terrible night. In a way it seems like it was yesterday, and in a way it seems like it has been years since I last saw you. I still can't believe..my HEART doesn't believe that you're gone yet.
David and three of his kids came last week and were here for 6 days, so my time has been completely filled. I actually cooked bacon while they were here. You are never far from my mind, Baby. Even frying bacon, the memories of you frying bacon float through my thoughts. And as I was cooking the bacon, I wondered what happened to the days that you would make the bacon and I would make the eggs?For the last year? You made the eggs and the bacon. And I feel guilty because I didn't put out the effort, but let you do so much of the cooking. I guess we just fell into that...or did I let you down?
David put in a security light in the back yard. He also installed security cameras. Very high tech. I can sit on the couch and see if a car comes down the street, who is at the door and I can watch Tru play in the back yard. I also had the alarm system upgraded. Each of those things I thought would make me feel safer. But, they don't. I don't feel as safe sitting here with all that and the new back door, as I did when you were laying in our bed sleeping. I miss you so much.
I actually went a whole day without crying. Then I felt guilty that I hadn't cried that day and I was worried that you would think I don't still love you, or that I "got over it quickly"? Then in the shower, the ugly cry came. I just try not to let myself think about it, Baby. I am trying to survive...a moment at a time.
Tru talks about missing you more and more. He remembers the things you gave him for certain occasions. He sleeps in the middle of the bed like he's leaving space for you to sleep. And somehow the days melt one into the other and we've both survived. I like to think that you can see us from Heaven and that it makes you happy to see us survive?
We cleaned your man cave today. I remember when I started decorating it and I texted you pictures as I progressed. You were so proud of your man cave. We didn't spend much time there, but it was YOURS and you loved it when your friends would come over and you could take them down there to watch a game or just hang out.
Kaetlyn came home from Africa and she's been here the past couple of days. I was talking to her today about the amazing ways that God worked in our relationship and in our lives. She said that our marriage was such a testimony to God's goodness. As we talked, I realized that even though you left after such a short time, I'm content. I'm content knowing that I have been truly loved. I'm content that I had a wonderful marriage and I feel no need to find another person. I had my person. God may change my heart, but if not, Baby, you were enough. You were enough for always.
I'm going to try to go to church tomorrow. Tru and I are in such a horrible habit of staying up late, sleeping late and missing everything. I have to try to get into the habit of getting up early. You could always get me up no matter how tired I was. Now I just can't seem to get up. He starts school in a couple of weeks (can you believe that?) and we've got to try to get up in the mornings. You know how much I hate mornings and now Tru has become a night person too! You would be appalled!
Well, I'm going to stop now. I'm going to go to bed, surrounded by all this technology and try to get up in the morning. I love you, Baby Boy. I love you with all my heart.
g
It's been 11 weeks today. Where did the time go? For the first time, I had to actually look at a calendar and count the weeks. I can't believe it's been 11 weeks since that most terrible night. In a way it seems like it was yesterday, and in a way it seems like it has been years since I last saw you. I still can't believe..my HEART doesn't believe that you're gone yet.
David and three of his kids came last week and were here for 6 days, so my time has been completely filled. I actually cooked bacon while they were here. You are never far from my mind, Baby. Even frying bacon, the memories of you frying bacon float through my thoughts. And as I was cooking the bacon, I wondered what happened to the days that you would make the bacon and I would make the eggs?For the last year? You made the eggs and the bacon. And I feel guilty because I didn't put out the effort, but let you do so much of the cooking. I guess we just fell into that...or did I let you down?
David put in a security light in the back yard. He also installed security cameras. Very high tech. I can sit on the couch and see if a car comes down the street, who is at the door and I can watch Tru play in the back yard. I also had the alarm system upgraded. Each of those things I thought would make me feel safer. But, they don't. I don't feel as safe sitting here with all that and the new back door, as I did when you were laying in our bed sleeping. I miss you so much.
I actually went a whole day without crying. Then I felt guilty that I hadn't cried that day and I was worried that you would think I don't still love you, or that I "got over it quickly"? Then in the shower, the ugly cry came. I just try not to let myself think about it, Baby. I am trying to survive...a moment at a time.
Tru talks about missing you more and more. He remembers the things you gave him for certain occasions. He sleeps in the middle of the bed like he's leaving space for you to sleep. And somehow the days melt one into the other and we've both survived. I like to think that you can see us from Heaven and that it makes you happy to see us survive?
We cleaned your man cave today. I remember when I started decorating it and I texted you pictures as I progressed. You were so proud of your man cave. We didn't spend much time there, but it was YOURS and you loved it when your friends would come over and you could take them down there to watch a game or just hang out.
Kaetlyn came home from Africa and she's been here the past couple of days. I was talking to her today about the amazing ways that God worked in our relationship and in our lives. She said that our marriage was such a testimony to God's goodness. As we talked, I realized that even though you left after such a short time, I'm content. I'm content knowing that I have been truly loved. I'm content that I had a wonderful marriage and I feel no need to find another person. I had my person. God may change my heart, but if not, Baby, you were enough. You were enough for always.
I'm going to try to go to church tomorrow. Tru and I are in such a horrible habit of staying up late, sleeping late and missing everything. I have to try to get into the habit of getting up early. You could always get me up no matter how tired I was. Now I just can't seem to get up. He starts school in a couple of weeks (can you believe that?) and we've got to try to get up in the mornings. You know how much I hate mornings and now Tru has become a night person too! You would be appalled!
Well, I'm going to stop now. I'm going to go to bed, surrounded by all this technology and try to get up in the morning. I love you, Baby Boy. I love you with all my heart.
g
Monday, July 30, 2012
Bacon and Bereavement
From my friend Andrea: "I've loved and lost enough for more than one lifetime." Chas Ryder in Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. Great movie. Great line.
When we were dating, and I was imagining our life together, when my soul was lonely and missing you and longing for us to be a family, you talked about frying bacon. I told you that someday I wanted you to make me "bubbly bacon". It became a symbol of waking up together, sharing something as simple as breakfast..because breakfast meant that you had slept next to me.
After we were married, every Sunday morning you got up and you made me bubbly bacon. You also made me eggs (I really didn't like the way that you made the eggs, but I ate them anyway. I never told you that I didn't like them, because I liked the fact that you made them for me). You would make my egg soft and always put a toothpick in my egg so I would know that it was my "special" egg.
After you were gone, I don't remember how many days or hours it had been, but I opened the fridge and saw the bacon there. I cried and cried..the ugly cry (I HATE the ugly cry). My sweet, beautiful friend, Louise, called me while I was in the middle of the ugly cry. My heart was breaking. I couldn't stand the thought of the bacon in the fridge because you will never make me bacon again. While I was crying and she was listening, I looked up and she was coming through my door. She just held me while I cried and cried some more over bacon. I felt like God had sent Louise to me at just that time to help me deal with the pain of the bacon.
I visited with you at the cemetery again today. I had to meet a friend who wanted to buy one of my rebozzo's from Mexico. I met her at the Wendy's that was only a few blocks from the cemetery. The roses we left yesterday were already drooping from the heat (it was over 103 degrees today). I kneeled by your grave and cried. I was the only one in the cemetery and it felt as if my sobs echoed over the graves, the sounds of my pain wrapped around the trees and carried on the wind. It sounded to me as if my cries came from some hollow place, as if they had a life of their own that was somehow not even connected to me. I wondered what I must look like? Sitting there on my knees, crying, snot running out of my nose, feeling as if I would drown from the saliva that was forming in my mouth in waves. I felt like I needed to spit so I could keep breathing. But even though I was alone, I wouldn't spit. Even in grief I can't completely let go.
When it was over (he ugly cry), I looked around and noticed that on every single grave, the grass was brown. It was green between the graves, but every grave was brown and the browness was exactly the shape of the grave. What causes that? I wanted to stop in at the office and ask them, but I was afraid they would think I was crazy. I could look across the hill and see each and every grave. And I thought of the chemicals they put in the bodies. Did the chemical leach out of the casket, out of the vault and seep into the ground in the shape of the grave? Death is so ugly.
Sometimes the realization that you're really gone surprises me. It takes my breath away. I can go hours at a time without thinking about it, and then out of nowhere, it's there, this thought that says "my husband is dead, my husband is REALLY dead". My mind knows it, but my heart doesn't believe it. I wonder how everyone else just accepts that you are gone, because I can't. Maybe I will believe it in stages? I don't know. I don't know how this works.
Tonight while I was dispatching for mom's cab company, some guy on the phone told me he was clairvoyant. He said he sensed sadness in me and hummed and drummed and chanted and sent me blue and purple waves of energy and love. He told me my "Sweetie" sent him. It was the "Sweetie" part that got me. You called me "Sweetie". Tru told everyone "My Mawmo's name is Sweetie Fisher because that's what my Popi calls her". You would've been upset because some drunk guy calling for a cab was talking to me for so long. I half listened, half cried and half wanted to believe what he told me. All the while praying that God protect me if this guy was bringing evil into my life.
Today was Sunday. There was no bubbly bacon when I woke up. There was no egg with a toothpick in it to eat before church. But, I bought bacon. I threw away the old bacon and I bought new bacon, so that when I'm ready, I'll fry bubbly bacon for myself, and I'll make eggs the way I like them, but for now, the bacon is in the fridge and when I'm ready, I'll eat bubbly bacon without you, but I'll never eat bubbly bacon again without thinking of my Sweetie.
When we were dating, and I was imagining our life together, when my soul was lonely and missing you and longing for us to be a family, you talked about frying bacon. I told you that someday I wanted you to make me "bubbly bacon". It became a symbol of waking up together, sharing something as simple as breakfast..because breakfast meant that you had slept next to me.
After we were married, every Sunday morning you got up and you made me bubbly bacon. You also made me eggs (I really didn't like the way that you made the eggs, but I ate them anyway. I never told you that I didn't like them, because I liked the fact that you made them for me). You would make my egg soft and always put a toothpick in my egg so I would know that it was my "special" egg.
After you were gone, I don't remember how many days or hours it had been, but I opened the fridge and saw the bacon there. I cried and cried..the ugly cry (I HATE the ugly cry). My sweet, beautiful friend, Louise, called me while I was in the middle of the ugly cry. My heart was breaking. I couldn't stand the thought of the bacon in the fridge because you will never make me bacon again. While I was crying and she was listening, I looked up and she was coming through my door. She just held me while I cried and cried some more over bacon. I felt like God had sent Louise to me at just that time to help me deal with the pain of the bacon.
I visited with you at the cemetery again today. I had to meet a friend who wanted to buy one of my rebozzo's from Mexico. I met her at the Wendy's that was only a few blocks from the cemetery. The roses we left yesterday were already drooping from the heat (it was over 103 degrees today). I kneeled by your grave and cried. I was the only one in the cemetery and it felt as if my sobs echoed over the graves, the sounds of my pain wrapped around the trees and carried on the wind. It sounded to me as if my cries came from some hollow place, as if they had a life of their own that was somehow not even connected to me. I wondered what I must look like? Sitting there on my knees, crying, snot running out of my nose, feeling as if I would drown from the saliva that was forming in my mouth in waves. I felt like I needed to spit so I could keep breathing. But even though I was alone, I wouldn't spit. Even in grief I can't completely let go.
When it was over (he ugly cry), I looked around and noticed that on every single grave, the grass was brown. It was green between the graves, but every grave was brown and the browness was exactly the shape of the grave. What causes that? I wanted to stop in at the office and ask them, but I was afraid they would think I was crazy. I could look across the hill and see each and every grave. And I thought of the chemicals they put in the bodies. Did the chemical leach out of the casket, out of the vault and seep into the ground in the shape of the grave? Death is so ugly.
Sometimes the realization that you're really gone surprises me. It takes my breath away. I can go hours at a time without thinking about it, and then out of nowhere, it's there, this thought that says "my husband is dead, my husband is REALLY dead". My mind knows it, but my heart doesn't believe it. I wonder how everyone else just accepts that you are gone, because I can't. Maybe I will believe it in stages? I don't know. I don't know how this works.
Tonight while I was dispatching for mom's cab company, some guy on the phone told me he was clairvoyant. He said he sensed sadness in me and hummed and drummed and chanted and sent me blue and purple waves of energy and love. He told me my "Sweetie" sent him. It was the "Sweetie" part that got me. You called me "Sweetie". Tru told everyone "My Mawmo's name is Sweetie Fisher because that's what my Popi calls her". You would've been upset because some drunk guy calling for a cab was talking to me for so long. I half listened, half cried and half wanted to believe what he told me. All the while praying that God protect me if this guy was bringing evil into my life.
Today was Sunday. There was no bubbly bacon when I woke up. There was no egg with a toothpick in it to eat before church. But, I bought bacon. I threw away the old bacon and I bought new bacon, so that when I'm ready, I'll fry bubbly bacon for myself, and I'll make eggs the way I like them, but for now, the bacon is in the fridge and when I'm ready, I'll eat bubbly bacon without you, but I'll never eat bubbly bacon again without thinking of my Sweetie.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Cemeteries and Roses
Hi Michael,
For the first time today, Tru asked to go to the cemetery to see you. We went and bought some roses (red for me, pink for Tru).He asked if we would ride in the limousine to go there. He wanted to know where all the people were? Why wasn't everyone else visiting you today?
We walked around and looked at headstones and memorial benches and Tru "sat on Popi's lap". I just kept looking at the dates on the headstones and thinking "oh, she only had to wait a year", "oh, he waited 12 years to join his wife","that couple went together". And I wonder how long it will be before I can be with you again? And you know what? It really stinks that I have to go to a cemetery to see my husband. It just really, really stinks.
It just breaks my heart to go to the cemetery. I HATE that you are there! I want to dig myself down to you, to lay in your arms again. I showed Tru the spot where I will be buried some day and he wants to be buried on the other side of you. A four-almost 5 year old little boy shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. He shouldn't even be thinking about it.
Today he told me that he wants to die before me so that he can help you build our mansion and get it all ready for me to get there. I know he doesn't realize what he's saying, but Baby, please watch over our little guy because it just scares me so badly that I could lose you both.
He wanted to know why you didn't have a grave (a tombstone) like the others. I told him that you will have a very special one, but it takes a long time to get it made. Before we left, he pushed the stems of the roses into the dirt so that they would stand up on your grave. I said "you know what Popi would say?" he asked "what", so I did my best Popi imitation and said "he'd say, Thank you little guy". Tru kind of smiled at that and it just made me miss you even more.
Saturdays are hard. It's been 9 weeks today. Nine weeks ago this morning, it started out to be a wonderful day, by the end of the day (9 weeks ago to the hour) I was coming home from the hospital a widow. And so began the worst days of my life.
I would give almost anything to talk to you one more time, to say "goodbye". I would give almost anything to have you hold me one last time, to hear your laugh, to see you play with Tru. I would give almost anything to crawl into our bed and scoot next to you to "spoon", to put my left hand on your stomach and my right hand on your head and sigh with contentment like I used to do every night. To say "I love you, husband" one last time before I close my eyes. I would give anything to go back 9 1/2 weeks and make the worst day never happen.
Baby, how do I live without you?
For the first time today, Tru asked to go to the cemetery to see you. We went and bought some roses (red for me, pink for Tru).He asked if we would ride in the limousine to go there. He wanted to know where all the people were? Why wasn't everyone else visiting you today?
We walked around and looked at headstones and memorial benches and Tru "sat on Popi's lap". I just kept looking at the dates on the headstones and thinking "oh, she only had to wait a year", "oh, he waited 12 years to join his wife","that couple went together". And I wonder how long it will be before I can be with you again? And you know what? It really stinks that I have to go to a cemetery to see my husband. It just really, really stinks.
It just breaks my heart to go to the cemetery. I HATE that you are there! I want to dig myself down to you, to lay in your arms again. I showed Tru the spot where I will be buried some day and he wants to be buried on the other side of you. A four-almost 5 year old little boy shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. He shouldn't even be thinking about it.
Today he told me that he wants to die before me so that he can help you build our mansion and get it all ready for me to get there. I know he doesn't realize what he's saying, but Baby, please watch over our little guy because it just scares me so badly that I could lose you both.
He wanted to know why you didn't have a grave (a tombstone) like the others. I told him that you will have a very special one, but it takes a long time to get it made. Before we left, he pushed the stems of the roses into the dirt so that they would stand up on your grave. I said "you know what Popi would say?" he asked "what", so I did my best Popi imitation and said "he'd say, Thank you little guy". Tru kind of smiled at that and it just made me miss you even more.
Saturdays are hard. It's been 9 weeks today. Nine weeks ago this morning, it started out to be a wonderful day, by the end of the day (9 weeks ago to the hour) I was coming home from the hospital a widow. And so began the worst days of my life.
I would give almost anything to talk to you one more time, to say "goodbye". I would give almost anything to have you hold me one last time, to hear your laugh, to see you play with Tru. I would give almost anything to crawl into our bed and scoot next to you to "spoon", to put my left hand on your stomach and my right hand on your head and sigh with contentment like I used to do every night. To say "I love you, husband" one last time before I close my eyes. I would give anything to go back 9 1/2 weeks and make the worst day never happen.
Baby, how do I live without you?
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