Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Another Void

The light was off last night.  My neighbor and friend Kay passed away Sunday evening.  Another friend, another part of my life, taken too early.  Another hole in my heart at an already difficult time as I relive all the events of a year ago.  Rest in peace my dear friend.  May God give your children strength as they deal with your passing.  For as I know all too well, as much as I grieve your loss, it is a hundred times more difficult for them.  I will miss you my dear friend.  Tell Ed I said hello and that I'm doing okay.


Saturday, March 22, 2014

My Neighbor; My Friend

As I go to bed each evening, I look out my window and see your light on.  It comforts me to know you are there and at home.  You've lived next door for about 20 years.  Always there but not intrusive.  We watched our children grow up.  We were "good" neighbors; no fences between us.  In fact, we have a small path between the trees and shrubs so we can easily pass to each other's home.  You and Ed were always close.  Stopping to chat while working in the yard.  You would kibitz over what trees you might want to cut down between our properties or whatever other topic might come up.  You were there when we had the gas grill fire and Ed was burned.  And when Dan cut his foot, you were the one Ed called to come see if it needed stitches.  An added benefit of having an ER nurse living next door.  I remember how we laughed and enjoyed the evening when our neighbor Dave had his block party. We were good neighbors, watching each other's house when one of us went away.

And you were there when Ed's health declined to provide me with your medical opinion and advise.  And after he passed, it was you and I who stopped to chat when we were out in the yard working.  You gave me advise on when to plant grass seed and when to fertilize.  You shared your experience as a single woman taking care of a home by yourself.  You are older and wiser and a wealth of information and experience and you are my friend.

We have not talked much since your diagnosis.  Just short discussions about the snow, about the Winter Olympics, about how you have chosen hospice instead of an aggressive treatment plan.  I've delivered your paper and shoveled your walk several times, but your children are now there to care for you.  When I call, I speak to your daughter because you are unable to talk with me.

I think of you often and it breaks my heart that you will not be there when I'm out working in my yard when spring arrives.  We have become close this past year and why are you being taken away from me?  I am sad.  I am angry.  But I am still comforted each evening when I see the light on and know you are still there and with us.  But I fear and dread the evening when I will look out and the light will no longer shine.  For I know that day is coming soon and I will miss you, my dear friend and neighbor.  Why has death decided to come visit my family, friends, and neighbors.  I wish he would leave us alone.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Appreciating the day; appreciating new friends

As I sit here, looking out the window, some light snow flurries are falling.  It feels so peaceful.  I have clothed myself in Ed's clothes this morning.  A light pair of gray fleece pants; one of his gray, slightly tattered, henley shirts; his black sweatshirt; and even a pair of his Hanes socks.  They are comfortable and warm.  But today's project is to paint the bathroom so that's the primary reason.  I don't really have clothes that I can ruin with paint.  So Ed's clothes are double duty--providing me with comfort and wrapping me in his love while also not worrying if I get paint on them.

In all the years we were married, I remember painting two rooms with Ed--our living room and Dan's bedroom.  The rest he took care of.  He enjoyed it and my job was to stay out of his way.  It was a good deal.  Yesterday I figured out how to remove all the bathroom fixtures and even removed a molly screw that had been in the wall since we bought the house.  And aren't you impressed that I even know what a molly screw is?  Okay, I Googled that...and I Googled how to remove it from the wall.  Took some effort but I got it out.

My life is so pathetic now though because I get excited about spackling.  I guess it's not really so much about spackling but seeing how I can fix things and I can actually see the end result.  And my emotions extend to being proud of myself for figuring this stuff out to the opposite of the spectrum of being sad that I even need to do this.  Ed is supposed to be here to do these things.  Dammit!

Last night our Support group got together for dinner.  Although we no longer "meet" we do still get together for a potluck dinner every 4-6 weeks.  I am blessed by these new friends.  It's nice that we can enjoy a meal and play games and laugh together while also being able to share if we're sad, scared, or whatever the emotion may be.  We talk about our "progress" in terms of picking up the pieces that our loved ones left behind and we congratulate each other on our small accomplishments.  As we all have approached, or will be approaching, the one-year anniversary of the passing of our loved ones, we are there to support each other in non-judgmental ways.

We fear the future and cherish the past and we help each other take each day as it comes.  As we look back a year ago, none of us knew how our lives would have changed and we realize that we have no idea or control over what our lives will look like a year from now.  So we try to enjoy the moment and cherish each day.  For this life lesson we have all learned the hard way.  We enjoyed our time together last night and made plans for our next get together.  And we remain thankful for the special people in our lives.

And again, it makes me sad and thankful at the same time.  For a year ago, my best friend was Ed and the person I spent my time with was Ed.  But today, there are now 7 people that I didn't even know a year ago, who have become my friends and my support.  I appreciate and cherish them all but I would trade them in an instant to have Ed back and I know they would as well if they could have their loved one back.  But we can't and although it saddens me, I am thankful for them and hope as time marches on, we will be able to share and celebrate together some good in our lives.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Remembering Mike

And here we are...reliving every moment and every day of a year ago.  I have dreaded this approaching timeframe--the period of March-May when my life turned upside down.  The events that unfolded would change my life and throw me into a tailspin, throwing my entire life off course in ways that I could never have imagined.

Saturday, March 9th, 2013 was a sunny day and I look back at my blog, this blog, and how I shared a photo of the bloom on our Hibiscus.  It was bright and made me smile and was, to me, a sign that spring was coming soon.  Such a good day.  We were changing the clocks that evening and losing an hour, just like we'll do tonight, so I was looking forward to sleeping in, with Ed, and having a relaxing Sunday.

But the phone rang and awoke me and the shocking, unbelieveable voice of my sister said I needed to get to my mother's house.  My immediate reaction was something happened to my mother, but then she said Michael's name instead and I could not wrap my head around what in the world could possibly have happened.  I couldn't get dressed fast enough; I couldn't believe it.  And I remember Ed getting out of bed to go with me and I remember clearly telling him he didn't have to go.  He hadn't been feeling well and had been very tired, and I told him he should stay in bed.  But he didn't.  My loving husband who was always there for me, got dressed quickly and drove me to my mothers and stayed with us that day.

And this sticks out to me as well because it was clear he was struggling physically at that time and we naively thought it was temporary and we could work through it.   But, as we know, it wasn't temporary.  It was a battle that Ed was not going to win.

And so today I wonder what my brother was doing a year ago. Probably working--he loved his family at Mission Cantina--and that evening he shared a dinner with my mother like they've done so many times before.  And they laughed and had a "normal" day.

I will never understand why my brother was taken from us.  I am a logical person and so I try to find reasoning behind events.  We all know Ed had cancer and that he wasn't going to live to an old age.  However, he was doing so well and we continued to hold out hope that we would tame this beast.  And although we hadn't a clue at the time, cancer ended up taking Larry's life as well.  But there was nothing physically wrong with my brother.  He was here one moment, gone the next.  It was not a sudden accident.  How does a seemingly healthy person just drop dead from a massive heart attack? I know it happens all the time, but not to my brother, not to my family.

I don't get it and I know I never will.  What I do know is that my heart breaks that my brother is not here and he left my mother alone. They had a special relationship and us girls found comfort knowing Mike was there living with Mom in case she got herself into trouble (which she could easily do).  This was his role in our family and he was supposed to do this until the day she passed at a ripe, old age.  Mike was not supposed to die.

But he did.  And Ed's health continued to deteriorate from this point forward.  And so today and this weekend, I mourn Mike's passing.  I love you Mike, even when you were a pain in my butt!  You were and will always be my brother.  Thank you for reminding us to live each day as if it were our last, with no regrets.



My Story

Lately I find myself moving through the days, being with others, laughing, and living life. Days pass quickly and grief, sadness, and feelin...