Remembrance Services

On Sunday, November 17th, I attended a holiday remembrance service put on by Beers & Story Funeral Home.  It was a lovely service.  There was a level of comfort in knowing we were all there to remember and grieve the loss of a loved one as we approach the holiday time.  As Wendy spoke words of comfort and we listened to beautiful, meditative music, our tears flowed.  And we were comforted knowing it was okay to cry.  That we were all there because we had lost a loved one and today was an opportunity to remember them and grieve together.  They were tears of loss, of hurt, of shared sorrow.  It was a small group of us but in that small group I met three other woman who had lost their husbands this year.  There was comfort in sharing our loss with each other and that awful bond that we now shared.  A light touch of our hand, sharing about the death of our spouse, comforted each of each.

I am so touched by all that Beers & Story did as part of this ceremony.  As they read the name of our loved one, we each got up and lit a candle in their memory...one-by-one.  So poignant.  They gifted us with a plant with the name of our loved one attached as well as a guardian angel pin (which I wear everyday), some rosemary, and pamphlets to help us deal with the holidays.  I never expected such a moving ceremony and such generosity.

On Sunday, November 24th, my mother and I attended a Tree Lighting at Cooley Dickinson Hospital where I made a donation in memory of Ed, Michael, and Larry.  You may recall that the 24th was a freezing cold day with a strong wind.  We stayed outside briefly while a couple woman spoke and then the lights were turned on in the healing garden.  This ceremony, I regretfully say, was not very moving or touching.  The best thing about the day is that my mother and I went out to dinner afterwards at Viva Pasta in Northampton and had a delicious meal!  Oh well, the donation was for a good cause.

The plant from Beers&Story

Trees of Love and Thanksgiving Board in the Main entrance at Cooley Dickinson Hospital

Recognition of the three "lights" I added

One Day at a Time

It's been a week since I last posted.  I used to post every day.  Of course, when I posted every day it was to keep you informed on how Ed was doing and then how I was doing after Ed passed.  I guess the fact that I don't feel it necessary to post every day is a good thing.

I still find the days a mix of emotions.  The excitement in my life this past week included trapping 7 mice and also getting gutters installed.  I realize I'll do okay taking care of the house.  It's a lot of work, but I'm doing it and will continue to do it.  And I don't find it as overwhelming as I did several months ago.  I'm learning and I'm smart, so I will learn about these things.  Little by little.

But what I can't learn and what I can't adjust to is missing Ed.  I can take care of business.  But when my mind goes to the fact that I'm alone with no one to share my accomplishments, my thoughts, my feelings...my heart continues to break.  I know, I hear those of you reading this saying "we're here, you can share with us", but it's not the same.  I want Ed which just reminds me how he was my best friend, the love of my life, and I miss him so much.

I am constantly replaying Ed's final days in my head and wondering why I didn't take the time with him to better prepare myself for him not being here.  But I realize, and I know I keep reminding myself of this, that it was about him in those final weeks and days, not about me.  And I'm thankful for this blog, because I can go back and read about those days and I am reminded how he was dying and to ask him to stay, for my benefit, would have been selfish.

So it appears the mice are gone (for now) and I have cleaned up all the leaves in the yard, and I've got new gutters installed.  The house and yard are being maintained.  I make myself lengthy to-do lists and I work through them, checking things off.  I can't say the same, though, regarding my emotions, my grief, and the emptiness in the house and in my heart...  One day at a time, sweet Jesus, one day at a time...

Bah Humbug

I wish I were a bear and could go hibernate and not come out until Spring.  Or can I fast forward past the holidays?  Although Ed has been gone almost 7 months, Thanksgiving and Christmas will be the first "big" holidays without him.

How can I get up Thanksgiving morning and dress for dinner at my mother's without Ed being here doing the same.  Picking out what we're going to wear.  Ironing his shirt.  How nice he looked when he dressed up.  The smell of his cologne.  The person who always sat next to me and shared glances and whispers.  Who helped pack-up leftovers at the end of the day and drove me home after a nice day with family, just enjoying time together.

Yes, I am thankful that Dan will be home and we will be together.  Poor, Dan.  He carries the burden of the void  left by Ed.  I am thankful that he is an adult who can now bear this burden, but also sorry that he even needs to.

And then comes Christmas.  All the preparations.  All the decisions.  Do I really want to decorate--by myself--just to take everything down again--by myself?  Every decoration, every ornament will have a memory of Ed.  Every tradition will just remind me of what is no longer.  Yes, I have cherished memories but they are not yet comforting but rather magnify my loss.

I'm told I can do things differently this year.  I can make changes.  I can make choices.  I can just say "no".  But, really, can I?  Can I just say "no" I'm not acknowledging these holidays.  That I'm just staying home, away from everyone, and wishing the days away?  Although those of us who grieve as told we can do whatever we want, society says otherwise.

So I have decisions to make.  What will I do?  Will I bake the many dozen cookies I used to bake and give away as gifts?  If I don't, what will I do as gifts?  Will I put up the tree or pick candles in the window?  Will I send out cards?  Will I buy gifts for family and friends?  I wonder what they would all think if I just said "no".  For I have had to make way too many decisions this year, why do I need to make more, by myself?

For I do not feel generous.  I do not feel like celebrating.  And although I know, deep down inside, I should be thankful for things in my life, it's even difficult for me to do that.

And this may explain why the sadness often comes throughout the day lately and every night I cry myself to sleep.  For I try to pretend, but you can't fool grief.

Contented

Since I usually write when my emotions are the strongest and I'm upset, I thought I'd do something different and post this morning.  I am sitting here enjoying a cup of coffee, feeling contented, enjoying the morning.  The house is quiet and Dan is upstairs still sleeping.  I'm looking out the window and the yard is beautiful with the leaves all cleaned up.  Dan and I put away the patio furniture yesterday and finished putting storms up.  We are getting ready for winter and I'm ready to hunker down.

It has been a very busy 6 months since Ed has passed.  There's been so much to do and taking care of the house and the yard has been a lot of work.  I'm looking forward to taking a break from tending gardens and mowing lawns.  Of course, I'm also hoping for a mild winter so I'm not spending all my time shoveling or clearing the driveway!  Once again, I was so spoiled by Ed.  I shoveled the decks and steps and Ed took care of everything else.  On those snowy mornings, I would leave for work and when I got home, the driveway and walkways were magically all cleared.  I will just need to adjust my life accordingly now.

I still tend to worry about being unable to do things or doing things wrong.  As I was putting in storms on the 2nd floor, I was nervous about dropping the window.  But then I asked myself "what's the worse thing that will happen?"  I will drop it, it will break and then I'll have Grover fix it for me!  Not so terrible.  I also worry about having a bad winter.  I sold Ed's truck and plow, but I got the driveway paved so that I can use the snow blower Ed bought last winter.  But then I fret--it's a big driveway.  Can I really clear it all with the snow blower?  What if it's a bad winter?  But then I need to calm myself down because I know several people with plows and if I need to, I can call them and they'll be here to help.

And what I realize is that I'm learning it's okay to ask others for help.  It's not a sign of failure or weakness.  I also know there are people who want to help and actually appreciate it when I do finally ask and they have a way to help me.

So I'm learning.  Learning new skills; learning new equipment; learning not to fret so much; learning how to accept help from others.  I'm getting there.  And I know the coming months will be difficult with the holidays.  But for today I will be content...

Sundays

I try to find patterns.  What might be triggering what I'm feeling?

The latest pattern I've realized is that I tend to break down in tears on Sunday evenings.  The past few weeks, it was as I ended my day and went to bed.  The grief enveloped me and crying was so deep that it hurt physically.  Eventually the crying would stop and I would fall asleep.  But what a way to end a weekend or start the workweek.  As I arose on Monday morning, the sadness was heavy and I carried it with me throughout the day.

What was it about this weekly ritual?  I knew I didn't like it so if I figured it out, could I control it?  After giving it some thought, I think I would attribute this to two things.  One, Sundays were always family day.  We would tend to do all our errands and chores on Saturday so that Sundays could truly be a day of rest.  Sure, there would still be some things that had to get done.  But Ed and I typically stayed home on Sundays and they were quieter days.  At this time of year, Ed usually had something on the stove or in the oven for dinner and then would sit in his recliner watching football.  My weekends now are about getting things done.  I still like to have one day on the weekend where I stay home.  The difference now is that I'm usually busy with chores and, of course, my day is spend alone.  Not with my family.

The other thing I realize is that I'm been working hard to take care of our home.  I look back over the past 6 months and all those things I've taken care of.  And I try to be proud of what I've been able to accomplish and say to myself "Look, Look at all you've done".  And so at the end of my weekends, when I've once again worked through a long list of to do's and feel good about what I've accomplished, there is also a part of me that is reminded that this is now my life.  And I become angry that Ed is not here to take care of things or to take care of me.  I don't want to be strong and I don't want others to be proud of how I'm taking care of things.  I want Ed back.  This is not the life I signed on for.

I wanted to grow old with Ed. And the thought of spending my Sundays alone for 10, 20, 30 or more years breaks my heart.  I wanted us to have those quiet Sundays, with dinner on the stove, forever.  I guess the reason Sundays are so difficult is because I do slow down enough to allow grief to catch up with me.  During the week I'm busy with work and whatever might be on my calendar in the evening.  But by Sunday, I've slowed down.

The last few days have been difficult.  On Sunday afternoon, I found myself sitting in the upstairs hallway, crying out for Ed, banging my fists against the wall.  I cried out to him, but he did not come up the stairs to see what was the matter or to comfort me which only made it worse.  When I told someone this, they asked if I stomped my feet too?  I thought that was an odd comment but I take no offense but they don't understand grief.  Did I stomp my feet?  No, and that is because stomping your feet is a childlike response.  Something you do because you don't get your way.  And what I'm feeling is not childlike.  This is grief.  A pain so deep that you don't stomp your feet.  Instead, you slip to the floor and hug your yourself and wish the world would swallow you up.  For there is nothing that can make it better.  And so you cry and yell at no one in particular and you know there is no way to make it better.  That the pain is real and the grief is real and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can be done to make it go away.

Eventually, I find I begin to reason with myself and I laugh at some of the irony of the thoughts I'm having.  And I wipe my tears and get up and get back to the task at hand...whatever it might be when grief interrupted me.

Grief is hanging around a bit more this week.  I'm not sure why.  I wish it would just stick to Sundays...

Her

I dreaded the moment I would see her.  I wondered what I would say.  On one hand, I wanted to lay into her, telling her how I could never forgive her for her actions, or rather, her non-actions.  But there she was and I could barely say anything.  A simple "hello" was difficult to get out but I did it after several minutes of avoiding saying anything.  In the past, I would have made small talk and done the "right" thing and been friendly.  But I could not be friendly.  I could not even fake it.

Instead, I went outside and sat by myself.  Yes, there were others around me, but I was alone.  In an environment where I felt out of place among people I barely knew.  In the past I would have clung closely to Ed.  And I realize so clearly how I was never alone with him.  Even if we went and chatted with different groups of people, there was always that home base, that person to connect to and be with.  But instead I sat there not part of any group or any conversation.  Just listening to others and pretending to have a good time.

As we all went inside for dinner, I again sat alone.  She sat alone as well.  But I could not sit with her.  The gap was there in the past, but I always made the effort, for Ed.  But she wasn't there for Ed in life.  Not after he was diagnosed, not when he was in the hospital in his final days, and not even in his death.  And she was never there for me and Dan and with Ed's passing, she wasn't there again.  At the lowest possible point of my life, she still could not extend herself in our grief.  Did she grieve?  I can't say with any certainty that she did.  Not for Ed at least.  And if she did, she grieved alone but that was her decision and her fault and so I do not feel sorry for her.  It was her choice...

As a Christian, I am taught to forgive.  But I cannot.  I do not know how a person can do this to another.  And although I wish last night I could have said all the things that I felt, I'm not quite sure what that might have been.  Would I have been direct and angrily ask "how could she?" or rather be curt and simply ask "how can you live with yourself"?  But I didn't do either of these things.  Instead I kept my distance.  I could not bear to even be near her.

It took all my energy to simply say "hello" and then later "goodbye".  In the past, I would extend myself to give a hug, but there was no hug last night.  I could barely look at her never mind be so fake in giving a hug.  And on one hand I'm disappointed in myself because I wanted her to feel the hurt and feel the anger but I would not give her that benefit.  And as she wiped tears from her eyes, I knew those tears were not for Ed and that continues to break my heart...not for her, but for Ed.

But as she sat there, I wondered if she ever realized how wrong her lack of action was; how unfeeling and hurtful she is.  And it is at this moment as I write this, that I commit myself to never be like that.  For it is the people in my life and the love and care I extend to them that is important and will be my legacy when it is my time to pass.  I never want to be like her and I always, always want to protect Ed, even in death, from her.

I was always impressed with how Ed rose above this behavior.  He always made sure we sent cards or gifts on every holiday and birthday, even though she never reciprocated or even acknowledging the gift.  If anything, she taught Ed how not to be and for that I need to be grateful because Ed showered me with love and thoughtfulness and never, for one moment, did I ever doubt his love and care for me.

And, so, because Ed would want me to, I will continue to send cards but signing them with "love" is not possible at this time.  I'm hoping with time, I will learn forgiveness.  I doubt if it will ever come.  Will I bite my tongue next time?  Most likely because I'm not a mean person.  And I believe in doing unto others as you would want done to you.  So I will continue to rise above and I will be there next time, for Ed, for Dan, and for those there that I do care about and, at some level, care for me.  In spite of her...

A Dream

I had a dream last night and Ed was there and I remembered the dream when I awoke.  It was a dream I had in the morning, just before waking.  I was so thankful for it that the first thing I did upon waking was to focus on the memory to retain as much detail as I could before thoughts of the day began to wash it away.  Then I thanked Ed and God for bringing me this dream.

Now it wasn't something moving or mystical like in Ghost.  Parts of it seemed real and current.  Other parts did not.  There was one part where I think we all were at the beach (although it didn't look like any beach cottage we've ever been at).  It was time to pack-up and of course Ed had his own pace and routine for this that didn't flow with the rest of us, but that memory is less familiar.  There's another part of that, that I can't recall.  I know there's something I dreamt about, but I can't recall any detail.

But the clearer details are related to the following two scenarios.

Ed was outside getting into the Monte Carlo to start it, wanting to make sure it still started.  I told him I had been starting it while he was away.  I did not recognize where we were but that darn Monte was still there.  And then I remember looking towards the left, which was a side entrance to whatever house we were at.  Outside the entrance were a couple old chairs--more like visiting room chairs versus comfortable living room chairs.  They were old and needed repair and I asked where they came from.  I soon realized these were "treasures" that Ed found and brought home.  And my reaction was that I had just gotten rid of all his "treasures" and he wasn't going to start saving this stuff again.  And part of me was touched because it was Ed and part of me was annoyed and thought "here we go again".

The final part of the dream had me and Ed standing at the edge of the yard watering the new grass I was growing.  This was in front of our house and the place was familiar.  I told him I sold his van and truck and so now he didn't have any vehicle to drive.  He asked me what I got for them ($$ wise) and when I told him he was pleased and that was better than he had hoped.

And that was it...  Visions and conversations about practical things.  Part of it I could not relate to; other parts I could.  But it was simple...kinda like me and Ed.  And a little bit of a reminder of the things that Ed did that annoyed me.  I realize over the past 6 months, all I can see and remember are all the ways he was perfect to me and for me.  But I know we weren't perfect.  There were ways we both annoyed each other (although I always joked with him that there could not possibly be anything annoying about me!).  You can't be with someone for over 30 years and have everything be perfect.

So it makes me smile that part of this dream was Ed telling me I did good and saw that I was taking care of things and then part of it was a reminder of those little annoyances.  The annoyances that I would take back in a heartbeat.

Observations and Coincidences

Dan and I used to joke that big brother was watching us...or rather watching what we were watching on TV.  Coincidentally, we noticed on several occasions how the commercials on TV seemed aligned to things going on in our life.

When Dan was getting ready to go to college, it seemed we continually saw ads for shopping for dorm life and preparing for college.  When we were planning to go on a cruise, it seemed every other commercial was for Norwegian Cruise Line or Carnival.  Ads regarding cancer treatments and colon cancer began to appear with more frequency.  And when Ed was experiencing digestive issues, Mirolax and Ducolax ads were frequently shown.

It's an odd observation and I'm sure it's actually the fact that none of these topics caught my attention previously.  They were about subjects or topics that I was not familiar with.  So maybe I just tuned them out when I couldn't relate?

But this odd "alignment" or observation or whatever you want to call it continues since Ed has passed.

I won't tell you how many times I saw the ad for Beers&Story funeral home earlier this year (haven't seen it since).

Newspaper articles also seem to follow this pattern.  Several months ago there was an article in the paper about women who are single and decide to live together to provide both financial but also physical and emotional support to each other as they get older.  (I'm hoping that's not me!)

Articles about cancer and hospice and bereavement are running rampant.  There was even an article in the paper yesterday about "death cafes" where people can go and talk about death and dying--the taboo topics in our society.

But there are other odd coincidences.

Every year when I go to the beach, I grab a book to read.  I love Sandra Brown, in particular her romance novels (yes, I just divulged to the world that I read romance novels...oh well!).  The problem is I never can remember what I've read or haven't read (yes, because romance novels are all pretty much the same).  So what I do is just pick out one that was written recently and that is what I did this summer and ordered one of her recent books from Amazon.  How ironic that the book ended up being about a widow who lost her husband unexpectedly.  Really?

And every song on the radio seems to be about loss or the words have such strong meaning to me--Cups (Pitch Perfect's "When I'm Gone"); Pink's "Just Give Me a Reason"; and in particular Rihanna's "Stay".  I turn off the radio since I can't listen to them.

Even TV shows...  A recent Glee episode had Kurt and his father talking about the passing of Kurt's mother.  His father said he would give 50 years of late-night arguments about trivial matters to have 10 more minutes with her next to him and, when it comes down to it, we only get a few days with our loved ones.  Even last night, Criminal Minds--a show I rarely watch--dealt with Hotch undergoing surgery and during this time having "visions" about his late wife.  And as they were parting she says to him "Happiness is a choice" and she proceeds to tell him he should be happy; he has a right to be happy.

There are so many other coincidences and they all don't come to mind right now.  But when they occur, I may pause, I may laugh at the irony of it all, or I may ponder...such as last night.  Am I not choosing to be happy?  I'd rather think that it's just very difficult right now to fathom happiness and what that looks like without Ed.  But I digress...

The point of this posting is to just share the odd coincidences in life.  I'm not sure what it means or if there is any meaning at all...rather it's simply an observation.

Six Months

Another one of those stupid marks in time.
Ed left me 6 months ago today.
And the last 6 months have been a blur yet I can't fathom how it's been 6 months.
And it breaks my heart because half a year has already passed and I guess it's real...
that he's not coming back and this is not some bad dream.
I keep hoping I will wake up and find that this has been some terrible joke.
But I pinch myself and know it's not a dream.

I have felt such pain, more pain in the past 6 months, than I have felt in my lifetime.
And it hurts even more because Ed is not here to hold me in his arms and comfort me and make it all better for me.

But I think back over the 6 months and I recognize changes.
Those nights when I awoke frequently, gasping for breath or feeling as though my heart had stopped beating.  I truly felt I was falling into an abyss...

My forgetfulness and carelessness is much less or at least I'd like to think so.  It has not gone away, but the fog that I lived in those first few months is beginning to lift.
I guess these are all signs that time is passing and I'm somehow learning to live each day without the love of my life.
Which just makes me sad.

There are days when I'm productive since I have no other choice.  Ed is not here to care for the yard or fix things around the house or to just simply share the chores of life.  I now must do these things myself, alone.  I am learning to juggle the demands of home and work--by myself.  It can be difficult but I see many others doing it and so must I.  So I keep myself busy with the busyness of the day.  I go about things like a robot, distracted by the fall TV shows.

Then BAM!  Without warning, grief smacks me up along side of my head.  I guess Grief doesn't like it when you ignore it for too long.  There doesn't have to be a specific trigger.  It just happens and I become gripped by the depth of hopelessness, aloneness, and heartbreak.

I try to reason with myself.  This is life.  This is death.  I need to focus on and count the blessings I have had my entire life.
But it doesn't help.  I never wanted this (who does?).  I never prepared for this (who can?).
I wish for a miracle....for Ed to speak to me.  For Ed to appear to me like in the movies.
But this isn't the movies.  This is my life.  And it sucks.
 
I like to think Ed is proud that I am taking care of things--figuring things out and doing what I need.
But then it breaks my heart because, if only I did these things while he was still here, then he would see what I can do and he could tell me himself he is proud of me.
But I didn't...he had his chores and I had mine.  We were a team and we accomplished all that had to be done by sharing the load.  And now I have no one to share the load with.

Is my grief any less than it was 6 months ago?
No...just different.  Tears still come at unexpected moments and not always in private.
Before Ed passed I would have considered myself a happy person who liked to cheer up others with a smile, a laugh.  I truly felt life was good and always found the glass half full.  Do I tend to see the glass half empty now?  No, I just rather throw the damn glass against the wall instead!

For I miss Ed and grieve the loss of him as well as the loss of Mike and Larry, too.
And I'm angry because wasn't losing just one of them enough?  Why two of them?  Why all three of them?  Why, why, why??  I don't understand and I'm angry at life in general.

I do not see the joy in each day.
I do not find happiness in the sunrise or the ocean or the changing colors of the leaves.  Those things that I used to gaze upon and appreciate.
I do not feel that Life Is Good.
Life sucks.
There are moments with friends and family that I enjoy.  We laugh and I am distracted by my life.
But these times also make me miss Ed because I want to share these moments with him.  We shared everything.  Our lives, our love, our thoughts.  We were one.

There are times I look around the house, our house, the home we built together.  And I appreciate that I have the warmth of this building and its rooms that are filled with memories.  Memories that we created, here together, with Dan.
And I'm thankful for all Ed gave me.
And I'm thankful for the memories.
But the memories only bring back the emptiness and loneliness and massive void that exists in my life.
I did not want to live my life without Ed.
I did not want to be alone.
I did not want to prove to the world how strong I could be.

I am thankful for the friends and family I have.
I hate that I've made new friends.  Friends that have come into my life because of our common grief due to the loss of a loved one.  I know they understand and don't take it personally, for if they had a choice, they wouldn't want to know me either.  It's our common tragedy and pain that has brought us together.

And so, at 6 months, I continue to try to find a rhythm in my life.
There is not happiness.
There is just being.
Because life pretty much sucks...
Even 6 months later...

Wasn't So Bad

I know you're all wondering how yesterday's wedding was.  All-in-all it was good.  I realize I am truly blessed with some great friends who watch out for me and make me feel included.

As I sat in the church with my friend Lynn and her family, I thought about Ed and how he would have gone to the Church with me even though he'd prefer not to.  And he would have fussed with his tie beforehand.  Although I thought he looked nice in a suit and tie, he was not comfortable wearing those.  We would have enjoyed sharing small comments at observations we both would make (like the guy in front of us who obviously had on a new suit coat but hadn't removed the stitching on the flaps).

Ed would have enjoyed hanging out with Terry and the open bar.  The two of them having their beer and joking about whatever topic might come up.  I can just see them standing there, quietly making comments to each other, and then laughing out loud.

The moments of Ed coming to the forefront of my mind were at various moments throughout the day.

• When I came downstairs all dressed and there was no one for me to ask "how do I look?"
• When Hilary and Bryan exchanged vows.  So young, so innocent, so full of thoughts of a future together.  How the words "in sickness and in health" I remember saying but not truly understanding the "sickness" part.  And they didn't use "until death do us part".
• When the priest asked all married couples to raise their hands to pray over the couple--guess that doesn't include me anymore.
• When they did the married couples dance and the couple that was last had been married like 60 years.  How lucky for them.
• When they talked about Hilary and Bryan having many years together and growing old together.  Ed and I didn't grow old together--at least I don't think we were old.

But overall the evening was good.  I remembered to put in my purse those things I needed and never thought about in the past because Ed was always there--cash for drinks and my AAA and debit/credit card in case of emergency.  I drove myself even though I had offers to ride with others.  But I needed the flexibility to leave when I wanted or needed to.  I had no idea how the evening would unfold and how I was going to do.

They seated me at a table with people I knew from choir and church so it was comfortable and the conversation flowed.  The fact that I was #9 at a table for 8 did not escape me.  Damn.

But I was certainly among friends and they made me feel included and it was a lovely evening.  I was careful about what I drank and when I was ready to leave, I was sure not to walk alone to the parking garage.  I just had to be smart.

I stayed until just about the end (probably left 5 minutes early).  It was a lovely evening and I'm glad I went.  I know Ed would have had a good time as well.

Going to wedding alone.  Done.  Check.  Success!

Weddings Can Suck

Today I'll be attending a wedding and I have mixed feelings.

Last weekend there was a wedding at our church and when I arrived the wedding party was outside having pictures taken.  It wasn't the bride and groom who caught my attention, but rather the parents of the bride.  They were dressed so nicely and were so happy.  And I found I was both envious and angry that they both were there to share this special day with their daughter.  Do they realize how lucky they are to be together and to be so happy?

There was another wedding at our church yesterday and to see the young couple made me smile.  But then at the same time I was heartbroken because, once again, both parents of the groom were there.  And I'd like to think they know how lucky they are because this family has had to deal with health issues and so the fact that they were all together to share this special day, I'm quite sure they did not take for granted.

But I can't help but draw my eyes to the parents...to both of them--together--to be able to share this special day with one another.  That I will never have.  Yes, Ed and I shared a lot of special days together.  But Ed won't be here if/when Dan ever marries and/or has children.  Of course, this saddens me.  It also causes me to turn my attention to my mother.  One of my sisters married months after my father passed.  How my mother ever got through that time period or that day, I'll never know.  Here I am having trouble and it's not my own family.  Worse yet, though, none of us knew what she was going through at that time.  She continued to protect her children and I'm sure didn't want to ruin the day for the rest of us.  But regardless, what I've since learned, is that we would not have understood anyhow.  You cannot understand the depth of grief when losing your spouse until you've experienced it.  But, today, unfortunately, I now understand and I'm sorry that she had to get through that day by herself.

I was never an envious person.  I was happy with what I had and was happy for others for what they had.  But I am envious of these parents who, together, are sharing and celebrating this special day with their child.  And today I will miss Ed as I am surrounded by couples who will be attending the wedding.  It seems to me that there are couples everywhere and our society showcases them.  Commercials on TV show couples or families with children.  The Gazette recently had pictures showcasing the Quabbin--there was one picture of the tower and one of fishing--the rest were of couples enjoying time together at the Quabbin.  Damn them!

Now don't get me wrong.  I am happy for these newlyweds for they have found each other and I hope they share the type of love that Ed and I had.  And I know I was blessed to find this true love of my life and that we loved so deeply.  Some people never find this.  There are plenty of people who never marry or whose marriages end in divorce.  But I was blessed to have found true, deep love that is eternal.  And I wish this for these newlyweds and so that does make me happy for them.  But I can still be sad for me.

Happy Birthday Ed

Today would have been Ed's 61st birthday.  Would have been...  But he will forever be 60, never turning another year older.

I remember being so leery of last year's birthday.  My father passed when he was 60 and I hoped and prayed, after Ed was diagnosed with cancer, that he would make it to at least 60.  I always thought my father died young and I wanted Ed to make it to at least my father's age.  And when Ed turned 60 last year, I sighed with a bit of relief.  And I was so thankful.

So thankful that I forgot to pray that he make it to 61. How short sighted of me.

I've been doing "okay" lately...  I never say "good" because I'm not good.  I'm learning to cope and balance work and home and figuring out how to keep up with everything that I now need to do by myself.  And I'm adjusting to living alone.

Except just when I think I'm doing okay, it hits me like a ton of bricks--I'm alone.  And Ed's not here.  And I have such a hard time grasping the fact that he is actually gone.  That this person who so defined who I was for over half of my life is no longer here.  That person who was always here and always in my life is just gone.  And there's nothing I can do to bring him back to me.  That his life lives on in pictures, in my heart, and in my memories.  And that's it.

He took such great care of me for over 30 years.  He provided me with a home that is filled with many, many years of memories.  And he has left me the tools (figuratively and literally) to take care of things without him.  And now I must stand on my own.  And I know he's equipped me well but it doesn't mean I have to like it.  I never wanted to live without him.  I married him for life and thought we would grow old together.

Instead, I turned a year older this year and he did not.  We are no longer 10 years apart in age...  And I know in another 10 years, I will end up being older than him.  And that breaks my heart.

Happy Birthday Ed!  I love you forever and ever.  Til we meet again...

An Uncertain Future

I miss my husband.  But you're not surprised by this.

Each day I go about my business.  Going to work, coming home, getting things done.  And I realize I'm adjusting to the emptiness in the house and that I "live alone".  And when I stop and remind myself, it scares me.  That somehow Ed is not here and has not been here for over 5 months.  And my life is going on and I'm navigating this new world that is so foreign to me.

Someone told me yesterday that they are proud of how I'm trying to make adjustments and figure this all out and that comment made me feel empty and uncertain.  I know they meant it as a compliment and I appreciate the intent.  But I am saddened to realize what I'm doing each day is indeed trying to figure out who I am and what my life is supposed to be...without Ed.

Part of that scares me.  I have never been alone.  It also bothers me that I am living each day and adjusting.  The quiet in the house is less uncomfortable.  Eating dinner alone, is now more routine.  I know from your perspective these adjustments are good.  But internally, I know it means I'm adjusting to living without Ed and it breaks my heart.  I know I have no other choice and I get it now--this is life.

People die and those of us left behind are supposed to just carry on.  It happens every day to many, many people.  And I look at pictures of Ed and that is all that remains...the pictures and the memories.  And there are things I don't remember and I'm afraid of when I'll forget things about Ed.  The memory of his touch, his kiss, his voice...these are already fading.  And that scares me.

I am thankful that I do have a lot of pictures.  We were a family that had cameras at every event and took pictures of everything.  And even though Ed hated having his picture taken, I do have a lot of him so I know I need to appreciate that fact.

Ed also had a memory where he could recall the smallest of details.  There wasn't anything he forgot.  I was doing laundry last night and there is a wall between the laundry room and Ed's workshop and I'm quite sure Ed put up that wall after we bought the house.  But I honestly don't remember and the only person who would remember would be Ed.  There are no pictures and Dan was not born yet (or he was very young).  And the fact that I can't answer this stupid question in my head, even though it really doesn't matter, bothers me and I wonder, and fear, what else I won't remember tomorrow, 5 years from now, 10 years from now, 20 years...

I sit here today and say "I wish I videotaped Ed" and "I wish I had him tell me everything he remembers from his childhood, from our life, from his time at the golf course, so I could write it all down" because right now I'm trying to put my life in order and his as well and it's the practical thing to do.  But I had time with Ed before he passed and we had over 3 years since he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and we never did that.  I did have the time and I realize we didn't focus on him dying but rather living life.  And I don't have regrets about how we spent our time.  Would I have done a bit more to "prepare"....yes.  But what I do know and what I have learned is that no one, absolutely no one, can prepare you for losing your spouse and best friend.  No one can explain the grief and the emotions and the stages you move through.

The grief of Ed's passing is less and I cry less due to the pain of him being gone.  However, the tears now come because it scares me that I am learning to adjust to being alone and I am beginning this new journey of just "Jeanne", not "Ed&Jeanne".  The future doesn't excite me with unknown opportunities, but rather scares me with just unknowns that I must face without my best friend and partner. I don't want to adjust and try to define my life and who I am, but I guess I have no choice...

Celebrating My Birthday

My first birthday without Ed...
My first birthday alone...
Ever...
It was a day of mixed feelings.

I know celebrating a weekday birthday is different just because there's work and the usual routine surrounded that.  So on Sunday I had family over for a potluck brunch.  No, I did not throw myself my own birthday party.  But last year, Ed and Dan played golf on my birthday (which I encouraged them to do) and I got a day all to myself and I was so excited.  I ordered Chinese food and watched a chick flick and the guys brought home dessert after they played golf.  It was a great day!

Last night after work, I picked up Chinese food for dinner and spent the evening alone.  It was not very exciting.  Funny (and sad) how different the feeling is when you choose this option versus it being forced upon you.

All-in-all, it was a good birthday.  I received some nice greetings and gifts from family and friends which were totally unexpected and greetings and cards from folks at work as well.  And flowers were delivered to me at work--something Ed always did for me and something I knew I would miss this year.  I know I was totally spoiled by Ed--every birthday, anniversary, and valentine's day he sent me flowers.

Of course, as those of you on Facebook already know, I got a surprise in the morning--a small herd of cows in my front lawn!  That at least made me laugh in the morning.  Dan had just setup my fall display with hay bales and cornstalks on Saturday and I had put out straw Sunday night where I am trying to grow new grass.  And don't you know the next morning, here come cows (from who knows where) eating my hay and cornstalks, trying to take the pumpkins off my front steps, and drinking out of my birdbath!  You can't do anything but laugh!  Something that has never happened before in all the years we lived here!  We've had horses show up and all kinds of wildlife, but never a small herd of cows!  So that is how I started my day!

Two cows eating my straw.

The other 8 cows enjoying my lawn and fall display.

The Chinese food I picked up for dinner was not as enjoyable as it used to be.  Maybe next year I'll try something new.  But as much as I appreciated all the birthday wishes that people sent to me--the Facebook messages, the text messages, the voice mails and cards...I can't help but miss Ed and how special he made me feel.  And no matter what we did on the day itself, we always started and ended my birthday together.

For the first 17 years of my life, I shared my birthday with my family.  My 18th birthday I spent in college and my dorm mates threw a party for me.  My 19th birthday was at home with my parents and family.  And every birthday since my 20th, I have spent with Ed.  That's 18 birthdays with my family, 1 with college friends, and 32 birthdays with Ed.  Never one did I spend alone...until now.  And I know many, many people spend their birthdays alone and I'm not one to pity myself.  Instead, I know I am now responsible for my happiness--not Ed and not anyone else.  So the brunch on Sunday was my start.  I'm learning...

And, yes, I realize I am not technically "alone".  I am surrounded by many friends and family who made my weekend and the day itself special.  And as much as I appreciate all of you, it doesn't help me miss Ed any less.  But the tears were only for short periods of time and it was as good a day as it could be.  Which I am thankful for as well.

Ed's birthday is in 2 weeks...  We always enjoyed doing something special together to celebrate our birthdays--the benefit of them both being so close together.  Dan will be home again and so we'll plan something fun for the two of us to do.  And I know how lucky I am to have Dan in my life.  There is no question that he is the best gift Ed ever gave me!  And that makes me smile...

A Good Week

This week was the annual King of the Grove tournament at Pine Grove Golf Course.  Ed was (and still is) the only three-time "King" with his last crowning being in 2012.  Tradition is that the King needs to organize the event for the following year.  Before he passed, Ed asked his golf partner Mike to take over this responsibility this year and Dan volunteered to help as well.

The King of the Grove is for the Wednesday night handicap league.  Tradition has been that it is held the Wednesday after the league ends--which would have been 9/18 this year.  Because I was traveling on business and would not have been able to go on 9/18, the guys all agreed to wait until this past week (9/25) instead.  This touched my heart since they all unanimously agreed to postpone as well as did Gil and Shirley who own the course.

Wednesday was a special day.  It was a day I was looking forward to and it made me so happy.

Dan came home so he could play.  He teamed up with Ed's good friends and golf partners Mike L. and Joe A. and Mike's new partner, Rick.  And Mike's wife, Deb, agreed to collect money and keep me company.  So as Dan headed out to play 9 holes, me, Deb, Shirley, and Dagmara stayed at the clubhouse and watched the guys as they came in.

Dagmara had promised Ed she would have a Polish dinner this year in his honor and she delivered delicious pierogis and golumpkis.  The food was good, the company was good, and the guys toasted Ed several times.  Many people donated towards the raffle--Ed would be proud--this is something he helped build to what it is today.  And I met and recognized names of people Ed mentioned over the years.  How I wish he was here today to fill in the blanks for me though.

Most touching was the memorial plaque they did for Ed.  The guys in the handicap league all donated and Mike and Steve organized it and got the plaque made.  Gil found the perfect rock, mounted the plaque, and moved it to the 10th hole.  It truly brought tears to my eyes.  The words they inscribed touched my heart.  And they located this on the 10th hole because it has a beautiful view and you can see the plaque from the clubhouse.  Gil and Shirley are even taking steps to ensure that if the golf course is ever sold, our family would get this memorial.  What good, kind people.  What more could you ask for.

I wish I had gone previously to Pine Grove to meet Ed's friends.  Yes, I knew Mike and Deb and Dagmara but not the rest of them.  Gil and Shirley have been so kind to me and Dan.  And all the guys in the league have been welcoming of me.  Dan did golf with most of them last year, so he knew some of them.  But as I sat on the deck of the clubhouse watching the guys on the 18th hole, I realize I never saw Ed play golf.  How nice it would have been if I had seen him even once coming in on the 18th hole.  But Pine Grove was his place with his friends.  A place he belonged to for more years than I can count (I know it had to be at least 20 years).  And at the time, I had a million things I'd rather be doing than watching someone play golf.  If only I knew...

But I hope he was looking down at all of us Wednesday night and pleased that Dan and I were there among his friends.  I never knew how much of a "family" they all were and how much they all really, really liked Ed.  I don't think Ed realized it either.  At least, if he did, he never mentioned it to me.  I think he would be touched beyond words on what a positive and lasting impression he had on all of them.  And I know that he was happy that Dan and I were there, representing him, and making him proud.  I know this because he was always so proud of both of us and bragged about us to anyone who would listen and so I know Wednesday would not have been any different.

So rate Wednesday and this week as a good one.

Shirley's fall display outside the clubhouse wearing the King's crown.

Beautiful view from the deck of the clubhouse.

Dagmara getting the food ready.  (Don't tell her I posted this picture!)

Ed's memorial plaque on the 10th hole.

The plaque...

The foursome (Mike, Joe, Dan, and Rick) coming around on the 18th hole.

Dan

Joe

Mike

All four of them (Rick, Dan, Joe, Mike)

Sitting on the deck.  Cinnamon for some reason really liked Joe!

 

Lots of raffle prizes donated!

Johnny Pratt and Steve crowning this year's King.

2013 King of the Grove

5 Months and Counting...

Today marks 5 months since Ed passed.  And it's been about 6 months since he was last in our home.  These marks of time are just those...marks in time.  What do they mean?  I'm not quite sure except that time is marching on without Ed.  And I'm saddened to know that somehow I'm learning to live 5 months without him.  Some would say this is a good thing; to me, it's still heartbreaking.

The 6 months since he was last in our home hurts more.  I recall that evening when he went to the hospital.  Where he was sitting when the EMTs came in.  How he put on his shoes and walked out the front door where he climbed onto a stretcher and then they put him into the ambulance.  The idea that this would be the last time he was ever in our home, never crossed my mind.  I wonder if it crossed him mind at all?  Of course, he was in such pain, that I realistically know that even if it did, it wouldn't have mattered.  We both were focused on the immediate need which was to deal with whatever was the cause of his immense pain.  So today I focus on that instead, because it helps the sadness.

Of course, as I mark another milestone...another stupid point in time that I wish I wasn't counting, I have to remind myself and let you know that the past week was actually okay.  Believe it or not, the trip to Austin was good.  The biggest thing was actually being successful at making the trip and taking care of all the details I needed to in terms of leaving for a few days and packing what I needed.

Not that I haven't traveled before.  But I've had this recurring dream since Ed has passed about missing a flight (getting to the airport too late, not having my boarding pass, etc.).  If you Google this, they say it's about being overwhelmed by activities.  That certainly would define my life these past 6 months.  But taking this trip and needing to catch my flight now more significant meaning due to these dreams.  So there was some comfort in knowing that I made it to the airport in plenty of time and made all my connections and packed everything I needed.  No issues.  So maybe that specific dream will now go away!

The trip was for a Leadership Summit and being away was actually good.  I missed Ed less which doesn't mean I forgot about him, but grief did not take this trip with me which was actually nice.  Dan was terrific though in keeping in touch with me and texting me just as Ed would have done.  I am one lucky Mom!

I am now back home where I am doing things like cleaning out the garden, draining the air compressor (yes, you read that right), and replacing the seal on the garage door.  Taking care of a home is a lot of work, but I'm thankful for all the tools Ed has that enable me to do this work more easily.  There was grease under my fingernails as I went to church last night.  My, how my life has changed.  Not that I necessarily like doing all these things.  What I like is knowing that I'm stepping up to the plate to take care of these things and I would like to think Ed would be proud of me.

Riding the Tram at Dallas-Fort Worth Airport

The view of Austin from my hotel room.

Room service the first night.  Yes, a burger and fries!

Pool area at the hotel where I relaxed before dinner Tuesday night.

View of Manhattan from the plane on the way home.

Replaced the summer flowers with Mums for fall.

Telling His Story

I'm sorry I haven't written in the past week.  This past Monday I left on a business trip to Austin TX and last Wednesday was my introduction of Ed to my support group.  And I was an emotional wreck last week.  I don't know whether it was going through pictures and getting ready for my support group "presentation" or if it was the trip to Austin.  Either way, I was attributing my nerves being on edge and the bouts of tears each evening as I went to bed to these two events.

My sharing and introduction of Ed to the support group went well although I think I talked too long.  I really don't know what time I started, but his story flowed through the support of pictures.  Below is one I had come across from an old slide.  It was one my mother had taken when they first opened Amherst Tire.  It was when I fell in love with Ed. This picture evokes such warm memories of that time.  Gosh it seems so long ago, which I guess it was since it was over 30 years ago.

As I told Ed's story there are two things that stood out for me:  (1) Ed was multi-talented and lived his life.  From his interest in sports, coaching, gardening, home improvement, auto mechanics, cooking, loving his nieces and nephews, etc.  He had diverse interests and did a lot of things.  How I pale in comparison.  (2) My one point of tears as I told Ed's story was talking about Dan's graduation from college.  This was one of Ed's happiness moments.  Sure I could say he was happiest when we married or when Dan was born.  But what stood out for me, through the story of his life, was how proud he was of Dan when he graduated from RWU.  For Ed always wanted better for Dan.  He wanted to provide him with all those things he felt were missing in his life--a stable, happy childhood, a loving family, a good education.  And Dan's graduation was the culmination of these things.

And, more importantly, when Ed was first diagnosed, he never thought he'd live to see this milestone.  So when we reached this milestone it was not only how proud he was of Dan and all he accomplished and that Dan went further than either me or Ed, it also marked for Ed a moment he wished to live for.  I did not see it as that at the time and as I look back, I realize his body was tired then, but you would never have seen that on his face in any of the pictures from the graduation or the party afterwards.

The fact that Ed was then able to live on to see Dan land his first job in architecture and get his own apartment is like icing on the cake.  I didn't realize it at the time, but now I see it clearly.  Sure, I would have wished he could have seen Dan get married and have children...wouldn't those have been better "icing on the cake"?  But when you set your goals so high, they become unobtainable and you set yourself up for disappointment and failure.  So instead, you set smaller, more reasonable goals.

Ed had set a goal for this year to play golf this summer.  He played golf every summer so one might consider that a pretty lame goal but Ed knew it was not.  He didn't achieve that goal.  But he was smart enough to know to set these smaller goals which were more reasonable. And on the path of life, as you target and achieve each goal, you set a new one.  And with each one you obtain, you celebrate your success while continuing to move forward.  Little by little, step by step, you make great strides.

Of course, as I write this...we all, at some level, know this.  But Ed lived it.  Did I remember to tell the support group he was a wise man too?

Wanting Just One More

Today is a sad day...for no particular reason or for many small reasons.  I'm not quite sure.

I've been functioning the last few days.  Keeping busy with my forever present "to do" list.  But each evening the last few days I have cried myself to sleep and today there is a general sadness enveloping me and tears come at a drop of a hat.

Of course I always try to analyze these things and try to put my finger on exactly what is triggering these emotions at this particular time.  Is it that yesterday was 6 months since Mike's passing? Is it because I'm pulling together notes and pictures to "introduce" Ed to my support group tonight?  Is it because it's the 12th anniversary of 9/11?  Could it be my upcoming business trip?  I don't know.  But what I do know, is that with grief there does not have to be anything specific or in particular.  It just is.

I find myself longing for Ed's touch, Ed's voice, Ed's presence...but it's not here.  I feel as though I am already forgetting these physical aspects of him.  Sure I have pictures that remind me of our time together.  But his voice, his touch, his presence feels like it is becoming more distant and this scares me.  It's been less than 5 months.  How can I hold onto these memories for my lifetime?  The "big" memories, I'm not worried about forgetting--the milestones of our lives are engraved in my memory and are captured in pictures to help me remember.  But I so fear losing the memories of these small, personal details.

This man had such an impact on my life for 31 years...more than half my life.  I know, I am blessed to have had this time, to have this love.  I was so lucky.  But it makes my heartache so much greater.

Unfortunately, life goes on and so must I.  But what I wouldn't give to have one more kiss, one more hug, one more feeling of the touch of his hand.  I love you Ed and miss you so.

My Final Gift for the Two of Us

I hope Ed would be pleased...

(This was just put in yesterday and I didn't think about brushing off the dirt before taking this picture.  Oh well...next time.)

Summing Up Your Life in 15 Mins

Last night was my Support Group and I was scheduled to "introduce" Ed to the group.  It is what we're all doing.  We all take a turn to introduce our loved one to the group.  Although we all were a bit apprehensive about it, it has been really nice to learn about the person each of us has lost.  I pulled together my notes this past weekend in terms of what I wanted to share about Ed.  How do you sum up someone's live and essence in 10-15 mins?

What I realized is that there was so much I wanted to say about Ed.  He took such good care of me and Dan--both physically and emotionally.  In some sense, he spoiled both of us, making sure both of us had what he didn't have growing up--both in terms of a loving home and affection and also buying us whatever we desired whether it was a simple bag of chocolates or a new computer or car.  Anyone who knows us, knows we were extravagant so it wasn't the dollar amount, but the gesture and thought.  I know for me, he made all my dreams come true.  There was not a single thing I felt I really needed that I didn't have.

But Ed also had so many talents and interests.  He took care of the home and was the one to do any type of decorating whether it was painting or wallpapering or even how to arrange a room.  He had strong opinions about this, but also had a talent and eye for what he liked (and thankfully I liked what he liked!).  He took care of the yard and not just mowing, but planting flowers and creating flower beds--he just had a knack for that.  And then he took care of all home repairs or home improvement projects whether it was building a deck, replacing sliders, or basic plumbing or electrical.  He didn't believe in hiring someone for something he felt he could do himself.  Of course, he was also a procrastinator and a perfectionist so once he finally did get around to a project, it usually took him longer than expected and then frequently there was one final detail to finish that would not get done.

But then he also loved cooking and attracting birds and shopping, especially buying clothes for me and his nieces.  And he liked sports--both watching and participating.  Whether it was watching NFL every Sunday or playing golf every Wed or coaching when Dan was younger.

What I realize as I try to summarize this life is that he was multifaceted and had so many talents and interests that I took for granted.  I'm sure I spent more time reminding him of all the things he wasn't doing instead of recognizing all the things he was doing.  Unfortunately, now that he is gone, I more clearly appreciate all he did in so many ways.

I know we both contributed to our marriage, our family, our home and we found a balance that worked for us and I do recognize that I took care of certain things as well in this partnership.  But I definitely pale in comparison.

I did not "present" to the Group last night.  The two people who went before me ended up taking more than the 15 mins...which has now become a pattern.  So two of us have been deferred to next week.  The good news is that now I know it's okay if I go over the 15 mins because I find I have a lot to say about Ed!  And how nice that he lived a full life and that I need this extra time to tell his story.  And I hope when he passed, when his life passed before his eyes, he recognized this as well and smiled...