You Can't Ignore It

Sometimes it just hits me.  I go about life and I keep busy with work and chores and simple things like cooking dinner or doing laundry.  The workweek passes quickly with filled days and routine--get up, exercise, get ready for work, work, home, prep dinner, dishes, maybe a chore, crash in front of the TV, then to bed, then repeat it all again.  There's little "down" time.  But every so often, I'm reminded that Ed is not here.  Just like I got used to the routine of him always being here and took that for granted, I find I am now getting used to the routine that he is not physically here.  And the hurt in my heart returns and the tears begin to flow as I realize that is is now my life.  It is real.  He is really gone and won't be back.  It's not pretend.  This is now my life.  And I find I still don't like it.  The pain is still there and my heart breaks.  I can try to ignore it, but the truth is, I can't and it's not going away.

Some Call Them Coincidences

It awoke me from a sound sleep.  A loud crash.  Did I dream it or was it real?  I was quite sure it was real.  I listened and didn't hear any other noise so it wasn't someone breaking in (or if it was, they decided to leave).  I got out of my warm bed and headed downstairs to investigate.  As soon as I arrived in the living room, there it was.  The large picture above the fireplace was laying flat on the floor.  On it's way down, it took two photos and the anniversary clock I received on my 10th work anniversary.

Surprisingly, none of the glass in the frames or clock broke.  And Ed's memory candle, that sat just slightly to the left of the clock, sat safely on the mantel, untouched.

I'm not sure why the picture fell.  I had just rehung it after the holidays since we had a wreath in it's place for Christmas.  The nails in the wall are still intact as are the hangers on the back of the picture.

The two small picture frames will need to be replaced.  The clock suffered the most damage.  The glass cover over the face is bent and there are two pretty good marks on the wooden top where it clearly hit the stone hearth on the way to the floor.

I laughed as I picked things up off the floor and assessed the damage and the irony of that clock being damaged did not escape me.  You see, yesterday was my 32nd anniversary at work.  And the day went unnoticed by everyone except me.  Ed always recognized this day for me.  He was quite proud of me and my job and this anniversary never came and went without him acknowledging it in some small way (even if it was just his words of congratulations).  But not this year, or any future year, and that fact did not escape me last night when I arrived home from work.  Just another reminder.

Now, you know I'm always wanting a sign from Ed.  Was last night's event a sign?  I certainly find it ironic that the clock, that has been sitting safely on the mantel for 22 years, now has lifetime damage.  And I can't explain why the picture came crashing down.  There is no reasonable explanation.  If the nails or hangers came out, that would make sense.  So, I'll take this as my sign.  And why not?  It gives me comfort and doesn't harm anyone else.  Of course, he could have picked a more subtle sign to send me, but then again, I'm sometimes oblivious to small things.  There was no way I was missing this sign!

Yes, you can just say "the picture fell".  But I prefer my perspective...

Small Pleasures

It's a three-day weekend and I love it!  Time to do the usual chores--laundry, cleaning, etc.--add some special projects on top, and still have some downtime.  Next weekend, though, will be full and so I'll be pissing and moaning next week!

For now, though, I"ll enjoy.  I did not expect to get 5" of snow Saturday night and therefore cleaning the driveway and decks was not on my original list.  But I got up and got it done.  I love the snow blower that Ed bought last year and I thank him for his every time I use it.  I couldn't understand last year why he needed a new snow blower.  I mean, he had a plow!  Now I know and I'd like to think, at some level, he knew it would make my life easier.

I did some organizing in Ed's workshop.  I'm sure he's freaking a bit at what I'm tossing out, but in his last days he did apologize to me for not finishing cleaning up his workshop.  And I'm sure he's amused at seeing the my woman's touch in his workshop.  Yesterday's was the small, 5-drawer storage container I bought to organize small nails, etc.

The snow is still clinging to trees this morning and the sun is shining and it's a beautiful day.  I've refilled the bird feeders (again, something Ed always did) and the cardinals are back.  I had wondered if I would ever see anything other than chickadees, titmouses, and sparrows.  But both the male and female cardinal are back and there were goldfinches as well.

And I actually have plants that are thriving which is a miracle.  Ed had the green thumb and my hope is just to not kill the plants.  The poinsettia is doing well; the begonia has blossomed; and I'm most proud that the orchid Dan gave me on Mother's Day is flowering again as well.  I'm learning...

The cardinal is back!

Haven't killed it yet.

Blossoms on my Begonia!

Have actually got my Orchid to reflower!

Waves

You go about your life.  You think you're learning to cope...to live this new life.  It's been just over 9 months.  Maybe I can learn to live a life without my loved one.  I made it through the holidays in one piece, right?  But, without warning, the tears come.  I could be walking past a picture of the two of us and I recall the event and I see the happiness and love on our faces...and I grieve and tears come without any ability to stop them.  They last a few minutes and then I move on, continuing whatever it might have been what I was doing.  And this occurrence has been happening quite frequently these past few days and I'm not sure why.  And the triggers are unpredictable.  Yesterday, it was as I reached to use the lotion that Ed used while he was in the hospital.  Something so simple and unexpected.

Grief comes in waves and so there must be some storm brewing because the waves are larger and coming more frequently lately and I have no control over them.  Last night, as I headed to bed, a tsunami hit.  The pain was similar to that which I experienced in the early months.  Crying out for Ed, asking for some miracle that would provide me with a sign he was with me.  But none came.  And all the regrets I have came flooding back to haunt me again.  And my ability to reason with myself was not there...just the pain, emptiness, and tears.

What was it about last night that made it so much worse?  The darkness?  The silence of the house?  What I do know as I look back is that in the evening, in the darkness and silence of my bed, our bed, the waves sweep me away.  Eventually, I fall into sleep clutching the tissues that I've used to wipe my tears.

When I awake, the dawn of a new day is fresh and I ponder how I could be so out of control the night before.  I am tired from the lack of sleep and my energy that has been drained from my body.  But the morning brings new perspective. The waves seem to have gone away.  But as anyone who has marveled at the beauty and strength of the sea knows that, just like the sun will rise every day, the waves will return.  Some will be calming and bring peace.  Others knock us on our butt...

Inability to Declutter

It's the time of year when we make resolutions and a common one is to declutter and organize our lives.  It was a resolution I made before and on occasion I make some progress.  In the past, I would blame Ed because he was not one to get rid of things.  I always threatened that when he was gone, I'd rent a big dumpster and just throw everything in.

So now here I sit with the "freedom" to get rid of things.  No one is here to say what I can or can't get rid of.  But I find myself paralyzed.  There is so much that I could or should clean out including some of Ed's things.  And I'm overwhelmed by it all.  I realize I'm having difficulty separating from these "things".

Some of it is because they are things that belonged to Ed and I don't want to make that decision without Dan.  Some of it I think is because I've lost enough in the past year and so thinking of parting with things, even things I don't particularly need or care for, has become difficult.

So as much as I want to do a major cleaning and have it all done by spring, I'm going to give myself a break and not worry about it this year.  I didn't do it last year and one more year isn't going to matter.  And just allowing myself this, I feel a sense of relief.  Sure, if I see something on a shelf or in a closet that I know I can toss without a second thought, I'll do that.  But any major cleaning out of "stuff" will just have to wait.

Baby steps...

Anger and Appreciation

I am angry often...  Am I angry at God?  I'm not sure.  I'm more just angry at this hand that has been dealt me.  I am angry that Ed is not here and that his life was cut short.

But then there are moments that make me appreciate the time we had.  When I read the obituaries and I see babies, teenagers, and many younger than me or Ed who have passed.  And I feel for them and their families because Ed and I did have many years together.  Their lives were cut much shorter.

Today I had an epiphany and realized that, although I miss Ed so very much, I would not trade our years together for anything.  For as I come home from work and feel safe and secure in the home we made together, I am thankful that he gave this to me.  He gave me a home, he gave me security, he gave me a love so deep and that it is why I mourn so deeply.

But I know, from the deepest recesses of my heart, that we were blessed to have found each other. One different decision, one different reaction 32 years ago and our lives could have taken such different paths.  Where would I have gone?  What would my life have turned out to be?  It doesn't really matter because what I know, without a single doubt, is that I wouldn't change a thing.  I have been blessed to know such deep love and such happiness and Ed gave this to me.

Do I like being a widow at 50?  Absolutely not and I don't wish it on anyone.  But I wouldn't trade the years of utter happiness, security, joy, friendship, and love that Ed and I shared.  And so each day I thank Ed for what he gave me and what he's left me.  For I have been blessed to know true love, for 32 years, from a man who always put me first, who got joy from making me happy.  Such unselfish love.  And so as much as I at times will mourn, and get angry, that we were robbed of many more years together, I know I was lucky to have such wonderful years together and, that, I will always carry with me.  And reminding myself of this turns that anger into appreciation...

Assorted Chocolates

For Christmas, I received a box of assorted chocolates.  One of those boxes where they give you a "map" so you can identify each one.  As I went to get one tonight, there was nothing left but creams.  I don't particularly care for the creams but those were Ed's favorite. Me, I prefer the nuts and caramel.  And so I closed the box and wonder how long those creams will sit there with no one to eat them.  Ed and I complemented each other well...even when it came to sharing a simple box of chocolates.

The Calendar

It's an annual ritual, at this time of year.  Time to unwrap the calendar for the new year.  And I prepare it by writing in birthdays and anniversaries for the year.  I use the current calendar as my reference.  This enables me to include ages and number of years for anniversaries.  It also helps me not forget new birthdays and anniversaries that happened during the year.

There was a noticeable difference this time though.  I was surprised at the number of anniversaries of someone's passing that I needed to include this year.  In previous years, the only one I had included was my father's.  2014 will be 25 years since he passed.  2014 will also mark the 7th anniversary of my brother-in-law Billy's passing.

But as I prepared my 2014 calendar, it shocked me at the number I included from this past year.  And I list them here now as a tribute to them.

January:  Theresa Banas

February:  Bob Donovan

March:  my brother, Michael

April:  Ed

May: my brother-in-law Larry

June: Mike Allen

August: my brother-in-law Billy

December:  my father

As much as I'm happy to say good-bye to 2013 this evening, I approach 2014 with apprehension as this marks the start of a new year in my new life...a new life that I'm unsure about, not thrilled about, but have no choice but to figure out.  And my wish for 2014 is that there are happy moments of celebration that will fill our calendars and that these will outnumber the sad moments.

Merry Christmas!

It's Christmas morning and I'm up enjoying a cup of coffee in the quiet solitude.  The lights on the Christmas tree are on, a fire is going in the fireplace, and I'm excited for Dan to wake up and bound down the stairs so we can exchange gifts.  Just like previous years.  In the past, I'd be sitting here with Ed, waiting for the day to begin.  He would turn on the lights and Christmas music as I made our coffee.  But this morning I turned the lights and music on.  But I know he's with me.

Last night Dan and I went to Christmas Eve Mass.  It's the Mass our choir (which I'm a member of) sings at.  And the church was filled with families celebrating the birth of our Savior and the church was decorated beautifully and the sounds of Christmas filled the air.

A light snow was falling on our drive out to Hardwick last night and, although I fretted a little bit about slippery roads, it helped put me in the Christmas spirit and look forward to the evening.  

We had a good time last night with "the in-laws" (that's my short-hand for Ed's side of the family).  I wasn't sad or teary.  I was actually surprised that I enjoyed the company and laughter.  Of course, having little children around and sharing in their excitement of opening gifts certainly helps.  But the adults shared laughter as well and we had a lot of fun as we did a Yankee Swap.  There were many hugs and kisses and I smiled and wished others a "Merry Christmas"--and it wasn't fake.  There was joy and so I learned it can happen.

After we got home, I went into my bedroom for something and found the candle in the window lit...the same one that I awoke to being lit the other night.  And I know I did not turn it on since I consciously did not turn on the candles upstairs last night.  And Dan swore up and down that he did not (and he didn't even know the story about the candle turning on the other night).  My sign from Ed that he was there.  You can all say that I'm nuts, it's coincidence, but again, I choose to believe what brings me peace and joy.

And so as I begin Christmas Day, I have faith that I will make it through this day because I will be sharing it with family and friends.  And I know Ed will be with me and he will smile that Dan and I are navigating our ways through our new lives and that we are together, the two of us supporting each other.  But, also, with the support of Ed's family and mine.

May you all have a Merry Christmas and I pray you all have loved ones to share it with and know that the gift of life, the gift of health, the gift of family and friends is better than any wrapped package you may receive today.  Christmas Blessings to All!

Merry Christmas Eve Day

It is Christmas Eve Day and I'm excited and joy-filled and thought maybe I should post something positive on this blog and capture this "good" moment.  I am all ready for Christmas (good thing, huh?) and Dan is home.  He is excited about opening gifts--not for himself, but the gifts he bought for me.  And it reminds me of Ed because he was the same way.  It wasn't about the gifts he was getting, but he was more excited about watching others open the gifts he gave.  And it makes me smile that Dan is the same way.  There is no question that his father lives on through him.

I will be seeing family for Christmas--both Ed's side of the family and mine--and I'm thankful that I have them in my life and that the tradition of spending time with them over the holidays has not changed.  I know others who have lost loved ones and now find themselves unsure of how they will spend Christmas.  I am thankful that although Ed, Mike, and Larry will not be with us this year, we all still will gather and celebrate and remember them as well.

And I have such caring friends and colleagues.  Some of my new friends are those I've met this year because of our common grief and I appreciate that we think of each other often and are there to support each other.  And my colleagues at work are such thoughtful and caring people.  I am blessed by the many people in my life.  And if I haven't learned anything this year, it is the people in our lives that are most important.  Yes, we share gifts as a way to acknowledge our caring and friendship.  So remember that as you open your gifts that is not just the gift itself but the love wrapped up in it as well.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas!

My picture of Ed with Rudy the Reindeer and the flowers and candle that were gifts from friends.

A Light in the Darkness

I woke up this morning and was ready to go.  I have a lot of things to get done and as I made the bed there were two things I realized:  1) I was humming a Christmas tune and 2) that I should never update my blog at night.  I find that it is the quiet and darkness of the evenings that are more difficult for me.  You never hear about me crying as I awake in the morning; but the crying is often as I lay my head to rest.

Last night I was a mess and I wondered whether writing this blog was only making matters worse.  That I was recalling my feelings and getting myself all upset and should I consider taking a break.

But I realize that this blog, as much as it is a way to share with all of you, it is also my diary.  I go back often and re-read old entries--what was going on in my life? How was I feeling? What were Ed and I doing a year ago, two years ago?

So this morning as I dressed in Ed's Eagles pants and shirt (they're playing tonight and although I'm not a huge football fan, I will always root for Ed's Eagles) and hum Christmas tunes, I thought I'd write another quick message on my blog to share my joyful mood (for a change) and also share two specific stories since last night.

The first is that last night, at some point, I woke up and found the candle in the bedroom window was on.  Now I turn the candles off every evening before I go to bed and I know this candle was off because otherwise it would light up the room.  Now the practical side of me could say that I simply did not loosen the bulb enough (since I just twist the bulb and don't bother unplugging it).  However, I would rather like to think it was Ed sending me a sign that he was there.  And there's no harm in believing that.  In fact, the other day, I came downstairs to find a candle in the living room window on.  I just told myself I forgot to shut it off.  But now I wonder...  And why not believe that?  It does no harm to anyone and brings me some level of comfort.  And this is faith I guess.  You can either explain away everything that happens or just have faith that someone is watching out for you.  I used to believe it was God or my guardian angel or whatever you might believe.  Now I'd rather believe it's Ed.

The second thing I wanted to share brought tears to my eyes.  I made my cup of coffee and sat down to read the church bulletin from yesterday and there I was surprised to find that the 10AM Mass on Christmas Day will be said for Ed.  It doesn't indicate who requested it and (no one would be surprised by this), I have a complete list of all Mass intentions that people gave when Ed passed.  Christmas Day is not on the list.  And how did Ed rate to get Christmas Day?  As with many parishes, it is difficult to get a Mass Intention because they fill up so quickly so sometimes you are waiting a year for a weekend or Holy Day Mass.  I am just so touched and it brings tears to my eyes (no surprise there).  What a beautiful gift for Ed to receive on Christmas morning, better than any gift I could give him.  And I thank the person or persons who did this.  What a nice gift for me as well.

8 Months

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while.  The last few weeks have been busy with work and getting ready for Christmas.

On Sunday, December 8th, I traveled to Tallahassee for a business meeting.  All day Sunday was spent traveling there.  We then had a 2-day meeting and then Tuesday evening I flew back, getting home around 1:30 am.  Once the business trip was over, I could then focus on getting ready for Christmas.  I find I continue to just move through life.  I work, I come home.  I have things on the calendar and an ongoing "to do" list.  Busy, busy, busy...

Tomorrow marks 8 months since Ed passed.  And this busy-ness has kept me moving through each day.  And I hate that somehow I've survived 8 months without him. How can that be?  The pain is still so raw and deep that I find it hard to believe it's been 8 months.  Everyone tells you "it's takes a year".  Well, I think they're wrong.  I think it takes a lifetime because I don't know how I made it through 8 months and I don't see anything magically changing in the next few.

But the holidays are here and we're supposed to be happy and joyous and all that other crap!  Yes, there are days when I feel like crap and wish I were a bear and could just go hibernate for winter.  But I can't.  I have a home to take care of.  I have a job.  I have a family.  I have responsibilities and so I must get up every day and I must plug away at my never ending "to do" list.

There are some bright and dare I say, happy, moments.

Dan came home last weekend and I am once again reminded how blessed I am having him in my life.  He took his father's words to take care of me seriously and I know his father is very proud of him.  If it wasn't for Dan, I don't even want to think about where I'd be right now.  So everyday I thank God for him and know that Ed lives on in particular through Dan.

Last weekend Dan and I also put up the tree together and as I turn on the lights each day, it makes me smile. In all our years together, Ed always got a fresh tree and took care of trimming it and putting the lights on it and then I would help decorate it.  He loved the smell of a fresh tree and didn't want anything else--until last year.  Last year, he decided to get a pre-lit artificial tree.  And that made putting up the tree this year so much easier.  I often wonder why he decided last year to finally get an artificial tree.  Part of it I know was because of the cost of a fresh tree but I also know part of it was because he was tired and he didn't have the energy to get a fresh tree.  I wonder if part of him also knew it to make my life easier.

The other thing he did to make my life easier was to buy a new snow blower last year.  I used it last weekend when we got about 6-8" of snow.  Dan was home and offered to clear the driveway for me, but I needed to learn to do this and so while I used the snow blower on the driveway, Dan shoveled the decks.  Tuesday we got more snow and I was out there again with the snow blower clearing the driveway.  I think I've mastered this, so I don't mind if there's no more snow this winter!  How I've always loved snow.  Of course, that was because Ed did all the cleanup!

This past week I also finished decorating the house for Christmas.  Each decoration brought back memories--those that Ed and I bought when we were first together; those we bought over the years; those Ed made.  One decoration I could not find was our mistletoe.  It was a pathetic, plastic thing that we've had since when we were first together.  I know last year we talked about getting a new one...a nicer one.  And this year, as I unpacked our decorations, I could not find that pathetic mistletoe.  We must have gotten rid of it thinking we'd get a new one.  But we never did get a new one, and how I miss that stupid plastic decoration now.  I know I could go out and buy a new one, but the idea of mistletoe and kissing your loved one under it, has lost it's appeal for me.

And it is these small moments in time, that bring the tears back.  I know everyone tells you how difficult the holidays are. But reality is, they are not much harder than any other day.  What makes them a bit more difficult is that everyone expects you to be happy and joyous.  It's Christmas after all!

There are moments of brightness in my life.  The potluck dinner with those I met through the bereavement support group.  Or a night together with my new friends in the "The Supper Club".  Or the cards I get in the mail from those thinking of me and Dan, especially those from Ed's friends who haven't forgotten me even though Ed is not here.  And I even get some pleasure watching the traditional Hallmark movies on TV, although this year they all seem to involve widows (I know that's not true, but it seems it).

We're not changing much with Christmas this year, although I understand I have a "pass" if there is something I don't want to do.  But we will go to our in-laws and my family as we've done every year.  I guess this is a good thing because I don't need to figure out what I'm doing.  These traditions will fill my time and days.  But I know Christmas morning the void will be huge.

Already, as Dan and I have put gifts under the tree, I realize there are fewer of them. There are none for Ed and there are none from Ed.  And the emptiness under the tree matches the emptiness in my heart.  How he loved to surprise me and his gifts were so thoughtful.  He truly spoiled me and made me feel so special.  (He also never allowed us to put gifts under the tree before Christmas, so that is one tradition Dan and I have changed!)

Tomorrow will be 8 months since Ed passed.  Another mark in time.  It breaks my heart that somehow I've managed without Ed for 8 months--how can that be?  That time has passed so quickly.  It feels like just yesterday and the pain is still here and I still miss him tremendously. December 8th marked 24 years since my father passed.  How in the world has my mother gone on for 24 years without him?  I cannot fathom it, not now at least.

Tallahassee, FL

Clearing the driveway

All done!

An animated GIF that Dan made.  Makes me laugh...

Damn Tears

I'm glad I captured the past weekend because come Monday evening I was a mess of emotions again.  Not for any particular reason.  Just because.  Part of it, I realize, is that as much as I'm proud of all I'm accomplishing, it upsets me that I even need to doing this juggling act.  That this life that has now been forced upon me is not what I wanted or asked for.  And it saddens me.  Deep down inside, I don't want to be this woman who is somehow managing.  I want to be that woman who can collapse into a ball of tears and have my husband comfort me and pick me back up again.  But instead I have my family that tries to pick me back up again and that just makes me sadder because I've never had to rely on them or anyone other than Ed.  Any emotional upsets I've had in the past were private...between me and Ed or Dan and kept within our home, not for the world to see.

But now, here I am, posting on a public blog what a mess I am.  Okay, so I'm not a total mess.  But I do have my moments.  And, yes, they are becoming fewer with more time in between.  And as I look back over the past several months, I can recognize that I am learning to cope better.  That my routines without my life partner are becoming more "normal" (whatever "normal" means).  I haven't found my rhythm yet and my life is not as settled as I would like it to be.  But I'm giving myself that proverbial year.  In the meantime, I just continue to march on.

The cemetery box I got for Ed's grave.  He loved the smell of fresh pine.

Belated Happy Thanksgiving

The days leading up to Thanksgiving were a mix of emotions.  However, since Wednesday, things have been relatively good.

I had the day before Thanksgiving off from work to run errands and bake pies.  I got a flu shot (isn't that on the requisite Thanksgiving list of things to do?), then stopped at the Spirit Haus to get drinks for Thanksgiving day.  It was nice to see Marvin--it connects me to Ed in a different way.  In addition to getting some beer and wine, I also got a couple hugs from Marvin as well.  How blessed I am to have him in my life.

It was then off to Atkins where I picked up a lemon meringue pie.  Making the lemon meringue pie was one of the things I gave myself a break on this year.  It's a lot of work and I usually am disappointed in the meringue, so I crossed that off my list for this year.  Next stop was my mother's to drop things off.  My sister Marion was there and the three of us set the table for Thanksgiving dinner.  There would be 17 of us--Mom at the head of the table, 8 on each side.  The opposite end of the table was left empty in honor of Mike and Ed.

After I got home, I baked the apple pie and pumpkin pie.  My apple corer/slicer worked perfectly this year which I was very grateful for.  One less source of frustration.  I then baked some cookies in preparation for Christmas giving.  I guess I will continue that tradition, but I'm definitely scaling way back.

Dan decided to drive home Thursday morning which was fine with me.  There was no traffic and he was home shortly after 9 AM.

Thanksgiving Day was spent at my mother's.  It was a nice day with my sisters, their families, my aunt, and my sister's in-laws.  Dan took our family photo.  And my mother prepared a special prayer before dinner.  That is the only time tears came to my eyes.  When we paused to remember Mike and Ed.  But the rest of the day was enjoyable watching the girls decorate gingerbread houses or us all playing Pictionary.  But the guys usually hung out downstairs watching football--that room was quite empty this year and so I didn't remain there long.

And I have to admit that I have LOVED having Dan home and will be sad to see him go today.  But I am reminded how blessed I am to have him here and he is such a big help.  On Friday, he put up the outdoor Christmas decorations.  Now this was a source of anxiety for me because I did not have a clue how Ed wired them up and connected them to enable us to turn them on/off with the remote.  But Dan was paying attention last year and he knew how Ed ran the extension cords and connected everything and Dan took care of doing all of this for me.  If Ed ever thought Dan was not paying attention while he helped him with these types of projects, he was clearly mistaken for I am surprised how much Dan does know and did pickup on.  Another reason why I am reminded how blessed we were to have Dan home with us last year.

Putting up the outdoor decorations was one of the big ways Dan helped me.  But he also helps in small ways like cleaning up the dirt pile in the driveway or putting away dishes in the dishwasher.  And this morning I noticed he packed up and put away the golf club "stuff" that Ed had all over the top of the pool table.  We usually wrap gifts downstairs and stack things on top of the pool table.  But I didn't know what to do with all that golf stuff that Ed had opened/spread out on top of the table.  So it has just remained there for the past 9 months.  But it made me smile when I saw that Dan took care of packing it all up and putting it away in a closet.  I am so lucky to have him in my life.

So the weekend has been good.  I've worked on Christmas cards, shopping, baking, and watching Hallmark movies.  The outside decorations are up and candles are in the windows.  Ed would be proud since he always did this...he enjoyed Christmas so much.  And I have always loved Christmas as well.  I definitely don't have that same feeling this year--how can I when half of my heart is missing.  But, I am proud of the fact that I am finding some enjoyment in shopping and baking and decorating.

Of course, I still miss Ed tremendously and the tears come easily when I turn my thoughts to him not being here with me physically.  I know...everyone says he's still with me.  Yes, in my heart, but not in my arms, not to hug me and kiss me and spoil me as he always did.  He got such pleasure out of buying gifts for me and surprising me on Christmas morning.  And it's not about the gifts but rather the happiness and joy Ed had surprising me and Dan with the treasures he put under the tree.  So the tears will still flow and my heart will still ache, but I will find joy knowing we shared 31 beautiful Christmases together and that is a priceless gift we gave each other.

Pumpkin

Apple

Christmas baking has begun!

Our Thanksgiving Family (Back row, L-R, Tim, Roger, Papa, Dave, Dan; Middle row, Cathy, Maureen, Marion, MommaJeanne, Theresa, Me; Seated, Mom and Gingy; Front row, Nick, Lexi, Ali, Matt)

Outdoor Christmas decorations thanks to Dan!

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...