Being Still

This past week has been somewhat of a blur. Since my last post, we've held Vern's wake, funeral, and committal ceremony. They fell across three separate days; a trilogy giving honor to such a great man. Tuesday evening we held our regularly-scheduled Council meeting and we went out to McCarthy's after wards, as was our tradition. The only difference is that Vern wasn't there. The group was larger than our usual 6-7 people, because more from the Council wanted to pay tribute to Vern. We ordered our usual wings and we all shared a beer ordered in Vern's honor. There were tears, but there was also much camaraderie and laughter which Vern would have wanted.

The days following was returning to work and to "normal". I went through the motions and while at work I tried to live through Vern's example and be kind and patient and understanding with others. I still awake each day with an emptiness and I still find the loss so unbelievable. I am trying to be productive. In the mornings when I awake and dread facing another day, I recall how Ed, while battling cancer and knowing it will eventually take his life, got up and lived each day, never complaining. And Vern, feeling discomfort which ended up being a heart attack which was the start of the end of his life, kept up with his many responsibilities and bounding through the day with his usual positive attitude where no one but him could tell the discomfort he was feeling.  So when I think of this, it reminds me that I need to do the same. To get up each day and live my life to the fullest especially since the ailment I have is a broken heart.

This weekend is full of chores, things that need to get done in the yard and around the house. I've always been one to keep moving because when I don't, grief and sadness catch up to me. That is still happening. I am trying to sit quietly each morning, to enjoy the sunshine, listen to the birds, and just be still while I sip my daily cup of coffee. I'm hoping that if I sit quietly for a few minutes, I will hear Ed or Vern or God (or whatever you like to believe) speak to me. But what I find right now is that when I sit quietly, the loneliness and sadness envelope me. I know tears cleanse the soul and maybe this is just what I need to work through. I'll keep working at it though.

This morning I stopped and sat and watched a bunny outside the window. I haven't seen a bunny in years and so I just sat quietly and watched it for a bit while it ate the clover in the yard. I noticed the goldfinches outside the kitchen window and the robins nesting in two different bushes. I try not to notice instead the things that need to be done and need to get onto my "to do" list. They will get there, but I'm working to slow down, just for a few minutes, and just enjoy the peace and quiet that surrounds me and appreciate it rather than be unnerved by it. And maybe, just maybe, if I can learn to do this, I will also learn to hear the voice of Ed, Vern, or God and recognize them in signs around me. If I can just learn to be still for a moment. 

Loss of Another Dear Friend

Fr. Vern passed away Wednesday evening, June 1st. I sit here mourning his passing, with hundreds of others. I've known Vern (as I personally called him in private settings) for 21 years. Yes, I know many in the diocese of Springfield knew him this long or longer and many people have stories about their life with Vern. But this is my story...

I came to know Vern when he was first assigned to our parish. Our friendship grew over drinks and appetizers after monthly parish council meetings and stopping by the rectory after Mass each week and visiting with him and his mother. Of course those weekly visits after Mass included dragging Dan along with me. Sometimes Dan just sat and read his Harry Potter books, which him and Vern talk about. How Vern loved those books and recently told me all about his visit to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando. I remember when Vern gave Dan a box of these Harry Potter jelly beans with such gross flavors. Vern thought those were quite a hoot!

And speaking of a hoot, Vern's mother was a hoot as well. Our weekly visits to the rectory included stopping to see her as well. Vern always recalled the story of how touched she was when Dan brought a rose for Mother's Day. She was not there to receive it personally and Vern told Dan to write her a note to leave with it, which Dan begrudgingly did. Through this, though, he learned a life lesson of how that simple rose and personal note made Ida's day and she kept both until she passed.

Vern and Ed had a unique relationship as well. Although Ed was raised Catholic, he was not practicing when we met and he never returned to actively going to church. But Ed just clicked with Fr. Vern. He enjoyed our private get togethers with Vern and Vern had his clever way of getting Ed involved in our parish in small ways--whether it was the Germanfest or installing mirrors and glass at the new rectory. Ed and I stayed at Vern's condo in Maine one weekend, proof of how comfortable Ed was with Vern....and how Vern, through his unique way, brought Ed back to "church" in a different way.

My memories of Vern could go on and on so instead I'll sum it up in this way.  Yes, Vern was my pastor and priest and today I realize how I took for granted that I had the privilege of seeing him, talking with him, and giving him a hug pretty much every week for the past 21 years. I also had the privilege to know him personally and enjoyed many small get togethers with close friends where we laughed late into the night. Oh there were times we were so silly...private moments to hold dear in my heart.  I also had the privilege of sharing "behind the scenes" details and moments with Vern whether it was documenting the building of our new church and rectory or working with him to record his CDs.

My heart aches today and tears easily come to my eyes for I will miss having Vern in my life. I still cannot fathom going to Mass each week and not hearing his voice or seeing his smiling blue eyes. No more looks across the room during Council meetings knowing what each was thinking as some topic dragged on and on. No more camaraderie after Council meetings. Yes, the memories will live on in my heart forever.  But today I'm having difficulty with the fact that another great man in my life is gone.  First my father, then my brother, then Ed, then my brother-in-law Larry, and now Father Vern.

Sometimes life just sucks....  But Vern would not want me to feel this way. He showed me how friends can fill your life with laughter and love and he was an example of thoroughly enjoying and living life.  And so today, and in the days that follow, I will try to remember that and do my best to live my life by the example he set.

Vern, you lived your life serving God and through the faith you taught us and exemplified, we know you are in a glorious place right now. Why you were taken from us at this time is not for us to understand in this human life of ours for it is not our will, but God's.  Until we meet again, my friend. Until we meet again...

From one of our many trips to the Griswold Inn on a Friday night.

I love these two guys...

 

Looking Back

Some say "don't look back, keep moving forward...towards the future".  Yet, I find myself looking back quite frequently lately.  Maybe it's because looking forward is scary. The future is unsure and it fills me with sadness to think this might be all there is. So instead, I find myself looking backwards. Of course, Facebook helps with this as every couple days I get one of those "memory" reminders...1 year ago, 2 years ago, 7 years ago. How innocent and and naive I was 7 years ago.

I'm a list maker and have a regular list of "to do's".  For years I have used small notebooks and when they are full, I file them away. I'm not quite sure why I did this, but today, it allows me to look back. What was I doing 7 years ago? My "to do" list looked so different. It consisted of things like "do nails," "clip coupons," "vacuum car". I also had a long list of church-related projects. I was lucky that I could devote a lot of time to those things.

6 years ago...after Ed had been diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer...  We just returned from our trip to Italy. A trip we didn't think we were going to be able to make. What wonderful memories we made and how much we treasured that time. I recall breaking down on that trip. We got "stuck" in Italy an extra week due to volcanic ash in Iceland. It ended up being a wonderful extra week, but in the midst of trying to figure out flights and hotels with internet issues and language barriers, I cried and asked Ed how would I ever deal with these types of things without him. It was one of my rare moments of weakness fearing life without him.

I look back to 4 years ago. Dan's graduation from RWU. Ed was so proud of Dan that day and one of my favorite pictures of Ed was from that day. Several weeks later we celebrated with family and friends with a party at the house. I now recall how Ed was too tired to help setup for the party. Instead he rested upstairs in bed while Dan and I, and his friends, got things setup. As I look back, I see now that this was the beginning of the end.

3 years ago... My "to do" now begins to be so different. "uncover septic," "mow lawn," "fix ruts in driveway". I took down storms, mulched, painted, sold cars, ...bought our grave marker.

Yesterday I spent the day mowing the lawn with a riding mower that I didn't even know how to use 3 years ago. I then used the blower and trimmer that I bought myself last year. Previously I used the gas-powered ones that Ed owned but after 3 years of getting frustrated with them not starting when I needed them to, I bought myself battery-powered ones last year.  Three years ago, I had no need for these things--they were Ed's.

And this morning I'm watering my indoor plants and caring for the orchid that Dan gave me. Three years ago, the only plants that survived with me were fake ones! Ed had the green thumb and cared for the house plants as well as those in the yard. Today, I'm carrying on in his absence. Yes, there are some that have not survived...our beach rose that I bought for our 25th anniv or Ed's mini lime tree. Maybe I'll get some new ones. We'll see.

I'd like to think Ed is proud of me. At times I'm disappointed in myself that I didn't help him with these things when he was here. But we had a good division of labor. Definitely not an equal division of labor. He obviously did a lot more than me. Now I realize that. So today I thank him often for all he did for me and I hope he's listening. I just wish I told him this when he was here. And just like that, looking back can fill you with sadness as well...

Widowbago Day!

This morning I woke up early.  The sun was shining in my bedroom window and the sky is a bright clear blue and I'm excited.  Today I'm hosting a "widowbago".  What is a widowbago?  It's a social gathering of widows/widowers who have met via an online community board.  There are people from all over the world on the board and people spontaneously host a "bago" which is basically a time and place for anyone in the area to get together. The word comes from "Winnebago" and the idea of traveling to places far and near and is shortened to "Bago".

I've been to a few "Bagos".  My first one, I went with my friend Cathy and I didn't know anyone else there. But by the end of the day, I had made some new friends and, in fact, one of my closest friends now, I met at that first Bago.  These have been held at other's houses, wineries, restaurants...and they are just so relaxing and fun.  Hanging with others who get our crazy, wid life.

So today, I'm hosting one.  I wish there were more who could make it, but that's what happens with a Bago.  You pick a date and time and those who can make it, can.  Those who can't, we'll miss.  I'm looking forward to this relaxing day, just hanging out and sharing food and drink and laughing with a great group of people.

And I need this...  This past month has been tough and I can't really put my finger on why.  There are a couple things I will attribute it to whether it's true or not.  First, being at three years has filled me with sorted feelings.  At three years, I realize what I'm missing most now is the life that Ed and I had and the life we thought we'd have as we grew old.  Yes, I still miss Ed, but my grief is more for what I have lost without Ed, without my partner, without my lifelong companion.  The idea of living the rest of my life alone is scary and I realize it is something I don't necessarily want to do.

Work has also been very busy and stressful and has really made it difficult for me to find the work/life balance I was getting good at.  Each day, each week...I keep trying to find it and hope that it will come.  So far, it is alluding me but I have hope that at some point, soon, things will become more manageable.

I have also been dealing with a muscle strain that has prevented me from exercising.  It fact, early on, walking was difficult. So simply walking outside to enjoy any fresh spring air was not possible.  Working in the yard was almost impossible. Since January I had been jogging 3 miles daily on my treadmill and today I'm lucky if I can walk 2 miles each day. Yes, I'm getting better and on the road to recovery, but this injury has slowed me down tremendously and, for several days, even stopped me totally.  Not having this physical exercise I realize is impacting my mental health as well.

But today, I'm happy and excited.  And just as I write this, the cardinals are once again outside my window.  The male and female, together.  And they make me smile.  I'm looking forward to hosting my first "bago" and having my "wid" friends here at the house, filling these walls with love and laughter.

Today is starting off as a good day and I will capture this moment, because the mood can so easily change, without notice, without intent.

Three Years (or 1,095 days)

Milestones are interesting.  I mean not a day goes by that I don't think of Ed and miss him and the life we had.  But on milestone dates like today, the third sadiversary, I pause and take the time to recognize this day.  I took the day off from work because one thing I've learned over these past three years is that you can't predict how you're going to react or feel.  Grief is funny that way.  The days you brace yourself for, expecting the worse, don't materialize.  But the days you let your guard down, grief can still knock you to your knees.

So today, I start my day honoring Ed.  But today is also strange because at three years, I find myself reflecting back on the past three years.  What have I done?  What have I accomplished?  As a friend pointed out, my daily survival rate is 100%...I guess that's a good thing.  But I have a very hard time this morning wrapping my brain around "what have I done for 3 years"?

I know that first year is a blur but I was productive!  I guess that's one of the benefits of grief...you can either curl up and stay in bed all day or you get up and keep moving hoping to avoid the grief monster.  That first year I did so many projects around the house--I painted, I cleaned, I organized, I got rid of cars, I had the driveway paved, I installed gutters, we laid patios, and the list goes on.

The past two years are less clear and I'm not quite sure what I did or accomplished or how to sum up the past two years.  The house is still standing.  I've still got my job.  So I must have been doing something!  I guess it was learning to navigate this new life of mine.  How to put one foot in front of the other.  To figure out the things in my life that are important, the friends and family who have filled the void in my life and in my heart that Ed left the day he died.

What I know today, is that I want to be happy and I want to be loved.  Not necessarily in any kind of romantic way (not today at least) but to smile and laugh.  The smile and laugh that Ed so enjoyed.  The smile and laugh that brought me happiness but others as well.  The "before" life that enabled me to say "life is good".  I know I will never have the "before" life again.  But I pray I can find a happy new life.  And it scares me to say that.  I know it is what Ed would want but it is scary because I don't know what it will be.  And for someone like me who likes to be in control, this is so difficult.

I feel like I'm in survival mode, which isn't such a bad thing.  It is better than the alternative.  So today I need to just take it day by day.  I feel an urge to be more productive.  To do things around the house; to have more to show for my existence.  But that might just be too big of a goal right now.  I find keeping up with daily chores is difficult for me.  How can that be when I used to be such a productive and organized person.

What I need to do is just take it one day at a time.  I need to stop overanalyzing and worrying what the next year will bring or where I'll be in 5 years.  What I need to focus on is, day-to-day, week-to-week.  Enjoy the moment.  I'll try because I know it is what Ed would want for me and it would make him smile.  And that warms my heart.

Ed, I love you always and forever.  The only bad thing about your love and care for me, that you showed every single day, and the wonderful and happy life we shared, is that it makes me miss you and that love so much more. But I wouldn't have changed a thing and would have done it all again.  So in your honor, I will continue trying...one day at a time...  I've made it 1,095 days, what's one more...

Daring to Acknowledge Happy Moments

I feel good this morning and yesterday I had many "happy" moments.  Not due to anything big and exciting, but instead in small ways:

• I planned to leave the office early and it actually happened and without a lot of stress or effort!
• I stopped and bought myself Easter plants...an Easter Lily and a pretty, pink Hyacinth.  Ed always went out on the Saturday before Easter and bought plants.  Some for my mother, sometimes for my sister, but always some for me.  I loved their smell and they brought springtime into the house.  So instead of wallowing in the sadness that Ed is not here to buy me these plants, I continue the tradition...myself.  And instead of being sad about it yesterday, it actually made me happy as I drove home and the smell of the flowers filled my car.
• I then saw Ed's friend Marvin.  We chatted a bit...about how I'm doing, about Ed.  He remembers Ed every day and it made me happy that he has not only not forgotten but also that he talked freely to me about him. As we parted, we shared a big hug...our connection to each other being Ed and that this connection was still there, 3 years later.
• I went to Good Friday service at the church and, even though the choir wasn't singing, a fellow alto and I sang our parts to the hymns and this brought me joy.  I am so thankful for my choir friends.
• Dan came home last night.  We enjoyed homemade pizza together and then stayed up til midnight working on a jigsaw puzzle he bought for us and just listened to music and chatted and laughed.

And I recall happy moments spent with friends this past week. Time last Saturday spent with a friend just hanging out doing everyday things, enjoying each others company.  Time on Monday celebrating a birthday and sharing food, drink, and many, many laughs.


All happy moments.  Today, I am grateful that I am able to recognize and appreciate these moments.  For I know, at any time, I can find myself wallowing in my grief again and being consumed with sadness.

This time of year is especially difficult for me.  My brother's passing, Ed's passing, Larry's passing, Kay's passing.  The events of three years ago, etched so clearly in my memory.  Every day, every moment, as if it was yesterday.  I do not know how three years have passed.  I feel as though I am traveling through this abyss though.  The darkness surrounds me and I hold on fighting hard not to slip into the valley of grief and sadness.  As each day ticks by, I remember.  Tomorrow, March 27th, marks the day I called 911 and Ed went to the ER, never to come home again.  I relive every moment of that day.  And, tomorrow, is Easter.  Easter joy that has eluded me for three years.  Three years ago, we did not even celebrate Easter.  We foolishly thought we'd postpone it until Ed was out of the hospital and better.  Easter 2013 never happened for me or my family.  It was appropriate, though...only grief and sadness and death that year.

So at some level, I fear tomorrow.  Because as much as I try to focus on the good things and appreciate what I have in my life, grief does not work like that.  It's always lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce when you least expect it.  But what I know, and what I fight hard for, is getting through it.  Getting past the depths of tears and sadness to try to live.  To appreciate what I have.  To appreciate my friends and family.  To appreciate the happy moments.  Like those from yesterday and this past week...

Pretty Easter plants

Brings such peace...

From a hike we took on March 12th. So blessed to have such a great son!

When I'm Gone Lyrics

I just came across this song, accidentally selecting it from Spotify.  The words move me deeply and tears fall from my eyes.  But the final lines give me a very small sliver of hope.  I hope I will learn where I belong...

A bright sunrise will contradict the heavy fog that weighs you down
In spite of all the funeral songs, the birds will make their joyful sounds
You'll wonder why the Earth still moves.
You'll wonder how you'll carry on.
But you'll be okay on that first day when I'm gone
Dusk will come with fireflies and Whippoorwill and crickets call.
And every star will take its place in silvery gown and purple shawl
You'll lie down in our big bed
Dread the dark and dread the dawn.
But you'll be alright on that first night when I'm gone.
You will reach for me in vain, you'll be whispering my name
As if sorrow were your friend and this world so alien
But life will call with daffodils and morning glorious blue skies.
You'll think of me - some memory, and softly smile to your surprise.
And even though you love me still, you will know where you belong.
Just give it time
We'll both be fine when I'm gone.

---"When I'm Gone" by Joey+Rory

 

My Waiting Room

My apologies for being absent.  I honestly have no good reason.  The days tick by one-by-one and when I pause and look up, somehow three weeks have passed.  I'm not quite sure how that happened.

It's another Sunday morning and I sit here quietly browsing the internet and drinking my cup of coffee.  Sunday's are my relaxing, take-it-slow, day.  There are usually some chores thrown in just out of necessity.  But I try to do any errands and most chores on Saturday so that Sunday can be a day of relaxing.

Two weeks ago was Valentine's Day.  I spent time with some fellow widowed girlfriends.  I figure instead of us sitting around missing what we used to have, we'll get together and share each other's company.  There was dinner, roses, chocolates, and lots of good conversation.  What else could a girl ask for?!

Dan remembered me on Valentine's Day and sent me chocolate the week before and sent flowers to me at work the Friday before.  Both of these were surprises and the flower delivery in particular brought tears to my eyes.  You see, Ed always sent me flowers--for every birthday, anniversary, Valentine's Day.  And for Dan to remember that and to have the forethought to do the same for me, touched me beyond belief.  I know his father would be so proud of him.  I know I am.

Today I'm off to have lunch with a group of fellow wids.  Some I know and have gotten together with before; some I have never met before.  I find it ironic, though, that I'm looking forward to this event since I am usually not this adventurous and would not drive to some place I've never been to before to meet people I didn't know, especially alone.  However, one of my good friends will be there, so it makes it less frightening.


I'm keeping busy while finding the balance of not being "too" busy.  I recognize when I'm too busy, that life becomes too stressful.  I'm learning to say "no" and take life at a slower pace (or at least attempt to).  Thankfully, winter has been kind this year and I can see signs that spring is on its way.

So I'm here.  Am I doing good?  I'm not sure...I'm surviving though.  In a book I'm reading, they reference a "waiting room"...the phase between initial grief and whatever the next phase of our life should be.  I'm starting to move out of this waiting room.  I'm not sure what the next chapter of my life will be.  I'm afraid and I want so desperately to stay in my waiting room, where it's safe.  But Ed is not coming back to me and I cannot go back to my previous life.  So it is time to move forward.  To step out of this safe place I've been in where I don't need to face the future. An unknown future.  A scary future.  But also, maybe, just maybe if I'm lucky, it can be a future that can bring happiness and love again.  But I'll never know if I remain here in the waiting room alone, only looking backwards.  The door from my waiting room is open and so today I stand in the doorway, peeking out, tentatively dipping my toe into whatever awaits me.  It's scary.  I'm afraid.  But I'll keep the door open and take it slowly...

Superbowl Sunday

The sun is shining this morning and the sky is a crisp, clear blue without a cloud in sight.
The sun reflects brightly off the snow that fell two days ago.
I sit here in my warm house, slowly enjoying a warm cup of coffee.
It is silent.  The only noise in the house is the clicking of the heater.
There is no noise outside.  The snow provides a blanket of quiet.

And I am content.  For the moment.
For I know how quickly this can change.
The quietness will turn into loneliness which will just remind me of my loss.
But for now, I will be content.

I have set out for 2016 to be the year about "me".  I know that can sound selfish.  But after almost three years, I'm trying to figure out what makes me feel better, more restful, more peaceful, more content.  I'm not quite sure about "happy" yet.  I'm learning to recognize the glass half full, but it does not come easy.  Oh how I miss the girl from three years ago.  How joyful and innocent I was.

Today is Superbowl Sunday.  Do I care about football?  Not really.  But Ed loved it and watched it every week so it was always on. For me, the Superbowl was about Ed cooking a pot of chili on the stove and various food for the game.  I still recall the ribs he'd slowly cook--yum, one of my favorites and he knew it.

So today I will have a meal cooking, no ribs, but a low-calorie crock pot meal, and I'll watch the game to see the commercials and halftime show.  If I'm lucky, I'll share comments via text with close friends.

I will enjoy being home in my warm house.
Where the silence will be replaced by the noise of the TV.
Where the smells of dinner will fill the air.
Where texting with friends will be my company.  They won't replace Ed, but they will help fill the void.
And for that, I'm grateful.
It should be a good day.
And I will be content...

T-Shirts

Today I finished cleaning out the dresser drawers in the bedroom.  I wasn't planning on it.  I had some gifts I needed to put away from Christmas that were still sitting out.  So as I tried to make room, I found myself organizing and sorting through my drawers.  I sorted through the "sock" drawer which contains half my socks and half of some of Ed's socks that I held onto.  You know, those Hanes-type socks that I could wear while working in the yard and not worry about ruining.  I had sorted through them in the first year.  Today I sorted again and purged more still keeping an adequate supply for those dirty, summer jobs.

There were three drawers of Ed's t-shirts that have been left untouched.  I wore some of these shirts.  Mostly as "work" shirts.  Shirts I didn't mind ruining or getting dirty while at the same time finding comfort in wearing what were his clothes.

As I rearranged my clothes and realized I could benefit from using those three drawers, I began the sorting process.  Three piles--a pile of shirts I would keep as my "work" shirts or to lounge around the house; a pile of shirts I have no need for; and a pile of shirts that reminded me specifically of Ed.

The dresser drawers are now well organized.  I have a bag of clothes to donate and I still have one drawer of "Ed's shirts".  The closets still need work.  Mine needs to be organized badly and, at some point, I do need to continue cleaning out Ed's closet.  It's about two-thirds done.  What I've learned though is that you can't rush it.  I will get to the rest of his closet when it feels right.  There is no planning, it just seems to happen and so I will go with that.  Thankfully, I'm in no rush and can take my time, just like today.

The one remaining drawer of Ed's shirts that I was not able to part with today.  Special memories...

Boxing Up Memories

I took down the Christmas tree yesterday.  It was overdue. I was planning to do it last weekend but between a combination of needing to work and being sick, that did not happen.  So I was determined to get the tree down and the few, sparse Christmas decorations put away yesterday.

What I wasn't prepared for was the few bouts of tears that occurred along the way.  As I removed ornaments from the tree and boxed them up, I would recall the memory of each piece.  The glass ornaments I packed back up in their original boxes with price tags from some store that has long since closed.  Ed and I would have gone out and bought these on our first Christmas together.  I'm sure at the time we thought we were spending a fortune as I glanced at the original price tags of $2.97 and $3.99.  The $12.99 we paid for the beautiful angel for the top of tree.  Yes, our selection was timeless and I still think she's beautiful.  Ed would have picked these out.  Yes, we would have been shopping together and browsing the selection.  But Ed had an eye for what he liked and didn't like.  I'm sure we spent a good amount of time perusing the selection with Ed carefully making each selection.

Naturally there were also the "special" ornaments....Our "First Christmas Together"....two of them.  The one bought in 1982 by me and Ed when we were living together, but not yet married.  And then the one from 1984 from my sister-in-law that commemorated that "First Christmas Together" as a married couple.

I also had the task of boxing up all of Dan's ornaments.  Every year, we (and now I) have given Dan a dated ornament to commemorate some event or activity in his life during that year.  Each year, with each ornament, I have enclosed a written note explaining why that particular ornament was selected.  Naturally, these conjured up memories.  Memories from when he was younger and the ornaments reflected his life as a child--coloring, swing sets, and playing ball...and later ones reflecting the life of a young man--studying in Italy, graduating college, his first apartment.  These brought warm memories of many years of a wonderful life and how blessed we were and ignorant of that fact.

The tears didn't come then.  But they came later as I packed up the Santa that Ed bought me from a local craft fair.  We bought the Santa together and then Ed contacted the woman who made it (she lived locally) and bought me the Mrs. Claus and Elf as a surprise gift.  So every year the three of them are placed on our stairs.  And the tears came as I recalled Ed's thoughtfulness and how sweet he was to me and how I miss that so much.

But the tears came too when I packed up the Tigger that Dan had bought Ed.  Ed loved Tigger and Dan and I had taken a bus trip to NYC with some other family members.  Ed didn't want to go (not a big fan of bus trips) and so he stayed home.  Dan found this in the Disney store and bought it for his father with his own money.  Ed loved it which explains the wet eyes that ensued as I hugged that Tigger tight before packing him away with the other decorations.


There weren't many decorations to put away though.  I didn't put many out.  Somehow time got away from me and the few that got put up were done the week before Christmas.  But there were so many that I didn't put out and I feel bad about that.  The collection of Byers Choice carolers and nutcrackers.  Ed bought me every Byers Choice and each year he picked out one that was dated for that year.  I remember telling him one year that I had too many and he really needed to stop buying them for me.  He did, that next year....when he died.

At some level I feel bad that I fell short with Christmas this year.  There was no baking.  The decorations were minimal.  Ed would have been disappointed for he loved my cookies and loved Christmas.  But he would have been here to help.  At one point, Dan asked me why I didn't have enough time.  At first, I was miffed thinking he was judging me, but he wasn't.  It was just a question.  And as I pondered this question, I do know that work was more demanding than usual and required more of my time this year.  Time off that I usually took to prepare for the holidays was cut short or non-existent.  So that was part of it.

The other part is that this year the holidays were very difficult for me.  As I'm told, it's usually the second year that is the hardest.  The year when the grief is not as heavy and life is not as much of a blur as that first year.  However, last year, we were dealing with my mother's illness so there was no time to think about me or my life.  So maybe this year was difficult because the entire year was difficult and because the reality of what is now my life I am faced with more clearly.

There is a sadness that has totally enveloped me these past few months. In particular as I watch others whose lives have continued on "as usual".  They go home to their happy homes filled with loved ones to greet them.  They have husbands who are there when there are tasks to be done but also to provide that emotional support at the end of  a difficult day.  They laugh and do things together and their lives have returned to what they were before.  I am resentful of this.  I am jealous of this.  It hurts.

My house continues to be empty with the only sound being the ticking of the clock.  There is no laughter filling the air; just memories that float through my mind.  There is no one here to greet me at the end of a long day, to pick me up, or just give me a hug.  There are just pictures of what was my happy, love-filled family.  The three of us...me, Ed, and Dan...reminders of the things we did together, the happy times.  The past.

But life moves on and although some tell me I can leave my tree up year round if I really wanted to, I'm too much of a perfectionist and control freak to allow that.  So the decorations are now all down and packed away for another year.  Another year where I will try to live this life of mine without the love of my life.  Without my anchor to keep me grounded; without my rudder to help steer me in the right direction.

Maybe next Christmas will be different.  But then again, maybe not....

2016: A New Year

Another year has passed.
Another year of my so called life.
Another year older.

I am tired.  I am exhausted.  Each year that passes just wears me out.
So with a new year, like so many others, I have great hope for the new year.
Maybe this year I can find happiness.
Maybe this year I can feel good about life.
Maybe this year won't feel like groundhog day where each day blurs into the next, repeating the same grief day after day.

One can only hope.
Of course, I realize I have to work at it as well.
But I don't have the energy so I will push myself.  A little each day.

I have decided that 2016 is going to be about me.
Being selfish and finding and doing what makes me feel good and makes me feel happy.
Of course the hard thing is that I don't know what I want or what I need.
Not without Ed.  HE made me feel good; HE made me happy.

I have spent most of my life, in particular the last few years, doing what others expect or what they need me to do for them.
But this year is going to be about what I want, what I need...yes, very selfish I know.
So that is my challenge for 2016.
I'll let you know how that goes...

Merry (?) Christmas

It's still hard to say the word "Merry".  Was yesterday a "merry" day?  Not sure.  It was Christmas though.  Not a traditional Christmas either and I don't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Needless to say, Christmas is not the same since Ed passed.  I still avoid the word "joy"...will "joy" ever return?  I'd like to think so.

Ed loved Christmas...mostly because he liked to spoil me and Dan.  He always bought me too much...things he knew I needed or wanted whether it was some new clothes for work that I wouldn't buy myself or a special splurge that I was too cheap to buy like the Keurig, my Kindle, or my laptop.  He also spoiled Dan, I think to makeup for Christmases lost with his own family as a child.

Christmas is another reminder that I am now solely responsible for my happiness which is just a reminder of my loss.  I know Christmas is not about presents under the tree and each Christmas since Ed passed, it is Dan who fills the void by his presence.  I am so thankful he is here with me.  And it makes me smile as I see him doing things to make the day special for both of us, special for me.

Christmas Eve was spent with the in-laws at my nieces.  This is tradition and getting to see my "grand" niece and nephews is so much fun.  The irony that I am technically not an "in-law" any longer does not escape me. Dan is related; I am not.  But after 30 plus years, we are still family and with our losses, we know the importance of maintaining this relationship and bond.


This year, Christmas with my family is again postponed.  That is typically where we go on Christmas Day.  Last year Mom was in the hospital.  This year, my oldest sister is in the hospital.  She is on the road to recovery and we're hoping she gets discharged today.  We're not quite sure when we'll celebrate Christmas--sometime in the next week or so depending on my sister's recovery.

So Christmas has been non-traditional the last two years now.  Yesterday, Dan and I exchanged gifts, hung around the house waiting for power to be restored (I guess a squirrel was the cause of most of the town losing power for a couple hours), went to visit my mother, and then we went to see the new Star Wars movie.  Odd to be out and about on Christmas, going to see a movie, and walking around only in a sweater since it was an unseasonably 60 degrees outside.

But I know, deep down inside, Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays.  And so I will continue the tradition of recognizing the 12 days of Christmas.  I will look for "merry" moments and hope that someday, I will find the "joy" as well.

Merry Christmas!

My grand nephews and niece.  So cute and so much fun!
Wish I saw them more...

Our tree on Christmas Eve.  At least we got that up before Christmas.
Other decorations are pretty sparse!

Tree Decorating and Memories

Tonight as I decorate the tree, the ornaments bring back special memories.  In particular, the one that Ed and I bought for our first Christmas together in 1982.  The saying on it caught me this evening...

"Christmas is quiet moments together, love that lasts forever."

Such a simple ornament.  Whoever knew that the inscription would have a more profound impact on me all these years later.  Although we are no longer able to share quiet moments together, our love certainly will last forever.  I love you always; I love you forever.  Merry Christmas Ed!

TGITW

TGITW...Thank God It's the Weekend!

What a week!!  Work was absolutely nuts this week!  Issue after issue and fire after fire that needed to be put out.  As a result, there was no prayer of me staying on top of the hundreds of incoming email or crossing anything off my list.  I did my best to remain calm and not boil over, but the stress of the week surely tested me more than it has in a long time.  I'm sure the pressure of the upcoming holidays added to this as well.

The good news...  It's the weekend and everyone survived the work week intact!
The bad news...  It's less than a week til Christmas and I have so much still to do.  And so today and tomorrow are my last days to get shopping done, decorate, and wrap.  Well, that's not entirely true...I have Monday-Wednesday evening as well.  Sleep is overrated, right?!

I managed to get my Christmas cards out this week with a note enclosed that I hope fell somewhere between "unrealistic perfection and joy" (which is certainly not my life) and "totally depressing and negative" (which some days feel like).

There is still a heaviest that I'm carrying with me.  But there are also moments of laughter and smiles.  I did technically finish my shopping this morning and remained patient and kind with the crowds, traffic, and hustle and bustle of many people.  I even managed to make it to the annual cookie swap at our church and brought home a variety of cookies to share with Dan.  Yes, Dan is home this weekend...to finish preparing his gifts for Christmas and help me put up the tree.  I know he is one of the reasons my spirit is a little lighter this weekend.

I just wish things would be a little calmer so I could enjoy the holidays with those who are most special to me.  To go see Christmas lights or a play or concert.  To slow down, for just a moment, to enjoy the sights and sounds of the season.  To be with the ones who are most special to me.  I guess that's what December 26th is for...

The Holidays Can Suck

Well here we are, less than two weeks before Christmas.  I know I haven't written and that is because the past month has just totally sucked.  Not for any outwardly obvious reason.  No, just the usual sadness that has become part of my daily living.  And I believe it is magnified now because of the holidays.

I have on my list this weekend to write out my Christmas cards.  I typically enclose a small note...to share with others snippets of the past year.  But I am struggling to write this note this year.

I cannot fake a happy message as hard as I try.  And I know that I am being unreasonable.  I know, deep down, that I should be thankful for my job, my home, my friends and family.  And I am...way down deep inside.  But over the past month, I struggle to bring that to the surface and I also find I don't have the energy to fake it either.

So I am here... Still going through the motions day-to-day.

I am trying to do things that bring me snippets of happiness.  But the reality is that if I could go away and escape all the expectations surrounding the holidays, I would.  But I can't.  And so I will suck it up and do my best to get through the next few weeks.

And maybe, I can pull together a few words to include with my Christmas card.  But, then again, maybe there will be no personal note this year...

New Cancer Center at Cooley Dickinson

I went to the open house today for the new Mass General Cancer Center at Cooley Dickinson Hospital.  I can't explain why, but I was drawn to it.  As soon as I saw the ad, I cut it out and hung it on my board and marked it on my calendar.

As some of you know, Ed was treated at Hampshire Hematology and Oncology who had their office in Cooley.  This was the level of cancer treatment at Cooley at the time.  We were always thankful that Ed could be treated so close to home.  We absolutely loved Dr. Bowers and his staff.  And if you needed to have chemotherapy, this at least was a nice place to go--good treatment but more importantly wonderful people.  It was a small operation but it was friendly and they made you feel like home.

The new Cancer Center at Cooley is certainly impressive.  It is state-of-the-art and linked into Mass General in Boston.  They are able to easily do conferencing and consult with specialists in Boston saving patients the long drive to Boston.  The infusion area is very impressive with 18 bays, privacy, flat screen TVs, and beautiful views.  It is a beautiful facility but as I walked around I noticed and found comfort in the small, personal touches that brought back memories of Dr. Bowers--the homemade hats available for patients or the basket of snacks and treats.  Fancy monitors now alert nurses when IVs are running low, replacing the unique bells that we used to ring.

I toured today hoping that I will never have the opportunity to see inside again, neither as a patient nor caregiver.  I also found comfort when chatting with some of the tour guides who fondly remember Dr. Bowers and still miss him (he retired the fall after Ed passed).  Some of the staff are still there--Roberta and Karen--who Ed loved to joke and chat with.


It is odd, but I have this sense of connection and comfort there.  Cooley is also where Ed spent the last month of his life and breathed his last breath.  Some people have difficulty returning to the place where their loved one died.  I do not.  It's a strange and odd mixture of feelings--a certain level of peace mixed in with sadness.

As I drove home, I recalled that this was the same drive I took every day for that last month of Ed's life.  I felt empty.  I missed Ed and my heart ached with that emptiness and I wished he was there with me.  I wondered if Ed would have gone to this open house with me?  Would we have even cared about it?  It really doesn't matter.  For I care now.  To this day I still appreciate everything Dr. Bowers and Shane and Karen and Roberta did for Ed.  I miss them all.  I miss Ed.


I'm still not sure why I was drawn there today.  I know, beyond a doubt, if I had a way to make it happen, I would volunteer my time there...at the Cancer Center.  But realistically, with working full-time, I know this is not something I can do.  But maybe that's what I'm destined to do?  I'm not sure, but I'll keep an open mind and see where I'm led.  In the meantime, I'll be grateful that we have such good care right here, close to home.

Widow Ramblings

I find it ironic how easily I can now use the word "widow".  I remember hating that word in the early days.  I did not like the sound of it and certainly was not comfortable labeling myself that.  But now, the word flows easily off my tongue and I frequently use the term "wid friends"....those fellow widows and widowers who are my now part of my friendship circle and who "get" what is now our crazy lives where logic and reasoning do not always apply.

So today's post is about random ramblings with no particular path or connection.  Us "wids" are allowed to have them.  I mean, everyone is actually allowed to have them, but I can blame the craziness of my thoughts on my "wid brain".  When Ed had cancer, we would blame these on "chemo brain".  Whatever works to help us justify the craziness in our minds and lives!

I had a good day yesterday.  Dan surprised me by coming home Friday night and then helped me get the leaves cleaned up.  Each year, I go to battle with the leaves.  And maybe someday, I will move from this house and if I do, it will be to a house without so many leaves to pickup!!  There are a ton of them and if I stay ahead of them, I can use the riding mower to pick them up and bag them.  But at some point, they get ahead of me and that is what happened this past week.

On Sunday, I had the leaves all cleaned up and I looked out at the yard and felt proud of how great it looked and what I was able to accomplish.  But Tuesday evening, though, as I drove in from work, the piles of leaves were unbelievable!  I swear the remaining leaves all came down in that one day!!  And because of work, doing any cleanup during the week is not an option.  So I knew I was faced with raking and cleaning up leaves by hand this weekend and I knew it would take hours.

But with Dan home, the job was more manageable and after several hours, we got the job done.  We were able to laugh and we actually jumped into the leaves at one point!  And as I made one of many trips dragging a tarp filled with leaves into the woods, I knew I would have been overwhelmed if I was doing this by myself.  I know I would have gotten frustrated and have ended up in tears, just like I did last year.  I know I am so blessed by having Dan and that he takes such good care of his Mom and I thanked God and Ed for that and thanked Dan profusely as well.

Over these past few weeks, I continued to work on cleaning out Ed's closet.  I laughed at myself when I had a pile of his jeans that I considered saving since I could wear them working in the yard.  I made myself only keep two pairs!  There is still more cleaning out to do but I don't have any need for dress slacks or dress shirts so that should go easier!

Last week while emptying the bagger on the tractor, I actually had the thought "I could really use a larger bagger".  It caused me to pause and I actually laughed out loud at how my life has changed.  For when Ed was here...he cleaned up the leaves.  I would help on occasion.  And if he had said to me "I need a bigger bagger for the tractor" I probably would have rolled my eyes and said "what for, you have one already".  Oh but how I've learned why that would have been a good idea!  I just never knew and I was happy not knowing.  We had such a good balance of chore sharing in our house.  Okay, maybe not...the reality is Ed probably carried more of the load than me.  But I did giggle and was quite confident Ed was looking down laughing with me as well.  And as I looked down at myself dressed in a pair of Ed's sweatpants, sweatshirt, and wool hat I wondered what happened to that "girly" girl I used to be.  But I smiled at my pink work gloves and steel-toed shoes with the pink as well.  My, how things have changed over the past two years!

As we are now in November, I'm working through my list of what needs to be done to get ready for winter.  In the next couple weeks I will need to take down screens and put up storm windows.  The second floor is always challenging for me so, if I'm smart, I'll wait til Dan is home again to do those.  Or, if I'm stubborn, I will attempt to do it myself and just hope I don't get frustrated and end up crying.  I did remove the upstairs air conditioners myself.  I didn't drop them out the window nor did I end up in tears.  So that was a victory.  Maybe the storms will be as well.  You never know!

So life marches on.  I have a bit of trepidation and fear as winter approaches.  Last year was difficult keeping up with the snow.  I would be outside, in the dark, clearing the driveway with the snowblower.  Some say the winter will be tough again.  Will I be able to manage and stand up to the demands or will I find myself outside, in the dark, clearing snow with tears freezing on my cheeks?  Only time will tell.  Maybe I should have kept Ed's truck and plow...

This is how I help Dan cleanup leaves!

Clothes

It's been 2 years, 6 months, and 3 days...
It has taken me 2 years, 6 months, and 3 days to start to clean out his closet.

Earlier in the day, as I did laundry and folded a load from the dryer, the irony did not escape me that most of the clothes I was folding were his.  His clothes that I have become used to wearing.  Not because of some emotional attachment (okay, maybe there is at some level), but more out of practicality.  The long sleeve shirts that I can wear outside while working in the yard and not worry about ruining.  The sweatshirt with paint stains on it.  You see, I did not have many, if any, clothes I could get dirty and ruin.  My life "before" did not entail doing anything that would ruin my clothes.  So, for practical reasons, I am able to wear his slightly large shirts for projects around the house.  As the days grow colder, though, I also find myself wearing his sweats--the large, warm sweatshirts or flannel pants.  Plenty of room and, yes, the warmth of the fabric but also the warmth of his memory.

For practical reasons, I decided today to start cleaning out his closet--a closet filled with over 30 years of clothes.  Clothes that Ed wore to work; clothes he wore to do yardwork; clothes he wore lounging around the house; clothes he wore for casual; clothes he wore for more formal affairs.  Yes, it has been over 2 years and 6 months and I have yet to get rid of his clothes.

On the positive side of things, Dan cannot wear Ed's clothes since they wore different sizes.  So the dozen or so shoes that were still is good shape, I was able to easily box up for donation.  However, as I sorted through clothes, the piles of what I was keeping for myself grew.  I finally realized I needed to let some of it go.  There was no need for me to keep 20 sweatshirts or whatever else there was.  So I sorted and purged.

I sorted and removed shirts from hangers or refolded t-shirts from various events or places, I reminisced.  Not sadly but fondly.  There was a box of t-shirts that he had saved--Belchertown Fall Baseball; Mama Leone's, Beat Carlos (or Sack CK depending on the year); the "Greatest Dad" shirt--just to name a few. The many golf shirts that he wore to Pine Grove or the polos he wore to work--and the ones with a pocket to hold those packs of cigarettes before he quit.  I was proud as I worked through the closet and bagged things up.  There were no tears, no sadness.

That was until I started to drag the bags down the stairs to the garage.  They were heavy and as I made several trips through the house dragging his clothes behind me, I realized there were fewer things in the house that were Ed's.  I realized that his presence in the house was diminishing.  As I removed these bags of clothes, the weight of them dragged on my arms, and dragged on my heart.  It reminded me of the weight of his being, of his existence.  It took all my strength to lift these bags and boxes into the back of the car.  And after several trips, I sank into the chair in the bedroom and the tears flowed.  The weight became such a burden I could no longer bear it.  It hurt that all that remained of Ed's life were these clothes.  These clothes that he picked out and that he wore.  Some I don't even remember.  Some brought back memories of times and places gone by.  And my heart ached and the weight of the bags and the weight of my grief became too great.

There are still more clothes in the closet that I need to pack up.  But I closed the closet door, enough for one day, to be finished on another day.

As the sun sets and the house cools, I slip on the large sweatshirt sitting on the back of the chair.  It was Ed's sweatshirt.  It's big and warm and comforting.  I'm glad I kept it...

Fluttering

There are about a half dozen bluebirds outside my window right now.  They caught my attention as I was making my list of all the things I need to get done today.  They caused me to stop and just watch them for  a few moments and enjoy them fluttering around.  It was good to hit the pause button and see the beauty around me.

The last few days have been hard.  I celebrated my birthday a few days ago.  I took the day off of work and planned a day trip with my mother and aunt.  I figured that was better than staying home and doing chores.  The day itself was nice and I received numerous birthday greetings from friends near and far.  But as the sun set and I arrived home at the end of the day, the lonesomeness enveloped me and sadness engulfed me as I was reminded of the birthdays celebrated with Ed.  I was reminded how he always made the day special for me, and not necessarily in big ways.  But in small ways--a bouquet of flowers, a bag of chocolate to stash in my desk at work, a meal of some of my favorite things cooked by him.

I reminded myself that I am now responsible for my own happiness and if I want to celebrate my birthday in a special way, it is now up to me to do so.  So I did buy myself some flowers and they sit on the table looking lovely, but they are lonely flowers--flowers without any special meaning or love behind them.

I know life could be worse.  A fellow Wid I met through a bereavement group is battling pancreatic cancer.  His battle is to get as many more days out of this life as possible.  He knows he's terminal.  So really, what do I have to complain about or be sad about?  But his illness and battle add to my sadness as, once again, we are reminded how precious life is and also how unfair it can be.

I long for the days of innocence that existed not that long ago.  To the happy life I lived where tears rarely flowed and sadness really didn't exist.  For those of you who still have your loved ones or who are not battling an illness within your immediate family, take the time today to stop and appreciate them.  Just as I sit and watch the fluttering of birds outside my window; stop and enjoy what your kids may be up to, what your spouse is doing at the moment.  That your home is filled with love and family and companionship.

For those who are on the same boat as me, I send you love and peace.  Take a moment today to stop and find some peace it the beauty around you--the fall leaves, the fluttering birds.  And breath deep and know I'm thinking of you...