TheLifeChasers

Dispositioning

2008-03-31T20:58:00.000-07:00

I have never gotten rid of all of Jack's clothes. I've spent the last couple months trying to "disposition" them. This entails going through them and categorizing: save/keep in closet; save/put in box - put box in garage; give away/find an appropriate charity; give away/put in a bag out on the curb for the next charity truck pick up. For many things in life, once I am ready, I just do it. All at once. I have found with this whole process surrounding Jack's death, I cannot just jump in and tackle things all at once. I wish I could do it all in one fell swoop, kind of like ripping off a band-aid, but I just can't seem to. I think one of the reasons it is still so hard to part with the remaining clothing is that I can still picture him in so many of those shirts and pants or shorts and shoes. Those are "his" clothes and the thought of them becoming someone else's clothes has been an emotional barrier to break down.

This week, I also finally got one of his financial investment accounts switched to my name. I have an appointment on the 14th with DMV to cancel his driver's license since the notice came in the mail (I was originally told this was taken care of by the police station in WI).

His name is still the primary on all the utility bills so I guess some day I have to get those changed over.

His bicycles still sit in the garage and his truck in the driveway. The sale of the truck will be tackled in the coming months. I'm finally ready - I think - to take on this job.

Funny how when someone dies, the one left still has to end their other life, many times over.

As I've said before, widowhood is not for the meek.

Companion In the Darkness

2008-03-25T20:35:00.001-07:00

I had reason to go looking for a book tonight. There was a particular passage I was trying to find. When I found the book, I remembered it was the only book for the first 3-4 months (at least) after Jack's death that I could completely and utterly relate to. It stayed by my bedside for a long time. It's pages are dog-eared. I hung on to it like a life line. Knowing there was one other person out there who had experienced what I was going through and survived was indescribable.

For anyone who wants to know what it is like to experience profound and devastating loss, I suggest you pick up this book and read it. It describes the inner emotional, psychologic and spiritual turmoil one goes through. It also shows how the practical every day things can be the trigger that brings you to your knees (not theoretically, but actually, physically, to your knees).

The book is, Companion Through the Darkness, Inner Dialogues on Grief by Stephanie Ericsson.

But be warned. It is not light. It is not easy reading. It is painful. It will make you cry. It will make you glad you are not in her shoes if you are not. It will make you feel less alone if you are. It is her truth and my truth. I cannot describe how grateful I am that she found a way through her own darkness to eventually write this book.

Here is part of her note to the reader:

"This book belongs to the grieving, to the truthsayers, to the bereaved who have seen the light and the dark in one flash. It belongs to those who have had the blinders ripped from their eyes, who suddenly see the lies of our lives and the truths of existence for what they are. It belongs to those who feel crazy, because death has absolutely, vividly re-prioritized their lives. It belongs to those who feel so small in the shadow of such profound truth. It is meant to help those who are trying to fit the very sane epiphany of grief into a world that would rather have them feel insane, so as to maintain a safe status quo. It is a book meant to ease the pain of significant loss. It's aim is not to give false comfort, but validation for the long haul. It was written to reach out in the darkness, not to altruistically give hope, for there is none, and the grieving know this unequivocally. (Ironically, however, the hope lies herein).

After the death of a significant person, we are suspended in limbo; we are not the persons we used to be, nor the persons we are yet to become... For mourning is the constant reawakening that things are now different".

Life For Sale

2008-03-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

Some guy in Australia is putting his entire life up for sale. His home, his job, his friends. After a marriage break-up, he struggled to re-group, so decided to try to start fresh. When I read this, I had a sense of envy. This sounds like a perfect "run-away" scenario. I've thought of doing this so many times since Jack's been gone that I can't even count anymore. What stops me? Two things: 1). FEAR - mostly of making the wrong choice and winding up even more miserable and alone than I already am; and 2). Jack will still be gone and I'll still be by myself no matter where I go.

When talking with friends about this today, one of them said, "I'd switch lives with someone for a certain period of time but I wouldn't give it all up". I thought of that on the drive home and realized I honestly can't imagine anyone who would want my life. Or maybe there would be a few out there who think it looks good, but then when they tried it would be horrified at how boring and emtpy it is. I'm someone who always tries to be grateful for what I have, but quite honestly, these are trying times - yes, even after 3.5 years since becoming a widow.

While most people my age are on their way to coasting, I am back at square one. Using a metaphor, I am trying to keep the foundation from crumbling so I can build something new on top of it. But, lately, I am wondering if I need to abandon this old foundation (and maybe the plot of land it's standing on), and go for something new. Something that is up to modern code, something that can withstand chaos, turbulance and all the elements that go with inclement and extreme emotional weather.

If you were in my shoes, what would you do?

Progress

2007-09-19T21:07:00.000-07:00

When I was at the park with Cookie last night, I saw another dog owner friend, M, I hadn't seen for a couple weeks. Turns out she had been in a car accident a couple days before. Some woman didn't see the stoplight where everyone was stopped and plowed into M which sent her into the car in front of her. Her car was accordioned. She walked away and will be o.k. Very lucky.

As I got home, I realized it was the first time in over 3 years that I heard about/talked about an accident where I wasn't brought back to or thought of Jack's accident. Wow! That's huge! After realizing, it felt really good that I was able to be with her in the moment, listening to her story and not turning it into mine in my head and heart.

I think they call that progress.

I Used To

2007-09-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

Lately, I find myself saying alot, "I used to (fill in the blank)". There is not much to talk about yet of my current life. Just like I say "late husband", I guess I should start saying, "in my late life, I...". You see I had this very incredible life with my husband. We worked really hard together to create that life and we tried not to take any of it for granted.

It takes an incredible amount of energy, time, money, brain power and courage to re-build a life and I get very tired sometimes. Especially because the previous life was at such a high standard and I want that back. Some days (o.k. most days) I wonder if the best years are behind me.

I used to...

mountain bike
travel
go to restaurants
be a wife
have someone to come home to
have someone to listen to my stories
worry less
have someone who would offer advice
have a husband who could fix anything
be more positive
have more mental and physical energy
periodically go to church
have a Beagle
enjoy a glass or two of wine
be interested in my future
collect a pretty good paycheck
get lots of hugs and kisses
feel less fearful and chaotic
look forward to the future
believe that if you worked hard, treated people well, that life would in turn, treat you well
have someone to go to the movies with
have a husband
have someone who would drive while I was a back seat driver
wake up next to someone
be a night person
have a good memory
enjoy parties
have people over to the house alot
have someone to share everything with
really love reading
share responsibilities
have a Mom and Dad who were living
feel young
be able to relax
have more hair
go to Lake Tahoe
love travel
have the capacity to help and support others
have plans for improving/remodeling the house
dreams and goals

There's a whole lot more to add to the list, but you get the idea. I didn't just lose a human being, I lost an entire life. One that can't be re-created no matter hard I may try. It's coming up on time to make some decisions about what I want for my new life.

Widowhood Is Not For Wimps

2007-08-17T15:09:00.000-07:00

Hello. I haven't written in quite awhile. I got to a point where I felt like I was out of things to say. My thoughts feel like repeats. Same thoughts, different day. This is one of the challenges of widowhood. Even now, I have the overwhelming need to just end this post right there. I will say this. Young widowhood is not for the wimpy, faint of heart or shallow in spirit. It is really, really, really hard. Not everyday anymore. But on those days that it is hard, it is still very hard.

As I was leaving my financial planner today (oh, what a crazy ride the financial markets are taking us on), I found myself wishing Jack were here to provide input. To help with the decision making. To offer words of reassurance. Then I was hard on myself. It's been 3 years for crying out loud. He's not here! You need to be o.k. with doing all this yourself! Get better. Move forward. DO SOMETHING - ANYTHING! Stop wishing for something that can't be for pete's sake!! And then the softer voice replied, "you loved him and were with him for 24 of your 42 years. You were attached at the hip, in mind and spirit. You cannot expect yourself to be moving forward (or even moving) all the time." Ah, the head and the heart don't always agree now do they. Unfortunately, we tend to give the head more air time than the heart.

So, yes, after 3 years, it is still hard making decisions by myself. It is still hard to have some silly little event happen in my life and not have anyone to share it with. It is still hard to go through hardship or anxiety about the future and not have a helping hand. But most of all, it's hard to not have the love and everything that came with it.

And yes, today was my wedding anniversary. One half here, one half not.

On the Road and Back

2007-06-08T19:21:00.000-07:00

I packed in months and months of living into the 31 days of May. I had a couple trips already planned and then life stepped in as well.

I went on an extended week-end cruise to Mexico with friends to celebrate a couple of 40th birthdays. I traveled to Denver for my Sister's 40th birthday which was a big girl's week-end in the mountains. All in all, great times with great family and friends. I am very lucky to have such good people in my life.

Book-ending those activities were visits to MN. Late in April I learned my Dad's health was declining pretty rapidly. Last minute I flew to MN to see him. As anticipated, it turned out to be for the last time. When I was in Denver with my Sister's and Sister-In-Law, we got the call from my Brother that Dad had passed away. I will maybe write about his funeral and more lessons I've learned from another journey through death.

I was home a little more than 24 hours and I adopted a dog! Yes, I am crazy. I had gotten information on her before I left on all my travels. While I was away I decided if she was still available once I got back, I would adopt her if it seemed right. Well, I guess it was! Cookie is the new household addition. I will post a picture in another post.

It is good to be home but I miss my family after having seen them so much lately. All my adult life I've lived with those two opposite pulls so this is nothing new. Doesn't ever seem easier to deal with, but familiar.

Fond Farewell to the Jacuzzi

2007-04-28T16:44:00.000-07:00

I watched our Jacuzzi get trucked away today. Jack loved that thing. One of his favorite activities was to get in, soak a bit and then call relatives in Minnesota during their cold season and brag about how awesome it was to be sitting in the jacuzzi, beer in hand with the palm trees lightly swaying above. When I had a reading with a medium in 2005, she relayed to me, "tell her it's like the jacuzzi". I knew then he was just fine.

Jack always preferred jacuzzing with me. But over the years, I got all girly and hated to be wet and cold (you have to get out of it at some point and get cold...). Anyway, since he's been gone I think I've been in it once. Lately I've been feeling motivated to make some changes. One day recently, it dawned on me that I could get rid of the jacuzzi and make a group seating/fire pit area. I figured I'd give the jacuzzi to anyone who wanted it and would come and haul it out of the back yard. I thought I'd post it on one of those community sites. Then this week, I had a plumber in to do some work. As he was leaving, I asked him if he knew anyone who wanted a free jacuzzi. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said, are you kidding, I am. Turns out he couldn't fit it in his yard, but a guy he works with could.

They came today to pick it up. Before doing the heavy lifting, we started chatting. Turns out he was in a motorcycle accident a year and a half ago. Lucky to be alive. Shattered his hip and thigh. Both are made of steel now. He said the jacuzzi would be an awesome thing to help with the soreness and pain. I shared the stories of Jack living with a bad knee all those years and then his motorcycle accident. Both he and Jack had done extensive research into L.A. ortho surgeons for joint replacement. What he had done was experimental so he chose someone other than Jack had, but weird coincidence. He still surfs, but doesn't motorcycle anymore. He said once you've experienced something like that, it's just not worth it.

I think the jacuzzi has found a good home and that makes me happy.

Dad and Love

2007-04-23T20:11:00.000-07:00

I sat down on December 1st of last year and started my eulogy for Dad. I never finished it. This past week, I have had cause to re-visit it as he is not doing well. This may actually be the year of his death (or maybe not, given his ability to pull through time and again).

I think I started writing Dad's eulogy a long time ago. Most everyone knows that Dad drank. And drank. And drank. Alcohol has been the only real constant in his life other than his committed wife and kids. He always chose it over everything - including the love and support of his family. What most people don't understand is how hard it was to be his child. Growing up and in adulthood. I used to wish I had grown up in a different family. But Dad's first time in treatment when I was a junior in high school opened up a whole new world for me. I was introduced to the concept of fitting in for the first time in my life. Being with other families going through the same thing put my entire life on a whole new course. Facing Dad and being able to share my feelings and be heard was incredibly powerful. That experience impacted my college major, my career choices and my ability to communicate with people on a whole different level. It also set the course for how Dad and I would relate to one another in the future. My life experiences with Dad also played a major role in my first connection with Jack. Our first date was spent staying up until the wee hours of the morning sharing "war stories" about our Dad's. I no longer wish I had grown up in a different family.

What prompted me to sit down and write his eulogy? I called him on his 79th birthday. I had a 20 minute conversation with him while I was sitting in the car having just come from a hair appointment. As I ended the call, I said as I always do at the end of our conversations, "I love you Dad". Dad replied, "I love you too Heidi". It warmed my heart. Differently than it ever had. I sat in the car and pondered why. What was different? In that moment, I realized what Dad had taught me indirectly through his life struggles which in turn were the struggles of his family. You must take ownership for your own love. You cannot wait for someone to give it to you. You cannot wait until the conditions are just right in order to give your love to someone else. For so long, I wanted Dad to be the Dad I wanted and needed. I always knew what was best for him because it was best for me (or us), and I wasn't afraid to tell him what that was (or scream it at him, or tell him using my cold, higher than thou attitude). Over time, I worked very hard on healing. I also learned I had to either accept him or reject him. I could not change him no matter how hard I (or we) tried. I have tried very hard to accept him for who he was rather than judging him or expecting something of him he just couldn't give. Physical distance in my adult years did help me turn my attention to healing instead of dealing. But I could have remained angry, bitter and frustrated regardless of where I was living on the planet. Instead, I chose to put my time, energy and spirit towards understanding, feeling, healing and figuring out how to either love him or not.

In the end, Dad did teach me how to love. I just had to be open to accepting him fully just the way he was.

Time

2007-03-26T19:56:00.000-07:00

What is time? It all used to feel so ordered, so sure, so unchangeable, so controlled and predictable. Now, time is like bits and pieces floating through the air that I can't catch or capture. It's like it has it's own personality. One that teases and taunts me. The other day while preparing information for taxes, I wrote down the year as 1996. Then a few days later while I was taking notes during a class, I titled the page with the year 2004. I actually didn't notice either error until I went back to review once I had finished. I then had to consider what was wrong with the date, because I knew something about it wasn't right, but it wasn't immediately obvious to me. Intellectually, the year seemed wrong. But it took some effort to poll my conscious brain and figure it out. Here's the kicker. My Mom died in 1996 and my husband died in 2004. Even after I realized I had made the errors, it still felt completely normal to write those years. Like it really was the right date. Not like it feels when you write the wrong date, know it immediately and shrug it off to making a mistake - one that everyone does every once in awhile. This was different. A shrink would have a field day with that one. My body and intellectual mind are living in 2007 but some days my spirit is somewhere back in time.

I also used to remember details of my life, my husband's life, my friend's lives, my family's lives. You name it, I prided myself on remembering so many things that were important to me and other's. Now when people ask me how my week-end was, or how my week is going, I hesitate. Because I don't keep track of the days the way I used to. I also have to stop and think about what I've been doing and who I've seen. Even then, I can't always call up the info. I joke and others joke that it's probably an age thing now that I'm creeping up on my mid 40's. But I know it's really about the trauma I've been through and that I don't measure time in the same routine ways anymore. I also don't live in the future the way I used to. If someone were to ask me what my plans for the future are, my answer would be, "I have no idea I don't really care to put my energy into figuring that kind of stuff out anymore". I know it's not a socially acceptable answer but it just isn't how I think or live my life anymore.

I remember in the early days wondering how the earth could still be spinning. How the sun could be rising and setting. How the calendar page could keep turning. Everything about my world had stopped but there was no outward sign that it had. I have adjusted to this feeling and it has lessened quite a bit. But it hasn't gone away completely. Logically and intellectually I know 32.5 months have gone by in calendar time. I know I have come a very long way in those months. I have recovered, I have healed, I have adjusted. Physically, emotionally, and psychologically. But some moments, it seems as if none of that time has passed. In those moments it's like I'm living in two time zones. The one that keeps moving into the future and the one that will never move again. It's maybe because when you measure time you have some starting points from which to move outward from. I don't feel like I have any starting points anymore. Starting points require a stake in the ground and something to build upon. Launching pads to get you moving and keep you moving through time. I can't relate to that anymore. Time is a stranger to me now. I don't know it as well as I used to. Maybe it's that it used to be my friend but now it feels more like my enemy. The concept of time travel never held my interest before but it intrigues me a bit more now.

Even after writing all that, I am frustrated. I have not captured the feeling of how time is different. If I come up with anything else that might express it better, I'll let you know.

In Honor of Jack's Birth Date

2007-03-06T00:27:00.000-08:00

Make your own | Click to play

New Reality

2007-03-05T18:32:00.000-08:00

There was an article in the Los Angeles Times the other day about an injured soldier and his wife. She blogged about the ordeal they are going through. One of her quotes really hit home for me. Here it is:

"People think what a great story it is, and what blessings we've had, and how Ryan has overcome great odds. But they don't think about the daily repercussions of it. The heart of the matter isn't something you can therapy away. It is what it is. It's our new reality."

The article was a very positive article but called her journal a "frank approach to tragedy and a reminder that reality can be daunting and that life for this couple can never be the same." Well, duh!!! What is it about our society that always wants to focus on the silver lining, the upside, the positive, the good to come out of something horrible? There's so much support that could be provided to people in need if we were willing to face the hard realities of some people's lives. I have a whole new perspective on the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" philosopy embedded in American society. And isn't it odd that telling it like it really is, as this woman is doing, is considered to be so odd they actually point it out in a newspaper article?

Talk to any young widow and they'll inevitably tell you that people eventually become less supportive and sometimes even frustrated by their inability to get over it and move on with their life. Well, for those of us living the daily repercussions and the new reality, it's not so easy (even when we want to make things better and move forward too). Even when it looks good on the surface, chances are there's still alot of adjustment going on underneath or behind the curtain.

It's a new reality alright. One that still feels foreign, unwanted and unreal. Which brings me to the concept of time. I'll write about that later.

Marriage and Spiritual Identity

2007-02-28T17:50:00.000-08:00

I'm reading a book called, The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell. This book is actually a transcript of conversations Bill Moyers had with Cambell in the late 80's for a PBS series that was produced. In one part, Campbell uses marriage as an example of how myth puts your mind in touch with the experience of being alive. While reading his description of marriage, I realized this is exactly how Jack and I thought of marriage. This is how we were in our marriage. This is how we behaved in our marriage. This is why it is so difficult for me to seperate from him even though he is no longer here on a day to day basis. We were committed to not just being together, but being one. I'm figuring out how to do the day to day without him. I have yet to figure out how to make ME whole and don't know if it is even possible.

Here's the excerpt:

Marriage. The myth tells you what it is. It's the reunion of the separated duad. Originally you were one. You are now two in the world, but the recognition of the spiritual identity is what marriage is. It's different from a love affair. It has nothing to do with that. It's another mythological plane of experience. When people get married because they think it's a long-time love affair, they'll be divorced very soon, because all love affairs end in disappointment. But marriage is recognition of a spiritual identity. If we live a proper life, if our minds are on the right qualities in regarding the person of the opposite sex, we will find our proper male or female counterpart. But if we are distracted by certain sensuous interests, we'll marry the wrong person. By marrying the right person, we reconstruct the image of the incarnate God, and that's what marriage is.

I would say that if the marriage isn't the first priority in your life, you're not married. The marriage means the two that are one, the two become one flesh. If the marriage lasts long enough, and if you are acquiescing constantly to it instead of to individual personal whim, you come to realize that that is true- the two really are one. One not only biologically but spiritually. Primarily spiritually. The biological is the distraction which may lead you to the wrong identification.

There are two completely different stages of marriage. First is the youthful marriage following the wonderful impulse that nature has given us in the interplay of the sexes biologically in order to produce children. But there comes a time when the child graduates from the family and the couple is left. I've been amazed at the number of my friends who in their forties or fifties go apart. They have had a perfectly decent life together with the chld, but they interpreted their union in terms of their relationship through the child. They did not interpret it in terms of their own personal relationship to each other.

Marriage is a relationship. When you make the sacrifice in marriage, you're sacrificing not to each other but to unity in a relationship. The Chinese image of the Tao, with the dark and light interacting - that's the relationship of yang and yin, male and female, which is what a marriage is. And that's what you have become when you have married. You're no longer this one alone; your identity is in a relationship. Marriage is not a simple love affair, it's an ordeal, and the ordeal is the sacrifice of ego to a relationship in which two have become one.

Marriage is not incompatible with the idea of doing one's own thing since it's not simply one's own thing. It is, the two together as one. And that's a purely mythological image signifying the sacrifice of the visible entity for the transcendent good. This is something that becomes beautifully realized in the second stage of marriage, what I call the alchemical stage, of the two experiencing that they are one. If they are still living as they were in the primary stage of marriage, they will go apart when their children leave.

Marriage is primarily a spiritual exercise, and the society is supposed to help us have the realization. Man should not be in the service of society, society should be in the service of man.

Sunny Weather, Sunny Mood

2007-02-16T12:21:00.000-08:00

It's been beautiful weather here the last couple of days. Sunny and warm. The kind of days that remind me why it's so incredible to live here. The kind of days that make me feel blessed. At my core, I am a sun-based, warm weather gal. My life changed the first time I saw a palm tree. It was my first airplane trip, first spring break from college, going to see my love (who eventually became the hubby). When I saw that palm tree as I looked out the window of the airplane, I wondered why no one had ever told me about palm trees before. I think I knew in that moment that my life had so much possibility when before it all seemed so limited. Within 4 months I had moved to that same place. I saw palm trees everyday and still do. Now I even have them in my yard. I can see them from every window of my house. They're still one of the most beautiful trees in the world to me.

It's amazing how a beautiful day can lift your mood. Many things seem possible when the weather is in concert with your true self.

WHAM. BAM. Reliving. Over and over and over.

2007-02-11T20:55:00.000-08:00

One of the things that comes with putting yourself out in the world is that you are tested. If you've gone through a traumatic experience the tests become really hard. Beyond anything you've ever experienced before. Early on as a grieving widow, you are raw. Every nerve ending is open non-stop. You're offended by everything and nothing. You're sensitive to things you've never been sensitive about before. Everything revolves around your loss and what's happened. Then you start healing. You feel a bit more normal. You feel like you are recovering and turning corners, making progress, learning to live with it. There are days you actually feel happy and hopeful. Then, WHAM. BAM. Something happens and you feel like you haven't made any progress. That you haven't really recovered at all. That you will never live a normal, happy life again.

There is one trigger for me that can still send me reeling. It always involves being part of a social situation that I can't control. Do you have any idea how often people in general talk about accidents? Or, throw around the phrase "like a deer in the headlights"? For the most part, I've learned how to deal with these conversations. I don't acknowledge or participate in the conversation. Or I try to change the subject. But the reality is I am always jolted out of being in the moment and back to July 1st, 2004 with these topics and comments.

Then there is the mother of all topics. Accidents or near-accidents involving deer. Believe it or not, it's a pretty common topic. Maybe animals are a common, socially acceptable topic. I mean, it's amazing how simple, ordinary conversation can roll around to some story about some accident. Or some movie scene that involved an accident. Or, some replay of seeing a deer near the road the other day. Maybe the cosmic forces come together to torture just me. When these conversations take place, or conversations about accidents get into the nitty gritty, my entire being is screaming at me to RUN. GET UP NOW AND GET THE H*LL OUT OF HERE. But I don't. Social ettiquete usually has me glued in place. Or, I wait for an appopriate moment to excuse myself. I mean it's not anyone's fault. But in one fell swoop I am another person. I am the Heidi from 2004. I am the Heidi who wants to throw up. I am the Heidi who is reliving the most traumatic event of her life. In order to preserve myself, I go inside. I stop talking. I don't make eye contact. I try not to listen (but of course I can't put my fingers in my ears and go, la, la, la, I can't hear you...). I shut down. I am toast. I am done. When these conversations happen, my entire mood changes and I know it will be changed for at least a few days. Whatever social activity I've been participating in is ruined. I just want to go home where I feel safe and can recover.

These incidents force me to remember. It turns on the running video tape. The tap to all the feelings is on wide open. They force me to relive and then try to recover. Again. On top of remembering and visualizing the details from the accident and hearing the news, I am also forced to remember I am not normal. My life is not normal. I am not one of these people. I feel like I have this secret internal life that I can't talk about in situations like this. My husband died. In a pretty ugly way. And, yes. It's still shocking even to me. Somehow I must learn how to handle these situations differently. Maybe I must learn to take care of myself and my needs instead of worrying about ruining everyone else's lunch or dinner or fun time. Maybe I just need to remove myself from the situation regardless of how tacky or disrespectful it may seem.

In moments like this it seems like my life is a never ending cycle. Relive, endure, recover. Relive, endure, recover.

"If I Could Become A Drinker, I Would" and other musings

2007-02-04T12:43:00.000-08:00

Here are some random thoughts and questions from my personal journal of the past year (which is 2 years after The Night It All Changed). It's amazing what flows out if you take pen to paper. I don't often go back and read. It can give me perspective on how much I've healed, but it's very painful too. Don't know why I'm putting it out here, just am.

It should have been me. Not him. Me.

I don't know God. I don't think I ever did.

Gone. All gone. Him. Me. Us. Gone.

Walking in circles. That's what it feels like. Walking in circles.

Is it possible to recover from empty? It doesn't seem so.

If I could become a drinker, I would. But, I can't.

Stepping into the FEAR. That's what I must figure out how to do. Then just do it.

Life is hard. You can strive to make it easy. But it just isn't. Not all the time.

Pain can be bigger, deeper and more painful than one can ever imagine.

Mental health is fragile.

The word 'strong' is an over-used word.

Love is a driving force.

Life is very long - and very short - all at once.

I'm trying very hard not to hate my life.

How do you live life missing someone so much?

Widow busy is different than regular busy. Don't know if I will be un-busy ever again.

I feel an overwhelming need to lay down for a long time to recuperate, rest and recover. But that means I will be laying down for the rest of my life.

Forever is a very long time.

Too much head talk to oneself is a recipe for craziness.

I can't find my place. My place is a place that no longer exists. How to live in a place that doesn't exist?

It's all very, very scary.

Grief is relentless. So is life. So is death.

A line from a book: "And her soul wept." I can relate. Except mine keeps weeping.

I am more than alone. I am without.

I don't know how to renew my soul.

How do you not continuously focus on the loss?

Maybe there are no answers. Just questions.

Lost In Translation

2007-02-04T11:58:00.000-08:00

I had some interesting conversations yesterday. They both made me realize I have no way to translate how it feels to be a young widow. At times it feels like I have an outer life that fits with society's expectations (and my own) but an inner life that can't be understood (not even by me) and makes me different from everyone else.

At lunch with a new girlfriend yesterday I found I couldn't describe with the right words, or stories, or analogies the way it has felt to be me the past 2-1/2 years. I struggled for a way to convey the true nature of the trauma, experience and feelings. This isn't the first time I've tried to convey it. This isn't the only time I feel like I failed. I was grateful for her questions because it's nice to have someone care. But once again, I tried to translate it but couldn't. There is never the moment where you can tell that someone gets it or even has a glimpse. They want to, they try, but it just doesn't seem the words exist. Maybe that's why I journal and blog and post to my online widow board. I'm still trying to translate it all through words. But how do you translate intensly shocking, deep, and personal feelings and experiences just through words? I don't know. Maybe I need to just accept that it doesn't matter if I can translate it. It just matters that people care about me.

Later I had dinner with friends from my old young widow grief support group. One of the women described it as, "Pandora's box has been opened for us and there's no closing it now. We know things and have wisdom others don't." It changes everything. It changes the way you look at situations, the conversations you engage in (or don't) with people, the goals or experiences you want to have, the way you are in the world. We then talked about how do we walk in a world where we feel like we are on one side of the glass looking out at everyone else. One widow says it helps her to be honest. To tell it like it is from her perspective. She doesn't hold back her opinion. She tells people to live now because it could all be over. She is honest and doesn't care what people think about her.

Us YW's are in a unique position. We have been forced into introspection, reflection and feeling our feelings. The rest of the world thinks all of that is an option.

Memories from 10 years ago

2007-01-31T18:45:00.000-08:00

This week is always a hard week. This is the week, 10 years ago, I watched my Mom die. After you've cared for a loved one who is dying and watched them actually die, you're never the same. She had ovarian cancer. The woman who was never sick. 8 months from diagnosis to death. As one of my Aunts said, we had to watch her die inch by inch. When we got the news there was probably nothing more to be done other than an attempt at one last chemo that might extend her life a bit, I took a leave from my job. That decision was one of the easiest I've ever made in my life. I had to be there for her. Nothing else mattered.

It took a long string of years to stop remembering her the way she was when she was sick and dying. Now I can usually remember her incredible smile and contagious laugh, her voice and her incredible positive energy. But the month of January and first week of February are usually filled with glimpses and flashes of memories from her last month. I've learned over the years to let them come and not push them away. I have always felt honored that I could be a witness to her dying. It is the ultimate experience of love. She brought our family together in her dying just like she always did in her living.

There were so many medical complications with my Mom. And, she was determined to be at home. But it was all so complicated because of her medical status, the fact that Mom and Dad lived in the country and that she was scheduled to have more chemo. Did you know that you can't put someone on hospice service until they are "technically" not receiving treatment anymore. The last chemo she was hoping to get (which she couldn't get yet because she had an infection from her I.V. port) was considered treatment. That meant home health care was the only support service available. But it is limited to medical support. That meant a nurse came but only stayed for a couple hours. No other support to speak of. No social services, no grief support, etc. So my siblings and I became her everything staff. That role took precedence over being her daughter. I would take day shift as I wasn't working. In the evenings my brother or sister or both would come. Mom had a nutritional supplement pumping into her body by a system run by a small battery pack. She had to have antibiotic pumped into her I.V. on some schedule like every 3 hours. But before you could put in the antibiotic, you had to inject some drug that would clean out the I.V. (I think I remember it as Heperin). One day I couldn’t remember if I had flushed her I.V. before I injected the antibiotic and other drugs. I panicked. I thought, I came to care for my Mom and now I’ve possibly killed her because I’m not a nurse and I can’t remember if I did it right. Mom also had a digestive tube surgically placed in her stomach which drained to the outside as the cancer had cut off her intestinal tract. She could still eat by mouth, she just couldn't digest anything. There was so much to keep track of and so much stress about not doing anything to make her worse. I could go on and on about her medical condition but I feel like I've invaded her privacy by giving some of these details because she was more than a body. She was an incredible spirit.

Mom didn't die at home as was her one and only wish. It seemed every medical intervention used to "help her" caused some infection or some other reaction or condition. By the latter part of January, my 3 siblings and I were having to double up at night because she wasn't sleeping . That meant each team did every other night. One of my night’s away, we got a call at my sister’s. My brother and younger sister said Mom was in tremendous pain. Mom was one tough cookie. The doctors always called her stoic. By this time, she was also on a morphine patch. And she was screaming. They had to call 911. The paramedics came. I found out later one of them was an old friend of mine from high school. For some reason, that made me feel a bit better. Because Mom and Dad lived out in the country and it was the dead of winter, it took awhile for the ambulance to get there. They got her in the ambulance and had a good 45-60 minute drive on snowy roads before they got to the hospital. My brother and sister rode with her. The only thing that seemed to stop her screaming was singing a childhood song called “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch”. The emergency room identified what was causing her pain, gave her some drugs and wanted to send her home. They were done with her. Nothing more they could do for her. She was dying afterall. My brother called again for the input of my sister and I. We all agreed he would do whatever it took to get them to admit her. Our long-standing family physician was able to get her admitted after some strong arming, begging and I think quite honestly some threats.

This was the last time my Mom saw her home. She died a couple weeks later. One of us still stayed with her every day and every night. One morning, after I had spent the night on a pull out hospital chair beside her bed, she woke up and looked at me and said, “quit watching me”. She was a bit mad. I thought it was said out of paranoia because of the pain killers. But I left the room and was a bit hurt by her comment. Then I realized my Mom hadn’t been alone for at least a month. Can you imagine? Having no personal space, no personal time even when you’re dying? She probably felt smothered with too much love.

The hospital had a brand new nursing home and hospice wing. She at least had a private room with a window. Someone brought her a pink angel that we hung in the window. Someone went outside and made snow angels in the snow banks so she could see. We had a birthday party for my Grandma in that room. My aunt came and put nail polish on Mom’s nails. Mom never polished her nails. Someone else gave her a beaded necklace that she wore for awhile. There were so many people who wanted to come and visit with her one last time. We eventually had to make the decision to tell them no more, only immediate family.

Did we open the windows for her to feel the cool air? I think I remember doing that, but maybe the windows didn’t open there. I remember putting ice chips on her chapped lips. I can still hear the crunch as she tried to chew them. Eventually she decided to stop all liquids. The doctor said he had never seen anyone last more than 5-7 days without liquids. My Mom lasted 9. She didn’t want to die. She never gave up. She fought it with everything she had.

It snowed the day of her funeral. Mom loved the snow. My best friend had flown in for the funeral. My husband drove us to the church. We parked facing the church watching all the people go in. I couldn’t get out of the car. The church bells were ringing. I sat in the car and cried. My friend and husband just sat quietly with me until I was ready. They didn’t try to get me to move. It was a moment of love from them I will never forget.

None of it was fair. Not to her. Not to us. Not to anyone who loved her. Mom died at age 64. On her own Mom’s 90th birthday. Grandma said she didn’t understand why it wasn’t her instead. Life has never been the same for any of us who loved her.

Rest in peace, Mom. I love you.

Calls and Credit Cards for Dead People

2007-01-18T18:05:00.000-08:00

The business world makes for some good laughs (when you're down the road of healing a bit that is). A widower I know just got a credit card for his deceased wife. He jumped through all the hoops when she died 2.5 years ago but the credit card company just renewed her card. We all laughed about using the card and charging it to the max. This could maybe be an interesting way to get some free stuff. Makes me wonder what kind of credit score a dead person can have...

On another note, my dead husband got a phone call today. It's been 2-1/2 years for god's sake. And, I'm on the "no call" list. That didn't stop him. The minute the guy opened his mouth I knew he was a sales guy (do they really think it's not that obvious?)

Me: Hello.
Caller: Is Jack there?
Me: (caught off guard but knew I wanted to play with this guy a bit), uh, may I ask who's calling?
Him: Chuck.
Me: Chuck from where?
Him: Chuck from Orange County. (this is the county I live in - what a dirtbag)
Me: He's not home right now.
Him: Do you know when he may be home?
Me: Yeah.
Silence...
Him: Wow, you're a really good screener.
Me: Well, no I really don't know when he'll be home. He's deceased.(what I should have said was, you're calling for a dead man, dude)
Him: Oh. Well is your GMAC home loan current?
Me: No. You have really old information.
Him: Have you been thinking of taking any equity out of your home?
Me: No.
Him: Have you been thinking of consolidating your credit?
Me: No need.
Him: Mumbles something and hangs up.

Had I been a bit more on top of things, I would have asked him for a credit card in my dead husband's name!

Then as I'm making my dinner, I think I channeled my husband. I stood in my kitchen and practiced saying outloud, "you're calling for a dead man, dude" and then laughed. Couldn't have imagined doing this without freaking out 2 years ago. I swear I could hear my husband's picture on the fridge laughing with me. And it's definitely something I could hear him say about me if the situation was reversed.

My luck I won't get to use it on a sales caller for another 2 years.

Music, Dating and Dogs

2007-01-18T15:09:00.000-08:00

When you talk and live mainly with yourself everyday, it's amazing what kinds of topics your mind conjures up and how quickly it moves from one thing to another. Here's just a small sample. If you were thinking that because of the title there was a common thread amongst music, dating and dogs, so sorry:

Music is so great. It can set a mood. It can support a mood you are already in. It can lift your spirits. It can make you feel confident. It can make you cry your eyes out. It can make you remember moments, years, experiences, places and people. I love music. But it's interesting that I don't really listen to it much at home. I'm big at listening in the car, on my MP3 player and searching for new artists/songs on the web. What would we do without music?

Dating is scary. Can't believe I'm even thinking about it. 2-1/2 years ago I didn't care about anything. I just wanted Jack back. Shock and grief are not rational so I begged, pleaded, prayed, begged some more, tried to make deals with anyone or anything that could make it happen. At some point rational thought returned and I recognized I had to figure out how to live without him. But recognition is different than acceptance. I can't say that I've accepted the finality of the whole thing yet but I also wonder if I ever will. Working your way through all of that and through the heavy, desperate mourning, you are still left with unrelenting lonliness. Lonliness is talked about alot amongst young widows. Lonliness is always in the background and it can quickly (as we say in the young widow world), "wack you upside the head" when you least expect it. Lonliness is a constant companion. Lonliness is different than being alone. Being alone is a condition that can be changed. You can get out amongst people, call someone on the phone, trade emails, talk to someone, and feel less alone. But lonliness is different. Lonliness is there even when you are with people you love. Even when you are doing something you enjoy. It clings like a thorny burr. No matter what you do, it just doesn't want to let go. So, with trepidation, dating becomes a thing to look at. What's the old saying? Something like, "we only change when we get tired of ourselves or tired of the pain we are in". Well, that sums it up pretty well for me. But not everyday. Some days I'm ready to get out there and meet new people, and some days I'm not. But I'm moving ever closer to accepting that it is a next step and that it might actually wind up being a positive, fun, worthwhile endeavor. Besides, I know exactly what Jack would say, "You're hot! Stop waiting for the right time and get yourself out there."

Dogs are God spelled backwards. That corny saying has stuck with me since Jack's been gone. I believe it to be true now. Going through the process of finding a new dog to welcome into my family is a bit overwhelming and stressful. Until I remember that dogs bring so much more than they take. Of this I do know. With regard to dating and meeting new friends, I'm not sure exactly what I have to give in those relationships. But I do know what I have to give to a dog. And that's alot of everything.

2006 - A Year In Review

2007-01-14T11:37:00.000-08:00

Christmas letters from friends and family always get me thinking about my own past year of living. Jack and I used to do a Christmas letter, hit or miss some years. I know some people make fun of these types of letters. But now, it is nice to look back at old letters we wrote and reminisce about the events, people and experiences we had each year. So here is my 2006 Letter of Reminiscence:

Big Events: I made it through another year. I had to put Daisy dog to sleep. I started working part-time. I hired a personal trainer – best thing I’ve done in a long time! I sold Jack’s motorcycle. I have started to make the house more of my own. Started to think about what I need/want for my life vs. our life.

Events that kept me normal, sane and give me hope: Invitations from friends to have meals with them. Happy hour on Friday’s. Personal training with a new friend 2x week. Have conquered grocery shopping but not cooking. Daily walks with Daisy and trying to keep her healthy (o.k. maybe that part kept me insane...). Being in my home. Continuing counseling with Virginia. Not working a full-time job. Meet-ups with my widow/er friends. Socializing and conversing with my friends and family.

When I went back and reviewed my calendar for 2006, I was a bit shocked at everything I had participated in. On top of everyday living that is (which is challenging enough some days). It made me realize that I once again have a pretty big life. I feel a sense of accomplishment that I've come so far since July 2004. It's not until the look back that you see progress I guess.

Here are the highlights (no wonder I run out of energy some days!):

Hired Denise, my personal trainer – 2x per week (if you’ve ever thought of doing this I say DO IT!)
Girlfriend Erin's 40th birthday bash (so glad to see everyone catching up with me)
Visit to UCLA hospital to see sister-in-law Torrie who had surgery after being badly bitten by a dog (scary, scary, but relieved once I saw her and talked to her)
Traveled to St. Louis, MO for training for my part-time contract work as career consultant/coach with The Impact Group
Medieval times outing with the nephews and niece Jack, Grace and Charlie; Susie and Torrie
Bon Jovi concert with friend Carmen (best concert I’ve ever been to - and man is he hot!)
Said good-bye to my young widow/er grief support group at Our House (it went for 18 months)
Spa day at Glenn Ivy with girlfriend's Erin, Cindy and Carmen (the herbal wrap was awesome)
Participated in video-taping for a young widow documentary (slated to come out in 2007)
Las Vegas & Lake Las Vegas trip with Susie, kids and S-Mom (Jack's Mom)
Cheerleading competition in Irvine for Katie, daughter of my friend Jyme Sue (close your eyes when the big toss in the air acrobatics happen)
Visit from Lowell, Jack's uncle (very nice dinner and great conversation)
Memorial day week-end in Big Bear with Erin, Rick and kids and their good friend
Dinners with widow friends where we get to talk about "widow things"
2 year anniversary of Jack’s death passed with a very hot day; trip to the beach for the sunset and some champagne to toast him; a nice phone call while at the beach from an old colleague, Peggy in Houston
Trip to MN to finally sell Jack's motorcycle which brother Peter was storing - the Honda ST1100 (Found it harder to be in MN where we both grew up, met and where it all came full circle, than to actually sell the motorcycle)
Girlfriend's dinner out with Erin, Carmen and Suzan (man it was hot that night)
Heat to beat all heat in CA – broke all records - 116 - and me with NO AIR CONDITIONING!
New air conditioner installed just in time for weather to cool (but of course)
Night out to Laguna Art Festival and dinner with girlfriends Cindy, Patricia, CeCe, and Maria - it also happened to fall on my wedding anniversary
Qasi-job interview for V.P. sales position with old colleague who has kept in touch (tempting, but turned it down)
House of Blues concert and back stage passes with band Jet (who are friends of Mark and Susie)
Phoenix road trip to visit friends Jyme Sue, Mark and family; also attended first WidowBago put on by widow friends from my online bulletin board (endless supply of good widow humor this week-end!)
Visit with Jack's brother and family, Parry, Vickie and girls
Flew to Denver for visit with Emilie, Chris and Charlie; celebrated my birthday; pushed Charlie on the swings, ate at an incredible mediterranean restaurant and visited the butterfly museum
Visit from Swiss friend Juerg, drive down the coast in his rented red Mustang convertible; good food, good settings, good conversation
Visit from S-Mom (Jack’s Mom)
Monthly gathering with local widow friends - met new ones (this is always heartwrenching) and caught up with old ones
Daisy - what to say other than she was a great companion - putting her to sleep and being without her ranks right up there in difficult life events
Thanksgiving visit from sister Emilie, Chris and Charlie; nice week-end spent with Chris's family including Tony and Mindy's new baby boy named Jack
A December spent shopping, visits with friends and family, and making plans for 2007

And finally, here is one of the things I had posted on my refrigerator for much of 2006. Looking back, I guess I took it to heart. Let's hope I can continue in the spirit of this:

When you walk to the edge of all the light you have, and take a step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen: either there will be something solid for you to stand upon or you will learn to fly!

Who knows what I will report on for 2007. Here's hoping I will continue to chase a bit of life this year.

Accidents Involving Deer

2007-01-10T20:40:00.000-08:00

Deer are such benign looking animals. Everyone calls them cute. A deer was the cause of my husbands accident and death. On a recent trip to Big Sur, CA I hiked a trail to the ocean. Along the way, there was a walk-in campground with a small group of deer grazing. I wanted to start throwing rocks at them. Instead, I forced myself to sit on a picnic table and just watch them. I got to about 20 feet from them. They were obviously used to people. They seem so benign, harmless and stupid. I found myself talking to them and saying, "do you know your relatives were the cause of my husband's death?"; and, "you're genetic species killed my husband".

I wondered about deer behavior. The entire time I sat staring at them, they just ate grass. I wondered what causes them to wander out on roads and highways? I thought, are deer really just that stupid? Do they have such a tiny brain that there is nothing in there that gives them a warning the roadway isn't a safe place to be? Why wouldn't they be scared off by the noise of an engine? I decided that, yes, they are that stupid. Deer are not cute. They are not benign. They are not harmless. They cause a huge amount of carnage and heartache.

A recent USA Today article cited the number of insurance claims by state for deer, elk and moose collisions from 2005-2006. The total was 1.5 million drivers! The top 10 states for deer collisions are PA (18,846), MI, IL, OH, GA, MN, IN, SC, VA, NY ((6,407). WI, the state of my husband's run-in with a deer, ranks 15th (4,829). According to the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety, deer crashes result in at least $1.1 billion a year in vehicle damage. About 200 deaths every year are the result of animal-auto accidents. Most of them involving deer. I don't know if these stats include motorcycles or not, but there were 4,008 motorcycle fatalities in 2004. My husband was one of them.

One of the outcomes of his accident for me: when I see road signs warning of deer nearby or deer crossing the road, I slow down and pay attention. I hope you do to.

Just How Tragic Is It?

2007-01-10T19:37:00.000-08:00

I play alot of mind games with myself. I believe it is a coping skill. Some days I wonder if everyone does this or just me. My latest is to try to convince myself that having my 42 year old husband die in an accident isn't as tragic as I make it out to be. I wonder, why after 2-1/2 years, can't I accept it and get a move on with my life. Why can't I feel better inside than I do? Afterall, there are others in my shoes. There are others who are much worse off than me. It could be much worse than this, right? Right. I should be focusing on what I do have, not on what I don't have. I don't want to get caught in making my life all about his death and the fallout. I don't want to be the kind of person that is always feeling sorry for myself or defined by this one event. That would only lead to becoming the type of person I don't want to be. Won't it?

And then the bolt of lightening hits. The truth is, this is right up there. This is bad. I don't have to make this out to be tragic because it is. He was my life. He taught me how to love. He was my best friend for 24 years. We were attached at the hip. We relied on each other for everything. He was my family. He was my past, present and future and he was ripped out of it in a nanosecond.

So I will let go of the mind game for a moment and deal with the truth. It's very tragic - for me. My life was defined by him while he was alive, so I will continue to define it by his death too.

I am Heidi, loving widow of Jack.

"My Late Husband" and Other Social Conversation

2006-12-21T16:22:00.000-08:00

I attended a neighborhood Christmas gathering last night where I met some new people. Just when you think you've got this widowhood thing down, something pops up to remind you of how much adjustment you've gone through and continue to go through.

We all talk about our past. It is part of the give and take of social conversation. But when over half of your life was spent with a person who is now dead, social conversation becomes a bit trickier. With people I am just meeting who know nothing about me, there is always a point in the conversation where I want to jump in and say, "oh, we went to Lake Tahoe every year", or "my husband was an engineer". Or better yet, an opportunity to answer a direct question like, "how long have you lived here?" If I say, "I've lived in the neighborhood for 10 years", it smacks of an untruth. They don't know it, but I do and it feels wrong. All of these terms give an incomplete picture, or a false picture. They are true, but not currently true. I've experiemented alot with my social conversation in reference to my husband. None of it sounds right and I usually leave a conversation feeling like I've lied. Like I am dishonoring my husband, my past, our relationship and my current life.

This dilemma struck early on in widowhood and it was odd. Do you have any idea how often you reference your spouse or significant other? Try counting some day. You'll be shocked. They are so intertwined in your life that you can't help but talk about them without even really knowing you're doing it. So we widows are in a unique position. To not talk about our past inclusive of our late spouses would dishonor them and the relationship we had. To reference "we" or "my husband" doesn't tell the whole story and feels a bit like lying.

The solution given to me earlier this year by another young widow seemed perfect. She said, try using "late husband". Problem solved right? Until you try to use it. First you have to be mentally and emotionally ready to say those words out loud. Not as easy as it might seem. So you practice to your dog and yourself before rolling it out to the general public. Then, when you do say it outloud in public, there is always an after affect. 2-1/2 years into this I sometimes forget the impact this will have on others. And believe me, there is always an impact. The look of shock, the sympathy gesture, or the questions thrown at you respectfully or disrespectively pumped at you a million a minute, or better yet all the positive energy in the room getting sucked out in one big wooshing sound leaving everyone looking for the exit. And then there are those total strangers who want to hear all the details and won't let you off the hook until you muster up the wherewithal and tell them you'd rather not talk about it. After all that, you then have to figure out how to pull yourself together and get on with your day or evening like it was no big deal. So no suprise that after experimenting with "late husband" I stopped using it.

But after last night, after staying quiet or saying "we" one too many times, I have a new resolution. I will become comfortable saying, "my late husband". And I will use it whenever it's called for. Consequences by damned. It's my truth.

What Life Am I Living?

2006-12-18T17:24:00.000-08:00

It occurred to me today that I am living the life I have but not the life I want. This may seem like an obvious situation for someone in my shoes. But the problem is that for the first time in my life I have no goals, no purpose and no dreams. I am not used to feeling this way. I don't really recognize the life I am living now. Even at my low points as a kid, I had dreams of living life a certain way and of sharing it with someone special. Over the years, I have always had some purpose pushing me on, some dream in the background. It could have been big or small, but it was there. Now there is really nothing there. Even though I have a life I don't want, I don't know what the life is that I do want. There is nothing inside that pushes me along as it was before. No burning desire for anything like before. Some days it seems everyone in the world but me is occupied with and charging forth with a sense of purpose, making their own dreams happen and trying to live a fulfilling life.

Lately, I find myself wanting to talk with people who have had worse circumstances than I. People who have overcome. People who have managed to build a life worth living regardless. People who lead a joyful life, and have a thankful heart no matter what has happened to them. I want to know how they do it. Not necessarily how they keep going (I think I've figured this one out) but how they continue to have an internal attitude and spirit that cares, that dreams, that finds meaning.

I recognize now that so much of my inspiration came from my relationship with my husband. One more thing to miss and be without. One more thing to do for myself - find my own inspiration.

Widowhood - one way to describe it

2006-12-11T13:18:00.000-08:00

Did you ever play blind man's bluff as a kid? You put a blind fold over your eyes, turn the lights off and everyone hides. You'd then try to feel your way to find someone to tag. Or maybe at a family picnic you played the relay race where you put a bat to your forehead, leaned over and touched the bat to the ground, ran around it a couple times, then stood up and tried to run in a straight line to hand-off to your race partner?

Both are really disorienting. Both take time for your body and mind to adjust. But you have to go before you're ready or else you'll lose the game. Try as hard as you might, when you're blindfolded you just can't help but bump into things or put your hands out to feel your way around. It's scary to take big steps because you might fall down or crash into something. And when you're in the relay race, you're dizzy but you run anyway. You know what you have to do. Run in a straight line. You tell yourself you can do it even though you know you'll be dizzy. But the second you start, your body is running in a different direction than your brain. You just can't get the two working together in that straight line. So sometimes you just had to fall down and lay there a second until the dizziness went away. Then you could get up and start running again. Usually by then the race was over and you lost. You lost because you spent too much time on the ground waiting to feel ready to get up and run again.

That's what widowhood is like. On the good days.

Mom was Christmas

2006-12-09T19:12:00.000-08:00

My Mom loved Christmas. She had an enthusiasm and joy for Christmas that I haven't really encountered in anyone else I know. I can see her bright smile now as I picture her. She also loved winter and the snow. She's one of the only people I've ever known who was bummed out when it didn't snow enough. After she died, I lost most of my Christmas spirit. It's just not been the same without her. Growing up, she made sure we had gifts every Christmas. This was not an easy thing for her to do given our money situation but she made it happen every single year.

I remember opening all the presents and sitting in the middle of the room with all the wrapping paper around. The paper went into the trash bags but the bows always got saved. Our stockings were always full of a bag of candy she had bought and created especially for each of us. Mom wrote her list of everything she was going to buy for each of us. She had to hide the list because we'd always want to peek. She kept it in her purse and would take it out to review when we went shopping. She would always do one night of shopping on her own and on that night, she wouldn't come home until very late. I missed her on those nights even though I knew she was out buying fun things. She also kept the sizes for shirts, pants, underwear, slippers etc. for everyone in her address book. Her address book over the years got so worn that she kept a rubberband around it to keep the pages from falling out. She paid cash for everything which she kept in an old paycheck envelope. One of those with the clear plastic windows in the front. Everytime she took the envelope out of her purse to pay for something it made a crinkling noise when she opened it up.

We had the same decorations every year. They went the same places. Mom had her traditions and I don't think it ever occurred to us to move the Christmas decorations around. The nativity went in the old dry sink, the stockings tied to the stair case spindles, and the garland with bells draped through the wood spindles above the entry into the living room.

On Christmas Eve, we would pile into the car to go to church. Mom would always forget something and have to go back inside. That, each of us found out as we got older, was the time she put all the presents under the tree. It just so happened that Santa had always come while we were at church. We'd come home from church and run into the living room and see the stacks of presents and rip into them all at once, but only after Mom and Dad got settled into their spots. After all the presents were opened and the mess "organized", we would make popcorn, get to pick out a pop (having soda pop was a rare thing in our house) and Dad would put the Woody cartoon on the film projector. We'd watch it on a sheet he had put up on the wall. I can still hear the wap, wap, wap when the film ran out but kept going round and round until Dad turned it off. On Christmas day, after church, we'd travel to one of the relatives homes. We rotated houses every year. It was a day full of cousins, food, warmth, and those huge, hot, bright lights from Grandpa's video camera when he tried to shoot video of all of us. There was so much laughter that day. So much of it from my Mom. It made me happy to see her so happy. I can still hear Mom, and my Aunts and Uncle laughing up a storm. I never wanted to leave. I wanted it to be Christmas every day.

I think my Mom was happiest at Christmas. This time of year she is always on my mind. Her last Christmas was in 1996. She died the following February. She was so sick that last Christmas but still ate Mint Dazzler dessert and smiled for the camera. I think maybe she hung on partly because she wanted to experience Christmas. I'm so glad we were all together as a family that Christmas. It was the last time we were. The picture of all of us still hangs in my hallway. She's standing right in front of Jack. Maybe the two of them spend it together now. She probably tries to get him to go to church with her and he tells her only if she'll change a tradition and go biking with him on Christmas Day.

Fat Lips and Drool

2006-12-07T19:15:00.000-08:00

Why any of us goes to the dentist is beyond me. I guess we're all afraid if we don't our teeth will fall out and then what? Chances are by the time we're in our 70's we'll have fake ones anyway. For some it will be even sooner than that. Maybe we should just cut to the chase while we're young and we still have some money left in our pocket.

I'm just now coming off the novacaine. Trying to open my mouth wide enough to shove some soup into it. My wallet is considerably lighter even with 80/20 insurance coverage. There is always something insurance doesn't cover. So then what's the point of insurance I wonder? (this coming from somone who made a fine living off of that industry and may again in the near future). Not to mention that 20% of alot is alot. Don't get me wrong. I love my dentist. She's pretty much on the cutting edge of it all (which is one reason she's expensive). She and her staff are good at what they do and very friendly. But man, it seems there should be a better way than seating you upside down, shoving a very long needle into your cheek with enough numbing drugs to make you feel paralyzed from the neck up and then drilling, cutting and hacking away at your teeth. All of this while spraying water all over your mouth until you gag or that suck tube takes your tongue down the drain into the black hole of dental spit. And, oh yeah, the talking to you part. I wonder if dentists get tired of having one-way conversations.

Then to top it all off, you hand over your credit card and look the other way while signing the receipt. Then you get the indignity of venturing out into view of the general public all while wiping the drool from your lips. Even though I know the fat lip and drool isn't really obvious, it still feels like it is. It makes me want to tell everyone who passes, "don't look at me that way, I just came from the dentist. I don't always drool..... really".

I wonder if this is what it feels like when those ladies get that stuff pumped into their lips to make them look "fuller". Can you imagine what a trip to the dentist is like for them? Yikes, what a visual!

The Tylenol is kicking in now so over and out.

Gratitude, Sadness and Money

2006-12-06T17:53:00.000-08:00

I sold some stock options today. I'm so thankful for this financial resource. I'm so grateful. But after hitting the "exercise now" button and seeing the transaction complete, I got up to get another cup of tea, feeling good I accomplished a successful transaction. Then I found myself standing in my kitchen crying. In an instant it happened. What was going on? Ah. Those options were really dreams for a life that will never be. Those options were attached to Jack. To his hard work, his dreams, his success and our future. I know the meaning of "blood money". I'm living it. I'd give it all back (plus everything else) to have him back. But, I've been working on trying to focus on and feel gratitude lately. So here I was crying and feeling sad but grateful at the same time. How can that be? Then I realized this is a learning opportunity. A life lesson that has been sent my way. I can be sad and grateful at the same time. I can be happy and unhappy at the same time. I can be thankful but wish for better at the same time. Life is not always about absolutes. Many times it's about life swirling around inside all at once. So, today I was grateful, happy, sad and angry all at the same time and it was o.k. For a young widow I think this is progress.

Welcome to the First Post - Ever

2006-12-06T17:34:00.000-08:00

I'm joining the masses by blogging. Couldn't stay out of the popluar movement forever as I like to try to stay "with it" and current. Besides, there's always some incredible or profound (or so I think, ha ha), or idiotic thought running through my head so I thought why not share the wealth!

Why the name LifeChasers? We all chase life don't we? All to a different degree and level depending on what's happening in our life and the life of those around us. No judgements here about whether chasing is good or bad. It just is. I like the name and it's my blog. So there. More on the idea of chasing life later.

Welcome one and all. And welcome to myself for stepping out and trying something new.