Bear Scout Oath

I have joined the blogging A to Z challenge where each day you compose a post starting with the letters of the alphabet and today's is "B." This continues through the month of April with Sundays off. I thought it would be a fun thing to do. But back to the bears.

In an effort to pare down my life, I've been selling or giving away a lot of my books. The ones from the boys when they were younger has been kind of hard. They aren't readers but that didn't stop me from filling the book shelves with Scholastic paperbacks, picture books of dinosaurs, animals, the human body, as well as sport figure autobiographies. So many of these books were untouched. At the time they were purchased my husband was ill and there wasn't much time for reading before bed.

So now as I empty the shelves (or try to), I read these books before going to the used book store to sell them. I suppose this is a weird grief reaction but I cannot let them go to waste. It is almost some kind of defiant statement by me saying I won't let the three years of my husband's fatal illness end up robbing me of the books I was supposed to read to the boys. Even though now I'm reading them myself.

But you can learn a lot from books for the younger set. I especially enjoyed The Hardy Boys series because it was dated and brought me a sense of nostalgia. Did you know that the series started being written way back in the 1930s? Mrs. Hardy always makes a chocolate cake for the boys to eat at lunch - that is a hoot!

"The Berenstain Bear Scouts and the Sinister Smoke Ring," sets out The Bear Scout Oath which is as follows:

"A Bear Scout...

1. Is as honest as the day is long.
2. Admits when he or she is wrong.
3. Respects the creatures of creation.
4. Views TV in moderation.
5. Is never cruel, rude, or mean.
6. Plays the game fair and clean.
7. Does his best at school [life].
8. Following the golden rule, always respects the rights of others, including even sisters' and brothers'."

As I read this oath, I figured it was pretty applicable to me now as an adult - really for all of us. If we all made an effort to follow these guidelines, a lot of the conflict we feel, cause and participate in wouldn't exist.

Wine Tasting

I haven't been much of a drinker the past seven years. Not that I don't enjoy a mixed drink before dinner or a glass of wine with dinner. And there were fun times when I got a bit tipsy during a night on the town with the girls. It is just that when my husband died, I became worried about being the sole provider for the boys and concerned about possible DUIs so I limited my drinking when I was out to only one and always with food. Then of course, I wasn't socializing that much anyway.

I suppose I could have indulged at home but I always felt that I needed to have as many of my wits about me caring for the boys 24/7. The last couple of days, however, I've had a craving for a glass of wine in the evening. Maybe it is that the days are getting shorter and colder. Or that I want to feel a bit more relaxed and mellow even beyond what my anti-depressant and anti-anxiety meds are providing.

So I took the big step and picked up a bottle of my favorite red, Cabernet Sauvignon at ALDI for the big cost of $2.99 a bottle. NEVER in my life have I purchased such a cheap bottle of wine but I see a lot of people buying it and there is a cute winking owl on the label which is the name brand.

Got home all excited about trying my cheap bottle of wine with my cheap comfort food dinner. This is what I always make when I need a comfort food dinner: mix a can of cream of chicken soup, 1/3 cup sour cream, cooked frozen vegetables and chopped cooked turkey or chicken in a baking pan. Top with prepared Stove Top Dressing and bake for 30 minutes at 400 degrees. There is never any left when I make this and the cost = about $3.50 total, only about $1.25 per person!

But after all the big build up, I couldn't find my cork screw! So the taste test is delayed until tomorrow when I can run to the dollar store for a new one. I will provide a rating.

I suppose the other insight from this post has to do with how much widowhood changes us. Habits we used to engage in regularly vanish from our lives. Widowhood truly impacts and influences us in so many ways at so many levels. My wine drinking habits, just a minor example - sometimes it blows my mind how my widowhood has so deeply affected me. Finally, buying this inexpensive bottle of wine is something I did for myself - a small measure of self-nurturing and care.

Peeking Into Houses

When you live in the Chicago area you get used to unusual weather, so the hurricane type winds we have been having the past few days aren't that big a deal. Also, a few years back a tornado flew over my home and caused a great deal of yard damage, so again, this storm is nothing.

But last night, I had to drive to the other side of town to attend a parent meeting on financial aid for college and the wind was whipping and it was cold and very dark - the moon hadn't risen yet. It was a night to stay warmly tucked in at home eating grilled cheese sandwiches and soup with family.

As I drove across town, I am always struck by how pretty and quaint our community is. Block after block of nice homes with nice families living in them. This time of year I like peeking into the lit windows to observe the peaceful pictures of family life I sometimes get a glimpse of. I have done this since my husband died. It comforts me to view families that are "normal" in the sense that they are still whole with a mom, dad, kids and maybe grandparents in the home.

I know our family is still a family (we refer to ourselves as three peas in a pod) but it has always felt so incomplete since my husband left us. I liked the feel of us as a foursome, and it has never felt the same in terms of the solidarity, strength, security and comfort I used to derive from us all living and being together.

I dreaded going out last night. That familiar feeling of having to head up our family yet again on my lonesome and the thought of facing college costs scares the daylights out of me. In fact, I didn't even have the money for gas to make it across town and had to scramble as I so often do to find a source of "hidden" change somewhere. Guess where $4.00 popped up? I located my husband's old wallet! So I had enough gas money! I keep telling myself that I need to ask for more money - finding a twenty would have nice but all I prayed for was enough to get me to the meeting and back and that was what I received. I guess I don't ask for enough!

I tried to make the best of things by enjoying the Halloween lights and decorations that were up as I drove to the meeting, almost hitting a huge tree limb I didn't see in the middle of the road! And the meeting was informative. Turns out our living under severely reduced circumstances will garner my sons at least $18,000 yearly for college - and they will have to pay nothing if they go to a community college or commuter college like University of Illinois at Chicago. And the private schools who have been recruiting my son (one volleyball coach made the trip from Ohio a couple of weeks ago to personally talk with him) can provide other funding money besides. I've only been steering my son to the community college but it appears there are many other doors open to him.

Speaking of doors. I pass by those warm and inviting homes and always think to myself how many more of them there are than me. By that I mean, more intact families, families not facing life as my sons and I now know it. I do not consider this life normal at all, not by what most people define as a normal, safe, secure family life. I am a silent observer, driving through the dark quiet night in my loud, older model sedan reflecting back to the life that used to also be mine - driving ahead into a future unknown and at this point feeling less than secure and stable. But I'm still driving ahead. I guess that is what is most important. That I keep driving onward.

Not Tempting Fate

To say I became more cautious after my husband's death would be an understatement. It was about a year before I would let anyone else give my boys a car ride. I was under the deluded assumption that I could somehow control my own destiny and I wanted assurance that if anything was going to happen, it would to all of us at the same time.

Today I take the back roads to avoid highway traffic and the semi trucks that scare me when they roar past. I drive the speed limit or only go a bit above when I'm on the road long distance. Locks and the stove are double checked. No longer do I take any chances. I know too well that the unexpected bad fluke can happen. I also realize that I can't protect myself from every calamity, but I sure make an effort to do what I can.

This is one of the reasons I've probably not done so well at the nursing home job. I don't take chances with the residents under my care and I play by the rules. We were told in my training that a spotter is needed whenever using a mechanical lift with a resident. But to track down another CNA who is available to help takes time - sometimes up to 15 to 30 minutes. The old timer CNAs just use the lifts by themselves. They save time and their own skin. But not necessarily the residents' health or safety.

Early on, there was a mishap with one of the lifts - the switch wouldn't shut off and kept going. At the time, I was being assisted by another new CNA and our resident was a 300 pound woman, with a paralyzed left side due to a stroke. We managed to get the woman safely to the ground where she lay until another lift could be obtained to get her up. It was scary and very worrisome. The resident ended up on the floor for 30 minutes while arrangements were made as to how to best "rescue" her. We'd been told that if such an incident happened like that and we were operating the lift alone, we'd be immediately terminated. Also, there is the grave concern of actually injuring someone and then as a result losing our CNA certification, not to mention possible injury/neglect charges.

So, I never took the risk. For myself but most importantly, the residents I was caring for. I think that some of it comes from my husband's death. I can't take chances anymore and I won't, even if it comes at my expense. No use pushing fate. I wonder about the other CNAs though. Their carelessness and disregard for the helpless residents in their care. I guess it is easier to be confident and cocky that nothing bad will happen when you haven't suffered a loss or losses. I can only assume that others don't think about it because it isn't on their minds. It doesn't exist within the realm of possibility. Or if they do think about it, they can quickly dismiss the worries of something going wrong. But I think for the most part that people just don't think about bad things happening. And it is easier to not think about them if you haven't experienced loss.

We become different people after our loved ones die. We don't think or act in the same ways. It is sometimes hard to fit into a world where perceptions haven't changed as ours have. I'd like to believe that I am a more caring and introspective person than I was before. But it can end up being a hindrance when we're interacting in a world that isn't the same for us anymore, or dealing with people that don't think like we do.

Spring Overnight!

Over the past two weeks we have gone from winter to spring. In fact, this really happened in one day on April 1st. Although I love the flowers, new light green leaves and fragrant breezes, having to figure out what to wear has been a challenge. I am never prepared for the changes in seasons. My life these past few years has been so chaotic and disorganized, I limp through the seasons doing my best to throw together suitable outfits. There have been summers where I never got my clothes unpacked out of the storage bags. And so it goes, another new season where I feel unprepared and flying by the seat of my pants.

With moving in fall, I've apparently "lost" some of my warmer weather clothing. I suppose they're buried in one of the storage sheds. By the time I locate them it will be fall again so I'm not even going to make much of a search effort. I could also use some new items but that is another story since I won't be buying any again this summer. I continue to make do with whatever I have and while it does make me feel thrifty, it would be nice to have something new.

I see women in my community out and about in their shorts, sandals and tank tops and wonder how on earth they have it together to be wearing these things so early in the season! I still have sweaters with snowflakes hanging in my closet now. I would so much like and I long for a more organized life where I can go straight to whatever location houses my seasonal clothes to pull out when needed. This all started when my husband became ill and three years of chaos resulted with his hospitalizations, chemo and home care. Then his death and widowhood prompted more chaos, then getting remarried/divorced and having to move resulted in still more!

Part of the shift in seasons upsets me because I now have a hard time adjusting to change. I do better when I can ease into changes. When we go from winter to spring/summer in just a day I kind of freak out. I wonder if it has to do with how I have felt since widowhood. One day I'm married with a husband and the next I am a widow. That kind of abruptness brings on a great deal of personal upset to me. I'm just not quick on the draw anymore where I am able to deal with such opposites gracefully. There is a part of me that tries to hold on to what I know and am comfortable with even if it is colder weather.

Come fall, I'll be hanging on to summer by wearing my flip flops and shorts until Thanksgiving!

Taking the Long Way

Some of my intent in posting is to convey to others (especially those who haven't experienced significant grief) exactly how much it impacts you - to your inner core and being. You are never the same in significant and minor ways.

For instance, after my husband died I drove differently. I was deeply aware of the responsibility I faced as being the sole driver for youngsters. I was also worried about getting stranded on the side of the road and having no one to "rescue" me. And worried about getting into a car crash, even a minor fender bender. Nor did I want a ticket because that meant rising insurance rates and the whole nine yards. Hence, I became somewhat of a little old lady driver. I'd always been a cautious driver, but after my husband died I became more so. I also was very worried about drinking and driving and for a long time never even allowed myself the luxury of a single glass of wine if I was out and about driving. I think this is similar to willing yourself not to get sick because you just can't, which is another mindset I've had to practice.

There was a part of me too that resented having to be the sole driver all the time. My husband had preferred driving and through the years I'd had no problem being in the passenger seat. I could knit and sight see. But driving takes on another meaning when you're the only one doing it and also having to handle all the maintenance and gas pumping too! I won't even mention the scraping and snow shoveling in winter...

Back to driving - if you live in the greater Chicago area you have to deal with the intricate and confusing maze of highways. But I became leery of fast four lane roads. So with the boys in travel baseball, resorted to finding alternate routes whenever possible. While their teammates raced along on highways (with dads in the driver seats), I took the local route - a two-lane highway instead of four or six. One with stop signs and stop lights instead of tolls. And generally I'd get to the same destination only 15 or 30 minutes later. That added padding of time gave me security and peace of mind.

I became proficient at reading maps and better with my sense of direction than I'd ever been. And so it has continued up to today. My oldest is at a volleyball tournament and I have to go to work in the evening. We used Mapquest and found another way to go on a less busy highway. And I have a greater measure of peace as he is out today. I wish it was me driving and I wish I could see my son play. These are sacrifices most intact families don't have to face. Even if I'd had to work, if my husband was still alive he'd have been able to attend the tournament.

The Day He Died

My husband died of Hodgkin's Lymphoma. When he was first diagnosed, the doctor told us we should be happy for the diagnosis because it is the "easiest" cancer to cure - the best cancer to have if you're going to have it. I remember thinking at that moment, that most people only live two years after their diagnosis. I wasn't reassured by the doctor's optimism.

My husband's cancer was very aggressive and resistant to all the conventional treatment - he endured rigorous chemo and radiation. So he also underwent a stem cell transplant and was given a clean bill of health in April, 2003. As soon as that came in I started fertility treatment with the sperm we had banked for two years. The insemination and first in vitro attempts were unsuccessful. But I so much wanted another baby, we scheduled a second try at in vitro for the fall. In August, my husband became ill basically overnight. One day he was robust and healthy - the next run down and clearly sick. He complained of a terrible back ache. His doctor was on vacation which didn't help the siutuation. His office wasn't cooperative over the phone as I tried to describe my husband's terrifying symptoms. They kept telling me he was fine and to see the doctor when he returned. When it became clear that he had lost probably 20 pounds in a matter of days I took him in to the ER. It looked as though the cancer had returned. Just three months after the all clear!

My husband started a new round of chemo and plans were made for a second stem cell transplant. He had a couple of brief stays in the hospital that August and at the end of the month went in for some intensive chemo. He never was released as was planned. In mid-September he became very ill and almost died. I remember having a terrible feeling that all was not right with him and that he was close to death but none of the medical staff advised me of this. It was only after he pulled out of the"dark place" as he later described it that I was told they hadn't thought he would survive.

There were then a few weeks of relative stability. He went to rehab and although weak, was coherant and alert. I went ahead with the in vitro, administering all of the numerous injections on my own, etc. This attempt was also unsuccessful and at the same time my husband again became very ill. I decided to not tell him about the failed in vitro to spare him the sadness. Shortly thereafter, my husband's mind began to falter and he started to lose consciousness. There was another rough night where he almost died and he was put on life support and transferred to ICU. During this time, as soon as I got to the hospital I would start to cry and would continue nonstop the 7-8 hours I was there. I spoke with every nurse, doctor or technician with tears running down my face. I couldn't stop until it was time for me to go home to get the boys from school. Looking back, I am sure my body releasing the fertility drugs didn't help my emotions or matters. I had a short temper and got into a terrible argument with the old high school girlfriend of my husband who had come to visit him. I am sure that would not have happened if I hadn't just gone through in vitro unsuccessfully. I understand it could be considered selfish to try and become pregnant at that time, but I realized how much I loved my husband and desperately wanted to have another baby with him. It was kind of a way to hold on to hope in the midst of so much sickness and despair.

My husband was in a coma for about two weeks. I spent all day with him in his ICU room rubbing his body, hands and legs. Telling him over and over how proud I was of him, loved him and could not live without him. I begged him not to die. I talked about the boys and said they couldn't live without him either. I thanked him for everything; I apologized for everything. I also brought the boys to see him after school many times. Because 10/20 was my husband's b-day and 10/23 our anniversay, we tried to celebrate with cards, balloons and stuffed animals.

Strangely, the doctors were very optimistic during this period. They believed he had Lyme Disease of all things, which they thought had caused the coma. But then, his doctor personally ran some tests on his own and I was called to the nurse's station. The doctor told me over the phone that the cancer had spread throughout my husband's body and there was no hope for a cure. He wanted to stop all treatment, medication and life support. I requested time to call my husband's family in case anyone wanted to come to the hospital. We then agreed that I would return to the hospital the next day (Sunday) so my sons and I could be with my husband when the support was removed. The doctor was not in agreement with my request for my sons to be present. He tried to change my mind, saying that my husband would probably code very quickly and it might be difficult for the boys to experience. But I remained insistent that the boys be present with him.

We went home around 3:00 in the afternoon so I could begin calling relatives - a terribly trying and hard job to say the least. No one was able to make the trip out of state. The boys were of course very upset and almost beside themselves. Around 6:00 p.m., friends of ours, a married couple and their two boys the ages of our sons stopped by with a casserole. I informed them what was going on and had the errie feeling that they were angels sent in disguise. Shortly after 6:30, the hospital called with the ICU doctor stating, "I am sorry to inform you that your husband passed away at 6:29..." I was also struck by the realization that my husband had spared us all from a difficult situation if we had been present the next day when they removed his life support. I became convinced that he agreed with the doctor in not wanting the boys to witness his immediate death. I ended up thanking him for this.

My friends and their children immediately said they would go to the hospital with us to pray and to help me clear out my husband's room. I was calm enough to drive the van on my own with my girlfriend. The dad took all four boys to a local McDonald's for dinner. When we met them there I saw them all eating through the plate glass window and was struck by the surrealness of the situation. A McDonald's meal in the face of death. My girlfriend and I grabbed sandwiches from the drive through and ate on the way to the hospital.

Once there, we all spent 30 minutes praying and saying goodbye to my husband. I was so proud of all the four boys for their courage and strength in doing this. The doctor had told me they would make him look nice for the occassion (again, what a surreal kind of thing - "we'll clean him up for you to say goodbye...") Everyone kept telling me, "We are sorry for your loss" and I kept replying, "It is a loss for the whole world," since my husband was such a gifted educator.

I vaguely remember meeting with clergy and the staff that handles the details after a death but that is all somewhat foggy. We removed my husband's possessions, gave final goodbyes, hugs and kisses and left the hospital. At home, I did some laundry because my boys wanted to play their fall baseball games the next day as a tribute to their father. It was 2:00 a.m. and I looked out the huge front picture window to see strange burning flames in the front yard. I feared that the scarecrows I had on display were burning but it turned out that some kids had set our wooden mailbox on fire.

When the fire dept. arrived I can only wonder what they really thought of the situation because they asked me why I had been up so late and I related that my husband had died earlier in the evening. How many times does that happen? The emergency crew saw that I was only 44 and my sons just 9 and 10. I briefly wondered if the fire was some kind of sign from my husband but later a social worker who works in hospice assured me that our loved ones never want to frighten us from the beyond so it was not any kind of message or sign - thank goodness! Just a pre-Halloween prank on the wrong night for one to be played.

For a long time I did not remember what happened the next day, Sunday. I eventually asked the girlfriend who had been with me that night about it since they were also on the same baseball team. She told me the games had been cancelled because of the cold and rain. But for many months I truly had no recollection of whether we had played those games or not. Just evidence of how the mind shuts down to protect you from the emotional pain. And to this day I sometimes don't really remember where my husband's tumor was - under his right or left arm? My mind refuses to recall that detail (I think it was the left arm). But at this point who cares and what does it matter anyway. That tumor spread and took away a man too soon from his family, his school, the community and the world.

The night my husband died on October 25, 2003 was the night I stopped that endless crying and started sleeping with every light on in the house (the mailbox fire sure didn't help with that). My eyes became moist again and I was able to turn off most of the lights about six months later. This is the first time I have ever written down the events of that day, although I have reviewed them in my mind and spoken about them. Somehow it seems fitting to do so now. I know there is no great catharsis in doing this - I am just relating how and what happened. But these details should have some place in the story of all of this. And considering I am going backward in my grief work, putting down these details in words has its place and I think will result in eventual healing. This is when, where and how my journey started. Now I need to start going forward again. I believe we need to sometimes go back to the beginning in order to accomplish this.

Getting off the Couch

The past few weeks I have been in a pretty low spot - despondent, unmotivated, overwhelmed. I was able to ride on the high needed to get through the sale of the house and my move but then I just kind of crashed. It became too much of an effort to shop and then cook for dinners, so we had more fast food meals than is healthy. Some days, when I was off from work, I just sat in the apartment rather than unpack or work at the storage shed. Other days, I went back to bed after the boys went to school and stayed there all morning. I could get through the bare minimum of what needed to be done and that is about all. The past month has reminded me a lot of those early weeks and months after my husband first died. I'd be exhausted and go to bed early but be unable to sleep. So I would read and end up falling to sleep fitfully with all the lights on and my face unwashed and teeth unbrushed. I'd awaken at 3:00 a.m. and just lie there, unable to even roll over and turn off the light. I've had numerous nights like that over the past month.

I guess there is truth to the fact that new losses reactivate old losses. There has been tremendous anguish over having to move from our home and I have found myself still struggling with feelings of pain from the divorce. In a way my emotional upset has immobilized me. I am grieving the loss of my home, the end of my marriage, the end of the life I had with my first husband which was symbolized by our home.

I am aware of all of this - kind of like a person standing outside of myself and observing. I've been doing some reading on optimism vs. negativity and hope. I want to try and move past this and feel less broken. Part of it is up to me. I am motivated to prepare healthier meals for us (especially since Swine Flu is running rampant here). It will take some effort but I am game. Some of the shift is due to my accepting my situation with greater grace. I am feeling less of a failure for having had to move. I continue to hear stories of many people from all walks of life struggling right now, having to downsize or losing their homes. I've done the best I can as a mom who has dealt with the death of a spouse, being divorced by another and then having the Recession hit all within a five-year period. Believe me, since my husband's death we have been struggling to make ends meet - I wasn't out buying clothes or cars or going on vacations. I was just a middle-class, middle-aged mom doing the best I could to survive and raise my sons on my own.

So with that acceptance has come some peace. And the depression has lifted. And I am making an effort to be more positive and hopeful. And I am starting to do more. And even though there isn't enough time in the day, I am doing as much as I can with the time I have and that is about the best anyone can do.

Today I am grateful:

1. For pumpkins.
2. For my job - it saved me from staying in bed all day on some days.
3. For picnic baskets (what made me think of this I don't know but they're pretty cool even though summer had ended).
4. For the scarf look everyone is wearing these days - the long, skinny scarves wrapped a couple of times around your neck.
5. For the smell of Noxema skin cream/cleanser.

Skeletons and Nightmares

I have been driving down the streets in town and seen the various Halloween graveyard displays filled with headstones and skeletons in some yards. Ever since my husband's death the week before Halloween, I have been unable to decorate with anything that reminds me of dying. My sons are forbidden to wear the popular t-shirts with skulls on them. I only want happy fall-inspired decorations surrounding me like cheerful scarecrows, grinning pumpkins and colorful leaves.

As I pass these graveyard scenes (clever as they are), I cannot help but think that the people creating them have not faced the death of a loved one. How could they? I don't think any of us widows or widowers could in good conscience be purchasing headstones and morbid, scary objects dripping of blood and oozing gore. We have already faced the real nightmares of death, grief and loss. How could we have such displays on our front lawns, reminding us every day of what we hope to not think about if only for a few moments?

Part of me is a bit angry at seeing these graveyard scenes. Real life is already a pretty scary place, as we well know. Is it fair to laugh in the face of fate by displaying such prominent reminders of death? Or am I just overly sensitive to this because of my losses? It is just that I already live with the painful reality of death in my life even years after its immediacy. I don't want to pretend that death, sorrow and hardship aren't out there because I am well aware that they are. I just don't care for people mocking this reality. I know it is all meant in good fun but it feels as though someone has thrown me a curve ball whenever I see this stuff. How can anyone really laugh at death? I guess those who have been lucky enough to have not faced it (the "untouched").

Tears

When my husband was dying, I cried all day for a month straight! I would arrive at the hospital around 9:00 a.m. and the tears would begin streaming soundlessly down my face when I hit the lobby area. They would continue to fall as I spoke with doctors and nurses (no one ever said a word about them). Then, when it was time for me to leave the hospital at 5:00 p.m. to pick the boys up from their after school program, the tears would magically stop as soon as I went down the elevator and reached the main floor lobby again.

I remember being amazed that I could cry so much - that my body could contain so many tears! I couldn't stop or control them - they just flowed from my eyes. Yet during the funeral and memorial services, I didn't cry much.

I am crying a lot now as I mourn the loss of my home. The tears are again coming out of no where at unpredictable times. I again can't seem to control them although I do get through my work shifts without crying. Maybe tears will well up a bit in my eyes, but I'm able to restrain them.

Right now my emotions consist of shame, mourning and fear. I am ashamed to be in foreclosure. Even though the situation involves the death of my husband, current economic conditions and other matters, I still look at myself as a failure for somehow not being able to save the house. I am deeply upset to be losing my home which has been the one remaining symbol of security/stability in my life since my husband's death. And I am afraid of what the future holds - I don't know where we will be living. Sometimes when I am crying, I don't know the specific reason except that it is somehow tied into this new loss.

I am also aware that some of my tears also are from pity and sadness that I don't have someone to lean on through this. That it is an ordeal I have to face on my own while being strong and a parent to the boys. It is a hard burden to bear.


Today I am grateful:

1. For lush forest preserves.
2. For the four changing seasons.
3. For stormy weather which has a beauty of its own.
4. For orange tiger lily flowers.
5. For all the magnificent colors of nature - the blue of the sky, green of the grass, yellow of the sun, white of the clouds, red, orange, purple of the flowers, brown of the soil, black of the night, grey of the twilight.

Changed Forever

My husband's death changed me profoundly. For example, it took me nine months before I let the boys ride in a car with anyone but me driving. I reasoned that if there was going to be an accident, we all needed to go to the hereafter together. Shortly after the death I also started to be acutely aware of how I communicated with others. I made a point of really looking into people's eyes and listening to their words because I wanted to "see into their souls" and not just interact superficially.

It remains challenging to explain to people how much I have changed and how I sometimes think. Just another ongoing challenge of widowhood. Not only do I not think and react to life the ways I used to but now others don't understand me. And they still don't get it even when I try and explain.

In Kate Braestrup's memoir "Here If You Need Me," she writes of becoming a minister, which was actually her husband's dream, after his death. And she says, "Death alters the reality of our lives; the death of an intimate changes it completely. No part of my life, from my most ethereal notions of God to the most mundane detail of tooth brushing, was the same after Drew died. Life consisted on one rending novelty after another, as anyone who has lost a spouse can attest."

What struck me so acutely about her words was the mention of tooth brushing - how even that everyday act we so much take for granted was no longer just a mundane detail after her husband's death. That is what I meant when I started this post by observing how my husband's death changed the very core of me - from how I think whenever I drive a car to the way I look into people's eyes. Or in Kate's case, how she brushes her teeth and now looks upon God. That is what is so hard to explain to others - the breadth and depth of this change. This is why blogging has been so helpful to me - I know that those in my shoes reading my posts all get it! And it has helped me to read the blogs of others and know exactly where they are coming from! No one needs to expain for a change.

Today I am grateful:

1. For getting through eight hours of work without the aches and pains I usually feel in my feet!
2. For the opportunity to get back into the swing of working again.
3. For even having a job because they are still pretty slim in this area of the country.
4. For having a good work day (no register errors).
5. For having an easier time of making it through the eight hours.

I can't erase my phone messages

I need to clear some messages from my cell phone because there is no room for people to leave new ones. The problem is that I have great difficulty deleting messages once they are left. This started right after my husband died. I was so struck by the fact that I'd never hear his voice again that I became paranoid about deleting messages, especially from loved ones. To solve the problem I eventually started taping my messages and then deleting them. I'd have a tape for close friends and family and another for acquaintances. That seemed to work for quite some time with the land line phone. I never tried to tape any messages from my cell. I just keep them until I have to delete them and when I do so it is very hard for me - if I never had to delete a message again I'd be happy.

What am I actually thinking here? I know deep down that my saving phone messages won't spare my loved ones from death but somehow part of me must believe that. It is like some misguided insurance policy I have bought into. Even though I know this is silly I still can't seem to stop. Just knowing I have the voices of my loved ones with me provides some kind of comfort.

I think that my distorted thought process just shows how greatly and deeply a death can affect us. My husband's death had a profound impact on me to the extent that I treasure phone messages because it is the voice of someone I love. How could I erase that? Especially because I know that some people aren't with us to ever listen to again.