In and Out of Sync

Yesterday was a rough one. David’s death has been a catalyst for lots of other things. Sometimes loss paralyzes people, sometimes it makes them frantic. Most people experience periods of both. When the folks who cared deeply about the person lost aren’t in sync in their periods of paralysis and excess activity it can be hard.

There are folks that always seem to be in sync with each other, no matter the situation, or how much time has passed since they last saw each other. It was that way with David and a friend of his. They were friends as children, extremely close as teenagers though they lived far from each other, and constant companions in young adulthood. Their lives took different directions and communication was just here and there as they got older, but when they were together, it was as if they were never apart. They were true friends.

I think he probably cared about David as much as any one in the world. His grief breaks my heart. He was my friend too and I hate to hear the pain in his voice. Grief is a strange thing, you don’t just grieve for the one that’s gone, you grieve for the loss others feel.

He’s coming to see me today. It’s going to be hard, but I hope he finds some closure, peace, or whatever he can. I hope I can help.

For some reason this song always makes me think of him. He’s a real what you give kind of guy.

I’ve Lost My Balance

In the past few weeks the world has become both smaller and larger.

My own little everyday world has shrunk by half. The demands of keeping everything running smoothly have become simpler.  I don’t have anyone to feed, I just eat when I can. I don’t have enough laundry to worry about sorting it. The clutter around the house has been frozen in time. Many of the things left out a few weeks ago, waiting to find a place, are still waiting. Some of this clutter will be acted upon, saved, filed, other things will never their intended use here. Maybe someone else will find use for these little things, maybe they won’t. I don’t know yet.

Everything outside my door has become bigger by two, maybe more.  I’ve always been independent, have taken care of my own things and my own business, but it was good to know I had some back-up when I needed it. My friends and family are there, but it’s not the same. It’s not their job to take care of me, I’m not supposed to be the person taken into account about the decisions they, or I, make.

The best definition I have ever heard of marriage was that it is an institution that makes you take another person into account in every decision. I was comfortable in that, I didn’t see it as limiting. I saw it as the opportunity to take advantage of another viewpoint, another set of skills, the wealth of another experience. David and I were very much alike, but our thought processes were very different. He was more mechanical, logical, a gatherer of all essential pieces before beginning. I tend to run a lot more on emotion, passion and anger. He kept me out of a lot of trouble and I pushed him toward things he might not have done.

I find myself asking myself what he would have done a lot lately. I usually think I know, but I can’t be sure.

I know I’m going to lose my balance and crash now when I wouldn’t before in some situations. It frightens me.

I’m Not Strong

I’m not strong, I do probably look that way, but it’s an unintentional front. I am gutted, sad, screaming inside. I want my David back. I want to punch the fucking Universe in the face. I cannot fathom that my poor sweet husband had to go through that, he deserved better.

David wasn’t done. He still had so many things he wanted to do. I cry not just for the things we would do together, but the things he would achieve, the things he would make, the stuff he would make work. I cry for the beautiful days he won’t see and the good meals he won’t eat.

Losing him seems to be much too much about me and not nearly enough about him sometimes.

Make no mistake this is about David.

My sweet, smart, curious, and ambitious David.

I’m a Viking, but work is kind of slow these days…..

As I deal with all this damn loss, convinced that the universe is not out to kill me, but something much worse, like a life sentence in solitary confinement, I think of all the years that will come. How long my sentence will be without David, I can’t know, but there it is stretching out in front of me. I’m going to have to do something.

As many of you know, on all aptitude tests, I score very highly as an axe wielding Viking warrior. I do plan to continue my efforts to assemble a horde, but it is, as always, problematic. The coasts of Europe are much better defended these days, and lets face it, most of the countries are broke. Recruiting and exposition costs could far exceed return on pillage. I’ll leave that as a long term goal.

Cat lady is also a possibility. I’d have very low start-up costs. I’ve got the creepy old house on the edge of town, four cats to start with, and let’s face it, I’m a widow. If my town has an opening, my resume will make me a shoe-in. I’ll keep my eye on the local paper for openings, but it’s one of those positions that people keep for life and God only knows how many people already have dibs. I’m not interested in relocating, so this may never happen for me.

I’m thinking I’ll probably just do my best to carry on as I have. Writing, school again in the Fall, finish what I started, then worry about the cushy jobs. There are things out there I need to finish, work that I still feel needs to be done, none of that has changed. It just feels different, satisfying, but not like before. When I achieve something, I won’t get the hug and the words, “I’m proud of you.” from the person that it means the most from. Not physically anyway. That will be bittersweet at best.

Right now, getting through this blog post is difficult. My ability to concentrate has taken a dive from it’s normal low. I’ve been told to expect this along with confusion, forgetfulness, and a general feeling of “wrongness”, and that’s on a good day. As far as I can tell, I’m typical . So forgive me my ramblings.

 

 

Things That Can Be Fixed Or Not

Last night I did the first useful thing since I lost my love. It wasn’t much, I shared some knowledge that I acquired along the way. It fixed something, it made something work.

There are so few times in life we can easily help make things work, most of the time all we can do is help others deal with things that are going to stay broken. I’ll take any little thing made right as a near miracle right now.

David was my family. It was from him that I acquired the knowledge to fix that little thing. He learned it from his father. Through love and true mutual choice of association of the soul, I became one of those that would possess and share that knowledge.  I shared that knowledge out of the same kind of love and association.

We find our own families, they can’t be arranged for us. Just because something is supposed to work, doesn’t mean that it always will. Just believing that it should won’t make it happen, if you’re lucky it will, if not, not so much. Read Joy’s post, she always been more eloquent about stuff like this than I could ever be.  I love Joy Joy.

I feel so humbled by all the kindness that has been shown to me since I lost David. I don’t have words. I’m working on a thank you that will do justice. I’m not sure I can do it.

I Got a Package Yesterday

Mail gets interesting when someone dies. Along with the same old shit, credit card offers, sale flyers, bills, etc., you get a lot of cards (those are nice) and occasionally a package.  I got a package registered mail. I did the clumsy, don’t let the cat out while you and the mailman fumble with the signature cards and the rest of the mail, and was handed a well wrapped, very heavy, shoebox size  package.

David had come home. He was never gone long and I knew he’d find his way back. I just wish he was in better shape. But then he hadn’t been in very good shape when last I saw him and this new circumstance is probably better.

He looked very much alive until he died, then he looked very dead. It is amazing how someone can so obviously be there with you, and then suddenly gone. There is a big difference between close to death and dead.

We were told a few minutes before he died that death was approaching, but he still breathed, his face had color, and his eyes still followed me around the room even through the morphine. I combed his hair, his scalp was still warm, I held his hand, cooler than usual, but still his hand. Then he was gone. He got so cold, so fast. His face relaxed and he looked more like my David, but his hand held no more comfort, it wasn’t his anymore. He finally lost the color in his face, I kissed him one last time and said good-bye.

I signed the papers, gave the info for the death certificate and had him sent to the funeral home. I didn’t see him again until he arrived yesterday.

I’ll bury that box soon. Right now I’m thinking I’ll throw in the Swiss Army knife he always carried and some quarters so he can get a soda. That’s what he always had to have when he left the house. He always had a bad day when he forgot either of those items.

God, I miss him.

The Turn Continues

First, thank you everyone for you kind words. No, you can’t say anything to make me feel better, but just that you want to say them means everything. Like so many of the things many of us are way too familiar with, there just isn’t a bright side here. There is a strange comfort in hearing from people who get that.

I cannot tell you how important my adoption friends have been through all of this. Some I know personally, some who are no more than words on the screen, but all real good friends in a much closer sense than even my local friends and  family. People who understand how hard it is to build trust, a life, find a place you feel truly loved, and having that go away might mean.

I feel like I’ve been thrown out alone in the world, but this time there’s not a line of bright successful young couples just dying to give me the new life I deserve. Considering how that worked out last time, it’s probably a good thing.

My family attorney pointed out something that froze me to the bone the other day. I am no longer David’s wife. I don’t belong to him and he doesn’t belong to me. In the legal sense, our relationship ended  with his last breath. Somehow he’s not considered my forever family. I get to keep the name, the ring, his stuff, I’m responsible for his legal disposal, but we are not related. Just as I was made part of a family, I did not choose, by the stroke of an official’s pen, I’ve been taken from one, that I chose, by nothing more than another signature on another certificate.

David (or at least the smashed-up bone fragments that constitute his “ashes”) are on their way back to me. I’ll carry out his last wish by burying them under the same tree where our dogs and cats have found their rest early next week. He’ll be home forever. I think I’ll miss him more for being so close.