Think of Sally Fields and several iconic images - and verbage - come to mind. The first one for me is the Oscar acceptance speech to the effect, " You love me, you really love me!!". That's not the Sally Fields quote I have in mind. Second, is the great image on the cutting room table as Norma Rae in the movie that may have resulted in her quote number one, anyway it was dramatic and inspiring and I like that one, but that's not it, either. The one I have in mind is the cemetary scene with her friends in "Steel Magnolias".
I did what might be considered a dumb move and watched "Steel Magnolias" last night on the television. I have only seen it a few times and it had been a few years since the last viewing, all the actresses involved are faves of mine and produced great ensemble acting, so I sat back when I returned from my stitchery group and ate my leftover aspergus risotto (homemade) while I watched the movie. One might say "big mistake, Joyce". It depends on your point of view. I really didn't need to see the ladies swathed in black, but I wouldn't have missed that Sally Fields speech for anything. Of course I watched with tears splashing down my face. I always have teared up for this movie and I always will. I have earned the right to really let them roll down my face this year. But what I heard as I have never heard before so clearly was her "WHY?" questions. She said as I wish I were less ladylike enough to ask "Why did this happen?" She begged and cried at the top of her voice for an answer from her friends -and God - and for understanding, while I only whispered.
Let's hear it for histrionics! You rock, Sally! I love you, I really love you.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Lessons from of All Things - the Mayflower!
The last post helped my day today so much that I decided to go with it, not think of it as a fluke and write some more. I also think of much of this recent series of realizations within a nautical metaphor. So with apologies to my my truly nautical daughter and son-in-law, here goes.
One activity that I have been consistently able to do these past months has been reading. I have read a lot of fiction and punctuated that with historical books on a range of subjects, mostly American or English histories. I am at the time reading Nathaniel Philbrook's Mayflower. He discusses the Pilgrims' harrowing trip across the late fall Atlantic in the frail ship. And he includes on page 31 the strategy of " lying ahull" which Master Jones employed during some of this journey. He states that"to lie ahull--to furl the sails and without a stitch of canvas set, secure the helm to leeward and surrender his 180-ton ship to the elements." He also notes that a reproduction ship had to face similar gale forces and attempt the same strategy. The question was "would she lie that way, more or less quietly, with the windage of the high poop keeping her shoulder to the sea? Or would she just wallow hopelessly in the great troughs threatening to roll her masts out? We didn't know. No one had tried the maneuver in a ship like that for maybe two centuries."
"As soon as the ship's bow swung into the wind, a remarkable change came over the Mayflower II. Even though she was under bare poles in a howling gale, her slablike topsides functioned as a kind of wooden storm sail magically steadying the ship's motion. Almost perfectly balanced the Mayflower II sat like a contented duck amid the uproar of the storm. After being pounded unmercifully by the waves, the ship was finally at peace."
I don't intend the harp upon the analogy and I draw the lines this side of admitting to a "slablike topside" But having wallowed in the depths of my own troughs of late I found myself able to find a balance and within reasonable limits be at peace beyond that which I had known for some time. I think it came at least in part from taking a risk to face into the gale and hold a steady course for a sustained period of time, which wasn't all that long, but still beyond that which I had done these past weeks. The result was that I had my first good whole day in a long while, I was able to be productive and to think about some plans I need to make. The sorrow is still my companion but I feel a balance I have not known and that lifts my heart. We don't always anticipate the lessons learned from history.
One activity that I have been consistently able to do these past months has been reading. I have read a lot of fiction and punctuated that with historical books on a range of subjects, mostly American or English histories. I am at the time reading Nathaniel Philbrook's Mayflower. He discusses the Pilgrims' harrowing trip across the late fall Atlantic in the frail ship. And he includes on page 31 the strategy of " lying ahull" which Master Jones employed during some of this journey. He states that"to lie ahull--to furl the sails and without a stitch of canvas set, secure the helm to leeward and surrender his 180-ton ship to the elements." He also notes that a reproduction ship had to face similar gale forces and attempt the same strategy. The question was "would she lie that way, more or less quietly, with the windage of the high poop keeping her shoulder to the sea? Or would she just wallow hopelessly in the great troughs threatening to roll her masts out? We didn't know. No one had tried the maneuver in a ship like that for maybe two centuries."
"As soon as the ship's bow swung into the wind, a remarkable change came over the Mayflower II. Even though she was under bare poles in a howling gale, her slablike topsides functioned as a kind of wooden storm sail magically steadying the ship's motion. Almost perfectly balanced the Mayflower II sat like a contented duck amid the uproar of the storm. After being pounded unmercifully by the waves, the ship was finally at peace."
I don't intend the harp upon the analogy and I draw the lines this side of admitting to a "slablike topside" But having wallowed in the depths of my own troughs of late I found myself able to find a balance and within reasonable limits be at peace beyond that which I had known for some time. I think it came at least in part from taking a risk to face into the gale and hold a steady course for a sustained period of time, which wasn't all that long, but still beyond that which I had done these past weeks. The result was that I had my first good whole day in a long while, I was able to be productive and to think about some plans I need to make. The sorrow is still my companion but I feel a balance I have not known and that lifts my heart. We don't always anticipate the lessons learned from history.
More Than a Month. . . .
It's been more than a month since my last post. I wish that meant that things are better. They probably were better when I was posting more regularly, but I have too much on my mind to write. Feeling that today I decided to get back at it.
Much of my excuse for not writing centered on my unfamiliarity with my new computer. It is easier keyboarding with it (after all how much fun can a 10 inch PC be?) but I have to do some things differently with the mac and this is one less thing to think about doing differently.
I also grew weary of my referring to tears so much, but like it or not they are still my nearest companion. I don't cry that easily in front of others, nor discuss it openly but I do find tears slipping up on me still on a daily basis. I'll have a random thought or come across something provoking a memory and there they are. I don't think of myself as gloomy but there are just so many memories. . . . It's lonely here especially now that school and soccer practice and dance have started and I don't see the kids so much. I really should do more but I have found that my right leg is better when I am off it more. I have spent more time knitting and have finished projects to my recent credit. That means, in addition to sitting in my chair, my focus is improving. I had been unable to knit with purpose for the past several months. Wow! just writing these sentences have lifted my feelings! I guess writing - and knitting - do help. I have just completed a project and I must get busy to start a new one. I am back at my housecleaning efforts, too. Benj will be up here before I know it to do the floors. I also need to stuff more tubs of yard waste - nice term for limbs from the old trees which have succumbed to the summer storms this past month. There isn't any produce to carry in from the garden. The heat wave took care of that. But it seems that most of the roses are coming back now that the weather is kinder and gentler. I did plant mums in the window boxes to replace the heat-killed petunias et al.
With a promise to myself to get back to this project more regularly - my determination to find some resolution in my writing is probably what makes it helpful - I will try sleep again. Good night.
Much of my excuse for not writing centered on my unfamiliarity with my new computer. It is easier keyboarding with it (after all how much fun can a 10 inch PC be?) but I have to do some things differently with the mac and this is one less thing to think about doing differently.
I also grew weary of my referring to tears so much, but like it or not they are still my nearest companion. I don't cry that easily in front of others, nor discuss it openly but I do find tears slipping up on me still on a daily basis. I'll have a random thought or come across something provoking a memory and there they are. I don't think of myself as gloomy but there are just so many memories. . . . It's lonely here especially now that school and soccer practice and dance have started and I don't see the kids so much. I really should do more but I have found that my right leg is better when I am off it more. I have spent more time knitting and have finished projects to my recent credit. That means, in addition to sitting in my chair, my focus is improving. I had been unable to knit with purpose for the past several months. Wow! just writing these sentences have lifted my feelings! I guess writing - and knitting - do help. I have just completed a project and I must get busy to start a new one. I am back at my housecleaning efforts, too. Benj will be up here before I know it to do the floors. I also need to stuff more tubs of yard waste - nice term for limbs from the old trees which have succumbed to the summer storms this past month. There isn't any produce to carry in from the garden. The heat wave took care of that. But it seems that most of the roses are coming back now that the weather is kinder and gentler. I did plant mums in the window boxes to replace the heat-killed petunias et al.
With a promise to myself to get back to this project more regularly - my determination to find some resolution in my writing is probably what makes it helpful - I will try sleep again. Good night.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Hardest Day
What a day! I had told myself I would do this and I did, but it was, simply put, awful! I felt it was so very important to put Ben's clothes to good use and there is no one I know near his size (not even clothes size). How many 3XTall, size 14 shoe men does one meet in a lifetime? I won't go into the other size concept issues as he remains larger than life itself to me, as well as to many who knew him. That may be part of why I can not fully accept that he is gone. Anyway, after today he won't have to come back to the sport coats, pants and shoes (something he didn't really like too much anyway, he preferred his slippers, knit shirts or flannels and worn-in pants). They are gone down to the church to go on to Joplin to hopefully outfit someone of generous proportions who is in need of them. I really thought I had talked myself into this based on the need. I certainly tried to. I had sent boxes of his woven shirts to Lainy to make into quilts as she can and that wasn't too hard. But today, taking his clothes down from the closet was. There haven't been too many times that I have utterly broken down, even though I have talked about crying too much in the blog posts. Today broke me. I did it. The clothes are gone but the price was/is higher than I thought. I know people talk about taking the lost loved one's clothes as a particularly taxing procedure. Now I understand. Why, I don't know, but I think the thought that the clothes are gone means quite clearly that he is also really gone, is at the root. Knowing is not always really knowing.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Meme Change Meme Chose
The above is one of my favorite phrases from French class, translate: the more things change, the more they remain the same (extra words are for clarity). That is sort of the stage I am stuck in right now. Every morning when I awake Ben dies again as I emerge from sleep and confront the day. Doing this for some several months becomes demoralizing and discouraging. You can not know how much I want to move past this but as yet I really don't know how it will happen. If it could become a fact that falls about me as a mantle, there at all times, that might do it. Is that acceptance?
Things are fairly routine right now. I have gardening to do and yard work collecting and breaking down branches and vines when it is not too hot to be able to work outside. There is straightening, organizing, and the consequent throwing away and hauling it off to the recycle or trash pickup. And, for respite, there is knitting as well as cooking, as necessary. There is also working on the computer systems as I try to convert to my new Mac notebook which I love for the feel and look of it but not because of the many parts of its systems or operations which I don't as yet understand. Right now I have to keep Outlook going on both it and the PC because it is not cooperating fully and some emails come on the Mac, others on the PC and still others, sometimes, on both. Ah technology!
I was just on the phone and reminded of my new big task. I want to give Ben's gently worn clothes to the relief for the Joplin tornado victims that the church is organizing. I am not otherwise ready to do this but I feel this is so important an opportunity to do good that I simply must. There surely is someone who is a large tall (3XT) wearing a 13 or 14 wide shoe who needs these things so much and there aren't too many donors that size. I think I have covered my limitations in that I said I will get the things down to the church but I will not organize and mark them. Someone else can do that. In exchange I will help elsewhere in the donations of ladies clothes or toys, household goods, whatever. I can't really imagine the level of need for those people but I do know I must try to help as much as possible. I am breaking into my stash also as I can really imagine how deep the need is for a knitter or crocheter to be able to get her hands on yarn. The therapy inherent in the act of doing needlework can be so very helpful - that I know. I am also going to load books. Once you start thinking, the list just grows. Such a long list of needs emerges when your world as you know it has blown away, really blown away, not just figuratively.
We have finally got our plans for the Oshkosh trip worked out. Benj has to fly up commercially Thursday to work the airshow for Cessna and Sarah, the kids and I will drive up Saturday. We will all stay in Madison Saturday night (which makes the drive seem much shorter) and go on to the service all together Sunday AM. We'll go back to Madison, change back into driving clothes and return home Sunday afternoon and Benj will fly on to Hartford Conn. Monday AM. So much for the biz jet. It seems Cessna is only flying up with a load of people the first Sunday and retrieving them on the 31st. I really am more comfortable with my own plans and transport and not being a Cessna PR item. This change of transport occurred in a series of misadventures today but seem to be set now. I have to go to the farmers' market tomorrow to get some fresh produce for Benj and Amy's party Saturday. I am taking a couple of salads.
It's 12:23 and I must get sleep.
Things are fairly routine right now. I have gardening to do and yard work collecting and breaking down branches and vines when it is not too hot to be able to work outside. There is straightening, organizing, and the consequent throwing away and hauling it off to the recycle or trash pickup. And, for respite, there is knitting as well as cooking, as necessary. There is also working on the computer systems as I try to convert to my new Mac notebook which I love for the feel and look of it but not because of the many parts of its systems or operations which I don't as yet understand. Right now I have to keep Outlook going on both it and the PC because it is not cooperating fully and some emails come on the Mac, others on the PC and still others, sometimes, on both. Ah technology!
I was just on the phone and reminded of my new big task. I want to give Ben's gently worn clothes to the relief for the Joplin tornado victims that the church is organizing. I am not otherwise ready to do this but I feel this is so important an opportunity to do good that I simply must. There surely is someone who is a large tall (3XT) wearing a 13 or 14 wide shoe who needs these things so much and there aren't too many donors that size. I think I have covered my limitations in that I said I will get the things down to the church but I will not organize and mark them. Someone else can do that. In exchange I will help elsewhere in the donations of ladies clothes or toys, household goods, whatever. I can't really imagine the level of need for those people but I do know I must try to help as much as possible. I am breaking into my stash also as I can really imagine how deep the need is for a knitter or crocheter to be able to get her hands on yarn. The therapy inherent in the act of doing needlework can be so very helpful - that I know. I am also going to load books. Once you start thinking, the list just grows. Such a long list of needs emerges when your world as you know it has blown away, really blown away, not just figuratively.
We have finally got our plans for the Oshkosh trip worked out. Benj has to fly up commercially Thursday to work the airshow for Cessna and Sarah, the kids and I will drive up Saturday. We will all stay in Madison Saturday night (which makes the drive seem much shorter) and go on to the service all together Sunday AM. We'll go back to Madison, change back into driving clothes and return home Sunday afternoon and Benj will fly on to Hartford Conn. Monday AM. So much for the biz jet. It seems Cessna is only flying up with a load of people the first Sunday and retrieving them on the 31st. I really am more comfortable with my own plans and transport and not being a Cessna PR item. This change of transport occurred in a series of misadventures today but seem to be set now. I have to go to the farmers' market tomorrow to get some fresh produce for Benj and Amy's party Saturday. I am taking a couple of salads.
It's 12:23 and I must get sleep.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Picking Up Pieces
Ben was the consummate fireworks unindicted co-conspirator for Kelsey - and on occasion, Emma. Last month Kelsey asked, as the fireworks stands started to appear around the edges of town, "Are you going to take me around to get fireworks?" "Of course," I said brightly, "If you want me to." And so today we did just that. Emma came along, too. And just to know background, I had arranged for Kelsey, Emma and me to go down to visit Benj and his family for the 4th. I knew I couldn't in all good mental and emotional health stay at home facing alone both Ben's and Robert's birthdays (on the 2nd and 3rd) and a favorite holiday. I couldn't figure out anything exiting other than spending time with still more grands so I invited myself to Benj's. This is a somewhat bold but necessary thing to do and something I don't feel Benj feels too used about. So, on with the story, Kelsey spent much of the past week poring over fireworks ads, looking at the stands as he went around town, making notes of coupons and what he wanted to buy as well as laying out a route. I amended it to include a stop at the airport to pay the hangar rental while we were at the stand about a block away. Kelsey asked if I was going to go into the stands with them or wait in the car. To know my options, one must realize it is sunny and 93 degrees as we leave the house, would you wait in the car? It seems in the recent years Ben waited in the car. I didn't. Also, I had a secret agenda of basically buying most of the fireworks, after Kelsey and Emma selected them thinking they were going to pay. This way they would get what they wanted and be aware of the cost but still not out much money. I feel constantly in a position of wanting to do for them as a thank you for their daily kinds of help and conpanionship. We started out on the route Kelsey had laid out and he also got to do a little more driving. He seemed to prefer looking at his ads after the first group of stands so I took over the driver duties. We went to four tent-style stands and in each I picked up the majority of the tab after the kids selected the assortment. I, being a fireworks neophyte just read descriptions and asked questions about various kinds of boomers and then pulled out the wallet at the sales counter - AND by 4 stops while the temperature rose and the Escape information panel informed me it was now 99 degrees I melted. It was passed glow or any other mid-Victorian nicety, I sweat! By that time we also had a nice stash of various kinds of displays for both little kids and older ones, day and night. Benj's neighbor is really doing a big display for the evening of the 4th so I thought it not such a good idea to take over part of his act. Kelsey was missing that aspect of his purchases so I suggested we have a small display at home tonight after dark. That seemed like a good idea, so he selected some for that. I requested that we have a few for midnight on New Year's Eve since I truly want to celebrate putting 2011 behind me, another idea that met with approval and understanding. As we got into the car after the last of the tent stands Kelsey said rather sternly, "Gram, we are going to have to cut you off. You have bought enough fireworks." I think that really meant I had done well. We went into the one stand left, the one with air-conditioning and they found the few that they felt they still needed and then Kelsey treated us to a limeade as we headed back home. Kelsey arranged a show at 9:00 PM in the driveway and we had plastic chairs set up for viewing. It was a pretty fine show but I rather over-envisioned the American flag aspect of one of the goodies I bought. It said that it had showers of colors and an American flag at the end. I thought that meant up in the air a flag would erupt in fiery colors. Wrong! After a fountain of colors shot out of the top there was a kind of a pop and upon later inspection a small plastic flag came out on a paper flagpole - not really visible in the dark, but what can one expect for 75 cents!?!
Actually two things - we had fun in the buying expedition and the show and, most importantly, I think the kids and my entry level upper management fellow would be, if not proud of me, at least satisfied that I was trying to fill in. Oh, I also found out that he had stayed in the car after the year he bought one $30.00 aerial boomer. I think it was financial self-preservation trumping high heat.
Actually two things - we had fun in the buying expedition and the show and, most importantly, I think the kids and my entry level upper management fellow would be, if not proud of me, at least satisfied that I was trying to fill in. Oh, I also found out that he had stayed in the car after the year he bought one $30.00 aerial boomer. I think it was financial self-preservation trumping high heat.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Time Like a River
Another 25th has past and we moved on to starting the fourth month. So far that date doesn't hurt any less as the months have gone by. I was very low this weekend and haven't figured out the exact reason as yet. Usually I can determine the trigger but not this time. There just was such sadness and tears quite close to the surface. I think much came from thinking about events in March, especially those surrounding the new bishop consecreation, which was supposed to be the "biggie" event for that month. I also am so very aware of Ben's birthday coming up next Sunday. There are so many happy and funny memories about that day over the years. It is already a hard day to think about and it isn't here yet. I will be so glad when the time comes that I can enjoy the memories. Right now it is such a waste to have them and not want to let them out of the bottle because they are too painful in their never-to-be-repeated joy.
I spent some good time today cooking up a lunch for Chad's birthday. It is a really selfish treat for me for I so much enjoy cooking things I can't really justify cooking for myself, the dogs, and the garbage disposal's fill. We are having pulled pork sandwiches, broccoli slaw, eggs stuffed with goat cheese and chutney (Ben's favorite deviled egg), a variation on caprese (made with two colors of cherry tomatoes, fresh mozzarella pearls and fresh basil), and a Meyer lemon tart for dessert. I will take the leftover pork as sliders down to Wichita for Sunday supper. The house smelled so good from the pulled pork and BBQ sauce! the light lemon scent at the last was just the right touch.
It is now 2:30 AM and the thunderstorms for the night have set in. I think we failed to generate a storm last night which is the first omission in quite a long time. Molly is even beginning to get used to the noise and lightning flashes and is sleeping on the floor at my feet. We are back into the hot, hot and humid sunny days pattern which killed off the last veggie garden. I'll cross my fingers the veggies endure the weather this time since I think it is too late to replant one more time.
The church golf tournament is over which closes another chapter of things Ben and I did together. I think the ending of the golf event is probably the root of the sorrow. It is time flowing away carrying me farther from where I want to be and with whom. It is also the season of flooding - on the river and in my emotions - in both cases the flood comes no matter what wall of defense is put up.
I spent some good time today cooking up a lunch for Chad's birthday. It is a really selfish treat for me for I so much enjoy cooking things I can't really justify cooking for myself, the dogs, and the garbage disposal's fill. We are having pulled pork sandwiches, broccoli slaw, eggs stuffed with goat cheese and chutney (Ben's favorite deviled egg), a variation on caprese (made with two colors of cherry tomatoes, fresh mozzarella pearls and fresh basil), and a Meyer lemon tart for dessert. I will take the leftover pork as sliders down to Wichita for Sunday supper. The house smelled so good from the pulled pork and BBQ sauce! the light lemon scent at the last was just the right touch.
It is now 2:30 AM and the thunderstorms for the night have set in. I think we failed to generate a storm last night which is the first omission in quite a long time. Molly is even beginning to get used to the noise and lightning flashes and is sleeping on the floor at my feet. We are back into the hot, hot and humid sunny days pattern which killed off the last veggie garden. I'll cross my fingers the veggies endure the weather this time since I think it is too late to replant one more time.
The church golf tournament is over which closes another chapter of things Ben and I did together. I think the ending of the golf event is probably the root of the sorrow. It is time flowing away carrying me farther from where I want to be and with whom. It is also the season of flooding - on the river and in my emotions - in both cases the flood comes no matter what wall of defense is put up.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Spring that Wasn't is Finally Over
We have just completed the first day of official summer. I say "official" since we have had the oppressive heat and humidity coexistent with midwestern summer once the cold, chill of our non-spring passed. More accurately EVERY time it passed, since we went through several cycles of a far-from-typical spring. I went outside in the morning to see that the vegetable garden has for the most past dried up from an excess of night rain and early AM sun and heat (almost sounds oxymoronic). I think it more accurately steamed to death but the result is the same - a return trip to the nursery to gather what plants I could and a replanting of them set for today.
I am not over my outburst of last posting. I feel I sounded too whining , as in "why me?' which is an attitude I dislike and try to avoid. I really think I feel more "why them" especially in regard to the grands and their hurt.. And I do accept that bad things happen to good people, but I also believe that no matter what the intellectual comprehension we sometimes carry our emotions a little high and feel more deeply the inadequacy of our understanding. I think that is where I am. I want to see clearly what I can not.
I do believe that faith is most active in the space between rational thought and that which is beyond understanding. Therefore I must wrap this situation in faith. Sounds good. I have a small framed picture on the wall of what is now my office. It has an illustration of a bird on a branch and notes at the end of a narrative words to the effect that faith is when you have reached beyond what is known and one of two things will happen: something will be there to stand on or you will be taught how to fly. I found that picture when my brother was dying from ALS. We crossed that point of faith many times over those years as his condition changed only to meet it again in a new situation. It has comforted me in the intervening years and I pray it does again. Truth be known faith has been as much of a roadmap as I have had these past months and I think I am being taught how to fly. Unfortunately, I also remember my learning how to fly aircraft and recall that there are mishaps and incidents and days when your mind doesn't wrap around the necessary processes no matter what.
Now that it is summer we have passed through almost three months of this new life - a first trimester as it were. No, I reject that image. I think the only new life image I can deal with is the one I found for our church widow(er) group, "the third half of life". It is what and how I feel - the cup missing the saucer, the broken set, the leftover part, as well as the one who is given the task of making something beyond what was planned for in life once the life as known has ended. I see all sorts of possibilities of growth in that role. I have thought again these past days about Ted Kennedy and the so called Kennedy curse. I recall the common understanding of the curse was that so many Kennedy's died untimely deaths. I held a different notion in that Senator Kennedy endured the curse of having to lay to rest so many of those dear to him. I felt I understood it then and now know that I do.
So it seems that the tasks are not finished, or even imagined in most cases. I must puzzle out how to live this new 3rd half of my life, learn to deal with the curse of losing so many of the nearest and dearest to me - and most gone before their appointed years, have faith that I will be taught how to fly. So, while Ben takes up, what I whimsically call, his heavenly entry level upper management existence and learns all that he must, I, earthbound, am learning, too. It will take more than just one more season but when I reflect on the passing of summer in a few months I will feel some additional insight and understanding or I will fly better.
I am not over my outburst of last posting. I feel I sounded too whining , as in "why me?' which is an attitude I dislike and try to avoid. I really think I feel more "why them" especially in regard to the grands and their hurt.. And I do accept that bad things happen to good people, but I also believe that no matter what the intellectual comprehension we sometimes carry our emotions a little high and feel more deeply the inadequacy of our understanding. I think that is where I am. I want to see clearly what I can not.
I do believe that faith is most active in the space between rational thought and that which is beyond understanding. Therefore I must wrap this situation in faith. Sounds good. I have a small framed picture on the wall of what is now my office. It has an illustration of a bird on a branch and notes at the end of a narrative words to the effect that faith is when you have reached beyond what is known and one of two things will happen: something will be there to stand on or you will be taught how to fly. I found that picture when my brother was dying from ALS. We crossed that point of faith many times over those years as his condition changed only to meet it again in a new situation. It has comforted me in the intervening years and I pray it does again. Truth be known faith has been as much of a roadmap as I have had these past months and I think I am being taught how to fly. Unfortunately, I also remember my learning how to fly aircraft and recall that there are mishaps and incidents and days when your mind doesn't wrap around the necessary processes no matter what.
Now that it is summer we have passed through almost three months of this new life - a first trimester as it were. No, I reject that image. I think the only new life image I can deal with is the one I found for our church widow(er) group, "the third half of life". It is what and how I feel - the cup missing the saucer, the broken set, the leftover part, as well as the one who is given the task of making something beyond what was planned for in life once the life as known has ended. I see all sorts of possibilities of growth in that role. I have thought again these past days about Ted Kennedy and the so called Kennedy curse. I recall the common understanding of the curse was that so many Kennedy's died untimely deaths. I held a different notion in that Senator Kennedy endured the curse of having to lay to rest so many of those dear to him. I felt I understood it then and now know that I do.
So it seems that the tasks are not finished, or even imagined in most cases. I must puzzle out how to live this new 3rd half of my life, learn to deal with the curse of losing so many of the nearest and dearest to me - and most gone before their appointed years, have faith that I will be taught how to fly. So, while Ben takes up, what I whimsically call, his heavenly entry level upper management existence and learns all that he must, I, earthbound, am learning, too. It will take more than just one more season but when I reflect on the passing of summer in a few months I will feel some additional insight and understanding or I will fly better.
Monday, June 20, 2011
OMG What Were You Thinking?
Dear God,
This is Joyce. I mean no disrespect but please, it's been almost three months now and I am still wondering: Why did this happen? What is the lesson in all of this? What did I, and more importantly my children and grandchildren, need to learn? I don't get it yet. Will I? Will they?
We just had a not so good Father's Day. My son got a gift that he actually wanted and a loving card but signed only by his mom. My children and grands didn't get to make visits or calls to Poppa. They had their hole in the heart feelings back to the forefront - again. And they know it is the bad season where they will not feel better until they are past his birthday on July 3rd. Poor Zach had to read a birthday card for the first time signed only by his Gams and had a renewed feeling of loss. I have believed for many years there is a lesson in everything, but I am not seeing anything of this magnitude we needed to learn. I never, in 49 years, let the sun set on an argument or left him without an "I love you". I don't think I am that evil and I know he wasn't and surely the grands didn't earn their pain. Why then? I want so much to gain something positive from any experience but I can't see the good in this situation - or even a worthwhile negative. There is just a void. I learned voids years ago as the rest of my family died. I didn't need to lose Ben to know loss.
[Maybe I just got a sign that I should not be writing this. We are in the midst of a thunderstorm and all the lights went off. Sorry, God, I'm not through yet.]
For some reason these past two days I have had two thoughts running through my mind. One is the question of what the lesson is in this and the other is the old hymn "His Eye is on the Sparrow". I can't understand the why of those two converging thoughts either. But I must say I can only conclude for now that He missed a sparrow. His eye wasn't on "our sparrow" and now there is a whole flock adrift.
Please God, what were you thinking?
This is Joyce. I mean no disrespect but please, it's been almost three months now and I am still wondering: Why did this happen? What is the lesson in all of this? What did I, and more importantly my children and grandchildren, need to learn? I don't get it yet. Will I? Will they?
We just had a not so good Father's Day. My son got a gift that he actually wanted and a loving card but signed only by his mom. My children and grands didn't get to make visits or calls to Poppa. They had their hole in the heart feelings back to the forefront - again. And they know it is the bad season where they will not feel better until they are past his birthday on July 3rd. Poor Zach had to read a birthday card for the first time signed only by his Gams and had a renewed feeling of loss. I have believed for many years there is a lesson in everything, but I am not seeing anything of this magnitude we needed to learn. I never, in 49 years, let the sun set on an argument or left him without an "I love you". I don't think I am that evil and I know he wasn't and surely the grands didn't earn their pain. Why then? I want so much to gain something positive from any experience but I can't see the good in this situation - or even a worthwhile negative. There is just a void. I learned voids years ago as the rest of my family died. I didn't need to lose Ben to know loss.
[Maybe I just got a sign that I should not be writing this. We are in the midst of a thunderstorm and all the lights went off. Sorry, God, I'm not through yet.]
For some reason these past two days I have had two thoughts running through my mind. One is the question of what the lesson is in this and the other is the old hymn "His Eye is on the Sparrow". I can't understand the why of those two converging thoughts either. But I must say I can only conclude for now that He missed a sparrow. His eye wasn't on "our sparrow" and now there is a whole flock adrift.
Please God, what were you thinking?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Sentimental and Misty Eyed
Today has been one different kind of day. I returned a phone call from Friday to find out that EAA is wanting to honor Ben by putting his name on the Memorial Wall at Oshkosh during this year's convention/fly-in the last week of July. We spent many years dedicating the last week of July/first of August at the fly-in. I went to Oshkosh after the BFA National championships as long as I was active in ballooning. we camped in the huge camp ground using a tent, pop-up camper, motor home and camping trailer over the years. The kids and their kids came different years.A lot of memories center on that week. It had been an idea in Ben's mind for a long time that he would like to have his name on the wall at Oshkosh. In fact, that wish came sooner than the desire to be interred in the church memorial garden. That phone call alone would set memories firing in my mind for the rest of the day, but there were other things to do, too.
I bought a car yesterday. It is a candy apple red Escape. I don't know how the manufacturer labels the color but my favorite car was my candy apple red country squire station wagon when the kids were little and my sentimental heart melted when I saw this one. My old Escape, while a true favorite, had high mileage, was out of warranty and therefore had nowhere to go but down. I thought a 2011 would be good to get since it would be a year older than a 2012 when it was first taxed, therefore a little less money to the taxmen. All changes seem to be hard and make me sentimental. I get there again for the times we had enjoyed together in the old Escape. so I had the old pull in the opposite directions exercise to repeat once again. It is the hesitation waltz danced once more around the floor. In fact, it literally was this morning when I took Emma to band camp. The radio was on the classical station and a classic viennese waltz was playing and I found my mental image of Ben and me dancing at one of the Liberty Symphony waltz nights twirling in my head. We so enjoyed those special evenings! And we were good dancers together. Somewhere I even have a trophy to prove it.
The good thing is that I can once more risk listening to classical and classic pop music again. Until this morning I had avoided them quite thoroughly because of too many memories that I couldn't bear to think about. This time I welcomed them. I think that's progress. I don't know if I'm ready to hear "My Finny Valentine" as yet - I sang that to Ben every Valentine's Day for 49 years, but, nonetheless progress.
I also revisited the MO state department of vital records to ask where the certified copies of the death certificate were. You may recall a post about them in April. Still waiting. I sat on hold while the recording counted down that I was the 6th caller in line, 3rd, 2nd, 1st. . . . And finally I was talking to a human and I strongly and firmly let go my ire (no, I didn't yell, but I was FIRM). I felt it was an insult to all families waiting for months to get the records without which there was little progress they could make regarding the business of death. I got a live one! She found the records were ready and she would get them off tomorrow! She promised! I hope I can believe her! She sounded nice and didn't insult me or Ben's memory so that alone made things better.
I called back a woman who knew Ben from the Conservation Commission and who wanted to once again pick mulberries off our tree. She answered "Hello, Ben!". That immediately told me I needed to tell her something she didn't know. I think I will probably spend the rest of my life telling people that sad news. That, too, makes me misty eyed, which it probably will for the rest of my life.
I found out the poisin ivy poisin spray did kill the rose I gave Ben for his birthday a long time ago when I first started on my rosarian antics ( it was my first English rose) somehow that seems oddly appropriate - both in the same year.
I went on to work on the roses, helped Kelsey plant three more in the garden by the shop and then lugged branches off the sidewalk until I melted in the heat and humidity.
as I said at the start-quite a day./
I bought a car yesterday. It is a candy apple red Escape. I don't know how the manufacturer labels the color but my favorite car was my candy apple red country squire station wagon when the kids were little and my sentimental heart melted when I saw this one. My old Escape, while a true favorite, had high mileage, was out of warranty and therefore had nowhere to go but down. I thought a 2011 would be good to get since it would be a year older than a 2012 when it was first taxed, therefore a little less money to the taxmen. All changes seem to be hard and make me sentimental. I get there again for the times we had enjoyed together in the old Escape. so I had the old pull in the opposite directions exercise to repeat once again. It is the hesitation waltz danced once more around the floor. In fact, it literally was this morning when I took Emma to band camp. The radio was on the classical station and a classic viennese waltz was playing and I found my mental image of Ben and me dancing at one of the Liberty Symphony waltz nights twirling in my head. We so enjoyed those special evenings! And we were good dancers together. Somewhere I even have a trophy to prove it.
The good thing is that I can once more risk listening to classical and classic pop music again. Until this morning I had avoided them quite thoroughly because of too many memories that I couldn't bear to think about. This time I welcomed them. I think that's progress. I don't know if I'm ready to hear "My Finny Valentine" as yet - I sang that to Ben every Valentine's Day for 49 years, but, nonetheless progress.
I also revisited the MO state department of vital records to ask where the certified copies of the death certificate were. You may recall a post about them in April. Still waiting. I sat on hold while the recording counted down that I was the 6th caller in line, 3rd, 2nd, 1st. . . . And finally I was talking to a human and I strongly and firmly let go my ire (no, I didn't yell, but I was FIRM). I felt it was an insult to all families waiting for months to get the records without which there was little progress they could make regarding the business of death. I got a live one! She found the records were ready and she would get them off tomorrow! She promised! I hope I can believe her! She sounded nice and didn't insult me or Ben's memory so that alone made things better.
I called back a woman who knew Ben from the Conservation Commission and who wanted to once again pick mulberries off our tree. She answered "Hello, Ben!". That immediately told me I needed to tell her something she didn't know. I think I will probably spend the rest of my life telling people that sad news. That, too, makes me misty eyed, which it probably will for the rest of my life.
I found out the poisin ivy poisin spray did kill the rose I gave Ben for his birthday a long time ago when I first started on my rosarian antics ( it was my first English rose) somehow that seems oddly appropriate - both in the same year.
I went on to work on the roses, helped Kelsey plant three more in the garden by the shop and then lugged branches off the sidewalk until I melted in the heat and humidity.
as I said at the start-quite a day./
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Card Shops are Not Safe Places
I bought a book in the cathedral bookstore last Sunday. It was about the "A, B, C's of Grieving " I haven't read it yet but when I happened to open it up, the page revealed headlined finding a safe place to grieve. Oh gosh I am doing it all wrong - I grieve everywhere, even when I don't want to and even when it isn't safe. The one concession is to try to hide it so as not to embarrass myself and others. Grief is my companion whispering in my ear as we go about, presenting me with new realities, offering memories unbidden.Sometimes grief yells into my ear calling my attention to sorrows I might have missed on my own "How dare you laugh, you're alone now FOREVER. Nothing is funny!!!" So I am rethinking this book and will read from it later. Maybe I need an etiquette book on grief/grieving but not yet, please.
One of the least safe places has been my local Hallmark card shop. I have known this since my brothers died in 2000 and 2002. One has to be careful not to wander into sections of the birthday card aisle that refer to brothers, likewise for Christmas, Father's Day. Even Thanksgiving cards are printed for "my brother and his family". . . . Necessarily I had to risk the card shop earlier in May in order to buy a birthday card, anniversary cards for my daughters, and an assortment of Mother's Day cards. I steeled myself and determinedly headed in the door to get all cards at one time on one trip. Tunnel vision is a necessity. When one glimpses a "wrong" or dangerous caption - STOP LOOKING . Consequently a tracing of my route through the store is erratic, at best. Abrupt stops and turns marked the progress down the aisles Don't look right there are "from the dog" cards there and in our dotage our dogs gave each of us cards for every occassion. Some of my best cards were from the dogs. To my wife - won't ever get any more of them., Quick! look away there is a "to the love of my life", and "to my wife" - won't get one of those again. And then I decided to wander a bit through the various departments of the store, something I used to like to do. OOPS, I ran into a 50th anniversary bauble, something I will now never need or get. I wanted that anniversary. It nearly was mine - just a little less than a year to go and now it is out of reach. Tears well up. I get my purchases and return to the safety of my car to weep yet again. It gets better (Not!). June has Father's Day and that is followed by July 2, Robert's birthday and July 3, Ben's.
Maybe I won't be a diamond level card buyer this year.
One of the least safe places has been my local Hallmark card shop. I have known this since my brothers died in 2000 and 2002. One has to be careful not to wander into sections of the birthday card aisle that refer to brothers, likewise for Christmas, Father's Day. Even Thanksgiving cards are printed for "my brother and his family". . . . Necessarily I had to risk the card shop earlier in May in order to buy a birthday card, anniversary cards for my daughters, and an assortment of Mother's Day cards. I steeled myself and determinedly headed in the door to get all cards at one time on one trip. Tunnel vision is a necessity. When one glimpses a "wrong" or dangerous caption - STOP LOOKING . Consequently a tracing of my route through the store is erratic, at best. Abrupt stops and turns marked the progress down the aisles Don't look right there are "from the dog" cards there and in our dotage our dogs gave each of us cards for every occassion. Some of my best cards were from the dogs. To my wife - won't ever get any more of them., Quick! look away there is a "to the love of my life", and "to my wife" - won't get one of those again. And then I decided to wander a bit through the various departments of the store, something I used to like to do. OOPS, I ran into a 50th anniversary bauble, something I will now never need or get. I wanted that anniversary. It nearly was mine - just a little less than a year to go and now it is out of reach. Tears well up. I get my purchases and return to the safety of my car to weep yet again. It gets better (Not!). June has Father's Day and that is followed by July 2, Robert's birthday and July 3, Ben's.
Maybe I won't be a diamond level card buyer this year.
One Foot in Front of the Other
I have been much occupied with the tragic Joplin tornado and the news thereof. Those of us in the midwest and especially those of us who have experienced near misses with tornadoes are drawn to such activities every spring when one strikes nearby.
We had an F-4/5 tornado whisk over Liberty a few years back. I say "whisk" because it bounced across the area and destroyed a bit and rose up again (I think responding to the hilly terrain) and then came back down sweeping clean houses from their foundations or heaping shards of lumber into piles where there were once homes. That event forever changed how I looked at tornadoes. I am an avid weather watcher and found myself outside staring skyward whenever we were told to take cover. Ben joined me in this hobby. It was a good way to pass the time together commenting on various cloud formations as they passed, noting any wind changes, precipatation and other weathery things. On that particular day in May I sent the family to the basement and set about to reload the dryer to squeeze another load from it before the electricity went out due to the storm. I heard the classic freight train noise, went to the north window and looked toward William Jewell college and found I couldn't see my daughter's house across the driveway and, second shock, the reason why was the debris caught up in the air - everything from dirt to chunks of wood was blowing about. It belatedly occurred to me that standing at a window facing the storm and debris was none too smart. I remember that thought every time I hear the tornado sirens go off That vulnerability is now a part of my storm experiences.
Well, I watched Brian Williams and a parade of newsfolk descend upon Joplin and report the magnitude of the aftermath of the storm for several days . On what I believe was one of his last interviews he talked with a young woman whose husband lost his life saving hers. He commented at the close of the story about her being one of the people who were trying to go on by putting one foot in front of the other. I found tears rolling down my face. I understand that feeling as I never did before. I thought I did get it prior to this spring, but I didn't. It seems almost cliche, even glib. Trust me, it's not. I met that reality and when you are devastated you literally put all your mental energy, your focus, into the act of moving one foot after the other, one step at a time. It is impossible to plan farther ahead - "What are you going to do this afternoon, tomorrow, next week?" I didn't know. I could only go a step at a time quite literally.
I wonder if Brian Williams knows how right he was.
We had an F-4/5 tornado whisk over Liberty a few years back. I say "whisk" because it bounced across the area and destroyed a bit and rose up again (I think responding to the hilly terrain) and then came back down sweeping clean houses from their foundations or heaping shards of lumber into piles where there were once homes. That event forever changed how I looked at tornadoes. I am an avid weather watcher and found myself outside staring skyward whenever we were told to take cover. Ben joined me in this hobby. It was a good way to pass the time together commenting on various cloud formations as they passed, noting any wind changes, precipatation and other weathery things. On that particular day in May I sent the family to the basement and set about to reload the dryer to squeeze another load from it before the electricity went out due to the storm. I heard the classic freight train noise, went to the north window and looked toward William Jewell college and found I couldn't see my daughter's house across the driveway and, second shock, the reason why was the debris caught up in the air - everything from dirt to chunks of wood was blowing about. It belatedly occurred to me that standing at a window facing the storm and debris was none too smart. I remember that thought every time I hear the tornado sirens go off That vulnerability is now a part of my storm experiences.
Well, I watched Brian Williams and a parade of newsfolk descend upon Joplin and report the magnitude of the aftermath of the storm for several days . On what I believe was one of his last interviews he talked with a young woman whose husband lost his life saving hers. He commented at the close of the story about her being one of the people who were trying to go on by putting one foot in front of the other. I found tears rolling down my face. I understand that feeling as I never did before. I thought I did get it prior to this spring, but I didn't. It seems almost cliche, even glib. Trust me, it's not. I met that reality and when you are devastated you literally put all your mental energy, your focus, into the act of moving one foot after the other, one step at a time. It is impossible to plan farther ahead - "What are you going to do this afternoon, tomorrow, next week?" I didn't know. I could only go a step at a time quite literally.
I wonder if Brian Williams knows how right he was.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
And the Week Goes On
I just looked down to see the dogs lined up tail to nose in a train from the office computer desk to the hall. How can I be lonely?
back to the week: We had a nice supper together and said our goodbyes as Margie and Ace head back to New York and he on to China. Shirley is continuing to improve and is back to pushing for her independence, we had each silently despaired of that happening and can be so grateful for it however inconvenient it might seem at the time. In our conversation over the meal Ace confirmed for me that my stories of scammers' attempts on my bank accounts were much like they had gone through when his parents died. That validates my suspicious thoughts mentioned in a prior post, makes me sad since I hoped it was paranoia, which is somehow better than there being scum who make their living off of those who are caught up in grief, and makes up a teeny little bit for the date, 3-25-2011, being burned in my mind, which is all that stood between me and the scam "purchases" of 4-01-2011.
I am reminded again that we still have no spring and Chad and I decide during Friday's therapy session, I should have a chat with Ben about it. This is notable for it is the first I have made such a light-hearted reference about Ben since March. It must have worked, the temperature went up 10 degrees on Saturday. I went to the nursery and bought flowers for the garden and lopped some more branches down. The yard is beginning to look like a yard! The window boxes are so bright and cheerful as are the hanging baskets on the front porch. Roses are beginning to bloom in various paarts of the yard and I cut a few for the living room. I do so love the sight of the numerous petals on the english and antique blooms!
Not to be forgotten is lunch on Monday. My dear friend Linda and I have been planning a meal together since March and I hoped to bring her a picnic at Kauffman Gardens thereby satisfying a meal together and my needing to cook for someone. It was too cold. We decided to do Pot Pie in Westport and meet at noonish only to find it closed. Where to go? Linda remembers the Flea Market sort of across the street is supposed to have K.C.'s best hamburgers so we go there, threading our way past a rather major accident and resultant public safety officers along the way. The hambergers (in patty elt format) are good and so was the visit. A good friend can make even the saddest conversation fine
And today I sold the Revelation! That it was to a friend of Ben's, so the deal was sealed over a recollection of memories, was only to make it still better. Benj came up to help with the sale. I am so blessed with wonderful children and grandchildren!
back to the week: We had a nice supper together and said our goodbyes as Margie and Ace head back to New York and he on to China. Shirley is continuing to improve and is back to pushing for her independence, we had each silently despaired of that happening and can be so grateful for it however inconvenient it might seem at the time. In our conversation over the meal Ace confirmed for me that my stories of scammers' attempts on my bank accounts were much like they had gone through when his parents died. That validates my suspicious thoughts mentioned in a prior post, makes me sad since I hoped it was paranoia, which is somehow better than there being scum who make their living off of those who are caught up in grief, and makes up a teeny little bit for the date, 3-25-2011, being burned in my mind, which is all that stood between me and the scam "purchases" of 4-01-2011.
I am reminded again that we still have no spring and Chad and I decide during Friday's therapy session, I should have a chat with Ben about it. This is notable for it is the first I have made such a light-hearted reference about Ben since March. It must have worked, the temperature went up 10 degrees on Saturday. I went to the nursery and bought flowers for the garden and lopped some more branches down. The yard is beginning to look like a yard! The window boxes are so bright and cheerful as are the hanging baskets on the front porch. Roses are beginning to bloom in various paarts of the yard and I cut a few for the living room. I do so love the sight of the numerous petals on the english and antique blooms!
Not to be forgotten is lunch on Monday. My dear friend Linda and I have been planning a meal together since March and I hoped to bring her a picnic at Kauffman Gardens thereby satisfying a meal together and my needing to cook for someone. It was too cold. We decided to do Pot Pie in Westport and meet at noonish only to find it closed. Where to go? Linda remembers the Flea Market sort of across the street is supposed to have K.C.'s best hamburgers so we go there, threading our way past a rather major accident and resultant public safety officers along the way. The hambergers (in patty elt format) are good and so was the visit. A good friend can make even the saddest conversation fine
And today I sold the Revelation! That it was to a friend of Ben's, so the deal was sealed over a recollection of memories, was only to make it still better. Benj came up to help with the sale. I am so blessed with wonderful children and grandchildren!
What a week!
It has been what seems like a long time since the last post. I kept finding out that people who wanted to read the blog couldn't get on and since one part of my self-assigned task in writing this was to share learnings I just didn't want to post to cyberspace alone (sorry Lainy I didn't mean you. As usual I want more.) Thank God and Lainy (Does this sound like a country song? I can hear the twang.) it is beginning to work out and is reaching people.
I went to Andover/Wichita for Zach's confirmation last weekend. My first roadtrip alone since alone has become a way of life. No knitting. I gathered a group of CD's to tide me over. Found I wanted to hear, not my usual classical, rather, predominately the Willy Nelson-Bob Dylan-John Melloncamp-esque rough, smoky voiced male singer. No reason other than I have good balloon field memories of listening to any and all of them while waiting in a grassy field for winds to calm for an afternoon launch. believe me, that's a good memory. Except for a little right should/neck tightness and aching the trip went well.. I can still drive! I miss the productive knitting, however. It was such a good time to amass inches of progress.. My Kansas grands were wonderful and we did a bit of cooking together Sunday afternoon. a rather exotic combination of puppy chow and ratatouille. The chow was a request from Bren when we talked about what to make and the veggies idea just came up while we were eating Saturday night. I had a belated Gams Day on Saturday and we had a delicious fish dinner at Bonefish Grill. I do so love fish/seafood. It seems we adults had to have the same: dory with crab, etc. Delicious! As Benj noted, it wasn't the elegant ambiance of the Bristol. My opinion, it was way good. I haven't gotten past the fish/seafood thing as yet. Friday night I made the french bistro version of steamed mussels to eat with sourdough bread (It is my leftover that is being featured this week in all menus, before it molds). Speaking of taking ambiance down a few notches! Bristol and Bonefish have no worries, envision me dining in my living room chair with the bowl of mussels on my lap and one hand frequently on parts of my being-assembled while I speak (or in this case, eat) Adirondack chair Kelsey is building at my feet. But the taste was supurb, both the mussels and the liquid sopped up on the sourdough.
Saturday the day started with a long-lost friend of Ben's appeared on my doorstep asking for Ben. No He didn't even blink at the news and I, showing great restraint, didn't hurl him from the porch, but I was chilly. You see he has been missing from the day we lost Ben and honestly his excuses put him in the same class as the death scammers I've heard from. With friends like that one doesn't need scammers beyond the known entities. Why am I so cruel? I don't believe (a. a tree fell on his house in late March and (b. that it knocked out his cell phone. But that's his story.
On Tuesday, I spent the afternoon and evening with Shirley,Margie and Ace. Ace hasn't been back to Missouri since Ben passed and I am anxious (truly anxious, not eager misused) to see him. We have been friends for so long and have so many mutual memories. We had some near tears but made it through all sorts of memories, establishing again the truth of misery loving company. It is a good sadness to share those good times going back decades with others who love and miss him, too.
I went to Andover/Wichita for Zach's confirmation last weekend. My first roadtrip alone since alone has become a way of life. No knitting. I gathered a group of CD's to tide me over. Found I wanted to hear, not my usual classical, rather, predominately the Willy Nelson-Bob Dylan-John Melloncamp-esque rough, smoky voiced male singer. No reason other than I have good balloon field memories of listening to any and all of them while waiting in a grassy field for winds to calm for an afternoon launch. believe me, that's a good memory. Except for a little right should/neck tightness and aching the trip went well.. I can still drive! I miss the productive knitting, however. It was such a good time to amass inches of progress.. My Kansas grands were wonderful and we did a bit of cooking together Sunday afternoon. a rather exotic combination of puppy chow and ratatouille. The chow was a request from Bren when we talked about what to make and the veggies idea just came up while we were eating Saturday night. I had a belated Gams Day on Saturday and we had a delicious fish dinner at Bonefish Grill. I do so love fish/seafood. It seems we adults had to have the same: dory with crab, etc. Delicious! As Benj noted, it wasn't the elegant ambiance of the Bristol. My opinion, it was way good. I haven't gotten past the fish/seafood thing as yet. Friday night I made the french bistro version of steamed mussels to eat with sourdough bread (It is my leftover that is being featured this week in all menus, before it molds). Speaking of taking ambiance down a few notches! Bristol and Bonefish have no worries, envision me dining in my living room chair with the bowl of mussels on my lap and one hand frequently on parts of my being-assembled while I speak (or in this case, eat) Adirondack chair Kelsey is building at my feet. But the taste was supurb, both the mussels and the liquid sopped up on the sourdough.
Saturday the day started with a long-lost friend of Ben's appeared on my doorstep asking for Ben. No He didn't even blink at the news and I, showing great restraint, didn't hurl him from the porch, but I was chilly. You see he has been missing from the day we lost Ben and honestly his excuses put him in the same class as the death scammers I've heard from. With friends like that one doesn't need scammers beyond the known entities. Why am I so cruel? I don't believe (a. a tree fell on his house in late March and (b. that it knocked out his cell phone. But that's his story.
On Tuesday, I spent the afternoon and evening with Shirley,Margie and Ace. Ace hasn't been back to Missouri since Ben passed and I am anxious (truly anxious, not eager misused) to see him. We have been friends for so long and have so many mutual memories. We had some near tears but made it through all sorts of memories, establishing again the truth of misery loving company. It is a good sadness to share those good times going back decades with others who love and miss him, too.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Mondays aren't the only rainy days
No matter how much I fool myself into thinking how well I am doing on my journey, some days put the lie to that notion. This is one of those times. It began when I was going through the piles of correspondence, OK bills(!) on the desk and unexpectedly came across a notation Ben had made. Nothing special, but it was his writing and I was startled by it as well as the force of my reaction. Do you ever wonder who holds sobbing widows? No one. It is a most unpleasant experience to realize that and each time I've met that moment I have resolved to try not to go there again. I can't seem to get away from it since last night, however. I had accomplished a lot of work in the business of death for one day. The fed gov't is beginning to know I exist and is filling my mailbox and giving me passwords to key in on the computer. I traced out a couple of accounts and paid them. I found another copy of the certified death certificates and sent it off to close another piece of business.
I had had a conversation re the positive power of production earlier this week, applying it to the benefit of getting my house in physical and financial order and being rather smug, upon reflection , about how good it was for me. Bolderdash! The duality of poles - things pulling one forward while one is tugging backward to how things had been has smote me before and will most likely do it again. On the day I sold the truck I should have felt only relief and a little joy, I did but I also felt I was being shoved further and further away from where I had been with Ben and that airbrushed the day with sorrow.
One could look at it as a little bit of physics - to every action there is another and equal reaction, but for once physics fails me. It is too clinical. This is about irrationaltiy.
I feel like the MO Park Ranger I met years ago during one of the Pershing Balloon races. It had been a rainy, muddy weekend scrubbing all the flights so that we were compelled to turn our collective attention elsewhere. The muddy hillsides formerly covered in lush grass came to mind so we held mudslide races of various kinds, by gender, age, singles, groups, forward, backward (get the idea and a notion of the number of runs made - sort of an Olympic trials of mudsliding) down the hill - until, along came the ranger. He was livid and overexcited and shrieking "You're ADULTS!. . . . .Stop it now!!!" Our erstwhile balloonmeister tried to help the situation and asked what we could do to fix things, say like putting down new grass. No, this man would not be appeased, "I want it back to what it was!" he yelled.
That's me, I want it back to what it was.
I had had a conversation re the positive power of production earlier this week, applying it to the benefit of getting my house in physical and financial order and being rather smug, upon reflection , about how good it was for me. Bolderdash! The duality of poles - things pulling one forward while one is tugging backward to how things had been has smote me before and will most likely do it again. On the day I sold the truck I should have felt only relief and a little joy, I did but I also felt I was being shoved further and further away from where I had been with Ben and that airbrushed the day with sorrow.
One could look at it as a little bit of physics - to every action there is another and equal reaction, but for once physics fails me. It is too clinical. This is about irrationaltiy.
I feel like the MO Park Ranger I met years ago during one of the Pershing Balloon races. It had been a rainy, muddy weekend scrubbing all the flights so that we were compelled to turn our collective attention elsewhere. The muddy hillsides formerly covered in lush grass came to mind so we held mudslide races of various kinds, by gender, age, singles, groups, forward, backward (get the idea and a notion of the number of runs made - sort of an Olympic trials of mudsliding) down the hill - until, along came the ranger. He was livid and overexcited and shrieking "You're ADULTS!. . . . .Stop it now!!!" Our erstwhile balloonmeister tried to help the situation and asked what we could do to fix things, say like putting down new grass. No, this man would not be appeased, "I want it back to what it was!" he yelled.
That's me, I want it back to what it was.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Cooking for One
First of all, I am a cook. I see myself as a cook. People who eat my food consider me a cook. The love of my life and the person I delighted in cooking for day after day, year after year, is gone. I have tried gamely to adapt to this part of the "whiplash". But I can't say that I have found accommodation as yet. I wish I could puzzle out this part of life alone. I think that each time I open and pour an expired quart of milk down the sink because I think I need to keep it on hand and I don't drink it. I think that each time I find myself eating a pasta dish, quiche, or soup three and four days in a row, giving larger and larger portions to the dogs each day. I think that each time I get wound up cooking up a lot of different dishes so that I use up, for example the raisin bread, milk, eggs that I found aging on various shelves in the fridge and then churn the resultant bread pudding into the garbage disposer because I didn't want or need a two quart casserole of the stuff.
I created a few rules for eating early on this journey. Rule number one: no dependency on junk or fast food meals. That was pretty easy to start. It's not my favorite kind of food and I had no appetite until about the first of May. Rule number two is to really think out what I buy because I am most likely going to meet the meal on consecutive days and do I really like the idea of that casserole THAT much(!?). Rule number three is to avoid little boxes of leftovers in freezer space being crowded out by still more little freezer boxes of leftovers. Rule number four is to use up some of the food I have on hand each week rather than laying in a new supply no matter how good it looks in the store. We had a nice supply of food in March and I really need to use it up before the canned goods expire..Rule number five is food usage is not linear i.e. one doesn't eat half of two any more (actually much less true) than two didn't eat 40% of 5 (We were a family with 3 children). A whole new math is necessary to live in this kitchen.
Ideas I have tried that have worked out well (or fairly well, beggers can't be. . . . .) are - cooking for a friend who has been ill and not able to cook her usual outstanding style. and eating with her. That's been my most successful idea so far. It uses up food, and provides companionship for both of us.Its failing is doing it on a daily basis isn't too feasible. Cooking lots of fish fillets. They are single portion foods which cook fast and are healthy. Streamlining some favorite menus from our twosome times - I changed a favorite creamed aspergus on toast with hard-cooked eggs into roasted aspergus with soft scrambled eggs on top (which I find I really like better,it takes fewer pans, and I think it is healthier!). Salads work out well, too and with a little creativity can be delicious as a meal. My new favorite one is romaine, pears, dried cranberries, bleu cheese and dijon/oil/lemon dressing and croutons - all the best food groups except ice cream. And as for ice cream - the single serving cartons are self-limiting so one doesn't pig out on a half-gallon of Edy's coffee mocha.
All told no single solutions have emerged but I'm still seeking one..
.
I created a few rules for eating early on this journey. Rule number one: no dependency on junk or fast food meals. That was pretty easy to start. It's not my favorite kind of food and I had no appetite until about the first of May. Rule number two is to really think out what I buy because I am most likely going to meet the meal on consecutive days and do I really like the idea of that casserole THAT much(!?). Rule number three is to avoid little boxes of leftovers in freezer space being crowded out by still more little freezer boxes of leftovers. Rule number four is to use up some of the food I have on hand each week rather than laying in a new supply no matter how good it looks in the store. We had a nice supply of food in March and I really need to use it up before the canned goods expire..Rule number five is food usage is not linear i.e. one doesn't eat half of two any more (actually much less true) than two didn't eat 40% of 5 (We were a family with 3 children). A whole new math is necessary to live in this kitchen.
Ideas I have tried that have worked out well (or fairly well, beggers can't be. . . . .) are - cooking for a friend who has been ill and not able to cook her usual outstanding style. and eating with her. That's been my most successful idea so far. It uses up food, and provides companionship for both of us.Its failing is doing it on a daily basis isn't too feasible. Cooking lots of fish fillets. They are single portion foods which cook fast and are healthy. Streamlining some favorite menus from our twosome times - I changed a favorite creamed aspergus on toast with hard-cooked eggs into roasted aspergus with soft scrambled eggs on top (which I find I really like better,it takes fewer pans, and I think it is healthier!). Salads work out well, too and with a little creativity can be delicious as a meal. My new favorite one is romaine, pears, dried cranberries, bleu cheese and dijon/oil/lemon dressing and croutons - all the best food groups except ice cream. And as for ice cream - the single serving cartons are self-limiting so one doesn't pig out on a half-gallon of Edy's coffee mocha.
All told no single solutions have emerged but I'm still seeking one..
.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Year without a Spring
It is May 9th , in the upper 80's and feels like summer. We skipped right over spring and went from winter to summer's heat. Early March was wet and chilly, we seemed to be headed for a warm up and on the 25th (yes, that 25th) I was back in my winter coat, chilled to the bone. All of April it seemed we couldn't sustain any attempt to warm more that a couple of days at a time. Up the thermometer would struggle only to fall back into a wet chill with near frost at night. If the sun came out it would be steamy warm but once clouds returned - as surely they did - it would chill again.It seemed as if we looked out at an endless procession of somber, grey days with the prospect of drizzle or rain ever present. I truly hold no responsibility but it did almost seem as if my inner chill was mirrored in the weather pattern. Finally, this weekend we held warm sunshine for consecutive days.Like the flowers along my side yard by the drive, we seemed to automatically turn our heads upward and in the direction of the sun, drinking in its belated warm glow.
There is an old southern phrase for the cold snap that seems to occur at the end of April-first of May: it is "spirea winter." It is named for the bushes so common in this part of the world - a plant usually left to grow long slender branches which in the aforementioned time frame burst into small white blooms , looking somewhat like a dusting of snow on the branches and coinciding with a cold snap. I think there is a related folk thinking that there is cause and effect between the white blossoms and the colder weather. Well, this spring was so cool that one didn't even notice the spirea winter.
Despite the chilly spring we found morel muchrooms (3!) in the shady side yard. That was a pleasant surprise.
There is an old southern phrase for the cold snap that seems to occur at the end of April-first of May: it is "spirea winter." It is named for the bushes so common in this part of the world - a plant usually left to grow long slender branches which in the aforementioned time frame burst into small white blooms , looking somewhat like a dusting of snow on the branches and coinciding with a cold snap. I think there is a related folk thinking that there is cause and effect between the white blossoms and the colder weather. Well, this spring was so cool that one didn't even notice the spirea winter.
Despite the chilly spring we found morel muchrooms (3!) in the shady side yard. That was a pleasant surprise.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Whiplash
After enduring an increasing amount of pain in my right shoulder and neck for three weeks I decided to make an appointment with my orthopedist, who happens to be one of the kindest and best doctors I know. I anguished about the appointment because I felt I was turning to him inappropriately-for emotional comfort, not physical relief but the pain kept up and interfered with what sleep I was getting, so I went. I first saw his physician's assistant, a boor. I really dislike intently medical folk who neither introduce themselves nor refer to the patient by name when they enter the exam room.. He put me through my range of shoulder/arm motions. I explained that I felt that the pain was arthritic at its base but aggravated by increased tension carried through my shoulders and neck since my husband died three weeks before. No comment. He left and a few minutes Dr. M. came in with the assistant on his heels. Somehow I assumed the boor had told Dr. M.. about my news. I was put through my paces again for the doctor's benefit - all the while Mr. Boor leaned in a corner commenting about how the exam he had performed had gone. When he said that I let Dr. M. move my arm higher than I had let him, I informed him that it was because I trusted Dr.M. more . A little bit of verbal volleying between Dr. M and myself r evealed that his assistant had not considered it important or significant enough to tell Dr. M. that my husband and his patient, also, had recently died.. (Of what import was this visit if not to pre-advise the doctor. of the patient's state?? Or maybe he thought it was my show and tell for the day!) . When I told Dr. M. he was shocked and we started to talk about the details. We had a very helpful conversation. I didn't realize until later that he was the first person I had talked with about what had happened for whom I had not felt the need to filter the information in order to shield some realities of the circumstances. In other words I had not had to be concerned aboout the listener's loss. That alone was therapeutic. It messed up his afternoon schedule, but he didn't act as if that was highest concern at the time. Those two aspects were so very helpful - and truly demonstrated Dr. M. has remembered possibly one of the reasons he became a doctor. Would I feel the same if I were the one waiting to see him? Yes, I had stated so several times: He gives each patient what they need which may take extra time, but I know that when it is my turn he will do the same for me.
Back to the diagnosis. Dr. M.. said the pains were muscle spasms. He said "I've seen enough whiplash to know it when I see it." Wow! I wanted to know if he knew how precisely accurate he was, but I just quietly mulled over the definition of "whiplash": The body's painful response to an abrupt, dramatic change of direction.
Back to the diagnosis. Dr. M.. said the pains were muscle spasms. He said "I've seen enough whiplash to know it when I see it." Wow! I wanted to know if he knew how precisely accurate he was, but I just quietly mulled over the definition of "whiplash": The body's painful response to an abrupt, dramatic change of direction.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Meanies, uglies and cruelities
One would incline oneself to be paranoid if the thought of deliberate unkindnesses were put upon a grieving family. Unfortunatly, I am not paranoid, just newly experienced. I found items on a Visa statement that indicated my husband reached fro beyond the memorial garden and purchased several items on April 1. They were small ticket items and the bank said nothing could be done without a police report and we decided for the tieing to let it go. Then a few days later I received two packages in the mail. Yes, from the life after death orders made on April 1. One was especially disturbing. It was fro a religious company of some sort and included a DVD of some supposedly Christian material. It sounded very fundameentalist - not our thing. Holding myself in a tight rein I called the company. No apology, no explanation or even a moment of hesitation when told of the strange circumstances of the initial order, has lead me to believe that it is a usual business practice. I insisted on getting a return authorization number and informed them that I would not tolerate any further contact. The cost of the return postage was more than enough added to the impossible $6.95 or so advance mailing costs. I am quite comfortable with the notion that they more often than not get the additional $79.95 for the DVD. from family members who are too overwhelmed to do other than pay up.
Other cruelities were less deliberate. My current all time. low is from the woman from the death and senior services department at the state of Missouri. I needed extra death certificates and sent $53.00 off with the forms to get some more. A week later I received my stamped, self-addressed envelope back informing me that I needed to use a different form - and it most be notarized. I took care of that and waitid for an additional 10 days before calling to inquire what the delay was. I first had to endure the woman stumbling all over my husband's middle name, remarking "That's sure a funny name, where did he get that?" "She kept muttering about the name over and over and had to be reminded that I was not calling for such commentary. I did have questions such as where were the certificates, where is the money from the check they had cashed some two weeks before/in general, what was going on? The answer was that the certificated was not even filed yet, it wouldn't be for probably three or four weeks and if I wanted my money back I could get it but I would then have to start all over. I suggested that was a miserable way to run a department that received much of its business from grieving families that were in great need of the documents in order to carry out the business of death. I was told " Surely madam you can't think your husband's death is the only one we are dealing with.? Lots of people died in March in this state(!!!)." Which part of the general concern I had expressed on the part of grieving families had she not heard!?! I said the department could have sent me a note explaining when the certificate would be sent and my options. She reached in for her trump card and explained that I certainly couldn't expect the state to call me personally. No, I didn't but I did think it would not take any more than a few seconds to add the relevant information to the memo they had sent me stating that I had to use a different form.. Game, set, match.
I think of St. Luke's billing department as the second cruelest contact but it some ways it wins hands down. One, it is a faith-based hospital and it is my faith's hospital.. Sarah and I had received such comfort from the ER staff that she suggested that we list St. Luke's as one of the memorial alternatives. I was later happy that no one had donated to that choice. I received a bill from St. Luke's. addressed to Ben. There is a certain stab of pain when one goes through the mail and finds these addressings. Sarah relayed that a friend from school told her of her pain when such mail arrived, so it is not just my personal fancy. When it is from the hospital he died in the pain level is still higher. I called the billing department to check that they did have the right insurance information. The woman read back the right numbers . I called BCBS subsequent to that call and was given a caseworker to help with this process. We called back St. Luke's billing the next day on a conference call and we were argued with about what had been billed and when.. I held firm on the dates I had, but the woman became hostile(!). I asked the BCBS lady to let's just give up for now I couldn't take the argumentative tone right then . I then asked the billing person if they could change the addressee for the bills, to my name. She rejected that idea asking why they shouldn't bill the person who received the services. "Because he died in your ER that night." [Wouldn't you think such a notation would be included in the information sent to billing?] I think a little sensitivity training would be helpful.. I received another bill from St..Luke's the next day and some $800.00 in charges had been removed. Since part of the removed charges included an OR I think they had originally billed me for the costs assumed by the transplant network. That makes me a bit suspicious for others who may not have been watching bills carefully as well as being watched over by a supportive insurance company..
Most people I have come in contact with have been intentionally kind.. Unbelievably kind. It wouldn't take much for most others to think about how they would feel in such circumstances and opt into a gentler way of speaking.. As for the predators such as the DVD company, such pain is their stock in trade - just beware...
Other cruelities were less deliberate. My current all time. low is from the woman from the death and senior services department at the state of Missouri. I needed extra death certificates and sent $53.00 off with the forms to get some more. A week later I received my stamped, self-addressed envelope back informing me that I needed to use a different form - and it most be notarized. I took care of that and waitid for an additional 10 days before calling to inquire what the delay was. I first had to endure the woman stumbling all over my husband's middle name, remarking "That's sure a funny name, where did he get that?" "She kept muttering about the name over and over and had to be reminded that I was not calling for such commentary. I did have questions such as where were the certificates, where is the money from the check they had cashed some two weeks before/in general, what was going on? The answer was that the certificated was not even filed yet, it wouldn't be for probably three or four weeks and if I wanted my money back I could get it but I would then have to start all over. I suggested that was a miserable way to run a department that received much of its business from grieving families that were in great need of the documents in order to carry out the business of death. I was told " Surely madam you can't think your husband's death is the only one we are dealing with.? Lots of people died in March in this state(!!!)." Which part of the general concern I had expressed on the part of grieving families had she not heard!?! I said the department could have sent me a note explaining when the certificate would be sent and my options. She reached in for her trump card and explained that I certainly couldn't expect the state to call me personally. No, I didn't but I did think it would not take any more than a few seconds to add the relevant information to the memo they had sent me stating that I had to use a different form.. Game, set, match.
I think of St. Luke's billing department as the second cruelest contact but it some ways it wins hands down. One, it is a faith-based hospital and it is my faith's hospital.. Sarah and I had received such comfort from the ER staff that she suggested that we list St. Luke's as one of the memorial alternatives. I was later happy that no one had donated to that choice. I received a bill from St. Luke's. addressed to Ben. There is a certain stab of pain when one goes through the mail and finds these addressings. Sarah relayed that a friend from school told her of her pain when such mail arrived, so it is not just my personal fancy. When it is from the hospital he died in the pain level is still higher. I called the billing department to check that they did have the right insurance information. The woman read back the right numbers . I called BCBS subsequent to that call and was given a caseworker to help with this process. We called back St. Luke's billing the next day on a conference call and we were argued with about what had been billed and when.. I held firm on the dates I had, but the woman became hostile(!). I asked the BCBS lady to let's just give up for now I couldn't take the argumentative tone right then . I then asked the billing person if they could change the addressee for the bills, to my name. She rejected that idea asking why they shouldn't bill the person who received the services. "Because he died in your ER that night." [Wouldn't you think such a notation would be included in the information sent to billing?] I think a little sensitivity training would be helpful.. I received another bill from St..Luke's the next day and some $800.00 in charges had been removed. Since part of the removed charges included an OR I think they had originally billed me for the costs assumed by the transplant network. That makes me a bit suspicious for others who may not have been watching bills carefully as well as being watched over by a supportive insurance company..
Most people I have come in contact with have been intentionally kind.. Unbelievably kind. It wouldn't take much for most others to think about how they would feel in such circumstances and opt into a gentler way of speaking.. As for the predators such as the DVD company, such pain is their stock in trade - just beware...
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
getting rid of pills and insulin
A real concern I had was how to dispose of Ben's pills and leftover insulin. I didn't imagine it would do much good for the planet if the vials of insulin and various drugs for heart, blood pressure and chloresteral hit the water supply all at once. I called the drugstore and found out the procedure. Smash up the pills, mix them with kitty litter and coffee grounds and put them in a plastic bag in the trash. The liquids (insulin) go into special mailing bags costing $2.99 at the drug store pharmacy, but are postage paid, and send them off to a disposal center. The catch here is there is to be only about 1/4 pound per envelope, so that could add up.. I gave Kelsey my meal mallet and said he could have a go at smashing the pills to powder. I thought it might be therapy for him.
No more trouble than is involved in this process, more information should be available. The excess pills process would be useful when prescriptions change, not just for death.
No more trouble than is involved in this process, more information should be available. The excess pills process would be useful when prescriptions change, not just for death.
Limbo
After a death you are in many ways in a limbo regarding processing of governmental and financial business until the certified copies of the death certificate come. Following the funeral until the following Thursday I dug through papers trying to find what I didn't know and get ready to do things once the copies arrived. I found the OPM website and the FEGLI site and filled out forms to have them ready - bank, Social Security. copies to the readied envelopes to go in the post office. The copies arrived on Thursday and I started out copies in hand dealing them out in stop after stop. Additional concern was centered on the proposed federal government shutdown on the Friday next. Would that impact my application? I called Blue CrossBlue Shield and was given a special caseworker to help me through the necessary changeover to the new person who would own the policy - me. This wonderful lady gave me all sorts of info and the phone number for OPM! Then came my big news both good and bad. I found out what my monthly check would be, the monthly insurance deduction but it is illegal to tell over the phone whether or not there is life insurance or how much there is. since I was talking to someone in the east somewhere I don't know how else I could reach for info. Can I call back to see the progress? No Can I call someone else? No. Can I. . . .? No. No. No. Is this logical? No. When will I know? Sometime in 4 or 5 weeks - By middle of May .How does one plan with this dearth of information? I don't know The really good news: benefits offices would not shut down even if other offices do. So nothing except the physics of the thing will slow the process up - or speed it on its way.
A Month Already
Real Time. Yesterday was a month since Ben passed. It both seems much less and like really forever and yet a third thing: an illusion. I still have the feelings at times that he's not dead. People think so, but it's not true. I remember Friday night in the ER and know better. I have to see that scene again to focus on the new reality.. a
About 1:00 AM on the 25th it ,in all its finality, hit hard and forcefully and I scared the dogs with my sobs far into the night.. Maybe by common wisdom that is a good thing but I really didn't enjoy it much. I had talked with Benj and the boys and Lainy, David and Kathryn for Easter and wished I could take the good advice I offered - finding good memories and focusing on them. Oh well please children do what I say, not what I do - and for how long have I said that! Molly climbed up on my bed in the morning and cuddled with me for the first time since. She's also started playing a little with her toys and rag-rag pulling. Simon is better again although he doesn't want me far from him and Boris is still Boris. For uninitiated, Molly is my Wheaten, Simon and Boris are 10 year old long-haired dachshunds. Simon is deaf since birth and nearly blind; he has spent his entire life in Ben's lap or at the least on his feet. He has had spells of shrieking barks at night, calling for Ben. I can not take his painful cries and have tried to help him but it is difficult. How do you explain this to an old deaf dog?? Especially when I can't explain it too well to myself..
About 1:00 AM on the 25th it ,in all its finality, hit hard and forcefully and I scared the dogs with my sobs far into the night.. Maybe by common wisdom that is a good thing but I really didn't enjoy it much. I had talked with Benj and the boys and Lainy, David and Kathryn for Easter and wished I could take the good advice I offered - finding good memories and focusing on them. Oh well please children do what I say, not what I do - and for how long have I said that! Molly climbed up on my bed in the morning and cuddled with me for the first time since. She's also started playing a little with her toys and rag-rag pulling. Simon is better again although he doesn't want me far from him and Boris is still Boris. For uninitiated, Molly is my Wheaten, Simon and Boris are 10 year old long-haired dachshunds. Simon is deaf since birth and nearly blind; he has spent his entire life in Ben's lap or at the least on his feet. He has had spells of shrieking barks at night, calling for Ben. I can not take his painful cries and have tried to help him but it is difficult. How do you explain this to an old deaf dog?? Especially when I can't explain it too well to myself..
time together
Lainy and I went out to lunch the 31st so we could have a quiet time together before she left. We went to one of my favorite places in the city, The Bluebird Cafe on the westside. It is organic, local - all the good things and the food is wonderful. I had a homey fried potatoes and egg concoction which felt like comfort on a fork. We then went to Urban Arts and Crafts since I thought she would like that and we might find something special for Kathryn, the just 6 year old grand who didn't make the trip. So wise, 6 is just too young for such long distance waiting and grief.,especially aroumd virtual strangers to her.
Lainy found a bracelet wire on which one could load gems and jewels and take them off and re-arrange and put back on endlessly. we had a great time selecting an assortment. We then hit the bakery for cupcakes. I got a german chocolate which I left on the back porch, but it was still good later when I remembered it. Benj and the 3 older grands went to the airport to check outr the hangar and to see our Shirley. She had been too ill to come to the service and we needed to touch base with her. Amy was left withe swimmers: little guys and Emma. Sarah and Drew went back to work. we gathered for soup and sandwiches at dinner and made plans for Friday. the big decision was WWI Museum or Science City across the street.
Friday arrived with my not having the energy or too much leg pain or some such trouble so after not sleeping I decided to stay ome and quiet. I had a pre-scheduled doctor's appointment in the am so I did that and then bowed out of the left of the day. Benj and family headed south after their touring in the city and Lainy and David would leave in the wee hours of Saturday morning.. The new normal is catching up to us.
Lainy found a bracelet wire on which one could load gems and jewels and take them off and re-arrange and put back on endlessly. we had a great time selecting an assortment. We then hit the bakery for cupcakes. I got a german chocolate which I left on the back porch, but it was still good later when I remembered it. Benj and the 3 older grands went to the airport to check outr the hangar and to see our Shirley. She had been too ill to come to the service and we needed to touch base with her. Amy was left withe swimmers: little guys and Emma. Sarah and Drew went back to work. we gathered for soup and sandwiches at dinner and made plans for Friday. the big decision was WWI Museum or Science City across the street.
Friday arrived with my not having the energy or too much leg pain or some such trouble so after not sleeping I decided to stay ome and quiet. I had a pre-scheduled doctor's appointment in the am so I did that and then bowed out of the left of the day. Benj and family headed south after their touring in the city and Lainy and David would leave in the wee hours of Saturday morning.. The new normal is catching up to us.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Service
It was cold, with a wet, raw wind, the skies were a leaden gray somber in mirroring our sorrow. I was glad we had chosen the 10:30 time for we couldn't have done anything else beforehand. We arrived at the church to find all the kids had gotten there and been keyed to the mike. we gathered in Ben's cousins and a dear friend and on Hank's cue walked across the courtyard and into the nave. There was a lovely crowd inside. My prediction that we could hold the reception in the Common Room would not hold up. The piognant melody of the Meditation began. I had Kelsey on one side and Lainy on the other and woodenly stood, sat, spoke, prayed the liturgy.The grands were wonderful in their parts! They all read well and clearly. Benj and Lainy spoke so movingly of their father and Kelsey, with his mom standing beside him, told of the loss of his best friend. Sue's homily was so warn and captured this lovely man so well. The little guys stole the show bringing in the oblations with stately steps up that long aisle. Lenette's singing was so beautiful and full of love. I heard voices joining her in the refrains. During the eucharist I saw so any faces I knew and loved and many I had not thought to see: my favorite professor at Park, ballooning friends, ultralight friends, so many from church. On came the coats and out to the garden. The sun at that moment tried to emerge but failed. After a brief service and the ashes interred we started greeting people. It started before I left the garden and continued into Founders. My friend put a cup of hot tea into my hands and I stood beside myself thanking people for coming and shared memories for hours. Finally, about 2:30 I determined that I must eat something and put a few things on a plate. The little grands had been busy outside and had something to show me. They had taken sticks and made a "Here lies my Papa." sign on his corner of the wall from them with an M & M to dot the i.. At that moment a tradition happened. I told the guys that when I came to church I would stop and put an M & M on his part of the wall. They liked that. A little child. . .
.That night we all went to the Bristol in the Power and Light District. Benj and Lainy together thought it up as a family send off and toast to Ben. It was delicious and a quiet setting which ended the day well. Everyone felt so supported by the love in the service so our time together was as contented as it could be.
.
.That night we all went to the Bristol in the Power and Light District. Benj and Lainy together thought it up as a family send off and toast to Ben. It was delicious and a quiet setting which ended the day well. Everyone felt so supported by the love in the service so our time together was as contented as it could be.
.
Food stuffs
There is a seemingly ancient tradition in the bringing of food to the grieving. I had no interest in food but I had family who did, especially the grandsons. Two especially kind food gifts were from friends who apparently sensed that kind of appetite. Sarah's in-laws on Saturday am brought ALL the makings for deli meals: meat, cheese, condiments, drinks, snacks, cookies, bread, plates, cups, napkins, plastic spoons - you get the idea. Someone could eat whenever they wished and everything they needed was in place. Two lifelong friends of Benj brought over all the makings for a bar-be-que meal: boxes of meats, bread, potato salad, baked beans, slaw. What a feast for the boys and it looked so good, I enjoyed a few bites myself. Others brought vegetable trays and dips, cake, homemade cookies.
The greateat food gifts awaited us at the church. People brought a great reception meal to our Founder's Hall Wednesday. There were sandwiches, cheeses, fruit, salads - just a beautiful array and through love and kindness it was all tended and served to those who braved the non-spring day to share our memories. I had relayed to Mary Ann that a perfect reception for Ben would include M & M's and Oreo cookies. As a family we decided to bring the M & M's but she struggled with the cookies until soe kind soul brought Oreo truffles dipped in white chocolate. I could see Ben's grin for that one!
The grands chose up their readings. I told David the meaning behind the psalm selection he was reading. Kelsey wrote out a reflection he wanted to read at the service. I asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?" He was firm in his decision . Benj and Lainy also wanted to share thoughts and while they are both experienced speakers I felt a need to coach them. "This is not like anything else you have done. You can't just wing it because you will find yourself going down a path you can't finish. Plan what you want to say, find a single idea and share that and have it all thought through. (And in the true Episcopal tradition) keep it short."
I had finally sat down and ordered the flowers from Trapps. Bob knows what to do since he does all our church flowers. I decided on a grouping of spring flowering branches and flowers (with a lot of negative space) for inside the nave, which would be moved to Founder's for the reception table, and a spray with flowering branches for the memorial garden.
I decided to lay out my clothes for the morning, take a hoarded sleeping pill and go to sleep. I slept in my bed for the first time, but with lights on - loneliness is harder in the dark
.
.
The greateat food gifts awaited us at the church. People brought a great reception meal to our Founder's Hall Wednesday. There were sandwiches, cheeses, fruit, salads - just a beautiful array and through love and kindness it was all tended and served to those who braved the non-spring day to share our memories. I had relayed to Mary Ann that a perfect reception for Ben would include M & M's and Oreo cookies. As a family we decided to bring the M & M's but she struggled with the cookies until soe kind soul brought Oreo truffles dipped in white chocolate. I could see Ben's grin for that one!
The grands chose up their readings. I told David the meaning behind the psalm selection he was reading. Kelsey wrote out a reflection he wanted to read at the service. I asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?" He was firm in his decision . Benj and Lainy also wanted to share thoughts and while they are both experienced speakers I felt a need to coach them. "This is not like anything else you have done. You can't just wing it because you will find yourself going down a path you can't finish. Plan what you want to say, find a single idea and share that and have it all thought through. (And in the true Episcopal tradition) keep it short."
I had finally sat down and ordered the flowers from Trapps. Bob knows what to do since he does all our church flowers. I decided on a grouping of spring flowering branches and flowers (with a lot of negative space) for inside the nave, which would be moved to Founder's for the reception table, and a spray with flowering branches for the memorial garden.
I decided to lay out my clothes for the morning, take a hoarded sleeping pill and go to sleep. I slept in my bed for the first time, but with lights on - loneliness is harder in the dark
.
.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Rainy Days and Mondays
Lainy and David arrive stumbling with exhaustion. It is David's first plane ride and he now has the family disease (addiction to flight). We all eat breakfast together and send them off to sleep at the motel. Kelsey and I head back to figure out how to get information out of the Mac. I need to draw cash from my deferred compensation account so I can pay expenses. I must fill out the forms and go downtown to the school district to get a countersign and then mail it off. I still have the flowers to settle on And,of course, more people to talk with and reach by email. And by now, start reading incoming emails.- so touching and such a comfort.Never again underestimate shared loss. The printer decides that it will not live any longer. I find a copy to copy and go off to get that done and then Benj, his family and I drive downtown to do this.errand. Once we are finished with the school district part we try to find a post office and only see the cold, unfriendly facade of the new IRS building. I wonder if the designer and one who let the contract had strong sense of humor. I hope so. we use the GPS and find a post office in Kansas but still within the deadline for its last delivery. we also find a hispanic restaurant and have a margarita (wonderful!). And a little quiet time, still better. Zach wonders why cremation and I tell him that is what my family has done for generations and I felt quite strongly about using so much of the earth for cemetaries which is a waste to me. I had convinced his Papa of this notion and we felt that the church garden was a great choice. It seemed to be an adequate answer, but I must touch back with him to see.
When I get home I consider what I am to wear Wednesday. . I quickly decide that I don't want something new. I don't want something in my closet that was for Ben's funeral. I will wear what I had for the bishop's consecreation earlier in the month. That was a happier initial wearing. Otherwise I see myself wanting to remove my clothes as the end of the day and quietly setting them afire..
When I get home I consider what I am to wear Wednesday. . I quickly decide that I don't want something new. I don't want something in my closet that was for Ben's funeral. I will wear what I had for the bishop's consecreation earlier in the month. That was a happier initial wearing. Otherwise I see myself wanting to remove my clothes as the end of the day and quietly setting them afire..
We begin to gather
I awake, startled by an infomercial on the television. My instant thought was annoyance "Why did HE have that on!?" Oh no, there is no he. It's Sunday and when you leave a television on all night you get infomercials on Sunday mornings. from now on I'll have to do something different I can't take repeating such awakenings on a regular basis. Sarah and Kelsey later suggest a music channel for the overnight hours which works out quite well once I settle on classical and not something I am compelled to sing along with.
Benj and family arrive late morning and tumble out of the car and into waiting arms. We load up cars and head out to the funeral home. We go through the obituary first since we must get it to the Star on deadline. Hank thinks the photo will work fine and he can do the initial crop, the Star will do the rest. I have forgotten the photo so Sarah runs home for it. We go over the other details and review the bill. we don"t approach the national average for funerals - a relief but at the same time I can feel that it will not be on the "cheap". The viewing is arranged and we end up with all going into the semi-darkened room. We stand in clusters, our loss in front of us and in time we leave It is easier to seeBen here than in the hospital and sadder at the same time. I know two things: It is final and "he" was not there. As we leave Hank leans over and whispers to me "You have a lovely family.". I do, thank you.
We need food. I don't remember eating anything except a caramel long john Saturday but I know I was offered food and may have eaten. I suggest the Corner Cafe since they produce a diner-style variety of food and lots of it. We are feeding boys.
We head to the church to meet with Mother Sue Of all things it starts snowing! Huge flakes drift down. Thank heavens I wore my warm coat. Sue and John lead us through our choices within the litergy and music. My friend Lenette has agreed to sing. The older grands are to be drafted as readers, intercessor as I think they will do better in remembering they had a part in the service We decide that David gets to choose his reading first since he wasn't here to make the selections. The Psalm is the one I used to say before each balloon flight. The little guys ask, "What about us?" I told them they would have something but we didn't know what yet. When we included the eucharist, that became obvious, they could carry the oblations forward. "Yes, we could do that, Gams - What are oblations?" That explained, they are set up with a job. John suggests some hymns, I request "On Eagles Wings" (we had had that for my brothers' services and it is from a favorite psalm) as a solo and Massanet's "Meditation" as part of the prelude. Benj relates later he is swept up in memory of his choir boy years hearing John hum through passages of music. Good connection for him.. We descend to the garden to pick the place on the wall. I yield choice to the children since they will be dealing with the decision longer than I and immediately reject their first choice. I accept the second choice and we hurry out of the cold snow and the magnolia tree in full bloom - what season is it?
Benj and family arrive late morning and tumble out of the car and into waiting arms. We load up cars and head out to the funeral home. We go through the obituary first since we must get it to the Star on deadline. Hank thinks the photo will work fine and he can do the initial crop, the Star will do the rest. I have forgotten the photo so Sarah runs home for it. We go over the other details and review the bill. we don"t approach the national average for funerals - a relief but at the same time I can feel that it will not be on the "cheap". The viewing is arranged and we end up with all going into the semi-darkened room. We stand in clusters, our loss in front of us and in time we leave It is easier to seeBen here than in the hospital and sadder at the same time. I know two things: It is final and "he" was not there. As we leave Hank leans over and whispers to me "You have a lovely family.". I do, thank you.
We need food. I don't remember eating anything except a caramel long john Saturday but I know I was offered food and may have eaten. I suggest the Corner Cafe since they produce a diner-style variety of food and lots of it. We are feeding boys.
We head to the church to meet with Mother Sue Of all things it starts snowing! Huge flakes drift down. Thank heavens I wore my warm coat. Sue and John lead us through our choices within the litergy and music. My friend Lenette has agreed to sing. The older grands are to be drafted as readers, intercessor as I think they will do better in remembering they had a part in the service We decide that David gets to choose his reading first since he wasn't here to make the selections. The Psalm is the one I used to say before each balloon flight. The little guys ask, "What about us?" I told them they would have something but we didn't know what yet. When we included the eucharist, that became obvious, they could carry the oblations forward. "Yes, we could do that, Gams - What are oblations?" That explained, they are set up with a job. John suggests some hymns, I request "On Eagles Wings" (we had had that for my brothers' services and it is from a favorite psalm) as a solo and Massanet's "Meditation" as part of the prelude. Benj relates later he is swept up in memory of his choir boy years hearing John hum through passages of music. Good connection for him.. We descend to the garden to pick the place on the wall. I yield choice to the children since they will be dealing with the decision longer than I and immediately reject their first choice. I accept the second choice and we hurry out of the cold snow and the magnolia tree in full bloom - what season is it?
First Business
Saturday truly began the business of death. Initeria, as in physics, is a necessary part of it as the progress through the day began slowly, building up steam as it went on. There were still too many people to tell. Every free moment found me back at the address book on his Mac finding different ways to tell different people some who I knew and loved, others I had instant memories of as their name flashed on screen and still more that I had never met but who shared some of Ben's life. How many different ways can one say "he's gone"!?! And, how many times? I found, only a few at a time. I had emailed my brother's widow in California Friday night, I think instinctively reaching out to someone who would know my feelings. She called and we wept together as she shared the kind of emotion another widow (that still sounds so foreign, I can't accept that label yet) can. She also relayed that her lung cancer had progressed and she had hospice in her near future. That was not something I wanted to hear - not another impending loss. If I was noton the phone it was ringing. Sue checked in and we set 4:00 pm Sunday to plan the service which we set for Wednesday. Hank called about funeral home details and I immediately felt cossetted by his quiet strength and knowledge. We would meet noon on Sunday to allow Benj, Zach and whoever a final viewing, as well as produce the obituary and other service details. All of us who are in town will go Lainy will arrive with son David early Monday and definitely need a nap since they are coming from Portland, OR via Atlanta starting out Sunday night. I talk with Benj again and convince him to .come up Sunday rather than today and then go back to get the boys on Sunday. I really don't want him driving up and down the highway between here and Andover (KS) these next two days. He needs to see me and get a hug and I need it, too, but I can't indulge myself with this much short term travel for him, especially under stress. He's a good child, he listens to his mother. Mary Ann calls from the church to tell me not to worry about the reception. It will be done. Wow. A load goes away and I feel grateful for one more kindness. We also discuss the flowers which must be limited due to it being Lent. The day goes by alternately quite fast and slowly inching along. The recliner to my right remains empty, my body mirrors the hollowness and when the house is once again quiet and I am alone I write his obituary. I have written several obits. and understand the process.
How to write an obituary: first understand that you write for several purposes. One is historical record, so you provide data of birth, death, family. You list employment/occupation information, memberships in associations and notable achievements. education, survivors, when services are to be held along with memorial requests. It harder when you are "his wife of 49 years, Joyce. . ." (that was the awkward construct I put to our relationship). We have a good picture taken of both of us last May, which we just gave to the children for Valentine's Day. It can be cropped to show Ben alone. I wrap up in my chair in the quilt Lainy made me for Christmas and pretend to sleep to the sounds from the television.
How to write an obituary: first understand that you write for several purposes. One is historical record, so you provide data of birth, death, family. You list employment/occupation information, memberships in associations and notable achievements. education, survivors, when services are to be held along with memorial requests. It harder when you are "his wife of 49 years, Joyce. . ." (that was the awkward construct I put to our relationship). We have a good picture taken of both of us last May, which we just gave to the children for Valentine's Day. It can be cropped to show Ben alone. I wrap up in my chair in the quilt Lainy made me for Christmas and pretend to sleep to the sounds from the television.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Learnings begin
On the way home from the hospital Sarah's cell phone went off. It was for me and was the transplant network needing one hour (yep, ONE HOUR!!!) of my time for a medical interview to determine information necessary for transplant. What to say? I was holding on to the donation process as something positive coming out of this very bad day. It was something Ben and I had talked about numerous times and both wanted. I knew enough to know in this day such intrusive questioning is beyond prudent, but. . . .I had grieving to do - my own, my children's and grands' and so many people to notify. Surely, an hour!!!! I let the process start and when we arrived in the driveway said "give me 20 minutes and call me back on the home phone." Exactly 20 minutes later I was back into the conversation. It is a gruelling process made better only through the awareness of the interviewer that it is cruel and gruelling for the responder. Several times different sections of the interview were introduced with an apology acknowledging the invasiveness of the questions to come. My special education background helped due to the background in medical conditions I had acquired through teaching severely disabled children and being around medical terms and diseases. Having a printed meds list also helped. I had earlier that evening (before I knew it wouldn't be needed, grabbed Ben's meds list from the refrigerator door). I was about 90% complete on the written list and various questions led me to find the missing med and add it to the listing I had given. Finally, we were through. I had seen the phone light up several times while we were talking but couldn't interrrupt. Little did I know that an answering machine with Ben's recorded voice suggested we couldn't come to the phone and to leave a message - very startling to his half-orphans! When I learnd about it later I had my son-in-law record over it but to this moment do not know how to get to the messages. First things first, at least now no one gets such a suddenly tragic response on the phone.
I thought about emailing friends and family and looked on Ben's email account only to see 297 email addresses, many for people I did not know. I sent off a well-placed notice to a close friend in powered parachute community knowing he would tell his dealers and the word would spread, sent another one to my sister-in-law in CA and a few others before I could do no more. Bed was not a viable choice so I went to chair and left the television on (which I would do 24 hours a day for many days) to drown out the sounds of silence in the house. No sleep, but a quiet emptiness filled the room.
I have a strong need to change how this transplant info is gathered. A dear doctor who has listened to me agrees, for a reason different from mine,. He questions the accuracy of the information gathered in this way. I question the whole process including the cruelty, unintentional though it may be. I went through it because that was how the transplant could happen and I knew that was step 1 in the pre-funeral process.of a mission I don't know to change the process how right now but perhaps a microchip, a file somewhere in cyberspace that is accurate up to a point and only needs to be given the last known meds and medical info. I think if people know what their loved ones will be spared they will give this info on a pre-registry or even if nothing is done officially just knowing the process will halp someone do the process and then join me in lobbying for changes.
I thought about emailing friends and family and looked on Ben's email account only to see 297 email addresses, many for people I did not know. I sent off a well-placed notice to a close friend in powered parachute community knowing he would tell his dealers and the word would spread, sent another one to my sister-in-law in CA and a few others before I could do no more. Bed was not a viable choice so I went to chair and left the television on (which I would do 24 hours a day for many days) to drown out the sounds of silence in the house. No sleep, but a quiet emptiness filled the room.
I have a strong need to change how this transplant info is gathered. A dear doctor who has listened to me agrees, for a reason different from mine,. He questions the accuracy of the information gathered in this way. I question the whole process including the cruelty, unintentional though it may be. I went through it because that was how the transplant could happen and I knew that was step 1 in the pre-funeral process.of a mission I don't know to change the process how right now but perhaps a microchip, a file somewhere in cyberspace that is accurate up to a point and only needs to be given the last known meds and medical info. I think if people know what their loved ones will be spared they will give this info on a pre-registry or even if nothing is done officially just knowing the process will halp someone do the process and then join me in lobbying for changes.
No Roadmaps
I am starting out by playing catch up which is rather appropriate.
At 6:12 pm CDT on March 25, 2011 my husband of 49 years died - without warning. My life changed from the quiet, somewhat orderly existence centered around him, my family and homey things such as trying new recipes and knitting and reading to one,for which I had (have) no roadmap.
My daughter Sarah and I left the driveway at exactly the same moment and she got us to Lee's Summit in 20 minutes weaving in and out of late rush hour traffic. I had received a call to come quickly, that he was in very critical condition. I grabbed my purse, took up the knitting bag (always handy) and put it back down with the only premonition I would have: Knitting won't do it this time. After all that rush we were escorted to a small room where we waited. A police officer was there and I asked him if he was there for the same reason we were. He said yes. "Will you tell me if it is an accident or if he is ill? " " I can't, m'am." I really thought he would have noticed the difference but wasn't up to an argument, so I said "Sarah I don't like this I don't think this is good. I don't think we are going to get out of this." She, taking my hand, agreed and the officer left. A few minutes later three women and a man in jeans and a plaid cotton shirt came in. They sat around me and the lead woman introduced herself as a doctor and said "He didn't make it. We did everything we could but he just didn't make it. I'm sorry." Language critic that I am, I chill at the phraseology. He didn't make it! There has to be a better way to phrase it. It sounds like what they say on a doctor show on television. But the fact was there. My murmured "Please God. . . ." which I had repeated over and over since The Call, got the wrong answer. The man revealed himself to be a chaplain and asked if there was anything they could do for me. I asked for a "do-over from maybe about noon or so." He said he couldn't do that so I said for the first of what would be many many times "I don't know what to do. I don't have a roadmap." He or the doctor said that whatever I wanted to do was OK, there was no right or wrong thing. That was too vague for me at that time so I persisted with" what should I do? " The chaplain offered to call clergy from one of the local churches but I said I want mine. Then began the search for the right numbers when you are not expecting to have to reach someone on a Friday. I thought if they could get me a white pages I could get ahold of someone. I found Linda (a Deacon friend who would have the directory) in the book and the chaplain called her. I heard her scream. She had the numbers for Sue and Joe. This kind man called Sue first and I heard her scream. This poor dear fellow is going to think all Episcopalians are screamers. He was, name lost in the inability I had to learn any thing else new, a police chaplain who had responded to the emergency need that night ( later figured that we were waiting for his arrival) - and turned out to be a friend and fellow chaplain to Brian England who had been a Deacon at the Cathedral until his work relocated him to D.C. as well as a friend of ours. They then took us to the room where Ben was, many of the signs of their futile efforts to save him still in place.
While was occupied with the chaplain Sarah had reached her sister by phone and hearing her sobs I took the phone and said "I love you. I love you over and over. I didn't know how to reach through her pain. Sarah couldn't get Benj, her brother. She did get his wife Amy and again I took the phone and told her the sad news which she would have to relay. I asked Sarah to also call our adopted family, the Slocums, and let them know. J.R. said he would be right down. He and Sue came almost together. Sue's husband drove her down from Platte county for which I had the sense to be grateful. Sue gave last rites and we prayed the Lord's Prayer together. Benj called back almost unable to breathe and his boys all needed to touch base with Gams and share their love and sorrow. Sarah somewhere in this time called her home and told my other two grands- and neighbors - their Papa was gone. A nurse came back in the room and said we needed to find a funeral home. At last a question I was prepared for: "Call Hank DeVry at Park Lawn North. It is to be direct cremation with services at Grace and Holy Trinity and interment in the Memorial Garden." That was my whole knowledge base, after firing those instructions off. One more thought: Is it possible to use anything for transplant, Sarah and I wondered. Corneas were about it. Please set that happening and since the medical staff didn't need it, no autopsy is needed. It wouldn't change anything. Then mundane things came to mind: truck keys, his coat, other possessions. We looked about the room and even in his pockets - out fell three hard candies. No M & M's, he had probably eaten them. With a final kiss we left. We left the room and life as we knew it.
At 6:12 pm CDT on March 25, 2011 my husband of 49 years died - without warning. My life changed from the quiet, somewhat orderly existence centered around him, my family and homey things such as trying new recipes and knitting and reading to one,for which I had (have) no roadmap.
My daughter Sarah and I left the driveway at exactly the same moment and she got us to Lee's Summit in 20 minutes weaving in and out of late rush hour traffic. I had received a call to come quickly, that he was in very critical condition. I grabbed my purse, took up the knitting bag (always handy) and put it back down with the only premonition I would have: Knitting won't do it this time. After all that rush we were escorted to a small room where we waited. A police officer was there and I asked him if he was there for the same reason we were. He said yes. "Will you tell me if it is an accident or if he is ill? " " I can't, m'am." I really thought he would have noticed the difference but wasn't up to an argument, so I said "Sarah I don't like this I don't think this is good. I don't think we are going to get out of this." She, taking my hand, agreed and the officer left. A few minutes later three women and a man in jeans and a plaid cotton shirt came in. They sat around me and the lead woman introduced herself as a doctor and said "He didn't make it. We did everything we could but he just didn't make it. I'm sorry." Language critic that I am, I chill at the phraseology. He didn't make it! There has to be a better way to phrase it. It sounds like what they say on a doctor show on television. But the fact was there. My murmured "Please God. . . ." which I had repeated over and over since The Call, got the wrong answer. The man revealed himself to be a chaplain and asked if there was anything they could do for me. I asked for a "do-over from maybe about noon or so." He said he couldn't do that so I said for the first of what would be many many times "I don't know what to do. I don't have a roadmap." He or the doctor said that whatever I wanted to do was OK, there was no right or wrong thing. That was too vague for me at that time so I persisted with" what should I do? " The chaplain offered to call clergy from one of the local churches but I said I want mine. Then began the search for the right numbers when you are not expecting to have to reach someone on a Friday. I thought if they could get me a white pages I could get ahold of someone. I found Linda (a Deacon friend who would have the directory) in the book and the chaplain called her. I heard her scream. She had the numbers for Sue and Joe. This kind man called Sue first and I heard her scream. This poor dear fellow is going to think all Episcopalians are screamers. He was, name lost in the inability I had to learn any thing else new, a police chaplain who had responded to the emergency need that night ( later figured that we were waiting for his arrival) - and turned out to be a friend and fellow chaplain to Brian England who had been a Deacon at the Cathedral until his work relocated him to D.C. as well as a friend of ours. They then took us to the room where Ben was, many of the signs of their futile efforts to save him still in place.
While was occupied with the chaplain Sarah had reached her sister by phone and hearing her sobs I took the phone and said "I love you. I love you over and over. I didn't know how to reach through her pain. Sarah couldn't get Benj, her brother. She did get his wife Amy and again I took the phone and told her the sad news which she would have to relay. I asked Sarah to also call our adopted family, the Slocums, and let them know. J.R. said he would be right down. He and Sue came almost together. Sue's husband drove her down from Platte county for which I had the sense to be grateful. Sue gave last rites and we prayed the Lord's Prayer together. Benj called back almost unable to breathe and his boys all needed to touch base with Gams and share their love and sorrow. Sarah somewhere in this time called her home and told my other two grands- and neighbors - their Papa was gone. A nurse came back in the room and said we needed to find a funeral home. At last a question I was prepared for: "Call Hank DeVry at Park Lawn North. It is to be direct cremation with services at Grace and Holy Trinity and interment in the Memorial Garden." That was my whole knowledge base, after firing those instructions off. One more thought: Is it possible to use anything for transplant, Sarah and I wondered. Corneas were about it. Please set that happening and since the medical staff didn't need it, no autopsy is needed. It wouldn't change anything. Then mundane things came to mind: truck keys, his coat, other possessions. We looked about the room and even in his pockets - out fell three hard candies. No M & M's, he had probably eaten them. With a final kiss we left. We left the room and life as we knew it.
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