Saturday we buried some ashes. It was harder than I thought it was going to be. I got home by 6:00 PM and went straight to bed, and didn’t wake up until 7:00 AM Sunday morning.
It seemed so final, staring at this giant hunk of granite with my wife’s name on it. There is no comfort in a “hereafter”. There is no comfort from a “higher power”. There is only a very heavy and cold chunk of highly polished granite in my heart.
I hurt.
I can also understand why some widowers go crazy with hedonistic and nihilist thoughts and actions. Why bother trying to live the good life? Screw it, and get as much as you can grab... we’ll all be dead soon enough anyway.
But rational thought slowly takes over. The community comes out to greet me, lift me up….
And life is relentless in its slow march. Persistent. Hopeful with each Spring day.
Ecclesiastes 1:4
One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.
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My hiking partner and his wife took me up a mountain for Easter Sunday. It was a hard climb. We followed a mountain ridge straight up with very few switchbacks. My body screamed in pain to match my heart.
It was exactly what I needed to do.
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I have plans to meet WWW later this evening. I am breaking things off with her tonight.
Maybe I’m spiraling out of control over the need for touch. To belong. To feel complete.
I’ve been eating too much lately. Granted, it’s been pistachios and mandarin oranges that I’ve been gorging on…. But still….. it’s too much.
I’ve been frantic about getting to some type of dance class almost every day. I went to a contact improv basics class last night and loved it. Heading out to another dance tonight. I’ve invited WWW to the event tonight, she will meet me there. The crazy thing is, I am rather hoping she invites me over to her place after the dance. How crazy is that? So that I can rush around in the morning to shower and gather a death certificate and be at a cemetery an hour’s drive from my house?
Maybe it’s the frantic brain trying to keep me overly busy so I don’t focus on Saturday.
We had a nice gravestone plaque created for my wife. My in-laws, her brother and niece will all be there to see some of the ashes buried. My mother-in-law will be keeping the remaining ashes and urn at her home. It will be good to have some more closure. For all of us.
I have a hike planned on Sunday, skipping dance. WWW likes to hike as well, but I really need to show some restraint and NOT invite her to hike Sunday. This is the first hike of the season, and it would be good for just my regular hiking partner and I to go alone.
My Grandfather's funeral is scheduled for NEXT Saturday.
These posts the last few days don’t even make sense to me.
My 93 year old grandfather died last night. He was a WW2 vet, an actual “Lineman for the County” back in the late 50’s, an industrial installer for Ma Bell working specifically in site specific maintenance on aerospace applications in the 60’s and 70’s ….. today’s equivalent of a Network Administrator.
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I still went to my normal Wednesday night dance last night. It was a great dance. As we were leaving the ballroom, a new male friend gave me a hug and asked how I was. I told him about my wife’s birthday and grandfather’s death. He very beautifully said that getting to know me, he can imagine how wonderful my wife must have been, and that he would have liked to meet her. For some reason, that triggered a huge wave of grief that had been bubbling on the surface all day. In the middle of a crowded room, I exploded with tears. He held space for me. I am grateful for his friendship.
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I had a good, long talk with WWW last night. It seems we both were not communicating well together last weekend, and both of us misunderstood each other.
Without getting into the nitty-gritty details, the group of guys I was told about are EX- boyfriends that she remained friends with, in non-sexual relationships. The guy she had a date with (that she cancelled) this week was somebody she has been seeing for a month or so. When it all comes down to the final answer, she has just been dating people. Dating much like people in the 50’s did. Some teenage groping in the backseat every once in a while, some slow getting to know a few people…normal dating stuff.
I feel I over-reacted to some partial information, and she reacted to me. We both acknowledged we got a little prickly with each other. We plan on some more dates. I would like to further explore how my stuff interacts with her stuff.
Whew! Volatile life! I'm just winging it, and this experiment with WWW may crash and burn, but I owe it to myself to at least try.
Today is my late wife’s birthday. She would have been 44 years old today.
I don’t have much to say about it. The tears are flowing easily. The loss of a deep connection. One-sided now.
I miss her. I miss our connection.
This Saturday, my in-laws and I are spreading some of her ashes at the family cemetery. We have a flat stone plaque that will be near her biological father who also died at a young age from the same disease.
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Tonight at my regular Wednesday night dance, I will be seeing WWW.
It’s rather strange how the last few days have changed my thoughts. I was adamant about not sharing a bed with her when I wrote Monday’s blog post. Today, I feel ambivalent…
My wife and I had such a deep connection; I fear I will never meet another woman with her strength and charisma. So why bother looking? I can remain basically single with WWW and spend the night with her every so often. I could be selfish with my heart. Heck, I could even still date other women, with WWW’s encouragement! I could close my soul, keep this darkness barely held back. I could keep my grief close to the unsteady surface, instead of using it as a rock solid building block of a new life.
I could use WWW as an escape from the real world, and what little tenderness and connection I show her would still be more than most people ever experience.
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Good lord, I sound like an egotistical blow-hard, wallowing in self-righteous pity. This is a disgusting post.
On Friday night I went to a special Contact Improv Dance Jam at a different studio that I have never been to before. It was very strange. When I first got there, I was the youngest person in the room. I was happy though, to recognize a few faces from some of the other dance activities I frequent.
The facilitator then had us sit in a circle and handed out blindfolds. Yup, blindfolds. It was voluntary to wear them, but since I was in for a penny, I went in for a pound and wore the blindfold. I was a bit creeped out for the first 20-30 minutes. The improv dance was nothing like what I had previously experienced. I was used to standing up, meeting a fellow dancer with eye contact to gauge approachability, keeping some distance for a few minutes as we moved together, and perhaps moving closer as we both agree to the terms of the dance.
With blindfolds on, we stayed on the ground, with a strange random slow feeling and rolling around action. It was rather like a bunch of horny old people indiscriminately groping each other. I wasn’t actually groped or fondled in inappropriate areas, but the “feeling” of it was quite strong, especially in the first 20 minutes or so. Several times a got on my knees in Child’s Pose and just pushed myself backwards out of the circle to give myself some space. The facilitator was really great in checking in with me to gauge my comfortability level.
Once I eased myself into it, and let go of some fears, it was actually quite nice. And it was quite sensual as I rolled around on the floor with a rather sexy woman maybe five years my senior. It’s difficult to guess though, as I look about 10 years younger than I actually am. I accidentally took home the blindfold, so I need to go back again…. You know…. Just to return the blindfold.
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And If I thought Friday night was strange…….
After a nice breakfast with my hiking partner and picking out paint samples for the house, I met with a fellow dancer friend for coffee. She invited me to a party later that night, and since she lives so far out of town, we decided to hang out early.
The party. It was quite crazy. It was a dress-up party with an Alice in Wonderland theme. I got the memo late that it was a dress up party, so I went as a character from before Alice went into the looking glass and down the rabbit hole…. Just normal street clothes.
There were many people from the dance community here. I recognized more than a dozen faces….people I have danced with, but never actually spoken to. It was really fun, and making new connections has been one of my goals this year. It was great to put some names and voices to faces. The crowd itself is very warm and welcoming, although perhaps a bit higher on the woo woo and Burning Man scale than I normally would hang out with.
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Sunday morning found me at my regular dance class, along with many of the people from Friday and Saturday night. The good morning Hello’s were more frequent, the hugs a little warmer. It was very nice.
They played the Brother Iz song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" during the dance. As soon as the opening notes were strummed on the ukulele, the emotion was too great. I had to leave the room. I sat in the foyer listening to the music, and hearing the hundreds of voices singing along. We played this song at my wife's memorial service. The name of the album this song is on is called "Facing Future". It was one of her favorite albums the last year of her life.
And at the end of the dance, a fellow dancer invited me to a new Men’s Group that was having its second meeting on Monday night. Of course I said I would go.
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I had already arranged to take Monday off work so I could get some building materials and design decisions made on the house. Found some awesome discontinued tile for only $0.38 per square foot. Enough to tile quite a bit of the basement. The day went by too quickly but I am feeling better about the house.
Yes, the house is bleeding me dry, but it will look great and I will be able to get roommates in pretty quickly after it is finished. I think I have made peace with the process…at least this week.
Monday night arrived it was time to head to the address listed for the Men’s Group. I wasn’t sure what to expect. The group lists over 45 members. When I got there, I was the only the 3rd person to show up. There eventually were 8 men.
The meeting went well enough, for strangers getting to know each other. The facilitator kept things moving well, and there were great topics that were brought up. I will be going back again.
My life is good, and I should be good with that.
Israel "IZ" Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwoʻole "Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World"
A simple stone marker with her name and years of birth and death. A simple rose on one side.
Her ashes will be placed near her father, grandfather and grandmother, and many other family members.
Many in the direct lineage never reached 45 years old in this family. With the death of my wife, and no children between us, this is the end for this strain of EDS for this family. My wife’s brother did not inherit the disease, and he has not passed it his daughter.
The funeral director in this small town grew up with my wife’s father, and it was a joy to hear some old stories of his wild youth. It’s always a treat for my wife’s brother to hear about his father.
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My father-in-law had asked me to bring my wife’s ashes on Saturday, just in case the funeral home wanted them right away. They didn’t. I had already prepared my in-laws that I didn’t want to bring the ashes back home with me. My mother-in-law understood, and they took the ashes home with them. I think it will be good for them both to sit with the ashes for the next month while the marker stone is being cut.
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I spent the next few hours with just my brother-in-law. Sitting in his garage. It can be extremely hard for me to talk with him sometimes. I see and hear my wife in so many of his facial expressions, thought processes, speech patterns……..
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I woke up on Sunday morning and went to my normal ecstatic dance. I was overcome with grief when I realized this was the first morning I had woken up without my wife in the house. I realize we are just talking about ashes, but the significance was almost unbearable.
It will feel good, but painful. I’ll bring my old man hanky and have a good cry. I still hurt.
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I worked for 20 years at my previous job. Yup, straight out of High School, I joined a Union and was earning a family wage at 18 years old. It was hard, physical work. My body was being torn apart. I met my wife, and she gently encouraged me to be easier on my body. I started working more in the office instead of on the production floor. I was eventually promoted to a supervisor position of overseeing 1 person (myself). It was still hard work, but now I worked the old noggin instead of the old back.
At the 20 year mark, with my wife’s support, I quit my job in pursuit of another career. I landed in an incredible family owned business, and I am just about to pass the 5 year mark with them.
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The house is slowly driving me crazy. Since I haven’t moved into the home yet, my insurance company mailed me a Notice of Cancellation that was also sent to my mortgage lender. I’ve called my insurance agent, and she will hopefully straighten everything out.
The house is completely unlivable right now. Even the upstairs kitchen and bath have been removed. When we tore off the remaining drywall in the basement, we found more shoddy wiring work and corroded pipes. We are now re-wiring and re-plumbing the entire house. Even the water drain lines needed to be replaced. On the bright side though, I have re-configured the entire basement, and it should be great when it’s done. I’ll have spent my whole retirement nest egg on it, but what the heck, it will look great and outlast me.
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I guess I’m just trying to get through the weekend with my brain and heart turned off. Tomorrow will be an emotional train wreck…..And I don’t want to bring my wife’s urn back home with me.
Bauhaus- Black Stone Heart- Peter Murphy
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Best. Massage. Ever.With FEET! like as in toes, and heels and arches, and balls of the foot!
Seriously. I’ve had a massage almost continuously every 6-8 weeks for the last 20 years from a multitude of massage therapists. This was the best I’ve ever had. I may need to switch every other massage with this. I’ve been seeing the same massage therapist for about 6 years, so I’m not willing to switch completely.
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Tonight, I’m going to that new (new to me) dance class called Contact Improv. It will be interesting to see if it is as much fun the second time. I bought some lightweight kneepads, (the kind cheerleaders use) to help as I bang around on the hardwood floor.
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I’ve written about guilt a few times in past posts. The guilt that my life is moving forward in a really positive way that may not have happened when my wife was alive. Our life was fairly idyllic together. We had no real pressing wants or needs. We were able to float through life with the happy acceptance of everything.
When my wife died, and I had to look closer within myself to keep from going crazy, the guilt started to build. I was expanding myself, opening myself to look deeper. With the unrealistic thought of how horrible I was not to dig deeper and open wider with the relationship with my wife. What did I miss out on with her? What did I deny her of knowing? The guilt that our incredibly beautiful and loving relationship could possibly have been even better. Yes, unrealistic feelings. We had a wonderful relationship that was extremely fulfilling for both of us. I am thankful and blessed for our lives being intertwined.
Saturday breakfast with my vintage store owner friend was great. We spent some time in my basement pondering the possibilities of the space. He had some amazing ideas that I will definitely be using.
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I went to a dinner party Saturday night, and SuperBowl Woman was there. We had another great time together, and even party hopped to another place across town after dinner. The more time spent with her, the better I feel about keeping our friendship on a close level. Our “stuff” would not fit well together in a relationship, and we both know it.
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I missed my regular Sunday ecstatic dance; I was helping a friend move. Unfortunately I hurt my back lifting boxes of books up from a basement. I spent the remainder of the day in bed. But on the bright side, she is a massage therapist and has offered me a message tonight after work.
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I’ve had several phone conversations with my in-laws over the weekend. We have plans to meet next Saturday at the cemetery that my wife’s biological father is buried. He died at 40 years old from the same genetic disease my wife died from.
We plan on creating some type of permanent memorial with her ashes. Her mother, step-father, and brother will all be meeting the funeral director with me. I will be bringing the ashes down with me. I don’t really want to bring any back.
Her ashes are split in two boxes. Most of the ashes are in a nice wooden box urn, the remaining are in an easily opened cardboard box. I really don’t want the full urn back. I have told my in-laws to think about the urn, and where they might like it to end up. I suggested perhaps just keeping the nameplate side of the urn.
Dinner with the organizer of the young widows and widowers dinner group went better than expected. We talked a lot about how very different we are now, since our partners died. Almost unrecognizable in the difference. Validation with each other that our lives are indeed moving forward. Guilt and awe, realizing our spouses would be shocked at how much we have changed. And also that horrifying realization that we would be hard pressed to fit back into that life. It's a difficult thing to admit that life is good. Life is happy.
There is still that dark hole deep in my soul, but the screaming mournfulness has subsided into gentle sadness of beautiful memories.
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Half of the siding has been torn off the house, and there is some good looking wood underneath. The insulation that was blown in has turned out not to be the expanding foam, but rather loose-fill fiber. No surprises yet, and everything so far is very smooth.
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Ecstatic Dance was again a beautiful thing last night. I found myself open to people and afterwards I stuck around to socialize a bit. There was even an offer to get some food, and I joined them. The interesting part is during the meal, I reverted back to my very quiet and reserved self. I didn't speak much, but listened intently. I was the newcomer in the midst of a group of old friends, so I don't think my quietness was noticed much.
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I had a massage tonight, and my massage therapist vocalized about how much weight I've lost. I hadn't really noticed it myself, but after I got off the table, I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my unclothed body. My stomach is noticeably smaller, and the double chin action is not quite so pronounced!
I suppose I should have been ready for flaky potential roommates to cancel at the last minute. I also probably shouldn’t have changed my own personal plans to accommodate potential roommates.
The woman that seemed eager to see the place just a few days ago, called me five minutes after our scheduled meeting time to cancel. Oh well. I went roller skating instead.
It was another fun night at the roller rink. What cheap entertainment! And it’s quite a workout for the legs. I fell once. Hard. Face first. Chin making solid and direct contact with the wooden floor. Dazed, I stood up, expecting blood. Surprisingly there was none. I didn’t bite my tongue off, nor did I break my jaw.
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Got a call from my late wife’s step-father today. I had asked him to look into a plaque, headstone, or some type of memorial for my wife. The family and I would like to spread or bury some of her ashes with her father. Her father died at 41 years old of the same genetic disease.
It was a bit tough taking that phone call at work, but I’m glad it happened. I had asked her folks to help with this plan, as I thought it might help them with some closure. I think getting the information from the cemetery was a bit harder on them than I expected, but they also seemed very thankful to be doing the legwork. We have an appointment to meet with the cemetery people in a couple of weeks. I feel strangely detached yet full of grief.
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I have a busy weekend planned. Tonight I have an appointment with my shrink, then breakfast with my hiking partner Saturday morning, and trying to move a few things Saturday afternoon. Sunday I am skipping Ecstatic Dance in order to have breakfast with my Vintage store owner friend, and then the two of us are going to some estate sales to look at dead people’s things for my new house. Sunday evening I have dinner with Super Bowl Woman….I still need to find a groovy restaurant for us to go to….
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It might be fun to buy my own set of roller-skates. .......A couples skate in the reverse direction, while Journey's "Faithfully" plays over the loudspeaker.......
There is a fun new YouTube video going around that was created by the awesome blogger over at FreshWidow
It’s a short clip in the vein of all the recent “Sh!t people say” series.
Sh!t people say to Widows & Widowers
It’s hilariously well done.
So this also begs the question….What DO you say to a grieving person?
Perhaps the best thing to say is……. “I’m Sorry”
Then present an inviting stance to the grieving person that would allow a hug if the grieving person so chooses, but not so inviting that would cause awkwardness if the person doesn’t want a hug.
Then promptly DO something for them without asking. Like emptying the trash or doing some dishes….
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And make sure you stick around to the end to read the credits…..There is a familiar name in there J
I have a reluctance to move any items into the new house. What is my hesitation?
The new path. The shift. The physical act of moving further away from my wife’s death. Acknowledging I have a new life. The unrealistic but very real guilt I feel at having this new life. How dare I enjoy this life. How dare I actually admit I feel like I am a better person since she died. All foolishness, I know.
Before my wife died, we talked about her expectations for my life after she was gone. She wants me to remarry. I have permission to be happy. I just need to accept it.
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It was a weekend full of parties. Literally.
On Friday I had dinner with my mentor and with a beautiful and amazing woman who was also a complete train wreck. A very successful business owner that divulged a large amount of very horrific personal information. The three of us had a great dinner, and I was both enthralled with this woman and reluctant to spend any more time with her. In my younger years, I would have pursued her with wild abandon with disastrous results. At the end of the night, she said something that really touched me. She said she felt comfortable about sharing her story with me. She said I had a gentle and un-judging nature, She had assumed I was a counselor or therapist… a colleague of my mentor. She invited us to a “Burning Man” type of party for Saturday night, with a theme of “glitter and sparkles”.
Saturday morning found myself up early to hit a couple of second hand clothing thrift stores for some glittery clothing. I found a black sequined blouse that looked vaguely masculine, so I ripped the shoulder pads out, threw on some shiny black tights and some short black athletic shorts and I was set.
Went to lunch with my father, and showed him the new house. He really liked it.
The first party of the night was a 41st birthday party for a friend early Saturday evening. Another small business owner that I have gone out on a date with a few times. I’ve known her for about 3 years. I would like to spend more time with her, but she has put some clear boundaries between us for dating. She has made it clear we can be wonderful friends, but that is it. But I constantly seem to be getting mixed messages from her.
I left her birthday party and made my way across town to the “Burner” gathering. These are a fun and crazy bunch. Very artistic and colorful. Not really my scene, but fun every once in a while. Saw the beautiful train wreck woman that had invited us, and once again, she thanked me for being open to her story and reiterated that she thought I would be a great counselor or “Life Coach”.
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Sunday morning found me with a hangover, but I still got myself up to sweat it out at Ecstatic Dance. The theme for the dance was “Happy” and it was a very happy dance right up until the end. As a tribute, they played Etta James’ At Last. This song was played at our wedding (along with millions of others weddings) and I immediately left the dance floor with tears streaming down my face. I gave myself a few moments, wiped my eyes, and slowly walked back into the room and closed my eyes and gently moved back and forth to the song. The darkness moving through me. Quickly dissipating.
And then the Superbowl party! The birthday girl from the previous night was there. We are very touchy feely. She will initiate contact with a hand on my back, of a pull of my hand in hers. Quite conflicting information for me. After the game ends, and after she had a few Adult Beverages, she exclaims to me in front of a few close friends of ours, that “everyone thinks we should be together” and that she should be “open to a relationship with me”.
I was a bit taken aback with this publicly made statement, and we casually made our way to a more private area to talk. We didn’t resolve much, but we did agree to get together again (without Adult Beverages).
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Am I keeping myself this busy so I don’t have time to think about moving into the new house? Probably.
I went roller skating last night. Much fun and quite the workout for the two hours I went around the rink. I waited all night for a “couples skate in the reverse direction” but they never called it out.
Roller-skating is a great ‘quiet’ workout for the legs and core. It is also very social. I could easily see myself adding this to my weekly options of activity.
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My hiking partner and his wife have a great hike lined up for Sunday morning. I never know where we are going until that morning. It’s wonderful not needing to plan for any of the hikes. I carry a nicely filled backpack that has a little bit of everything so I can make a fire, create a small shelter, and cover myself from the elements, so I feel pretty safe in the woods. It’s always good to be prepared.
I realize none of us are prepared for a partner’s death, but when my wife died, I felt so helpless and lost that I wanted to become prepared for anything. I found myself reading up on ‘preparedness’ and ‘preppers’. These are the new code words for the old-school term of ‘survivalists’. I’m sure there are a great many differences between the two groups, but in my early grief, I clumped the terms all together.
I found myself stockpiling food. I searched out more camping equipment. I upgraded my old camping water filtration items. I bought wilderness survival books like the US Army Survival Manual: FM 21-76.
My wife and I would sleep in the back of the mini-van for weeks at a time, so I started keeping all of my sleeping materials in the back. I created a safety “Bug Out Bag” that I kept in my mini-van at all times. There were solar rechargeable flashlights stuck on my dashboard, always charged. I kept my entire camping setup in the storage compartments of the van. Everything from tent and tarps, to hatchets and 550 paracord. From hiking shoes and poles, to cooking equipment. I shoved as much as possible into the mini-van. I had travelled and memorized the back roads out of town. I could get myself away from the city and up in the hills with enough provisions to last 3-4 weeks.
I wanted to be ready. I wanted to prepare for the worst possible thing I could see myself facing.
I wasn’t going to be caught unprepared, No Sir! I would be able to tackle Anything!
I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to realize the shit had already hit the fan the night my wife died.
I’ve spent the last three years working through the thoughts that lead me to stock the mini-van.
I can still go for an over-night camping trip with just a moment’s notice…but I’m getting better.
It must be the calm before the storm. The new house is in a holding pattern, waiting for the paperwork to process. This last weekend was completely free of all obligations, with nothing planned. I had absolutely no desire to do anything all weekend, and I was pretty successful.
A session with my shrink on Friday after work, and then I basically went home to bed. I laid around all Saturday doing nothing but play on the computer, and Sunday I finally got motivated to go to Ecstatic Dance and then do some laundry.
So on Saturday I re-activated an old on-line dating profile with OkCupid. Lots of the same faces from a year ago. I put up some new photos, changes some descriptions, and had fun looking at all the pictures. I even spent some time checking out the competition of the other mid 40’s single guys in my demographic. I gotta say, I may not be the most handsome guy around, but I do still have all of my hair with very little gray…and all my teeth too.
I am chalking up my absolutely lazy weekend to a number of things.
My bank account still has my late wife’s name on it, and the underwriter for the home mortgage asked me to clarify my relationship status. I told them I would scan a copy of her death certificate to them on Monday. When I dug out her death certificate on Friday night, I do believe it was the very first time I had read the entire document. Amazing how much information that little piece of paper holds. Amazing how many memories a life can hold.
While my relationship ended cleanly with B.D. early last week, I hadn’t made any plans with friends for the weekend, and more than a few friends are out of town. So I cruised on-line dating profiles all day long feeling sorry for myself, and laughing at the same time at how much I have it together compared to some of my competition. I may come with more baggage than a carry-on, but at least mine will fit in the over-head compartment. It’s taken 3 years of therapy to pack in in the bag, but at least I know what is in it now.
Went to an Ecstatic Dance class last night, and I was watching a person that used to be very shy and withdrawn. This person was alive last night! Their body was moving wild with abandon, eye contact with other dancers, and physical interaction with others as dance partners.
I was very happy for them….and quite jealous. I long to open myself to allow the eye contact, and physical connection with the other dancers. Something within myself keeps me withdrawn and isolated.
I think it goes back to the feeling of loss and becoming an empty shell of what I once was. I don’t want people to get too close to me, for fear they find out there is really nothing inside.
Back to that old mantra of finding Purpose and Passion. I have nothing in my life that moves me now.
As much as I hate to rely on materialistic trappings of consumerism, I think this house might just be a helpful boost.
It doesn’t address my shyness and unwillingness to let others in my mind, but it might give me a small focus at least.
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So what stops me from making deeper contact with people? My wife and I had that connection with ourselves and our closest friends, why can’t I move that expression forward with my new life?
I think my downer attitude is just the basic holiday blues.
I talked with my in-laws last night and they have invited me to their home for Christmas again. I don’t think I will go over there this year. My father-in-law and I talked again about a remembrance gathering for my wife on her birthday. It was a tear-filled phone call for me as I sat in the parking lot of a restaurant on my way to a Christmas dinner with my co-workers.
The last few days I have been looking at large vans/small RV’s again. I am seeing some really sweet setups for about $20,000. I’ve been thinking of forced motivation if I had a small RV. I would still work at my current job. I would want to join a gym for the nice showers. Hopefully a gym with a decent yoga instructor and frequent classes with multiple locations. It might force me to want to socialize more. God forbid, I call my friends every once in a while.
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I will be going to an ugly sweater party on Friday night. Should be lots of fun, and hopefully will get the funk out of my face.
JAMES BROWN Soulful Christmas Santa's Got a Brand New Bag
My mother’s husband died over the weekend. He was sick for a very long time and my mother has been caregiving for him. Apparently hospice came to the house, told her he would only last a few more hours, handed her a slip of paper with some basic instructions and then said to call them if anything changes. And then the hospice worker left.
At least that is my mother’s interpretation of the events.
Apparently he did not have a peaceful passing. My mother was alone with him, and she said he had a lot of pain and emotional torment at the end. She has been telling everyone that he died peacefully in his sleep. She told me this thinking I would understand since I was there alone with my wife when she died. I tried to reassure her that she shared this very private experience alone with her husband, and it was perfectly acceptable to keep that shared moment close to her heart and not feel obligated to share it with others, other than a counselor or shrink.
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Went to my company holiday party with B.D. on Saturday night. She is a great dinner party companion. Beautiful, engaged, smart and articulate….she can quietly impress with her strength and empowerment without being boastful. A true catch by anyone’s standards.
But it isn’t enough for me.
I am mostly drawn to her stability. She has a clear path and patient persistence towards her goals. She has a strong voice and carefully thought out opinions.
She also has a rigid and extremely quiet demeanor.
Yes, she is opening up, and yes, I finally heard her give a hearty laugh…. But is there a strong enough connection for me?
No. There just isn’t enough of a spark for me to be happy in the long term.
She is leaving for the holidays this week, and will return the first week of January She is drawing me closer into her life and while she has an extremely strong sense of self-preservation I don’t really want to be that guy that breaks things off right as she is stepping onto the plane to visit family. But maybe it would be better to talk now, so she can process while on a break from work and school?
I went to B.D.’s party last night. It was a bit overwhelming and definitely not the kind of crowd I normally move in. There were fancy haircuts, fancy shoes, and plenty of turned up noses. If I had to guess what most of the attendee’s favorite pastime was, I would guess “making more money”.
B.D. is comfortable in this crowd. I am not. I made the most of it, and tried to be engaging and talkative. Didn’t work out so much. I was pretty darn quiet. Especially when the first question on people’s lips is “what do you do?”.
Hrmm…. What do I do?
And of course my over-active mind didn’t hear the question of “What do you do so you can eat”, but rather, “What do you do to make you, you?”
Great question. Difficult answer.
What is it that I do, that makes me, me? Sure, I do yoga, hike, karaoke, hippie dance church…..but what else? What do I do to nurture my soul? I’ve done more gentle holding of my soul than nurturing the last 3 years. What do I do? I see a shrink every week. I used to see a hospice grief support group twice a month. I go to a young widows and widowers support dinner once a month.
Is that who I am? When my wife was alive, it never seemed to be a question that needed answered. I was Husband, Best Friend, Confidant, Lover. Part of a Team. There was no need to ask “what do you do?”
The question of “Who Am I Now?” is so very difficult for me to answer.
Christmas is coming, and I feel like running away.
I’ve boycotted Christmas for the last three years since my wife died. My in-laws were actually leaving the country the first 2 holiday seasons . Like many people, my wife loved the holidays and bringing family together. We would have all of the big holidays at our house. My wife was very happy on those days.
These days, I let the holidays slide by, or I create new traditions like the four-day no-family Thanksgiving extravaganza I attended.
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I’m meeting B.D. tonight after work at a dinner event for a friend of hers. Apparently this friend has rented an entire bar for the event. I’m not sure what I’m getting myself into, but it should be fun. I guess I better wear something a bit fancier than those 501’s with the knee holes, and the T-shirt from 1997 with the pizza stains.
