Bon Voyage

We embark to far away lands today. To a different part of the world. Far away from Christmas lights, bustling streets and crowds of shoppers. My sons, and I. Away, for two whole weeks! A different Christmas, as they will always be now. We will learn how to "do" Christmas again. But not this year. This year, we escape. This year, we close ranks. Lick our wounds. Wishing you peace this holiday season, and love. Especially love. It's the greatest gift of all. See you in 2007.

Christmas Past

Watching the original Christmas Carol was a tradition of Lou's. The old, grainy, black and white original. He liked to watch it on Christmas Eve, sometimes it would be 3 am Christmas morning. Sometimes, he'd watch it earlier in the month, but usually, close to Christmas. He adored it. He usually shed a few tears. I always wondered what made him such a fanatic about Christmas? Maybe it was the way his immigrant Dad had to work so hard. Lou was driven about Christmas, in a good way, but I often worried he'd get a heart attack rushing around the way he did, and it was ALWAYS at the last minute of course. There was the year he talked Neiman Marcus into letting him buy the Brio train set that was part of the window display. It was not for sale. It was a huge set already assembled on a baseboard. They told him it was not for sale, but he persisted. They let him come back and buy it on Christmas Eve. He walked home carrying this huge thing. Another year, he bought this practically lifesize stuffed rocking bear from FAO Schwarz, and walked home carrying THAT. He surprised me with a gorgeous fur coat the year Drew was born. I did not want a fur. I thought it was much too extravagant. Of course, I grew to love wearing it here in the Windy City. I still have it, 23 years later. Lou was right. And there were other surprises over the years that I usually felt were "over the top" . Now I look back at all of it and realize how special he really made everything. How hard he worked, how generous he was, how much he loved doing it, all. I'd get angry that he was overdoing it, running himself ragged. But he loved it and wouldn't have it any other way. How lucky we were. Not for the material things, though certainly, they were nice, but for the love and devotion that came with them. The last two Christmases, I had to run around and make sure there was a big stack of presents under the tree. I shopped for myself, and wrapped them from Lou. I wasn't quite as extravagant. Lou thought he did it all. He was happy. But it was sad. Last year was the saddest Christmas ever. Because we knew. We did. And it was awful. It was awful because when it was over, Lou said "did we have Christmas?". And he asked it many times over the next several days. It broke my heart to hear him ask that. The confused look in his eyes. I'd show him the packages still under the tree and tell him, yes, we had Christmas, and it was great. This year, we're skipping Christmas. No tree, no music here. A few decorations. We're packing up and going far away. Far away from Christmas Past. I hope it works.

Progress ?

Very busy day today. Busy is good. Many days, I can't seem to get anything accomplished. Not today though. Today I actually got through the to do list. That's major these days. The queen of multi tasking has been missing in action since Lou died. It's like I just closed up shop. It's amazing to me how much I can actually ignore. Maybe there's a lesson in that, too. Life is going on, we are muddling through even though I have been sleep walking most of the time. Not good. But today was different. I actually got up and stayed up. This is also major. So, I was feeling pretty good about it all, pretty good that I got some things crossed off the list. Pretty good that I made it everywhere I was supposed to be without being drastically late. Wow, what an improvement. I was trying to figure out why today was different. Maybe it was the sunshine, even though it was practically sub zero. Maybe it was the time I got to spend with my mom, who left today. Maybe it's my new vitamins. Whatever, I was pretty pleased with myself. But inevitably, it hit me. It was the darkness I think. And knowing it was friday, and no one to go home to. Teenagers go out after all. Suddenly, the good feeling was gone. The pit in my stomach returned. It's nice to know I did feel better for awhile today. That's progress. Someday, I'll feel better for a whole day. Maybe.

Cleaning House

I haven't cleaned out any of Lou's things yet. I like having his closet full of his clothes. It makes me feel less alone in our room. It's less empty. Sometimes, I just look at all his clothes, touch the sleeves of his suits, and bury my head in the shirts that still smell of his cologne. Eventually, I'll probably find homes for some of his clothes. But some will probably stay there, in the closet. Keeping me company. I haven't really gotten rid of much, yet. I did get rid of a file box hiding in our room that had bank statements in it from 1988, no attachment to those. The medications...that's another one. I still have all of Lou's pills lined up in the cabinet where we kept them. And there are alot of pills. Don't ask me why we still have them, I don't know why. I could use the shelf space. Everyone knows I am not a neat nik. So the fact that I have not yet gotten rid of anything of Lou's probably doesn't surprise anyone. The thing is, LOU was the pack rat in our household! Hence the bank statements from 1988. Now I'M the designated pack rat it seems. Well, today I did get rid of something of Lou's. I stumbled upon a Walgreens bag in the pantry that I thought was empty. It wasn't. It contained three of Lou's medications, dated August 24, 2006. Seven days before Lou died. The medications were liquid and dissolveable forms of a few of his pills. At that point, we were having problems getting his pills down. I was desperate to keep him taking some of his medications, thinking, somehow, he'd feel better, start eating and drinking more, and ultimately, get better to a certain degree. When you are deep in the dark waters of impending death, you don't realize it. You think things like, well, this is just a bad day. Or, if only he would eat, he'd be doing better. Or what about a certain piece of music, wouldn't that perk him up? Inevitably, at that point, August 24, none of the usual tricks worked. Those medications were never opened. Never used. We weren't even able to get the liquid meds in him. I emptied them down the sink, and threw out the dissolveable pills. Throwing those out felt good. Because I was mad, mad that he was never able to take them. Mad that they were dated August 24. Mad that August 31 was just around the corner. Maybe I should give this house cleaning thing a try after all. But not the closet. Not the closet, for a long time.

The Best Gifts

Two years ago, we were almost done with 6 weeks of radiation and chemotherapy at this time. Lou walked into his doctors offices in the middle of December, when the treatment was finished, and they were amazed at how good he looked. His tumor had shrunk 50% in size from the treatment. It was one of the best Christmas presents ever. We didn't know at that point that the damage the tumor had done was irreparable. We celebrated mightily, thinking we might beat this thing somehow. The other best Christmas present ever, besides the year Lou gave me my engagement ring, was the year Lou survived an 8 hour emergency surgery on December 18, twelve years ago, for an aortic aneurisym. He was still in the hospital for Christmas, but he was out of intensive care. It was a very sad Christmas for us, yet God gave us the most magnificent gift in allowing Lou to survive that catastrophic event. Those were the best Christmas gifts. The gifts that didn't come wrapped in boxes. For all that Lou loved to give, all the gifts he bestowed on us....the very best were those. His gift of fighting for us, of not giving up. I think about that alot. He was so amazingly strong, for us. Thank you dear Lou, thank you.