Two Years Ago

Two years ago today, my beloved daddy died. He died in his sleep, after "successfully" coming through a difficult surgery. It broke my heart. I still can't believe he is gone. When my brother called me that morning from the hospital, I knew. I knew why he was calling. And I became hysterical. Damon was in his room, it was 6:15 am and he was not yet up for school. He was probably frightened at my hysteria, not knowing the reason...thinking it was something with Lou. He didn't come into our room to find out what was wrong. Finally, Damon called his brother. And then Drew called me. It was awful, just awful. The entire thing was awful. Because Lou could not grasp it, could not remember it, from moment to moment, so I just couldn't talk about it. Because it would be the "first time" for Lou, every time it was mentioned. And Lou was very fond of my Dad. So we just didn't talk about it. I went home for one night, hurried back for Lou. No wonder I can't believe my Dad is gone, I never got the chance to mourn him. Over the months after he died, when Lou would ask about my dad, I would say he was fine. Because I know my dad IS fine. The few times I told Lou he was gone were just too difficult for him, and for me. It's also, today, five months since Lou passed away. Sounds like a good day to hide under the covers, not to mention that it is very cold. Good riddance, January!

Back To Shred

I haven't really been angry about all this since it began. I am not an angry person, in general. When Lou was diagnosed, I was petrified, but not angry. And, sad, certainly. Very sad. Then I sprung into action. And my attitude was that we had to play the hand we were dealt, and that we would play it as best we could. And, I think we did. I know we did. You get too wrapped up in getting through it to really be angry. Too wrapped up in trying to take care of your family, your household, and of course, your beloved. Where does anger get you, really? But, today, I got angry. Oh yeah, I was very angry the day I found those pills Lou was never able to take. So, I guess cleaning out is what gets me angry. Because today was designated cleaning day. Another new years resolution. I only made TWO. I am supposed to take one day a week to go through Lou's things, and everything else I ignored for two entire years. Lou left behind wayyyyyyy tooooooo many boxes of files, papers, receipts, records, photos, travel brochures, notes, and more. He was a pack rat! It will take me a year to get through it all. Each piece of paper needs to be reviewed. Identity theft and all that. The shredder is getting a real work out. So today, it all made me angry. Angry that I have to spend so darn much time at this. Angry that spending time on it makes me sad. Angry at the gazillions of details he took care of that created alot of stress for him, that I wish he had not had. Angry at how very hard he worked. Angry at the photos of all the great times we had. Angry that he had to suffer so. Angry to be shredding his life up. But I'm not angry at Lou. It's hard to get angry at someone who took copious notes of things to do on a trip, then put them in a daily itinerary for everyone. It's hard to get mad at someone who then made notes of every place we went, to remember for the NEXT trip, or to give to someone else. It's hard to get angry at the person who ran the condo board and personally answered all the notes, phone calls, and visits he got from his 700 constituents, and of course, kept copies of it all. It's hard to get angry at the man who saved all the little notes, pictures, and cards his sons gave him. Could never get angry at the son who wrote a ten page letter to the President of United Airlines when his dear elderly mother was mishandled on a cross country trip. Can't get angry at the man who made loans to friends in need. Can't get angry at the man who kept his golf scorecards. Get angry at the man who kept the Playbill from the first time we saw CATS in London in 1981? I think not. I'm just angry at everything ELSE.

Another First

It was a fairy tale wedding, Saturday night. Could not have been more beautiful. Such a well matched couple. Their futures so bright before them. Everyone so happy. The bride was exquisite. Her father, so proud. I am glad I have sons. I am glad the tradition is that the father walks the bride down the aisle. We won't have to worry about that at least. Lou won't be there. He won't be there to see his sons get married. That hurts, deeply. How proud he would be, whenever that time comes. This was the first wedding I've attended since Lou died. It was hard. Parts of it were very hard for me. The vows. "For better or worse, in sickness and in health..." Sigh. Those vows are real. I took them very seriously. And I am proud of that. We had the "better", we had "health", so we take what comes with it. That's what a vow is, isn't it. No matter what. I remember our day so clearly. How sure I was. How happy I was. How in love I was. How long ago that was. So long ago.... I made it through the ceremony with my kleenex and waterproof mascara. The dinner was so lovely. I was seated with dear friends, thank you. That helped so much. Then, on to dancing. You all know I love to dance. I sat on the sidelines with my friends. We had dessert. We drank champagne. We checked out all the pretty young girls and their party dresses. And then, quite late, a girlfriend wanted to dance. And her husband did not. And onto the dance floor we went. And then, pretty soon, there were several of us out there, dancing up a storm. Girlfriends. Laughing and having a good old time. We danced a few numbers. And then, we drifted off, each our own ways, it was time to go. I made it through the night. And it was not so bad. It was not so bad at all. It was different. It was not the same. And I missed Lou. But I made it through. And I'm glad I went. I made it through another first. The first of many, I know.

Back to bed, again

I'm back to my old habits I'm afraid. I started out the year so well, the trip and all, I thought maybe I had left my bad habits behind. But no. I am not strong enough. I'm not strong enough to get up and face the day. Oh I get up. But then I usually get back in bed, pull the covers over my head. I think my friends and office have had it with me as I usually show up late to everything because of this. I can't help it. This is the time, and place, that I feel closest to Lou. When he was sick, there came a time that I did not want to leave him alone in bed. So I stayed in bed with him until later in the morning, when we would get him up. And that was precious time. My favorite time with him. And I really miss it. So, now I dab Lou's cologne on his pillow, and I snuggle up with it. And I squeeze my eyes shut really really tight. And I can almost, ALMOST, feel him. Almost. So that is why I can't get up, and that is why I'm always late, and that is why the mornings are hard for me. I'm not doing a very good job keeping this new year's resolution. Maybe next year. Maybe.

UNLOCKED!

FINALLY! I CAN POST AGAIN!!! For some strange, bizarre, unexplainable reason, the Google robots deemed my blog as possible SPAM (imagine THAT), and hence, I have been locked out from posting for the last almost two weeks now. I came THIS CLOSE to sending a letter to the owners of Google,as I was totally unable to get ANY response AT ALL from ANYONE within the Blogger universe. And I tried EVERYTHING. The worst part about the whole thing is that the automated email from the spam robot said if they did not hear from me my blog would be DELETED within a few weeks. IMAGINE THAT! DELETED into the cyber after life, how appropriate. This had me up at night worrying, I kid you not. I think I'd better figure out how to save all this. In the meantime, the entry below entitled "A Red Dress" was written a week or so ago and saved. That much, they allowed me to do. And, in case you are wondering, I did buy a black dress. It will have to do, for now.

A Red Dress

I really like the color red. I particularly like WEARING red (note the profile pic). Red is a "feel good" color, and when I wear it, it is just about impossible not to feel good. Most women have to have a "little black dress" in their wardrobe. Not me. Never me. I've always had to have a little RED dress in my wardrobe. Black doesn't make me feel good. I wore navy to Lou's memorial. A dress I am sure I will never wear again. Anyway, over the years, I have had some great red dresses. Lou always loved me in red too. He hated it when I wore what he called "drabby" colors, the beige/taupe stuff. He liked me in deeper, vibrant colors. He was right, as he usually was. Anyway, I am on a mission to find a new dress to wear to a black tie wedding. A dear friend's son is getting married next weekend. I wasn't planning on going, these types of things are too difficult. But lots of our friends will be there, and I know it is going to be so lovely. Hopefully I can handle it. But back to the dress. It's been over two years, certainly, since I've been to anything fancy. And in those two years, I've somehow managed to "outgrow" most everything in my closet (it's something that automatically happens to caregivers it seems). I went shopping with my mom a few days ago while she was here. My 82 year old mom is a serial shopper. I used to be, but that is another thing that changed with caregiving, and it's for the better anyway. So we only made it to one store. Lucky for us, this particular store had alot of fancy dresses in stock, and many on sale. My mom is a serial sale shopper. I like a bargain too. I automatically gravitated to the red dresses. There were quite a few nice ones. A few chocolate browns, and one ok green one that Lou would have thought was drabby. For some strange reason, several of the dresses actually FIT me. The best one was red of course (and not on sale, natch). A lovely red dress, the kind that would make Lou's eyes twinkle, a red dress for dancing, for drinking champagne, for flirting, and for feeling good in. I got carried away. For a few moments, I guess I forgot that I am a widow, that I am going to this event alone, and that I probably won't be dancing at all. I was shopping for my old life. I was thinking how Lou would like the dress. I was thinking how he would light up when he saw it. I was thinking of how he would twirl me on the dance floor. My mom thought I should buy it. I didn't. "Lou would want you to have it", she said. She's right. In my old life, Lou would want me to have that dress. But not now. It wasn't right for now. Maybe someday, in a new life, a long long time from now. I can't imagine that life, but I hope it includes red dresses. By then, it won't fit. So, no red dress. Not now. Not THAT red dress for sure. Not the skinny straps, etc. My mom has gone back to Michigan. It's back to the drawing board. I hate shopping. I can see why everyone wears black, it's alot easier. Maybe I'll try it.

Out of Africa

I'm back. I've been back one week. But now I realize, I'm back, in more ways then one. I'm back, physically, from the trip. The trip of a lifetime. But I think I am back emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Maybe. I just may be. I think I am back, from the fog, haze, and quicksand better known as...post traumatic stress maybe ? I'm a bit more clear headed it seems. More present, in this world. Wow. How did I get here? I guess I went away, to get back to here. To get back to the land of the living. Maybe, just maybe. We went to Africa. We spent Christmas, my birthday, and New Years, in Africa. On safari, in Kenya, and on the beach, in the Seychelles. Saw God's beauty at every turn. Chasing lions and rhinos. Gazing at giraffes in the early morning. Falling asleep to the sounds of animals rumbling under the stars. Waking with the birds. Smiling faces, everywhere. People with so little have the biggest hearts. Washed by the waves of the Indian ocean, over and over. Surrounded by the perfume of gorgeous tropical flowers. No cell phones. No email. Sleep. Deep, uninterrupted, sleep. Fresh air. Blue skies. Sunsets. Rain, lots of it, but warm rain. The kind that makes everything smell good. Fresh fruit. Seafood caught that morning. My sons, tan and strong. Cigars on the deck in the ocean breeze. There were tears. Yes, there were. How could I be somewhere so beautiful without my Lou? It didn't seem right. But he was with us. I saw him in the stars. He was there. He IS there. Always. I see his eyes twinkle in the stars. I hear his voice, pushing me on. Lou made us all better people. He still does. We just have to listen. We have to push on. We are. We will. I want him to be proud of us. I want him to know that we are back. That I am back. That I will not get lost in the aftermath of this beast. I will not. I will move forward and do him proud. It's good to be back.