Well, That Explains It

Excerpts from an article of interest in the Chicago Tribune, as if this is front page news, but it was: Scientists measure 5 stages of grief Most people's anguish eases after six months; others might need treatment, study finds By Ronald Kotulak Tribune science reporter Published February 21, 2007 When a loved one dies, people go through five stages of grieving, according to accepted wisdom: disbelief, yearning, anger, depression and acceptance. Now the first large-scale study to examine the five stages suggests that they are accurate, and that if a person has not moved through the negative stages in six months, he or she may need professional help dealing with the bereavement The study, published in Wednesday's issue of the Journal of the American Medical Association, also found that, contrary to common belief, yearning or missing a loved one is a far more dominant emotion than depression--meaning mental health experts who treat the grief-stricken may need to refocus attention on feelings of loss. "It's important both for clinicians and the average layperson to understand that yearning and not sadness is what bereavement is really all about," said study author Holly Prigerson, associate professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and director of the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute's Center for Psycho-Oncology and Palliative Care Research. "It's about yearning, pining, longing and being angry and protesting that you can't have this person back," Prigerson said. Not everyone follows the exact same pattern of grieving, she said, but most do. SO glad to hear I am normal.

It's Just A Car

Or is it? I think not. I think it is NOT "just a car". It's a part of the family. For all the times I felt it was NOT the car that was "right" for me, because it was really LOU'S car, I now find that parting with it is like putting a family pet to sleep. A little background. When I met Lou, he had a little two seater, convertible sports car. He loved that car. I came to learn that he always had nice cars. Nice, as in foreign, cars. I grew up in Detroit. My dad worked for General Motors. There were NO foreign cars in OUR family. There were hardly any foreign cars in Detroit for that matter. I know nothing about cars. They are not all that high on my priority list. I did like the sports car, of course. We drove it for two years until Drew was born. We actually put his car seat in the small space in the back for awhile, not a good idea. Then we graduated to the sedan. And that was our car, for 23 years. That is still our car. That's why Lou bought nice cars I guess, we're still driving it 23 years later. Only now, it's time for it to go. It's been time for it to go for awhile. We didn't want to get a new one while Lou was sick. He would never have been able to understand that. It's time now. I took it in to the shop for something minor, I thought, and they wanted $2,500 out of me. No way. Just spent I forgot how much on it a few months ago. We did the bare minimum to get by for a month or so. It's time to go car shopping. Only now I don't want to. Suddenly, I can't bear the thought of parting with what I always felt was the car that was too big and too sedate. Safe. It was always safe though. Lou cared alot about that. Lou kept it in tip top shape, always. No wonder it lasted 23 years. Now it has rust on it. Just a tiny bit. He wouldn't be happy about that, at all. Now I feel badly that I didn't take care of the rust. Now I feel badly that I ever complained about it, how big it was (well, I'm a horrible parallel parker which is a necessity in the city and difficult with a large sedan). When I left the repair place, I was crying. It all came back to me. So many trips down to his family home in that car to visit his mom. So many trips to visit my folks. Carseats. Carpooling the kids. Driving out to the country club. Lou with a cigar and the sunroof open. The HUGE car phone we had, probably the first one ever made! Taking Drew to college. And, driving Lou while he was sick. He never understood that he could no longer drive. He loved that car. And now, it's time for it to go. It's just a car, darn it. I could care less about cars. It's A THING. But it's not. It's not at all. It's another piece of Lou that we are losing. THAT'S what it is. And THAT'S why it hurts.

All's Fair In Love And War ?

As I was saying, it's been a busy weekend. I saw THREE movies! Movies are good. They require very little from you. I like that. And, it's dark. You can go without makeup and your hair in a mess. And, you can have popcorn for dinner. Perfect. Tonight I saw "Letters From Iwo Jima", with Damon. It's intense. It's beautiful. It's excellent. It's Lou. It's a Lou film. Pretty much the first words out of our mouths...."Dad would have loved this film". Yep, he would have. Lou loved all things historical, all things having to do with WWII in particular, all things having to do with fighting the good fight, all things patriotic, brave, and true. The movie is from the Japanese perspective, which makes it quite different then anything I've seen before. Still a Lou film. He would have liked the honor and the courage of these Japanese soldiers. He would have had tears in his eyes as he often did when watching that type of film. He shared those feelings with his sons. I'm so glad he did. Those "boys" had many years of watching great war films with their Dad. Zulu, his favorite. Band of Brothers. Gettysburg. Patton. Battle of Britain. Something about the Greeks and the Turks. All sorts of old ones I don't know the names of. I wouldn't have done those things with my boys. I couldn't have done those things. So, tonight, I am grateful that they had their Dad long enough to watch many movies with him. To hear his thoughts. To visit Arlington with him. To talk to a Korean Vet at the memorial in DC, with him. To learn about valor, from him. To learn about what is really right, from him. That's important. Did we wish Lou were sitting right with us tonight? You betcha. We'll always feel that way watching movies like this. But, Damon appreciated this movie because of Lou. Because of all that Lou taught him. It's embedded in him, in both of our sons. I'm so grateful for that. For the imprint Lou made on these guys. And is still making on them.

Busy Is Good

I've been a busy girl this weekend. I've come to the conclusion, busy is good. Busy is better, for me. Of course, I CAN'T be busy doing the things I SHOULD be doing. I PREFER to be busy with things like going to the movies, playing with my darling great nieces, talking on the phone, staying up til all hours reading, listening to favorite music (loudly), talking to my brain tumor buddies online, going away, etc. In other words, busy IGNORING what faces me each day. Too busy to see all the things that still need to get done. The Lou things. All the Lou things that surround me. It's almost six months now. His closet and drawers are still filled with all his things. Some people get right at all this stuff. Not me. I prefer to ignore it. Thinking that somehow, it will go away, I guess. It's so hard to deal with it. To face it. It's so much easier to ignore it. Or maybe ignoring it makes me think it didn't really happen. Someday, I'll realize that it is not going to go away. Someday, I will realize this is my life, now. Until then, I think I'll just be busy. Busy acting like I am living. Busy trying to find my way. Busy being lost. IS busy good? I wonder, now that I put it that way. I wonder. What IS good.......10,000+ hits here, now THAT is GOOD! I just noticed that today. THANK YOU, everyone, for checking in. For sticking with me. For your support and encouragement. For being out there. Thank you. Happy Sunday.

Another First

I have just returned from my first out of town business trip in over two years. I have not traveled for business in quite some time. I am grossly out of practice. I used to do this alot. Many years ago, the kids were younger then. From that standpoint, it was hard. I loved the work but the being away was hard, no doubt about it. But you get into a routine, and you just do it. I'm out of the routine. And, the routine has changed. No more pulling up to the airport a half hour before take off. I was wide awake at 3 am worried I'd be late for a 9:30 flight. And it's such a drag to practically undress in front of everyone waiting in the security line at 6 am . Then you have to empty the contents of everything you are carrying. Horrors, I forgot we are not allowed nail files and they took my teensy tinsy toothpaste tube, evidently it was not teeny enough. I'd be a horrible road warrior nowadays. At any rate, the trip was to New York. It is a trip that Lou used to make , regularly, over the course of many many years. I stayed in the hotel he always stayed in. We have stayed in it too. I didn't give it a second thought when it was booked. It was where our group was staying, where the group always stays for this particular business occasion. It had been many years since I was there in that hotel with Lou, I didn't usually go on this trip with him. But walking into the lobby brought it all back, and more. How many times had Lou checked into that hotel over the course of the twenty years he'd made that trip? Everyone who works there knows him. It was hard being there, really hard. I wondered if I was in a room he had been in. I thought about the last trip he had made there, what was it like, how was he feeling, because Lou had not felt well for quite awhile before he was diagnosed. Those trips were hard on him, but he always, always, forged on. I felt like I shouldn't be there. I felt like he should have been there, not me. Or, we should have been there, together. But not me, on my own. That was tough. It was strange. Just like this life is now....tough, and strange. The trip back was very very long thanks to the weather. We returned to Chicago via Dallas, last flight into O'Hare. I had alot of time to think about it. And I realized that so many of these "firsts ' can obviously be viewed two ways. The sad way, of course, which is the automatic reaction. Staying in the hotel Lou always stayed in made me sad, no doubt about it. On the other hand, there was a comfort in it. He was with me, he was. He was telling me that I could do it. He's trying to help me. He always was so supportive of my career. He always felt it was important. He's nudging me to carry on. I'm trying Lou, I really am. It's just hard, and it isn't all that much fun, on my own. But I AM trying.

Venting Today

I'm doing everything I am "supposed" to be doing to help myself get through this. I have lots of wonderful friends and family. I have work to do. I have causes to help. I have books to read and places to go. I KNOW what to do, or what they "say" to do, to get through this. I AM doing it. But it isn't working. It isn't working at all. It LOOKS like it is working, to everyone else. But it isn't. It isn't at all. The fact is, it's empty. And lonely. And seems without purpose. I need another message from Lou. Maybe that will help.

The Rest Of The Story

It's still arctic here. It got better for a few minutes yesterday when it snowed, but it's back to Siberia again. Which takes me back to the story...yesterday's story about the fur coat. There is more to the story. As I was saying in yesterday's post, Lou gave me a gorgeous fur coat for Christmas, 2004. Only I had to actually buy it myself, since he was unable to. Now then, back to the story. The coat was on sale, but I was, of course, still concerned about the expenditure. The salesman (the older greek guy), asked me about my old coat, whether or not I wanted to trade it in for a credit on the new coat. I told him the old coat meant an awful lot to me since Lou gave it to me the year our first son was born. I really wanted to keep it, or perhaps have it made into something else, a jacket maybe. He told me to bring it in so he could have a look at it. When I brought it in, he said it was much too old to do anything with it, that it would just fall apart, and I'd be better off trading it in, which is what I did. I think they gave me $900 for it or something, which went towards the new coat. Fast forward to September, 2006, almost two years later. About a week after Lou's memorial I got a phone call from the manager of the fur salon at Marshall Field's, (Macy's now). She said she was calling because they had a fur coat of mine in storage that I needed to pick up. I told her I did not have a fur coat in storage, my coat was in the closet at home, taking my coat to storage in the midst of what WE were dealing with last summer was the furthest thing from my mind! She insisted she had a coat of mine. She went on to say that it had been in storage for two years! Then it clicked in. She was calling about my OLD coat. The one I THOUGHT had been traded in. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened. The coat was NOT traded in, it was put in storage for two years! It mysteriously resurfaced the week after Lou's memorial, isn't that weird? I wonder now if the greek salesman actually did that on purpose, who knows? Having it turn up like that, right after Lou's memorial is like a message of some sort. I told the manager that I really wanted to have the coat restyled, but that the salesman from two years ago had discouraged me, saying it was too old. She said the coat was in great shape and that it would be no problem to have it restyled. So I did. I had it made into a shorter coat with a hood, it's very cute (and warm). So this winter, the first winter without Lou, the arctic winter, I have TWO fur coats from my love to keep me warm. If I can't have him, I guess two fur coats will have to do. Small solace.

BBBRRRRR.....FURRRRRRRRR

This was the fifth day of sub zero weather here. When the temperature is sub zero in Chicago, the windchill is then usually double digits below zero. That is ARCTIC. People walk all wrapped up like mummies and nobody talks to each other. Your eyes freeze shut, not to mention what happens to drippy noses. It's like a science fiction movie about the end of the world. I hate it. I much prefer snow. I'll take tons and tons of snow, anytime, over this. But I can't complain. "I've got my love to keep me warm", wasn't that a song? I digress. Christmas of 2004. Two months after Lou's diagnosis. He was still somewhat able to Christmas shop that year. Not on his own! He was never able to do ANYTHING on his own after October 6, 2004. We were walking through Marshall Field's (THE Marshall Fields, NOT Macy's), and they were having a sale on furs. They were on display on the mezzanine level, right in the middle, there was no avoiding them. You had to walk THROUGH the furs to get THROUGH the store. The sale was fantastic. Really good deals. Lou wanted to stop. He wanted me to try on a fur coat. He wanted to buy me one for Christmas. I protested, as I often did whenever he suggested something so extravagant (something about being raised Catholic ?). Afterall, he already GAVE me a fur coat. At the time, it was 21 years old, he gave it to me the year Drew was born. I thought it was just fine. It took me awhile to get used to wearing one, and I didn't wear it all that often. It had to be arctic for me to wear it. So it really wasn't worn out. But Lou was insistent. He wanted me to have a NEW fur coat. Then the salesman joined in. That did it, he was greek. A charming older greek gentleman who was working there for only a month, then returning to Greece. There was no getting around it, Lou was going to get his way and buy me a fur. They were in cahoots, the two greeks. I tried on a beautiful coat that made me feel like Cinderella. Lou told the salesman he would be back to buy it. At that time, you would not necessarily know anything was wrong with Lou unless you knew him, or were really paying attention. So I suppose the salesman thought Lou WOULD be back. I knew different. I figured the whole incident would soon be forgotten, and my old coat would suffice for another twenty years. As it grew closer to Christmas, Lou repeatedly asked me if I needed a new fur coat, if I wanted a new fur coat, and told me he was going to buy me a new fur coat. He was fixated on it. I knew if Christmas came and there was no coat, he would be very upset. I decided I would have to buy the coat myself and pretend that Lou had bought it. It was the only thing to do. I went to visit the salesman. I explained the situation. I really was not all that keen on making such a large expenditure. I could have told Lou we bought it and he would not have remembered most likely. The salesman had me put the coat back on. He told me my husband wanted me to have it. He was right of course. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I knew he was right. So I bought it. Over the next week or so before Christmas, I repeatedly told Lou that we had gone shopping and that he had taken care of my gift. Finally, on Christmas Eve, I "opened" the coat. It was a very cold Christmas Eve, so the coat was worn to church and out to our traditional Christmas Eve dinner. It is a magnificent coat. I haven't worn it all that much the last two winters. Global warming and all, there hasn't been a big need for it. But this year is different. This year, it's arctic. This year, the first winter without Lou, I need this coat. Everytime I put it on, it is like wrapping myself in a big hug from Lou. It glistens in the sunlight and makes me glow from the inside. It was the last big "boffo" (as Lou would say) gift that he gave me. I will treasure it always. With a little luck, it should last another twenty years. Did he know? Did he know I would need a coat like that to keep me warm because he wouldn't be here? I wonder about that, I do. And again I say, thank you, my love. Thank you for everything you did for me, and for everything you are still doing for me.

An Early Valentine

I'm sort of a nut about valentine's day. Maybe it has to do with loving the color red. Or maybe it's remembering carrying home a shoebox full of valentines in grade school, hurrying home in the cold, crisp Michigan weather, to open them up, one by one. I love homemade valentines of course. I love valentine treats. I love giving valentines. It's just a fun holiday. Nothing heavy. Even though without your beloved it is a bit sad, it can still be fun. So today, I put my valentines books out. It's February afterall. Just silly Peanuts and Snoopy books and a few others from when the kids were young. And inside one of them was a note that must have been sent with flowers, from Lou. Must have been from a Valentines Day past. A simple note that made me catch my breath. "Love you always and forever". An early valentine, from Lou. It made me happy, actually. Like he had just sent it from heaven. I'll have to open it again on Valentine's day and try to surprise myself. That's the hard part.