New waves

 Grief is funny in a way.

It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I am standing in the living room getting ready to go outside to do chores and admire last night's snowfall~~~

The house is silent. I am silent. I'm waiting and I'm not sure why.

I feel like sitting couch and pulling a blanket over my head. If I do, perhaps I can blot out the day for a while.

There is a pain that travels through me and it takes me a moment or two to discover that it is my grief catching up to me. I don't want to cry, because I may not stop. It's cold outside and the mules need feeding.

I'm literally stuck and cannot move. Do I cry and get my face wet then go out in the frigid air and freeze my cheeks? No. Just suck it up and take a breath.

Then go out and feed the animals and carry warm water to our little pony.

For some reason the frigid air and winds blow away the grief as my mind is on what I am doing and not what I had been thinking -- or not thinking.

I finish with the girls and then open the porch door and ask Charlie if he wants to go for a walk. Of course he does. We wander the neighbor's beat up forest and meander our way towards the road on the ridge. There is mail to be collected. 

By the time we get back to the house, the grief has gone. Well, that is

until I get back inside a very quiet house with no one to greet me.

I sigh and then decide to start another project. Something that will take all of my concentration. The waves will return when I least expect it.

That is okay, it is the way it is supposed to be.

I find that if I keep music playing in the house, it doesn't feel so empty. 

It must be destiny

This summer I got a text from my good neighbor Olive. It simply said, "I'm having a really bad day, I could use a friend."

The home health aide was with Rich giving him a bath so I asked if I could run up to her house and find out what was the trouble. Olive never sends cryptic messages like that.

I did go there and found out that her husband had just been diagnosed with a rare cancer and surgery was going to happen in 5 days. She was distraught, her husband was not. 

The surgery was called a success and I helped out in their garden when I had respite visiting us. It was for emotional support and I helped keep the littles busy while Olive worked [from home].  When they were too tired, I picked their veggies and strawberries and as a reward, got to keep what I picked.

I'd have done it either way.

When Rich died, they had me over a few times to ease the quietness of our house and I got to enjoy the chaos of little ones climbing furniture and jumping off couches. The squeals and peels of laughter and cries of hurt or imagined hurt filled my heart with joy. We laughed about kids and life. Aiden, who is 4 offered to come and live with me for a bit so I wouldn't be lonely.

I got another message today while returning from a nice long hike with Charlie at Wildcat Mountain State Park. 

I rushed out the door after dropping Charlie off and walked the 1/2 mile to their house. 

That awful C word had re-entered their lives with the latest follow up scan. Another one is planned for later this week to see if IT is in the lungs. Then in a few days there will be a follow up plan.

Olive said she needed to be able to fall apart and be a Hot Mess for a bit. I took her in my arms and told her to let it go. She did and she shook and sobbed for her heart, for her husband, for her children, for the unknown, and for herself.

She talked about what might happen and choices they didn't know they'd have to make.

I said that I think I understood a little of what she was feeling. 

"When Nate told you," I said, "did if feel as if all the blood drained out of your body and fell into a pile on the floor with all of your guts? Did you want to puke, scream, and faint at the same time? Did it feel like a gut punch and you knew you were just going to melt into a puddle on the floor...BUT couldn't?"

"Almost exactly like that." We spent more time holding each other.

I walked outside and stopped to talk to Nate. He was working on a project. He told me that he would have choices once the lung scan had been done on Friday. 

It was possible he'd have to do targeted radiation. It was possible that he'd have to targeted radiation AND chemo. 

He looked at the ground and said radiation is a course of something like 6 weeks in LaCrosse which is an hour away. 5 days a week. Chemo had its own crazy schedule.

I told him that I could help. I would commit to being the transport if they wanted it. Olive works a full time job as he does. I know how hard it is to work and transport for treatments daily. The grind is hard. But I've done it. 

I also offered to take Aiden to school if needed or pick him up. I could be a babysitter for the times they needed to go to appointments without kids.

Olive's mom would have been in my place except she is still recovering from her medical monster of having a cancerous tumor in her leg. 

I told Nate, that I knew the routine. I'd drive him there and back and would not question him during treatment. I told Nate that I'd be his driver and he could rest on the way there and back. I would be happy to be the silent partner.

I told Olive that it would be good for me to feel needed and actually be able to be helpful. 

She argued that they would have to 'pay' me at least for gas. I said all of that was negotiable. For a chosen family that is not genetic, there is no price for the ability to assist.

[Especially in an area I'd been through before. Yes, I know, each person, each cancer is different. But a good support crew is what really matters. I'm all in on that.]

I was going to enroll in a volunteer Hospice program this winter, but it looks like I can be of a more immediate help to a young family.

I don't want to have another C story. Really, I don't. But this is another path that has chosen me. I will follow it with my heart.

Just like the vine I saw today while hiking with Charlie.

The Heart knows when it is needed.

What about now? An afterwards.

One month later.

I still haven't gotten to the Thank You cards. They are sitting there with all the cards written on as to who was there and if there was $$ in the card. I checked the sign in book from the Funeral Home and those who visited didn't always leave an address.

There are so many other things to deal with, that I kept putting this job off.

The paperwork surrounding the death of my husband feels endless. I think I am almost done with all of it and I only have to deal now with Social Security. The guy I talked to at the local office sounded overworked and underappreciated. He kept telling me just to go online and do it. It almost sounded as if he wished I hadn't called and asked for his assistance. I imagine if I had an IT person handy, I would have gone online and done the work.

I don't. It was such a huge mess when I applied for SS, that I am hesitant to even try doing this thing online. I figured I'd have to drive to the office in person and present the paperwork, but the SS dude said we could do it with a phone call appointment and set it up for the end of October. This, after he told me that he needed a hard copy of our wedding certificate. 

That does make sense of course, but in my head I visualized me trying to hand the paperwork to him through the telephone.

Then there are the practical things I forgot about.

Every fall Rich and I would set up our LP heater and make sure it was working properly. As the weather cooled this week, I realized that I never really got an understanding of how the cabin wall heater worked. It has a pilot light somewhere in there and we usually took the covers off so I could clean the fan and the vents.

I took one cover off and carefully cleaned things up. Then I realized that I needed a second person to do the rest of it. I called the company that had fixed this heater two years ago and asked to have the service guy come out and make sure the heater was working properly before turning it on.

To me the wall furnace is a motor - thing. I don't do motor things. 

I'm still going through things. I opened the drawer where Rich kept his 'keepsakes' and discovered all of his things from his army days. I found rings from his days when he was a pool hustler and other bits that surprised me. I wished I'd dug into those items years ago and asked him about them.

In the back of the closet in a black zip bag was two of his dress uniforms. I knew they were there, but he always told me just to leave them alone. I laid them on the spare bed and wondered what all the 'stuff' on the uniforms meant. And then I wondered what the heck I was going to do with them.

I put them back in the bacg and hung them up.

I am slowly sorting clothes. My grandson Dennis has gotten a few of Rich's vintage western shirts that I still had. I often stop and give up to go do something else as it is slightly overwhelming to know that he is not here to use them again.

I've gathered a box of new and gently used pants he had to take to a place called Bethal Buttik. It is a thrift shop and donation place for those who may be in need. So many of his clothes were old and well-worn. His work shirts have holes in them from welding and grease stains from working on equipment. 

I was always patching his shirts or pants until they literally fall apart. That was his motto wear it all the way out. It sure did save on buying new clothes. 

I still get the texts or messages. "How are you doing?"

I am fine most days. The days I'm stuck inside the house are the hardest ones. The house is too quiet. No one is asking for popcorn to be made or what's for supper? No one is tapping his coffee cup on the table with a grin on his face...to ask for more coffee.

He's not here to remind me to feed the birds. He's not here to give me his morning monologue of which birds have come to the feeder. He is not here to ask how my walk was and what I got to see.

Even in his last weeks, I would tell him what I saw and what I thought. He was my sounding board even when he couldn't be.

I have stayed busy. I'd spent days helping friends at a wedding. This past weekend I went with another friend to see her daughter dressed up for Homecoming and enjoyed sitting out on her deck chatting.

Yesterday I took a hike with Charlie. I've been hiking this trail for years. They say grief comes in waves and in strange ways. 

Charlie and I came up through the woods and saw this tree. 

I saw the fungi all over the tree and the bare branches. This tree is a maple and should have still had its leaves. It was barren, with so many of its limbs now on the ground.

This tree was shown to me in 1995 as the grand old tree by Rich on a very special ride we had taken. It was the first of many mule rides with him.

I've always stopped by this tree to recall that first ride on a mule with my future husband. When I reached the tree with Charlie, a huge wave of emotion hit me like a proverbial brick. I sat down on the limb next to the tree and was overcome.

I wanted so much for him to be home when I got there so I could tell him of the tree's final demise. 2025 got to our tree too.

I sometimes wonder if what I am going through will help anyone else. Grief and loss are funny and odd things. It can smack you at the oddest times and places without warning.

I wish there was a guide to take me through this. I know that a true guide doesn't exist. I just have to continue to go with the flow.

It doesn't quite end until...

 ...the Fat Lady Sings.

No pictures. 

But we had the not-funeral funeral-celebration of Life.

It was comforting and really quite nice. One of Rich's hunting buddies from 25 years ago came up to me and held my hand as he re-introduced himself. 

I recalled him and the hunting dog he sold Rich that ended up being my dog. Tom. Tom was the name of the hound. 

Gary held my hand and we relived our hunting days and how much we enjoyed being out at night and listening to the hounds sing their treeing songs. If you ever saw the movie Where the Red Fern Grows, that was us. Hunting and loving our hounds.

The photos that went across the big screen kept a lot of folks entranced. I took so many photos of Rich over the years, what can I say, he was a great model.

Surprising that friends from Missouri came with their kids. I nearly lost it then. A girlfriend that I'd befriended in 6th grade came too. That blew my mind too. I felt the love and friendship with Rich's pals and my friends that came. It was comforting and just what I needed. 

I knew he meant something to a lot of people even if he never thought he did.

Steve, our good pal was there too. He and Dennis [my grandson via my stepdaughter] went off to talk fishing. Steve invited Dennis to go fishing with him next weekend on a special float on the Mississippi. I'm tickled as Rich always wanted to mentor Dennis in the ways of fishing and hunting. Now Steve, who is still reeling from Rich's death has found a way to pass on his knowledge to yet another generation.

How lucky can a grandma get? Dennis will come next Friday evening and then spend time with Steve learning and fishing.

After the cemetery, Ariel and Dennis came to the farm to spend time with me. They didn't travel with their parents so thought they'd come and just hang out  with me. They helped me move some old stuff out of the house and then asked if they could take me to supper. Their treat!

How on earth did I get this lucky to have grandkids that are so thoughtful?

My life going forward, will be held up to events like these and I'll realize that yes, Rich and I had something special and we passed it on to our grands [I hope].

I'll take it, one day at a time and keep recalling all of the joy my husband has given me.

One last note on family. Rich has a daughter and a very self centered sister. One of the relatives who happens to like me very much as I used to take her out to lunch once a month came up and whispered in my ear as she hugged me.

"Watch your back. If they don't get what they want they said there will be War."

Her eyes slid over to my stepdaughter and her husband as she stepped back. 

And dearly beloved, I have no idea what that is supposed to even mean.

The story of Rich's time may have passed but it seems another story will unfold.

Hopefully, those that said that were blowing off steam or have no idea how the laws work for married couples. [Especially married couples who went to attorneys to make sure everything was in place in our estate.] One of the very reasons these days in a blended family to make future plans and write up a rock solid Estate Plan.

War, indeed. Bring it on. Apparently the step thinks I'm sitting on her husband's retirement goldmine and it should be theirs. 

The End.

September 11

He kept on going and giving the nurses fits and starts. They thought he should have been 'gone' last week, but since he has always been known as a tough ol' buzzard...he kept on keeping on.

What I mean is. He kept 'hanging' in there when they didn't think it was humanly possible.

Today was his day. 

It is an act of love to tend to a dying person. It isn't scary. It isn't awful.

I washed his face and other parts. I massaged his legs that were shaking and spoke quietly to him about how he needed to gather up Fred and Badger [mules that we nearly always rode together in years past] and have them saddled when I got back to him on the other side.

I told him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. How he made my life more meaningful. That I wasn't letting him get away with just leaving me as I'd find him in the afterlife and we'd be together again.

Eventually the body systems shut slowly down and the breathing got very calm and then paused and then started ... and then paused. And he became so peaceful looking as I held his hand.

And there it was.

He reached the end of his Long Road.

No one likes this part...

Well, we were are still hanging on together.

This morning I realized that I didn't have a clue what I should do after the funeral home picks him up when he is gone.

We'd talked about what he wanted, we discussed things, but he basically said he didn't care for a big Gig.

Being the Stepmother, I want to get things right. No, it was not planned ahead, he didn't want that. Oddly enough, I'm the planner of most all things. This was in the back of my mind saying "Later, I'll deal with that Later." 

I decided Later Better Be Now.

First things first. I opened up the funeral home's website and started researching information.

The funeral home had very informative website.

I was stumped at the obituary. I mean, what should I even think of writing up?

His could be short and sweet truthfully. His parents are gone, his sister in Utah is alive, and he has a daughter and many grands. Simple right? Meh. 

If someone knows him, they will know all the other important stuff.

Rich's daughter had texted me yesterday evening to come out for the day. I decided to get her in on the 'action' so to speak. 

Maybe I surprised her a bit. We went over some details of what an Obit was and how to write it. Being ME, I decided to follow a suggested outline but not go into the depths that I've seen so many times.

I suggested something quite funny and she laughed a very wonderful and true laugh. I've decided to include that 'funny' in his obit.

I told her what I'd decided as far as burial vs. cremation. I also discussed having a memorial type thing at the funeral home or something like a celebration of life but very informal. I felt like I needed to give those who knew Rich a chance to gather and exchange their favorite stories about him in a comfortable setting.

I wanted her to be involved, after all, she is his daughter. So I gave her a thumb drive with photos I've collected from our time together. I asked her sort through and decided what we could put together for the funeral home. They offer a large screen that would display photos in a video format.

She asked about flowers as her dad was not a flower guy. I laughed and said he'd love two bouquets that the mules could eat. I got a quizzical look. I reminded her that the bouquet at our wedding was just that. Wildflowers with oat, barley, and straw. Fit for an equine dining experience. She laughed, she remembered it because one of the mules tried to eat the bouquet out of her hands.

I asked her if she would speak about her father and she quickly said no. It could be uncomfortable, I knew, so I didn't press.

I said I'd prepared something.

She asked about a Pastor to speak for him. 

"Your dad does not want that. He didn't want religion involved at all. No prayers, no mention of god." She looked at me quizzically.

"Your father unequivocally felt that if there was a God, he would not have let him suffer through the things he had to do in Vietnam. Many things he was ordered to do went against his moral judgement and soul."

We talked about the graveside thing. I'm not sure what it is really called. I said I'd talk to the funeral dudes [I know not the right wording?] 
I think I'll ask about playing Taps at the gravesite.

He did serve with honor even if it tore him up. 

The only thing wrong with those hospital beds is that I can't slide in next to him and hold him in my arms. If I had designed beds like this for home use. I'd make that possible.

His daughter was hesitant when she saw her father who is now unresponsive. He will grunt a bit when given a hug. That is a response.

I showed her how to lay her chest on her Dad's and softly hug him. I left her to it. 

I often go in and bend over the bed and lay my head on his chest to listen to his heart and his breathing. As a couple we always slept close to each other wrapped in each others arms. 

The nurse came to visit today and we stood with Rich for a while. He is not in pain and seems so at peace right now. He looked at me and said, "I honestly did not think I'd be making this visit today."

I nodded to him and said, "I thought so too overnight. He keeps making small rallies after dips."

He picked up Rich's hand and held it before he left. "I'll see you brother, take care."

[Nurse Jason is ex military also]

Thankfully I had Rich's daughter to myself during the day and we settled on some things that needed to be done and we didn't have to talk under the watchful eyes of her husband.

She left after a few hours and Steve came by to check on Rich. Steve said he didn't sleep much last night as he was so worried about Rich. 

Charlie kept us all grounded with his tail wagging and lap sitting.

One more day.

A very quiet Sunday and a very amazing friend.

Steve came out on Steve-time. He was the only person to visit on Sunday and I am lucky that he came.

I'd told Steve that he could stay inside while the nurse visited and we had our discussion of plans. He always went outside to be out of the way.

Ariel, Steve, and I were the last ones to exchange a conversation with Rich. With the systems shutting down gradually, the verbal communication had left him. He still would open his eyes when spoken to but rarely respond vocally to any questions.

Muscle twitches and movements were random now. It seemed that Rich was reaching and grasping for things. [This is a normal part of the body shutting down the control over muscle movements]

His breathing was comfortable. The nurse and I washed him up a bit and changed his briefs. There is a trick to changing sheets and briefs with a patient that can't assist you anymore. I had no idea. Perhaps I should have been watching YouTube for a tutorial.

The nurse decided that we were low on one medication, so we searched for an open pharmacy. I was exhausted from the long night of watching over a very animated Rich who often tried to climb out of the safety rails and pulled off his cannula.

Steve volunteered to run to town only to come back and tell me that the only open pharmacy in our little town had none of that med. The Hospice nurse at the 'hot' line searched and called pharmacies and found one an hour away that had the meds we needed for early morning.

Steve grabbed his keys and set off for a 2 hour journey to get medications for his best friend.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty quiet. My neighbors to the west [the one who brush hogged the pasture] came over with a wonderful array of chopped vegetables, crackers, and cheese. I snacked on those items most of the afternoon. The rest of the day was spent reading a book and nodding off for short naps between medication doses to keep him from having pain in the struggle to breath.

By evening I felt as though I was becoming an expert at catnapping between two hour med doses. 

I kept moving the cannula back on his face and talking quietly to him. 

I told him that Fred [his beloved mule] was waiting for him as well as his father. I retold the story of our meeting and our long distance courtship and asked if he'd greet me on the other side too so we could one day be together forever.

He settled down and finally seemed comfortable.