Stages and Anniversaries looking back one year

This is how it is and don't let others tell you any different.

It ebbs and flows back and forth in some sort of crazy unexplained fashion. One day fine, the next day I am gobsmacked with feelings I don't really understand.

We are at the end of August once again and I am having feelings of dread. Probably because I am fully aware of the dates and anniversary of last year's dash to the very end of his life.

My mind tells me to look at all the good we had for those last six months. My body relives all the sleepless nights and angst that went along with the overwhelming feelings I had for his last 11 days. 

The feeling when nurse Tim said on the phone to his supervisor, "He is now on the actively dying list." 

My brain knew that and understood that. My body knew because it felt panicky. Maybe it was because of all the cumulative sleepless nights I'd been going through since March. But now it was real, real. I could see it. I could touch it, I could feel it. The pit of my stomach felt loose and unstable. 

I wanted to collapse into self pity but I still had a job to do. BE by his side. Be by his side. Be by his side.

"Actively Dying" means the body is shutting down and the 'patient' is expected to live somewhere between 3 hours to 3 days.

I didn't know that at the time. I just knew that it meant.

Soon.

His family reaction to that was curious. I am not going to try and figure that out at all. 

I knew one thing. It meant I was going to do a whole lot of work after he was gone and I wasn't prepared for everything I was supposed to do. I started researching and making a list of to do's.

I also knew that I wasn't going to leave his 'side' until it was done. I called in favors to those who said "If you need me for anything".  I needed fresh milk and a few other items. Those good neighbors actually pulled through for me. 

Surprisingly, not his family.

So obviously, now I am going through the memories of that time again. That is what I do reanalyze, mull it over, and think about it while crossing off dates on my calendar.

The last time we fished together was the 27th. The day they proclaimed him as Actively Dying was the 30th. 

Day by day the Hospice Workers that came were calm, quiet, and gentle. Yet they all felt a certain disbelief that he kept going on until September 11th. They never mentioned the 'how long' it should have been. 

Time for me was in slow motion, or better yet, a slow fog. I was stoic on the outside. Only at night did I allow myself to grieve for what was to come. At night all the doubts crept in, all the invasive thoughts crept in. All the what ifs swirled aimlessly about in my brain.

All the while I was trying to rest and listen for sounds from Rich. 

Watching, waiting. 

Time stood still with the only difference being daylight and nights alone.

So this is what is occupying my thoughts as I continue on through to the one year anniversary. It is okay to call it an anniversary. No one should tell me different. I'm going to think about. I'm going to miss him. I'm hoping that the grief continues but it is less painful.

I'll be fine in the gym, on hikes, mowing the yard, doing the everyday things we all have to do.

But in the evenings and early mornings, I'll be thinking about this in the next couple of weeks and it will be on my mind.

Simply because.
That is how the heart and mind work.

I have been changed.

and then...

 

One is day good, some days are wreck. That's the new state of my daily life.

When you died, I sat with you quietly and understood what happened but felt numb. You had waited for this event for so many years and talked about how death would bring you peace and end the pain you'd lived with for so long. Your breath stopped, I was watching for that.

I got up and turned off the oxygen concentrator and the house was suddenly so silent and immediately it felt abandoned and empty and...final.

I thought I was ready to handle it all. I was prepared to proceed with 'the things that needed to be done' next. I had a list of things to immediately accomplish. I had a list of places to call for notification. 

It felt like a business 'to do' list. 

I dove into the funeral business first everyone knows all about that.

I went down my list sometimes running into issues and hitches along the way. 

I figured that I'd grieved for years through all of your illnesses and close calls.

When you entered Hospice care, I was on high alert for months on end. Sometimes I wished for it to happen right away for you to end your suffering and the next moment I hated myself for thinking about it.

I wanted you here, I wanted you at peace and without pain. I couldn't have both at the same time. I quit the gym, I couldn't stand spending time with others who experienced joy and laughter. I carried my personal suffering quietly and sometimes angrily.

I was angry that family didn't step up or come around. They had their reasons but I couldn't see them or understand them. I hid that too and concentrated on our time together. I found that your friend Steve was the rock I could count on. I cherished those days when we worked so hard to bring you some enjoyment. 

Now it has been what, 9 months? I am looking back at last summer's photos of our little fishing trips on Wednesdays and the joy that it brought to you. I now wish I had more time to tell you how much I loved you and how much your smiles meant to me. I now regret not holding your hand every day [even though you were not a hand holder]. I wished we'd hugged more.

At night with my thoughts I wonder if I could have done more and realize those were just night wishes. I had so many nights without sleep for over 6 months. I was running on empty just like you were. 

I was pretty sure that my life would be easier after you were gone. I could sleep, I could go and do things I've dreamed of. I would be just fine and not a wreck because I was prepared.

Until I realized I wasn't. Half of me was gone. Okay, not literally, but you read about it all the time. I felt like I was adjusting to that. 

And then I wasn't.

No one else knows me like you did. No one knows you like I did. These were our secret powers. 

So, I have days where I am stuck standing in the middle of the living room with no place to go, and feeling quite lost. I do have places to go and things to do. But my feet are frozen to the floor for some reason. 

I don't want to go to the grocery store. I don't want to do anything I am supposed to be doing. I am just stuck and now I understand that I have to wait until I am unstuck and my feet can move and my brain can make a decision.

That shouldn't be. But I guess I didn't do grief the right way, if indeed there is a right way to grieve. I didn't fall apart, I just took care of things and continue to do so. And I get stuck.

Then I find a goal to work towards. I need a project or a challenge.

The months going by haven't really gotten easier. I've just been able to distract my brain.

I haven't found the answers to the questions I don't even understand yet.

But that is okay. 

I still think about you. I still see you. I still love you.

4 months

Hello 2026.

Something odd has happened. 

I'm trying to distract me from myself.

IF I hike every Single Day for a good distance, I am too tired to miss you. Well, sort of. That is, until the lights go out and I am trying to go to sleep.

Or in the evening when I am trying to distract myself with photography. 

IF I am not busy, I might start grieving. I thought I had all of that settled. 

Apparently not. 

Grief. 

You keep barging in when I am not ready for you. Stop it.

Just when I am doing fine someone comes up to me in the bank or in the store and puts their hand on me and looks sorrowfully into my face.

And they ask in that husky drawn out breathless way... "Oh...howww are youuuuu doing?" Do I bitch slap them and say, "I was doing fine until you asked and I had to think about it?"

Otherwise people are ignoring that subject now anyway. After all, 4 months have passed, but who is counting? 

I am. Because I keep turning around while doing something and start to ask you out loud what your opinion is on something. Then I ask anyway and listen to you talk inside my head or...at least what I imagine your answer would be.

How about the icky creepy neighbor who stopped me in a parking lot. He asked if I had a 7 or 8 foot brush hog to sell? Maybe the vulture in him waited an appropriate time before he started to ask about me selling stuff. 

I had been working with someone else on two things. I hadn't given any of the old equipment sitting in the weeds a second thought. I figured those items would go when I settled on having an auction or two.

I got the false smile and the sad look at the same time. He said he'd call and come to take a look at what I had. Here the creepy neighbor was offering to stop by and look over things. His demeanor sent chills up my spine.

I waved him off with no answer. I didn't intend to be impolite, but I also didn't expect to be approached in a freezing cold parking lot. I should have said he could wait for the auction announcement.

Except I haven't settled on that yet. I'm not brave enough quite yet to call around to auction companies.  

Disappearing your 'stuff' would make things final. 

I'm still working up to that step darling. It's a big one.

Friday's musings...and first steps

I woke up Friday morning in a foul sad mood and wanted to hold on to that "I hate the world mood" for the day.

My first thought was to cancel my gym workout and the luncheon date afterwards at my girlfriend's house. Why go and try to act all nice and all happy.

I decided to make myself go. I still didn't want to go when I got in the car and drove to town. I was still angry-sad. I was willing to be a Grumpet.

When I walked in the door and changed into my gym shoes, another member of the Legends quipped, "Oh boy that looks hard!" --> Meaning the workout that we would do was finishing up from the previous class. She smiled with such an engaging smile that I had to smile back. I felt my anger slipping away.

I said, "Well, we are Legends. We should request to take out the mats and have 'nap time' while the coach plays beautiful music for us."

That idea grew into a discussion. One day we'd show up in our PJ's and bring pillows and blankies and tell the coach our work out of the day is a nap and sleepy quiet time.

Slowly, I could feel the Grinch-tude leaching out of my bones. We started the warm up. As usual, I did something goofy [class clown] and the laughter was loud. The work out was hard. 300 meteres of rowing, box step ups [step up on a raised surface of 20 inches or less and step down], and burpees all modified for us older folks. 

I went at it like I was tackling a demon. The relief from being angry-sad became quite evident. I could smile and engage with other gym members. The sad still was there, I didn't want to go to the luncheon, but Pat who was putting it on stood next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. 

"Come on," she said, "Home made chili and good food. I'll even make sure you have some to take home."

My friend Pat has been supportive all along ... ever since I met her a year and a half ago. She never says sorry, never asks 'how are you doing' in the drama voice. She never asks but manages to make sure I tell her anyway. She offers nothing but to be a quiet friend who will message me at 5am to see if I am doing okay, no need she says to reply, just sent a thumbs up or down.

During the luncheon [wonderful food!] I end up talking with Emma who is going through trying to get her significant other well enough to come home so she can care for her. Emma is a retired doctor, she is in her 80's and has sought me out because I've walked this path more than once. 

I ask Emma how her Kathy is doing and she opens up and tells me everything that is on her mind while we eat. 

I see as she talks with me that is having a profound effect on both of us. We are sharing our grief and knowledge in an amazing way. She is a doctor and is asking me to just listen. I can see that she is getting things off her mind and I listen so intently that I don't hear the other folks at the table.

Emma gives me a squeeze on the arm when she is ready to leave and thanks me for listening.

As the others leave, I start to clear dishes and help Pat clean up. We get the dishes cleared and Pat pours us each a cup of coffee and tells me to sit down.

"You had another one of THOSE mornings, didn't you?"

I nod. "This helped immensely, thank you for making me come."

We fall silent and gaze out of her little cafe and look at the beautiful winter wonderland of melted snow and ice.

I tell her that I'll miss next week's workouts because I'll be sitting for my friends while they do a 5 day chemo treatment. 

Pat makes a face and then smiles at me. "Being with a 2 yr old and a 4 yr old will be the best thing for you during Christmas." 

"Indeed Pat. I will feel loved and needed and important to someone with this coming week. It will be good to chase around little ones."

Pat looked down at her coffee, she is such a wise friend. "Val, you give and give and give of yourself. You are a gift to anyone who knows you. I don't believe you know how much you are respected and loved in our class either. When you aren't there and you were caring for Rich, others would say that they just wished they were like you."

"Giving," I reply, " is the only way I can feel better. "I don't feel like I am just an old widow sitting in her house and glaring at the world or crumbling to pieces. I feel self worth if I can help either by doing or listening."

We finish our coffee and I tell Pat that I am terrified and excited about a hiking club I joined and that my first hike was on Saturday morning with complete strangers. 

Half of me says, don't go. Part of me says, it is too long of a drive. Another part of me says, this is just right up your alley.

I want to stay home. But if I go and I enjoy it, I just may expand my world and find new friends. That could be a good thing.

Pat takes a sip of coffee and says quietly, "Go do it. Let me know how it went when you are done."

It is much better than staring at the Christmas Tree chair and thinking about putting it all away because I am the only person enjoying it.

I packed a backpack with my spare gloves, some food, some water, and my normal hiking stuff last night.

I put my key to the car on top of the pile, I set a timer and put the directions to the meet up place in my phone to take me there.

I am terrified and excited to take that first step.

Fingers crossed.

And yes -- Rich told me to go, meet some folks. I'm proud of you girl [he'd say that anytime I had doubts]

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.