Golden Handymen

      A couple months ago a read a quick article about the needs of a widow.   One of the top things it listed was a handy-man.   It talked about how they were worth their weight in gold, and I completely  understood.   At that time, my toilet which had been slowly running  for a while.   My attempts to fix it were unsuccessful and I had made the problem worse.   In the past my brother in law from Montana has often come to the rescue, including lovingly remodeling our bathroom to make it more accessible when walking, standing and stepping were too dangerous.  Just asking him to help me know what parts to order was overwhelming and had me in tears.   Knowing I was in over my head, I was trying to decide who to ask for help with a neighbor also named Andrew offered to come help.   He not only fixed my toilet but a few other things around the house.  

       This week two neighbors came to the rescue, fixing something that has had me worried for at least a couple years.   Every time I would see it I knew it was something that I needed to get fixed and I'd tried to think of how to make it happen.   It was clearly something above my skill level (which isn't very high).   A board had warped on two different sets of windows.  Steve and Phil came and replaced the badly warped pieces.   One had become a shelter for spiders, ewww...   It took them a couple hours and it looks so much better.   However it's the peace of mind and one less worry on my plate that means the most.

      I know not everyone is quite so lucky to have a pool of good friends, family and neighbors.   I'm grateful for the many people in my life who help make life a little better.   

My Sunshine

      I've decided to take a break from thinking and writing so deeply about grief.     It's hard enough to live through it without constantly trying to evaluate how you are doing.    Writing has been helpful, but  takes a lot of work.   So instead today I thought I'd share a memory.  

     In 2017 we spent the first time in an ICU when we finally were able to get help for his airway.   It was a insanely difficult and we're lucky he survived.   While he pleaded with me prior to the first surgery to not allow them to place a trach, in order to be able to leave the ICU it ended up being necessary.   When the doctors told me that was the next step I was worried how he would take it.   But he had learned that being intubated, restrained and on a ventilator was worse.   They told him he likely would not be able to speak and the though of never hearing his voice again was hard.   But he proved them wrong and taught himself to speak.   It was a lot of work and often wore him out.   

       Sleeping through a plastic piece in your throat and on a ventilator at night, we spent most (if not all) of the summer sleeping on our couch.    As we would go to bed at night, he one day started singing to me as we would go to bed.   

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You'll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don't take
My sunshine away

 

    He would often change the lyrics up, my favorite one being "You'll never know dear, how much I love you, because I'll tell you everyday."   He was a sweet and tender man, who was never afraid to show his love.   Those who would spend time around us were witness to it as well, some would roll their eyes and complain that we still acted like newlyweds.   It brought tears to my eyes this week when my aunt Roxann talked about our love this week it reminded me of a card she sent us on our 20th anniversary.   She said "I admire both of you so much and I think you have a wonderful loving relationship.   You each strive to do all you can for each other, you are very selfless.   If I had been able to find someone to marry I would have hoped to have the kind of love you have."

     Looking up the lyrics today I discovered there is a second verse.      

The other night, dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you

In my arms

When I awoke, dear

I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried

I miss my sunshine...

The Locked Door

     I was fairly young before I recall my first experience with death.   My paternal grandfather passed away when I was 10.   I was young and didn't really comprehend.   A journal entry of mine expressed sadness, but also excitement about being able to be out of school.   I remember small pieces of the funeral, including a song a family friend sang called "The Garden."   A couple years later a classmate name Yoshi Suzuki was killed in an accident in his backyard.   We weren't super close and I don't recall going to the funeral, but I've thought of him over the years and how tragic it was to die at a young age and of his family.  

      Just a couple weeks after my sixteenth birthday I remember bouncing up the stairs.   Summer was just starting and things were good.   My dad was sitting on the stairs with the long telephone cord trailing behind him.   Shortly after he called us into the formal family room which was only used on special occasions or for visitors.   Something was wrong.  I remember taking sitting in folding chair that was just inside door instead of on the couch.   He then told us that my good friend David had passed away while hiking in the Grand Canyon with his scout troop.   Our families were close and always spent Easter together camping.   His death hit hard and I remember how hard it was to accept.    I remember crying regularly throughout the next year and carefully trying to write down every memory that I could think of.  I also thought a lot about his family and how much harder it was for them to lose a son and brother.   The day of his burial was memorable, but I also remember the peace and assurance I felt that I knew I would see him again.   After the graveside service I remember walking behind some others (I believe some of his relatives) who were distraught and inconsolable because they didn't believe in a life after death.   I remember being was profoundly grateful for my beliefs.   I felt such confidence in peace in what I knew.   I would see him again one day.   Even so, his death hit me hard.   I've thought about him a lot over the years.   Of the experiences and milestones that he missed out on and the opportunities of memories lost.   Wondering how his life would have turned out and the things he would have accomplished.   So many questions that will go unanswered.      

   

     After such a profound experience at the age of sixteen, I thought I knew.   So, I was completely taken by surprise when over the past few months I feel like that confidence I had so many years ago vanished, seemingly overnight.  Plunged into a darkness I did not and could not anticipate.  I went from wondering what heaven was like and very cautiously trying to learn more, to feeling like it's all in our heads.  Does God even exist?  Or is it just some fantasy humans concocted to help us feel better and cope with death and the confusing world we live in?  

     So many others talk about the countless overwhelming experiences of peace and comfort after the loss of a loved one.  But I have not been so blessed and fortunate.  Instead I've been given silence and darkness...  and can't help but wonder... What have I done to deserve this?   I try to grasp onto any moments where I've felt that peace, but they feel like sand slipping through my fingers.   

     When I came across this quote from C.S. Lewis it described precisely how I felt.  While I wish no one had to experience the pain of losing a spouse or loved one, there is some comfort in knowing I'm not alone.    That someone who is clearly much older, experienced and wiser than I was plunged into a similar darkness after losing his wife of four years.   The quote comes from the book Grief Observed, one day I'll read it and find out more of his journey. 

    So that was a couple months ago... how are things now?   I don't know.   It's been a struggle to acknowledge and put into words how I've been feeling.   Plus I've just been trying to survive, so I have tried to not to think about it too much.   Not always successfully.   I still feel lost in the darkness, but it's not quite the same as it was in June.  My prayers still feel unanswered and I often wonder just who is in charge of chaos that is my thoughts.  

     Unfortunately July was also a difficult month for my parents.   My Dad was hospitalized with internal bleeding and needed five units of blood.   He's lucky to be alive, although recovery is a slow and frustrating process.   My mom said "Sometimes it's so hard to understand why this test has to be so hard."  I agree, it often feels so impossibly hard.   

 

   

EMDR

      I don't have much to say today.   June was a difficult month.  July luckily has been a little bit better, but August is peeking it's head around the corner and frankly I'm terrified of the months ahead.   

     This week I met with my therapist again and did my first session of EMDR.   It's a type of therapy that helps your brain process trauma.   I honestly don't really know a lot about it.   I first heard about it six years ago just after we had spent our first visit in the ICU.  A woman in our church, who happens to be a therapist, was substitute teaching with me the cute little three and four year old kids.   I told her a bit of our experience she suggested that EMDR therapy would be helpful.  We tried to get in to see her, but then life got even more difficult.   

     I found this quote a while back that I think describes  my situation pretty well.   We went through some intense stuff and grief especially of a sudden loss is also very traumatic.   

      Trying to protect me, my body has surrounded me in some pretty serious armor.   

     It's why seeing pictures of him and our time in the hospital can  instantly bring me to tears.   One day I hope to be able to see pictures of him and not cry.   

      But it's going to take time and a lot of patience and hard work.   Ugg...  

       

       

Heaven is...

      My silly brain.   It struggles sometimes do the simplest of tasks, yet wants and often prefers to try and answer life most difficult and unanswerable questions.   Ugg.... I can't get it to answer "what to eat for dinner", but instead it wants to try and answer ...."what is the meaning of life?"  Over the past several months I've asked several people the question "What does heaven look like?" and it's been interesting to hear everyone's response.   They have been quite varied, but here are a few of them.  

Overwhelmingly Beautiful

Very White

Green Grassy Hills with Picnics

Gatherings of Friends and Family

      For some reason for me, the movie that comes to mind is one called Defending Your Life, which I haven't watched in ages.  I don't think it's accurate where everyone is there to be on trial, but essentially I picture a large city where everybody has a place to be and things to do.   Where there are friends and family to be with, things to enjoy, but also things to be done.   People will go about their tasks, which often are varied.   Perhaps going to places of learning or beautiful concerts, but also involved in the details of what is happening here on earth.   Perhaps there is a place for all departures and arrivals.  Perhaps there is a big office building where people go to help with answering prayers.  All while surrounded by beautiful plants and flowers.   However it's not all some giant city like the planet Coruscant in Star Wars (had to google that, my Star Wars loving husband could have answered my inquiry in his sleep).   But also has beautiful places where one can go to be in nature.   

     Not just wanting to answer what it looks like I've also pondered a lot of other questions.   Like... 

• What do they do all day?
• Is there day and night?
• Can they sleep?   Do they?
• What does time feel like?
• Can they talk?  Or do they just by reading minds?   
• Are famous people who were famous on earth still famous or just normal?
• Does everyone look the same age?
• Are all angels skinny?   (We do talk about spiritual giants...)
• Do they celebrate birthdays, deathdays, holidays?
• Are there seasons?

      One of our good friends recently said "there better be golf".   Hmmm... I never thought of that.  Another friend said "I know our boys are up in Heaven having game night like all the time".   I had not thought of that either, but video games were a huge part of our life together.   Because of video gaming, my husband had friends from around the world.  

     The thing is that "heaven on earth" is different to everyone here, so it likely is there.   Each of us is unique in what that definition might be.   I think the one unifying thing is the loved ones and friends.  I'm still no closer to definitive answers, likely never will be.   But I do know one thing.  Being with my husband was heaven on earth, so if there is a heaven.... it is where my husband is.  

Mid Life

     When I was younger I remembered when my parent's and other family members celebrated "Over the Hill" birthdays.   Like any child I thought they were "so old."   Being forty seemed an eternity away, but well... here I am, already a few years in.   People always joke about a mid life crisis as buying an expensive car or somehow trying to re-capture their youth.   But then there is the deeper psychological side of inner turmoil about your identity, life choices, and mortality.   Mortality.   That's a hard one.   I remember the year my Dad turned 40 was a tough year for him.   His dad died passed away early in that year, but he also had several friends or co-workers pass away throughout the year.  I was too young at the time to really understand the difficulty that all of that meant.   

      Talking about getting older with my friend when she visited for my birthday I shared with her a statistic I had come across.   The most miserable age: 47.2 years old.  She lightheartedly said that "Oh, you peaked early".  I remember thinking that I seriously hoped that this was my rock bottom as well as "oh goodie, here I am bringing down averages again."  

    Speaking of averages, here are a few more:

• The average age that a woman becomes a widow is 59.
• One-third of women become widows before they're 60, and half before they are 65.

    Dreading living a long time without my sweetheart I was curious how many years on average I might live.   It varies depending on where you live but here in the US it is: 

• Male: 73.5 years   
• Female: 79.3 years

     My sweetheart passed away at the age of 48, so his mid life was 24.   We met when he was 25, so I guess you could say that meeting me was his mid life event.   I don't think he would call a crisis, although falling in love with me and waiting for me to come around was likely a challenge.   He would say it was a blessing and the best thing to ever happen to him.   I'm so grateful that he was patient in waiting until I was ready.   

     For my 40th birthday, we were firmly entrenched in a battle with cancer and trying to navigate a pandemic.   I spent it sitting in our vehicle outside the infusion center, wishing desperately that I could be inside with him for chemo.   Memorable for sure, and something I would do again in a heartbeat, because it would mean that he was still alive.   Cancer was so difficult and exhausting, but navigating grief... without him... most days feel impossible.   

     Hanging just inside that infusion room was a code chart for emergencies in the hospital.   He would often joke that he was a code yellow which at our hospital was  "A Disaster".   I would always tell him it wasn't true.   But if you apply this quite from Tom Hanks he was right... losing him was more than a mid-life crisis, a mid life disaster seems more fitting.   I'm grateful haven't lost everything,  but I lost the person who mattered the most and that changed everything.   

     I'd much rather that my mid life crisis was a fancy car.   But not so.  Instead instead I got a pile full of complicated emotions, endless worries about the future and an enormous task of figuring out and defining who I am.   Oh goody!  Growing older is lame.

Baggage

     Many years ago we wanted a weekend getaway and stayed somewhere at a local hotel.   We happened to catch a TV show called Baggage which we talked about it on occasion ever since.  It was kind of a cross between Deal or No Deal and well, most dating games.   It was hosted by Jerry Springer and apparently ran for 3 seasons.   Three potential dates would arrive, each with three different suitcases.   Each round they would open one and inside reveal their "baggage".   Each round someone would be eliminated and then in the next round a larger bag would be opened showing even more shocking insights.   After the third round the potential dater selected the person they would want to go on a date with.   However before that would happen, they had to open a case of their own.   They then must decide if they want to go on a date together.   

     Here's a few of the things that were in people's bags... (the cleaner ones)

• I poisoned my boyfriend
• I eat whole sticks of butter
• I cry every day
• I've never been wrong
• I have 15 living cats and 30 dead ones in my home
• I steal flowers from gravesites
• I've been engaged 10 times
• I am a cult leader
• I have a fascination with roadkill
• I practice witchcraft

    The more I think about it, it's pretty much like dating as an middle age or older adult, just more up front and blunt about it.   Because by the time you've reached middle age, you very likely have developed some weird habits, stories or quirks.   Or in my case, been through some seriously difficult things and struggle just to make it through each day.   The phrase "I am Newly Widowed" carries with it a lot of other implied baggage, likely way to numerous to count and often really random.   Such as "I regularly ask people about their funeral plans" or "I cry whenever I get in my car" or "I struggle making simple decisions" or "I'm working on writing my own obituary" or "I hide special boxes of cereal in my closet" or "I don't like quiet" or ... well... too many to count.   

    Recently at work they have been doing some shuffling.   A LOT of shuffling.   In the past 3 years I've had about seven different managers.   Which has been challenging, especially with everything going on with my personal life.   Difficult to know who to ask what questions and just who is responsible for what.  However with the most recent change, I've been grateful to join a team of people who are working on the same things as me.  People who I am hoping to learn from as well as also helpfully share some of my knowledge.   Recently, my new boss set up a meeting to allow us to get to know each other.   We started the meeting by introducing ourselves.    I kept it to just my work experience and enjoyed getting to know each other a bit better.   Then near the end of the meeting one of my new co-workers asked "What do you do for fun?"   My brain inwardly cursed and then went blank, until I finally replied, struggling unsuccessfully not to cry...  "Well, I'm a fairly recent widow and honestly am trying to figure that out.   The things that I used to do for fun aren't fun anymore and I haven't figured out what is."   I'm sure that's not the answer she was expecting.   I tried to lighten the mood by saying I like to sleep, or try to sleep for fun as well, to which everyone agreed that they also liked to sleep.    It sure did end the meeting on a bit of a somber note, but at least it's out in the open and they can choose to talk about it or not.     

    So while it's not displayed in fancy cases like in the game show, I've thought a lot about my baggage.   I carry it around with me everywhere I go, and struggle with what to do with it.   But I've hired a professional "baggage handler" who is helping me unpack, evaluate and process my things.   Hopefully compressing them in the process.  It's not a simple process, but I'm working through it.   I don't know for how long one is considered a "new" widow.   It likely isn't a defined passage of time, but instead when you finally reach a better place mentally.   It will take time, but I'll get there.